Less Money, More Love

Chapter 2: Los Angeles

The wedding was set to take place in the Hamptons, the summer spot for New York City's elite wealthy and where her family had a summer home. Rachel's father would realize that Rachel was gone at the same instant her plane was touching the tarmac in Los Angeles, where her family had another home and several lucrative businesses.

Caterers, florists, musicians and dozens of staff had descended on the mansion, unprepared to deal with a missing bride. Money had been no object, but a wedding without a bride, no matter how little money mattered, was not a part of her father's plan. He needed to present a blissfully happy couple and their merged business interests before the stock market opened on Monday. He was livid when he found the ring on her dresser. Immediately he called her.

“Where are you, young lady?! I need you. here. now. What on earth is the meaning of all of this? What's going on?"

“Daddy, please calm down," she pleaded.

“Calm down? I have a right to be angry. It looks like you walked out on the wedding. What should I tell Kurt?"

“Kurt? You're worried about Kurt? If he means that much to you, then you marry him. I'm quite sure that he won't even notice the difference as long as a fat check is part of the agreement and he gets to keep his mistresses."

“We'll be the laughing stock of New York society. How could you pull something like this? Do you know what impact your flight of fancy has had on our two families?"

“Me? Okay. Do you mean financially or personally?" She continued, “Can't you see that what's good for business might not be good for me? I know deep down you must care something about me, but this is not the way to do it."

After a long, quiet pause, Rachel was not even sure that he had heard any part of her explanation in this bi-coastal argument. “Daddy? Do you understand? Can you hear me? This is getting nowhere. I'm going to pursue my own life in L.A. When you can stop yelling and threatening me with your selfish ultimata, we can try to talk again. Goodbye."

“Rachel. Rachel. Rachel! I'll cut you off, that's right, no inheritance, no allowance, and none of the little perks you enjoy thanks to my wealth. We'll see how long your independence lasts. Don't you hang up that phone on me, missy. Don't you think for a minute that... Rachel...?"

Rachel had left the domestic area of the airport for the international section. She had used her honeymoon ticket to get to L.A., so she had some time before father put the pieces together, the largest one being her absence from her wedding.

She looked at the different international flights coming in and going out and decided to go on a private honeymoon. This is not what she thought she would be doing in her life, ever. From her point of view, this was necessary immediately to reclaim, rest, and restore health and sanity.

But where? She had limited foreign language skills and planned to make it a long-term stay, maybe even permanent, if she continued to feel the way she felt right now. “Mama show me the way," she sighed, whispering this prayer for hope and help.

Over the intercom, an airline headed to the United Kingdom announced the international flight to England would be boarding within the hour. She hit the ATM and took out as much cash as she could to buy a ticket. She was also prepared for anything with her up to date passport.

Acting boldly and bravely as an assertion of freedom from two tyrannical men and demonstrating her own power, she bought a ticket. She moved in a blur from the ticket counter, through security, and finally to the gate and onto the plane.

Now she could breathe. She did not miss or care about Kurt, not as much as her father did, anyway. Once she got to England, she would get settled and let her father know she was alright. That should give her a few days of peace. Who knows? Maybe he would have even calmed down.

Just before the plane closed the doors for boarding, a devilishly handsome man got on. He was impossible not to notice, tall, dark, and handsome, with a thick mane of coiled hair.

He was pushing his way around, trying to find his seat and room for his carryon suitcase, backpack, hanging garment bag and bag of fast food goodies.

He accidentally hit her with his suitcase as he was trying to put it in a space above head that was already almost full.

“Ow!" Part of his baggage hit Rachel in the head. “There's no more room for you. Try another bin."

Without acknowledging having accidentally struck her or apologizing for it, he gruffly said, “You're in my seat," and kept trying to force his luggage where it would not fit.

She fished for her boarding pass in her purse. “I think you are mistaken and I'll prove it in a minute," she said, elevating her volume but not yet losing her cool.

“The sooner the better." He clearly did not care about the typical politeness airline passengers in first class usually extended one another.

“Really? Well you can take your oversized, assaulting bag with you and stuff it right where..."

Meanwhile, one of the airline stewards first overheard, then observed the exchange between them. He came over and resolved it before any more unnecessary rudeness from the young man became a catalyst in fueling the verbal exchange or the confrontation between himself and the young woman.

Instead of making a compromise for more comfort for his long and lanky frame, the gentleman's boarding pass indicated that he would have the middle seat while Rachel would have the aisle. Once it was decided that Rachel was victorious and he was settled in loser in international airline court, she flashed him a bright smile to rub his nose in it.

He tried to ignore her and just put his headphones on and blared his music. Loud and even more obnoxious, it was definitely not what she would have chosen. Nevertheless this rude man came prepared with a soundtrack for blocking her out as much as possible for the rest of their forced time together. There was no need for a further social exchange of any small talk between them or another confrontation.

She ordered a champagne cocktail to celebrate her newfound freedom. It was first class and comfortable, after all, and she was going to try to enjoy this flight. After a couple of drinks, she put aside her thoughts of the wedding, her father's threats, or the rude but gorgeous man and slept the whole flight. When she arrived in London, she was fresh from slumber and ready for adventure, feeling more alive than she had since the engagement occurred and the wedding planning began.

“Honeymoon for one, please," she thought to herself, “and destined for adventure alone."