Perfect Fifths_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [25]
Marcus delivers a wan smile.
“I can help you,” Jonelle promises.
Marcus focuses on a tiny heart-shaped gold charm trapped between her mountainous breasts like an unlucky climber abandoned in a crevasse. He identifies with the poor guy. “I doubt it,” he replies.
“I really want to help,” she insists huskily.
Marcus takes off his glasses and looks at her through fuzzier, more forgiving 20/60 vision. He wonders if this change in perspective makes it easier to see what she looked like before she felt like she had to do this to herself in order to be loved. Make no mistake, no matter what explanations or excuses or equivocations she’s given—from “It’s my body and I can do whatever I damn well please” to “Everyone gets a little work done these days” to “It’s a low price to pay for high self-esteem”—what else but the need to be loved could motivate someone to do this to herself? She never gave herself a chance, Marcus thinks, to be loved for who she is, flaws and all.
His watch feels like a shackle around his wrist, immediate punishment for his presumed superiority.
“I’m in the business of helping anxious passengers.” Jonelle sneaks a fingernail into the pocket that conveniently calls redundant attention to her breasts. She pulls out a small white card and hands it to him:
Jonelle Jenkins
Aeroanxiety Specialist
thAIRapy spa @ Newark Liberty International Airport
Marcus’s heart sinks with the revelation that she is a clinical therapist, perfume spritzer, and masseuse all in one. He had wanted Jonelle to surprise him, to teach him a lesson about false first impressions. Against his better judgment, he tries to salvage the conversation by asking a question. “Do you always target clients like this?”
Jonelle’s mouth widens, better for showing off a full set of custom veneers. “Only when they look as anxious as you do.”
Marcus stands up to his full height for the first time during the conversation, stretching well over six feet tall. “How anxious?” He needs to get an objective opinion.
“Bordering on terrified,” she says. “You want to move forward, but you can’t. You aren’t brave enough.”
Marcus nods in reluctant agreement, and Jonelle is encouraged by his gesture of approval. She edges one step closer, body-slamming Marcus with the full impact of a heavyweight perfume that evokes a nineteenth-century opium den. “You’re trembling,” she says. When Jonelle gently presses her hand into his palm, Marcus yanks his hand away and stuffs it into his pocket. The sudden fierceness of this gesture makes Jonelle gasp in a rather unwholesome way. “Well!” she cries out, taking a step backward to collect herself. “Well!”
“I’m sorry,” Marcus says. “My issues are beyond any therapy.”
“If you need me,” Jonelle says breathily, gesturing down the concourse, “I’ll be right there.”
Marcus’s eyes are drawn in the opposite direction of her hand, back to Jessica. The women who were on line in front of her are exiting the Clear Sky customer service center en masse. Some are sobbing, others are grimacing; no grievances have been resolved to their satisfaction. It’s Jessica’s turn to talk to the Clear Sky customer service center representative.
All at once it hits Marcus like a shaft of light in a darkened tunnel. The way out! The next step! Why didn’t he think of it before? He had all the information he needed and still wasted all this time.
Jonelle has freed the heart charm from the D-cup danger zone and is now zipping it along the gold chain, back and forth against her breasts. “Ahem,” she hints, unaware that Marcus’s side of the conversation is irretrievable.
Marcus pauses just long enough to pay her a compliment. “I like your necklace,” he says.
Jonelle hasn’t had a chance to say thank