Jetting Away Read online



  JETTING AWAY

  Teri Heyer

  Jetting Away

  Copyright 2011 Teri Heyer

  Cover Design by Ben Heyer

  All rights reserved. Except for review quotes, no part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  To Philippa

  Chapter One

  Priscilla Alexander leaned against the door to her office. She was breathing hard, her heart racing, no, pounding. She tried to take slow, deep breaths, but it was no use. Feeling weak at the knees, she slowly sank to the floor. Not again! Not another panic attack! Not today!

  She'd held up pretty well at the meeting with Sunrise Products. The latest series of ads she'd designed for them was top notch, at least as far as her team was concerned. But apparently Sunrise Products had a different idea. They didn't like her trailer of a gorgeous sunrise and a young, obviously in love, couple walking hand in hand along a pristine beach. No, someone at Sunrise decided they wanted a cartoon sun rising over a cartoon beach with cartoon characters skipping along on the sand. Huh?

  How could this be happening to her? This was a total disaster. She'd managed to assure the Sunrise team that she'd get back to them in a couple weeks at the latest. Yeah, right! Not in this lifetime!

  Someone pounded on her office door. No, no, no! She wanted to scream, but she couldn't do that in her office.

  "Priscilla? Are you in there?" She recognized the voice of her Assistant Team Leader, Darcy Trask.

  "Go away, Darcy. I'm slitting my wrists in here and I don't want you interfering."

  "Priscilla," his voice rose an octave. "Open the door, this instant!"

  She scooted to the side of the door so Darcy could open it. "Come on in," she called out. "But you're no friend of mine if you do."

  Darcy chuckled and eased the door open. After he closed the door behind him, he settled his gangly body onto the floor next to her and stretched out his long, bony legs. "You know, girlfriend, there's no need to kill yourself over those bozos. They don't know what they want. Let them stew on it for a while. Your presentation was superb, as usual."

  Priscilla eyed him from beneath the curls that had flopped down and almost hid her eyes. "You're killing me, you know that don't you? There was nothing superb about it." She brushed her red-gold curls back from her face and aimed her sage-green eyes in his direction. "What did Mr. What's-His-Name say about the trailer? Too tweet!? I'm assuming he meant, too sweet, but you never know these days.

  Darcy chuckled. "Girlfriend, it's Mr. Chung and, as a matter of fact, he did say too tweet."

  Priscilla curled in upon herself, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her forehead on her knees. She fought the urge to take in big gulping breaths. "You know, Darcy, I can't take it anymore." Her voice rose, near desperation.

  "Yeah, I know what you mean." He leaned close to her and reached for her hand. "Come on, girlfriend, let's get you off this floor."

  Priscilla stood. Her legs still wobbled. She took the half dozen steps needed to reach her richly upholstered desk chair and plopped into it, resting her head on the walnut desk-top.

  Darcy pulled up a chair opposite her desk. "You know, Priscilla, you need to take a break. Just walk away from all this crap for a few days. Get some air. Hit the beach.

  "No beach!" Priscilla gave him the evil eye. "No beach, ever again. I don't even want to think about the beach."

  Darcy gave her a sheepish look. "I hear you, no beach." He started ticking off options on his long, bony fingers. "One, how about a trip to Tahoe? You can sit by the lake and dream? Two, you can zip up to Napa and wine taste yourself into oblivion? Three, you can go to your favorite theme park?"

  Priscilla's head popped up from the table. "A theme park? Where did that idea come from? I'm not a kid anymore."

  "Hey, what can I say?" Darcy shrugged his shoulders. "That's a great way to have fun and unwind."

  Priscilla shivered. "Not in my book. Do you think I could relax, really relax, in the midst of thousands of laughing and shouting children?"

  "I hear you. That does sound a bit stressful." He looked out the expansive window of Priscilla's tenth story office. Much of San Francisco was still hidden in the early morning fog.

  "I'm twenty-seven years old, Darcy. I don't do theme parks."

