Chasing Clouds Page 14

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Steph said, adding that Elodie already had the requisite skills and would just need the qualification to go with them now.

  “Plus, you know, staff discount and free upgrades to first class,” Carla added cheekily. Steph’s eyes slid sideways and Carla took the hint immediately. “Er, I meant that’s amazing, babe. You’d be amazing.”

  Elodie grinned wider, she knew that she had a fair bit of research to do and undoubtedly there would be some pretty challenging obstacles to overcome; after all, she hadn’t taken an examination in years. But she’d have plenty of time to dwell on that. Right now, Elodie was determined to bask in the sunny rays that a little bit of certainty provided.

  Elodie spent the rest of the day on Carla’s laptop. She covered every base she could think of and by the time the sun was beginning to set she really felt as though she had gotten to grips with what she would need to do. There were only two tiny problems. Every decent course seemed to be booked up for months and all of them, decent or not, cost a lot more than Elodie could afford. Closing the laptop, she sighed. She had been so sure this was the answer and now felt even more daunted than ever.

  “What’s up, hun?” Carla said, not looking up from her phone.

  “Everything just costs so much money, the courses are a fortune and then you’d have to pay to stay in a hotel near the venue as they’re all in the middle of nowhere and even if I could afford it the best courses with the best prospects are booked up months and months in advance,” Elodie sighed. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  Carla set her phone down and without a word stood up and disappeared into her bedroom. She wasn’t gone for many moments when she reappeared and made her way over to the sofa where Elodie sat. She bent down and placed her petite hand on Elodie’s shoulder.

  “Why didn’t I get an invite?” Carla asked, a serious expression on her face.

  “An invite to what?” Elodie said, wondering how Carla had managed to completely ignore her and then change the subject so quickly.

  “To your pity party,” Carla finished, a smile creeping onto her face. She took Elodie by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You, Elodie Taylor, need to leave the defeatism by the door and be positive. These are not unscalable mountains, Elodie, these are just bumps in the road and you can’t see every little bump as a barrier to happiness.”

  Elodie looked at Carla thoughtfully. It was very easy to say that but no amount of positive thinking would put pounds in her bank account or a qualification in her hand.

  “I’m not having a pity party, I’m being realistic,” Elodie counteracted quietly.

  “Nope, you’re being defeatist. Think about what you have, or more to the point what I have.” Carla said.

  Elodie looked at her; she searched her friend’s face for any sort of clue as to what she could be going on about. Carla didn’t have the kind of spare cash that Elodie would need and even if she did Elodie would never take it.

  “What are you going on about?” Elodie asked carefully.

  “Here,” Carla said and dropped a crumpled piece of paper into Elodie’s lap. Elodie picked it up. It wasn’t a crumpled piece of paper at all but rather the business card Edward had written his number on the night before, albeit in a less than pristine state now it had been in Carla’s handbag all night. Elodie opened it up and was a little repulsed to find a used piece of chewing gum stuck to the inside of the card.

  “Ewww,” she said. “Carla, that’s gross.”

  “It isn’t. What’s gross is chucking your gum in the street or sticking it under a table.”

  Elodie had to agree, although almost putting your finger in someone else’s used gum was still a bit grim, no matter which how you tried to spin it.

  She turned the card over in her hand. The chewing gum had been stuck to the side with Edward’s number on, rendering only three of the digits still visible. Elodie knew that this was probably intentional. Carla was happy being single and, as she often reminded Elodie, she liked her encounters to be like a special attraction, one night only. Elodie flipped the card back over and stared at the other side: in embossed silver lettering it read ‘Chase Ford, Private Pilot’, followed by what Elodie could only assume was his personal telephone number.

  “I don’t think I can,” she said, looking up at Carla. “I didn’t speak to him all night and now I ring him and ask for a favour? Bit desperate, isn’t it?”

