Threads: The Island

Kyle chuckled. "Good one."

"No, seriously." Caroline nodded, her face earnest.

Kyle took a swig of his beer and casually glanced over to the booth where two girls were watching him. They jerked their eyes away quickly and began to giggle.

"Want me to get them in the back of the limo for you?"

Kyle burst out laughing. "You sound like my pimp."

"You've got a pimp?" She teased. "Seriously though, it's pretty easy. You're a decent enough looking guy, and the clothes make you look good. Plus you're sitting with a limo driver, talking shit, while it's parked right outside the door. You look good to them right now, so I bet if you picked up their check and got a bottle of champagne to go, I could walk over there and invite them to join you in the limo."

"That shit actually works?" Kyle snorted. "Sounds like something from a bad TV show."

"Oh, it works. I've got tons of clients laid doing stuff like that." She grinned. "All part of the service, my lord."

"Why you so keen to get me to hooked up?" Kyle asked, looking at her. "If it's not these girls, it's hire some hookers and have a threesome. What's that all about?" He took a swig of beer.

Caroline shrugged. "I like watching people fucking. I'm a perv, I don't care."

Kyle nearly choked and definitely lost a number of dude points during the coughing fit that followed while Caroline sat there and laughed at his reaction.

"You should totally look up a friend of mine," Kyle said a few minutes later when he'd recovered. "His name's Ed, he's nuts and lots of fun, and you two would hit it off."

"I dunno. I'm kinda fussy." Caroline shrugged again, and Kyle smiled. It seemed to be her favourite movement.

"Fussy how?"

"Well, actually I'm not that fussy," She grinned and got her phone out. "What's his number?"

Kyle chuckled and got it out his phone for her. Once Caroline punched it into the address book she grinned, a smile with a deliberate hint of evil to it. "I'm totally gonna mess with him for a week or so."

"You really should. He's a comic book artist. That's what he does for a living. Better warn you though, he's a bit of an asshole, and he's got a ridiculous vocabulary for parts of the female anatomy, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I'm sure I can give him a run for his money. My room-mate is a professional sex worker, remember."

They left the restaurant ten minutes later, with Kyle managing to avoid Caroline's repeated suggestions that she drag the two girls with them. Ordinarily the idea would have held a ridiculous amount of appeal to Kyle, but after todays revelations, not least of which was that he had inadvertantly made love to one sister, had a lapdance from another, then jerked off to the memories several hundred times, he wasn't in the mood for anything sexual.

To kill some of the remaining hours, Kyle went home and Caroline helped him pack the luggage he'd bought with the new clothes. A ridiculous amount of tags, bags and packaging accumulated beside Kyle's sofa, but with an hour to spare they had everything packed that he'd need and into the limo. It wouldn't all fit in the trunk, but Kyle wasn't bothered about a few bags in the back with him. He knew he wasn't that guy, yet.

It came as a bit of a surprise at one point when Caroline took off her jacket to reveal a pistol in a shoulder-holster. Seeing Kyle's astonished look, she explained that she split her time between limo driving and close protection security, and that today she was doing both. Kyle thought it both surreal and funny that his first bodyguard was a woman who kept trying to get him laid and could kill him if he made the wrong move.

He had another cigarette, called his folks to ask them to keep quiet about the days events and let them know he was heading out to Danny Tripps private Island for a few days to meet his sisters. His folks seemed relieved that he seemed to be taking it in his stride, but Kyle explained that he thought it either hadn't sunk in yet, or it didn't matter to him that he was adopted because they were the only parents he'd ever known, and given both his birth parents were dead, it wasn't like they were going to steal him away.

His folks promised to call him in a couple of days, but reminded him he just had to call and they'd come to wherever he was. He rang off, nodded to Caroline and they left for the airport.

Kyle waved farewell to Caroline once the flight crew had loaded the bags onto the small private Jet, and he turned towards the small lounge in the Executive Privilege Airlines building. He looked up at the sign. "EPA? Someone's got a sense of humour."

He opened the door into a brightly llit reception area.

"Mister Watson?" An old black man with wrinkles on his wrinkles asked from behind the receptionist desk.

"Yes."

"Can I see your passport please?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Kyle handed it over to the man who gave it a cursory glance and handed it back.

"If you'd like to go into the lounge, sir, your aircraft will be ready in ten minutes."

Kyle nodded and entered the lounge, seeing a woman rising to her feet. Shoulder-length blonde hair framed a pretty face with a pointy chin and eyes that missed nothing. A charcoal gray business suit covered a body that Kyle could see was in great shape. For someone who had the potential to look like Pamela Anderson in a red swimsuit, she didn't come across that way at all. The minimal makeup, the lines of her suit, all created a professional ensemble that looked businesslike above all else.

"Mister Watson?" She asked, taking a step towards him. Her voice was sure, confident and clear.

"Kyle," He replied, offering a little wave. He rolled his eyes at his own lameness.