  "Just a thought." Darcy cleared his voice. "Now where were we? Oh, four, you could go to Reno and gamble? Maybe you could win enough money to quit your job?"

  "Now that's an idea." Priscilla ventured a slight smile. "Only we're forgetting one thing here, I don't gamble. Ever."

  Darcy sat back in his chair and scratched his hair, at least what there was of it, since he had a rapidly receding hairline. "Hmm! You're not making this easy on me."

  "I'm waiting, hotshot. What's number five?"

  "Go to the salon. Get your hair done, your nails, whatever. Heck, get a massage." He smiled broadly, displaying his pearly whites. "Yep, that's the ticket. The salon. Now get your lazy behind out of that chair and head uptown."

  "I look that bad, huh?"

  "No, but the make-over will do you good. Boost your spirits."

  "You know, Darcy, what I really need is some karate lessons so I can fight those guys."

  "Nope. Then I'd be bailing you out of jail." He grabbed up Priscilla's purse and handed it to her. "Girlfriend, off to the salon with you. Now!"

  Chapter Two

  Priscilla didn't have far to walk to reach the Top of the Mark. In her hurry to leave the office she didn't bother to change from her designer heels to her designer tennis shoes.

  Normally she walked from her condo, only a few blocks away, to her office every morning. She took it at a brisk walk, so tennies were needed or she would have twisted or broken an ankle long before now. This up and down walking on San Francisco streets was a great cardio work-out. That, added to two nights a week at the gym, kept her in relatively tip-top shape.

  The best part of that was sneaking in a donut now and then. It was her one weakness. She laughed softly. Well, she did have other weaknesses, but donuts were on the top of her list. She fantasized about a chocolate-glazed custard-filled wonder. Just thinking about it made her mouth water. Okay, so she'd take a short side-trip to San Fran Donuts and get one, or maybe two, of her favorites. Yeah, she'd get a Maple Long John too. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  Priscilla took a left turn at the corner and walked two short blocks. She could smell the donuts a full block away. Mentally she thought about the prospect of buying a whole dozen donuts just for herself.

  "No way!" she muttered.

  She could hear Darcy now. "What are you thinking, girlfriend? Do you want to add twenty pounds overnight?"

  "Yep," she stated out loud. What's another ten or twenty pounds? She groaned. New clothes, that's what another ten or twenty pounds is all about. Only one donut, or two. Not, I repeat, not a dozen. Priscilla sighed. Well a girl could always dream.

  At the donut shop she stood there in line and drooled along with all the other customers. One of each, she wanted to say. But she stuck to her plan. "Two," she said, holding up two fingers. A third finger tried desperately to rise.

  "For here? Or to go?" The standard question was asked by a multi-pierced, college-aged, gothic-styled girl.

  "To go." Priscilla didn't think she could ward off the temptation if she sat at one of those little café tables by the window and continued smelling all those luscious donuts. "A bottle of spring water, too," she added. Coffee sounded good, but
she was already too wired this morning, having downed three cups of coffee just before the meeting and another two during the meeting. Hey, no wonder her heart was racing and her pulse pounding this morning.

  Priscilla could hear Dr. Edwards lecturing her. "Cut back on the coffee, Priscilla. You need to start eating a balanced diet. You know, three square meals a day and plenty of exercise. Avoid stress."

  Yeah, right! How was she supposed to avoid stress with a job like hers? The name of her job was Stress with big, capital letters, S-T-R-E-S-S.

  The second she stepped out of the donut shop she munched down first on the maple bar. Ah! There was paradise on earth. She stopped a moment in order to savor each melt-in-your-mouth bite.

  A tall, slender, model-type walked past her at a brisk pace. She gave Priscilla a look of disdain as she passed by.

  Sheesh! Couldn't she just enjoy one donut in peace? But no, a reminder of what she didn't look like had just crossed her path. Well, to heck with it. If she exercised every day of the week and never ate another donut in her whole life, she'd never look like that.

  Defiantly, Priscilla ate the last of her maple bar and started on the chocolate-covered, custard-filled delight. Yum! She was going to enjoy every mouth-watering bite.