  “You are desperate,” Carla said bluntly, bending over and picking up Elodie’s phone from the arm of the sofa and handing it over expectantly. “Give him a ring. The worse thing that can happen is that he says no and the best thing is that you get exactly what you want. Oh, go on, just do it.”

  Elodie hesitated and then reluctantly took her phone from Carla, her hand shaking an almost imperceptible amount.

  “OK, I’ll do it, but not tonight. It’s getting late and he’s probably busy. It is still the weekend, after all.”

  “It’s not that late, it’s barely seven o’clock. You should do it, grab the bull by the horns, he’ll think you’re tenacious,” Carla combatted.

  Elodie dropped her gaze from Carla and back to the card. Maybe he would think she was tenacious, or maybe he’d think she was a complete chancer who wanted something for nothing from someone who certainly didn’t owe her anything at all.

  “I don’t know, Carla. Isn’t it a bit cheeky?” Elodie said after a lengthy pause.

  “Well, put it this way, if it’s cheeky now it’ll be cheeky tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that. The benefit of doing it now is that you won’t be left wondering. Go on, strike while the iron’s hot.”

  Elodie raised her eyebrow.

  “I dunno, Betty always says it,” Carla finished by way of explanation.

  Elodie, who still held her phone tightly in her hand, nodded as she mulled over her decision. She deciding that if ‘persistence and dedication’ really was going to be her mantra then she better start living by them.

  “OK, well I’m not doing it in here, I need peace, I need a clear head.”

  Elodie picked herself up and, setting the laptop down on the coffee table, she dusted herself down and made her way into her bedroom. She closed the door and heard an ominous “Good luck” echo from the living room.

  Elodie sat at her little dressing table and placed the phone and Chase’s business card in front of her. She then reached into a small side drawer and pulled out a little notepad and a pen: she wanted to be prepared in case Chase did decide to help her. He was sure to be a fountain of knowledge and she wanted to write down every single word of wisdom that slipped from his lips. She picked up the phone and gingerly typed in the number from the card. Her finger hovered over the screen and lingered there for a second too long. Suddenly, an inexplicably frosty cloud had settled itself over her and she found herself unable to press the button. She suddenly felt nauseous; although Elodie hadn’t even wanted this job for a full day, she felt very much like it were the right, and only, path for her. Knowing that this man, who Elodie didn’t know at all, could potentially help her filled her with such a sense of apprehension and dread that she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. Her heartbeat quickened and she felt cool prickles of sweat begin to form on the back of her neck. Elodie reclined in her seat, closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Then, pushing her hair back from her face, she tapped the dial button and snatched the phone up to her ear. Elodie held her breath as the call connected. The phone rang and rang, which didn’t surprise her. If an unknown number called her at this time on a Sunday, she would probably let it go to voicemail too.

  “Hi, this is the voicemail of Chase Ford, sorry I’m unable to take your call at present. Please leave me a short message and I will try to get back to you.” Chase’s voice was deep; a rich, smooth baritone that was like an aural massage.

  Elodie paused. Sh
e was unprepared for this eventuality and wondered if leaving a voicemail would be the right thing to do. There was a beeping sound and the line went silent in anticipation of a message.

  “Er, hi. This is Elodie, Elodie Taylor. We met…” Elodie broke off. Her phone was beeping at her: she looked at the screen and saw that the number she had just dialled was calling her back. She stammered a goodbye and with her cheeks flushing accepted the incoming call, eternally glad that Chase couldn’t actually see her.

  “Hello, who is this?” the smooth voice of Chase Ford asked.

  Elodie felt herself blush further at his very businesslike tone, she opened her mouth to reply but found that she was lost for words.

  “Hello?” Chase said again, this time with an icier edge to his voice that made Elodie feel even more nervous.

  “Hello,” she managed before taking a big breath. “It’s Elodie, Elodie Taylor. We met last night.”

  “We did, did we?” Chase replied, “I meet a lot of people, Elodie, but I don’t remember handing my number out to anyone, especially anyone named ‘Elodie, Elodie Taylor’.” He sounded a little annoyed but Elodie was sure she heard a hint of amusement mixed in there too.

