Vanessa and The Cosa Nostra - Chpt. 7

Chapter seven:

It was pitch black and nothing could be seen beyond the whitish glowing wing of the plane as Van looked through the window.
She sighed.
This had been the longest and most boring plane ride she had ever had in her entire life time.
Oh, yes, she had been on lots of trips before.
But never with her most hated enemy.
And that’s saying something.
It was one thing to sit beside a complete stranger who wouldn’t bother you (since he didn’t know you) and who would let you sit in peace and look about wherever you wanted to without having awkward glances.
It was another thing to sit beside someone who you want to keep ignoring as much as possible and who you do not want to speak to.
Thus, Vanessa spent most of her time looking out the window, to avoid glancing at Framer, though there wasn’t much to see outside.
Most likely she’d develop a cramp of some sort, arching her head sideways that whole time.

Framer mostly kept to himself too, though.
He was immersed in newspapers and looked up rarely.
Van felt stupid, sticking to the plane’s white side like that, as if she didn’t want to catch something from Framer.
Her nose barely touched the glass of the thick window, her breath foaming on it, and she kept looking out at the blackness as if some fantastic show was taking place there which she couldn’t take her eyes away from.

She sighed again.
Vanessa couldn’t wait to reach Washington D.C., though the mission awaited her there.
At least she wouldn’t have Framer right next to her there.

***

“We were heading from Virginia Beach, thus; latitude - 36° 44', North, and… longitude - 76° 02', West…”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, as Framer muttered to himself, quickly scribbling inside his logbook, as they briskly trotted down the airport hallway, pulling along their luggage.

“Hmmm… so that was – 156… 157 – ah, 158 miles”.

Framer scribbled quickly again, his left hand hauling along his dark luggage and clutching the tiny book, too.
Every time he wanted to write something down, he paused in his footsteps.

Van intervened. “More like 254 kilometers”.

Framer looked up, an annoyed glint in his eyes, saying, “Well, yes”.
He wrote something down again.

Cherlie prevented the smug smile to escape her pink lips.
They should try to cooperate at least, although Vanessa still didn’t like him all that much.
But being civil and keeping low is important, no matter the differences.
After all, they were supposed to be cousins.
Van shuddered inwardly.
She couldn’t get over the idea Linkton brought forth to them.
Van and Framer were supposed to be cousins and joining the same university. In that way, nobody would become suspicious.
Or at least, that’s what Linkton thought.
Van did not like the idea when it was mentioned.
Why people in that college might think she was related to a chimpanzee!
Although, in no remote way possible, can Framer be compared to a chimpanzee.

She sighed.

“Edmund, could you pass me the passports, please?” she pretended to be civil when some foreigners chattering loudly in some unknown language passed beside them.

He turned a polite tone on, “Here they are, Phoebe”, handing her the passports.

Edmund Hope was Framer’s fake name.
It was plain, and simple.
“Edmund”, Vanessa thought, shaking her beautiful blonde head slowly as she skimmed through their fake passports, “Phoebe is totally way better”.

***

Van looked around the motel room that she was to sleep in that night.
It was simple and OK… not much to her likings, but it would have to do.
She sent a SMS to Linkton, through her unregistered cell phone, saying that she had arrived in Mabel Motel – and all was going as planned.

She set her alarm clock at 4;00 am, and lay her flaxen head on the bed.
She was asleep in merely two minutes.