  Chapter Three

  Her donuts finished, Priscilla drank half the bottle of spring water. At least the water was one thing she was doing right. Yep, Dr. Edwards always reminded her to drink lots of water.

  Just before reaching the Top of the Mark, Priscilla stopped at a side-walk kiosk of magazines. She looked longingly at the covers, with all those gorgeous models in all those exquisite designer clothes. Even though she made a decent salary as an advertising executive heading a design team, it didn't allow for the kind of wardrobe she'd like to have.

  Oh, she kept to designer clothes when possible, but just for the basics. The requisite suits, silk blouses and heels. All designer brands but bought on sale. A couple pair of designer jeans for the weekends and that pretty much rounded up her wardrobe. Of course, she had a couple items that weren't designer anything, like a blue-gray-colored broomstick skirt with a matching baggy sweater.

  She shook her head. What had she been thinking when she'd made that purchase? She guessed it was some retro-hippy thing that she'd channeled from her middle-aged mother.

  "Mom!" The word slipped from her lips. Whatever was she going to do with Mom?

  He parents had been married for thirty years and now they were separated and getting a divorce. Her mom had recently moved into her condo and taken over. What could she do? She couldn't very well turn her out? Where was Carter when she needed him?

  Carter was her older brother, older by eighteen months. He was a computer engineer, a computer information specialist, who had dropped out of society. Now he lived in the mountains outside of Tahoe on a narrow dirt road, far off the grid. Carter had a one room cabin powered by solar energy, with a diesel generator as back-up, for when the sun wasn't shining. He heated the cabin with a Black Bart Stove which he also used to cook his simple meals.

  Fortunately, Carter hadn't gone vegan, nor did he hunt and fish for his food. Carter made a twice weekly trip to the village store and bought provisions. He was tall and lean, so he didn't need much to keep him going.

  Not fair! Priscilla groaned. Carter didn't have to worry about his weight. No, he just lived his healthy, care-free life in the wilds. Oh, he still worked from time to time, when the mood struck him. He did trouble-shooting now and then for big corporations who had problems with their computer networks. He also designed commercial web-sites and his expertise was much in demand. For that reason, he could pick and choose what he wanted to do and when.

  Priscilla sighed. Why couldn't she do something like that with her design work? Was she always going to be stuck in a high-rise office designing things for ungrateful CEOS?

  Get it together, Priscilla. She shook her head. Dreaming would get her nowhere, fast.

  Once again she scanned the magazine rack in front of her. Okay, forget the glamour mags. That would only make her feel bad on a day when she was already in the dumps. Then a picture of Ayers Rock caught her eye. Travel Adventures Magazine. She reached for the magazine and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for, "Travel Cheap in Outback Australia." Hmm! That sounded interesting. She bought the magazine and headed into the Mart.

  Chapter Four

  "Hey, girlie-girl. Where ya been?" A short, overly effeminate male sauntered over to her side and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Priscilla gave him a quick hug. "How was the honeymoon, Maurice?" The last time Priscilla had been to the salon, Maurice and his significant other, Joseph, were heading to the Bahamas for a quiet wedding and a not-so-quiet honeymoon bash.

  "The best, darling, simply the best." Maurice winked. "You know, girlie-girl, you should have flown to the Bahamas to party with us. Don't you think you need a break now and then?"

  Priscilla shrugged. "They don't let me out very often. I'm pretty much tied to the office. In fact, there's a bungee cord attached to my ankle right now, so I'll probably be catapulted back there before you can count to ten."

  "Not if I tie you to a chair, sweet thing." He winked again. "My chairs are bolted to the floor so you won't be going anywhere." He quickly shuffled her over to his station chair and ordered, "Sit!" Then he started running his fingers through her tangled hair. "You know, darling, we should shorten this a bit so it'll be more manageable."