  “Edward took a card from you to give to my friend Carla, she was the beautiful one he was chatting to. I was the one talking to Adam,” she explained.

  “Lucky you,” Chase quipped. “So what is it I can do for you, Elodie Taylor?” he asked. The hairs on Elodie’s arms stood up at this point: there was something in the way he said her name that gave her the shivers.

  “I wanted to ask you about becoming a flight attendant. I mean, I know you’re not one. I know you’re a pilot, the best pilot by all accounts, but I thought you might know someone I could speak to. All the courses are so expensive or all booked up and I just thought someone in your position might be able to help me?” Elodie trailed off, realising that she was rambling now and that flattery probably wasn’t going to work on a man like Chase Ford.

  There was a palpable silence and Elodie wished he’d just say something, anything to break it. She was beginning to seriously regret taking Carla’s advice; this wasn’t something Elodie would normally do and now she was out of her depth. She had no clue how to handle the situation so remained silent as well. The reticence was broken by a rustling noise in the background; Elodie strained to hear but couldn’t quite put her finger on what the sound was exactly.

  “Hello?” she asked again with trepidation. She didn’t want to annoy Chase but equally didn’t want to stay on the phone in silence. She could have kicked herself for thinking that phoning a perfect stranger, on a Sunday, for a favour was a good idea. She blamed Carla entirely for this. Carla had a great way with people and Elodie was sure that if she had been the one to call she would have found herself inundated with offers of help, ‘Hell, he’d probably offer her the co- pilots job and pay her twice the going rate,’ Elodie thought glumly. She just wasn’t that confident or lucky, and it showed.

  “I’m here,” Chase said, breaking Elodie’s reverie. “OK, leave it with me. I’ll see if I know anyone. Bye now.”

  Her mobile beeped three times and then went dead. Puzzled, Elodie looked at the phone: the picture of her, Carla and Steph in the park now looked back at her.

  Elodie walked back into the living room, an odd, dumbstruck expression on her face.

  “How’d it go?” Carla asked eagerly.

  “I don’t know,” Elodie replied truthfully.

  She sat herself down in the armchair in the far corner of the room and placed her head in her hands. She relayed the conversation back to Carla and when she was finished she looked up, expectant that Carla would be able to decipher exactly what had happened and would be able to enlighten her at once.

  “Well, I think that’s a victory. So what if he was a little standoffish? You remember what he was like at the bar. Maybe that’s just how he is, maybe he wasn’t being rude, maybe he was just being himself.”

  Elodie nodded. Perhaps Carla was right. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that what she had just done hadn’t put her in a favourable light in the eyes of Chase Ford. She doubted very much that he saw the phone call as tenacious and determined and was sure he’d interpreted it as annoying and childish.

  She shook her head violently: she didn’t care what Chase thought of her. So what if he thought she was a touch immature? She just needed enough of his regard for him to help, no more and no less.

  Chapter 8

  Elodie put her phone back on her dressing table, screen side down, with a little more force than she had intended. She had spent the entire morning checking and re- checking her phone, like a teenager awaiting a message from her crush. She found it impossible to go a full minute without the overwhelming urge to inspect it again. She’d turned it from silent, to loud, to do not disturb and to vibrate over and over again, hoping against hope that one of these settings would result in a phone call or message from Chase. She didn’t know exactly what she was expecting from him; she doubted very much that he’d pull some strings and just get her a job at the drop of a hat, but maybe he’d know someone who could get her onto a course, or better yet someone who’d be willing to waive the fee and get her onto a course. Elodie groaned and conceded that staring at her phone was not going to make Chase get in touch. She made a conscientious decision to leave it in her bedroom. She opened her drawer and dropped the phone inside before getting up from the dressing table, determined that she was going to enjoy at least one whole hour of phone- free time. With the decision made, she closed the bedroom door tightly behind her; however, not before nipping back and taking one last look, just to make extra sure.

  “Who are you talking to?” Elodie asked Carla, who was on the phone herself. She held up a finger to signify that she’d be a minute.

  Elodie waited, eager to know who was on the phone and what they had said to cause Carla to smile in such a way that you’d be forgiven for thinking that she’d just won the lottery. Elodie tapped her foot impatiently; this was turning into one very long minute. Eventually, Carla said her goodbyes and pulled the phone away from her ear.

  “Just been booked in officially for the footwear gig, the shoot’s been organised and everything, photographer booked, the works. They’re sending a car for me next week and the best bit is that my agents just told me how much I’m going to get paid. El, they’re paying me eight hundred pounds, just to take pictures of my feet. Can you believe it, it’s amazing, isn’t it?” Carla said, beaming as she rubbed her hands together eagerly.

  Elodie couldn’t believe it. Eight hundred pounds seemed like an awful lot of money, especially to her. She smiled at her friend, trying her absolute best not to let the jealousy she was feeling show on her face; she didn’t want to taint this moment and was determined not to let her own situation tarnish Carla’s.

  “It is amazing,” Elodie agreed, adding that she knew that this was only the beginning for Carla and wrapping her in a huge, warm hug that did nothing to thaw the frostiness she felt inside.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting to work?” Carla asked, once Elodie had released her.

  Elodie snapped her head around to look at the clock hanging by the door. Carla was absolutely right. She really should be getting to work, Elodie kicked herself for spending the morning staring at her phone instead of sorting herself out. Her apron was crumpled in a pile on the floor, unwashed from the last time she wore it. It wasn’t the only thing in need of some soap and water: Elodie hadn’t even been in the shower herself. ‘No time for that now,’ she thought as she darted back into her bedroom. She pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans, an old Fleetwood Mac T- shirt Betty had given her and scraped her long brown hair into a high ponytail. She grabbed her apron from the floor and shook it out, deciding that other than being a little creased it really wasn’t all that bad after all.

  “What time do you call this?” Betty reprimanded, �
��you were meant to be here at midday. I’ve had to manage with just Sara during the lunchtime rush.”

  Elodie looked over at Sara, one of the other waitresses with whom she rarely worked. Sara was looking both shamefaced and a little put out by Betty’s tone and cleared one of the tables with a more than miserable look on her face.

  “I’m sorry,” Elodie said genuinely, “I was waiting on a call about a…” She trailed off. Elodie didn’t want to tell Betty she was looking for another job, especially when it was as an excuse for being late. “I was just waiting for a call,” she finished lamely.

  Betty looked her up and down and rubbed her temples in exasperation, clearly unimpressed with the flimsy excuse. To make matters worse, Betty then caught sight of what Elodie held in her hand: a bundled up, very creased, clearly unclean apron. Betty’s eyes narrowed and her brow knitted together and she sighed.

  “There’s a clean apron in the back. Go and put it on, and be quick about it. Sara should have left half an hour ago, poor thing’s dead on her feet. Oh, and while you’re there, bring me one of my headache tablets, I can feel another bad head coming on.”

  Elodie nodded as she scurried past Betty and into the back. She found the apron hung up and hurriedly tied it around her waist, not wanting to spend a second longer than she needed to flouting Betty’s lenient nature.

  After a hectic afternoon, Betty reached up and turned the open sign to closed with one hand and bolted the door shut with the other. Elodie, who was putting the last of the chairs up, was glad that the day was almost over. As well as feeling physically tired from a long afternoon of work, she felt mentally drained too. She couldn’t stop her imagination from running away with her and had split her thoughts between ideas of travelling the world as an air hostess and the looming, far more real, possibility of Chase being unable to help her.

  This last shift had been somewhat of a turning point for Elodie. She had always been very certain that she loved her job at Betty’s and that she could happily do it for the rest of her life. However, with this new possibility within her reach, the idea of remaining a coffee shop waitress seemed to suffocate her.