  "Whatever you think." Priscilla wasn't about to argue with Maurice when it came to style. He was the best. Besides, she was the first to proclaim that she had very little style when it came to her own person. Advertising design was her specialty, but it didn't extend to her own style. She let Maurice dictate the style of her hair and let others determine what business attire was best for her. Only when she bought those "hippy clothes," the broomstick skirt and baggy sweater, did she pick something out on her own. Oh, and those two light, airy, flowery dresses she bought on a whim off a sales rack.

  Maurice kept up a constant chatter as he snipped here and there. Priscilla watched as one curl after another fell to the floor. She hoped Maurice didn't cut off all her hair in his enthusiasm.

  Then he stopped in mid-snip. "Sweetie, I need to get Mrs. Monroe over there out of the dryer." He patted her on the top of the head. "Back in a sec, sweetie."

  While Maurice was busy turning Mrs. Monroe into a movie-star look-alike, Priscilla flipped to the Outback article in her travel magazine. As she read through the article she found herself instantly drawn to the adventure.

  The writer advised buying a used conversion van from one of several companies in one of Australia's major cities, like Sydney, Melbourne, Cairns or Perth. Then, after an extended Australian holiday, hopefully a really long one, you could sell the van back to the company. Supposedly, that was cheaper than renting a newer van from one of the bigger rental companies. Plus, with a conversion van, you could stay at caravan parks all over Australia and save a lot of money in the process.

  Wow! Priscilla was instantly hooked on the idea. This was exactly what she needed. Exactly what her doctor, co-workers and friends had ordered. Wasn't it? Well, it wasn't exactly one of Darcy's numbered suggestions, but it was close. Wasn't Darcy just suggesting that she get away for a while?

  Reluctantly, she had to admit that Darcy and their team were good enough to handle Sunrise on their own. Obviously, her design ideas hadn't hit the mark. So maybe the team could come up with something more acceptable with her out of the picture?

  Ah! She could feel the tension in her shoulders easing just at the thought of getting away, far away, and for an extended period of time. Like forever? Yeah, right! When pigs could fly.

  Flying? Now there was a problem. She absolutely hated flying, hated planes of any kind. If God had meant her to fly, wouldn't he have given her wings?

  Well, it wasn't like she could drive to Australia, or take a train. A cruise would be lovely, but
she didn't have the money for something as extravagant as a cruise."

  Sheesh! She had a terrible habit of dreaming big, instead of dreaming small. Well, she'd have to think some more on this particular dream. They had cute furry kangaroos and giant crocodiles in Australia, didn't they? This escape plan sounded better by the minute.

  Chapter Five

  Priscilla felt lighter as she walked out of the Mart and onto the sidewalk. Maurice was magic when it came to hair. He could take an absolute frump and make her look like a model. Well, maybe not exactly like a model, but close.

  She was in no hurry to head back to the office. So instead she hopped on a cable car and headed to Ghirardelli Square. A small hot-fudge sundae was calling her name. And who was she to resist such a powerful call?

  As she sat at one of the café tables she took her first bite of the hot-fudge. It was so sweet it made her teeth hurt. But she knew from experience that her mouth, and teeth, would quickly adjust to that rich, sweet fudge. She inhaled deeply. Was this the sweet smell of heaven? She certainly hoped so.

  She propped the travel magazine on the table and reopened to the article. All the while her fingers were tap, tap, tapping on the open pages. Hmm! She could do this.

  Her mother was already staying in her condo, so she didn't need to find someone to feed her fish. As for her bank account, well, she hadn't touched that bonus she'd received last Christmas. That, plus some of the savings she'd put aside for a rainy day, would certainly be enough. Wouldn't it? Of course, it wasn't like this was a rainy day. Or was it?

  Dr. Edwards, at her last visit, had warned that she was heading for a heart attack or ulcers if she kept up her high-stress, too-fast pace. So maybe this was a rainy day situation? It was actually life or death, right? Well, she'd worry about that later.

  How soon could she leave? Tonight? Yeah, didn't she just wish. She'd have to give some kind of notice at work. Only after this morning's fiasco, they were probably ready to give her some walking papers.