"I'm Patricia Miller. I understand Mister Crowler told you I'd be meeting you here?"

Kyle nodded, and moved forward, shaking hands with her. "Yeah, he said that you're going to be helping me out. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded, motioning him to a seat, taking the adjacent one for herself. "I was Executive Assistant to Mister Tripps for nine years, and my role with you is to primarily look after you, act as your liaison and schedule manager, set up whatever you need and answer any questions you might have."

"So we're going to be working together quite a lot then?" Kyle asked cautiously.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, if we're going to be working together all the time, then you should call me Kyle."

"Yes, sir."

Kyle noticed the hint of a smile twitching at her mouth. "Funny."

"Kyle it is then. I may 'Sir' you in public from time to time though." Her eyes really lit up when she smiled, he noted.

"Cool. Whatever works for you," Kyle said. "So how did you get landed with me then? Lose the lottery?"

Patricia took a deep breath then let it out slowly. "Can I be honest, Kyle?"

"Please." Kyle meant it too. If he was going to have to rely on Patricia, as Mister Crowler suggested, then he much preferred the thought of her giving it to him straight.

"Out of the three of you, you and your sisters, I asked to be assigned to you. You have experience in business, and not just at a ground level. That makes my job a little easier because you'll be quicker on the uptake. Likewise, I sometimes find other women can be difficult to... establish good working relationships with from time to time."

"You mean because sometimes women are bitches?" Kyle said, opting for excessive honesty himself. He was no stranger to office politics either.

Patricia chuckled. "Yes, pretty much. I've encountered resentment because of how I look on plenty of occasions, and it's usually overcome by sheer professional competence within a month or two, but I think that the next few days and weeks are going to define a lot about how Mister Tripps businesses end up being run in the future, and I want to contribute to that."

"So by working with me, you think we'll get on better and quicker than you would if you were working with a woman?" Kyle asked, admiring her honesty, but a little confused.

"That's part of it," She nodded. "Mister Tripps and I worked together for nearly nine years, and I invested a lot of time and effort into his businesses. I think you're the most business-oriented of the three of you, based on nothing more than your files, but if you are, then that's the area I'd prefer to be working in."

"And that's all of it?" Kyle asked.

"Pretty much."

Kyle nodded. "Mister Crowler told me I could trust you. He said you were great at your job and you'd be a real asset to me if I could learn to rely on you. Any idea what he meant by that?"

"It could be something as simple as trying to encourage you to open up and trust me. That way I can learn how to support you more effectively, do my job more efficiently and help you out as much as possible." She frowned. "Did he really say that?"

Kyle nodded, looking around as his craving kicked back in. "Yeah. Do I just go outside if I want a cigarette?"

"I didn't know you smoked," Patricia said, tilting her head, her expression curious.

"Recently took up the habit again. It's been quite a day."

"I bet it has. How are you feeling?"

"Tense, nauseous, bemused, and kinda like I'm watching someone else in a movie, except the movie's my life going in strange and wacky directions," Kyle replied. He moved to stand, but Patricia placed a hand on his leg and got up herself.

"I'll get you an ashtray. Just smoke here if you want one."

"Fucking weird" Kyle muttered, lighting up indoors. She returned shortly with an ashtray.

"Want something to drink? Beer? Cocktail? Coffee? Soda?"

Kyle shook his head. "No, thanks, but don't let me stop you."

Patricia shook her head and sat back down. "So how did the shopping go?"

"Kinda bizarre," Kyle said, grinning. "Pulling up in a limo and wearing designer clothes when you walk in a store is a different level of service than I'm used to."

"It'll get more bizarre than that in the next few days," She warned. "Wait until you start getting fitted for tailored suits by Margaret."

"She's the person who wrote this list for me, right?"

Patricia nodded, a slight frown on her face. "That's Margaret. She's got a really great eye for dressing people."

"But..." Kyle added, guessing there was more.

Patricia smiled. "But she's arrogant and a nuisance, and believes that fashion is the ultimate reason for the human race being on the planet."

Kyle laughed. "Sounds like a joy to work with."

"Fortunately it doesn't happen very often, or my schedule would be shot to hell by brunch on a daily basis."

"So, I'm meant to lean on you for advice and all that. What mistakes should I try and avoid?" Kyle asked, figuring he might as well find out.

"Time management is going to be a factor for you. There's only so many hours in a day, and everyone will want a piece of them, so don't accept any appointments. Refer them all to me."

"Okay, that makes sense, I guess. I've never had an assistant before so I'm kinda groping in the dark here," He admitted.

"You'll get used to it," She said, smiling disarmingly. "What else can I suggest? Ask me anything. Don't be afraid to ask it if you think it will upset me, or if you think it's stupid. Don't worry about asking twice either. You're going to be taking so much information in over the course of a day that you'll forget some things, so rely on me. It's what I'm there for."

"Great. My very own wiki?"

She chuckled. "Wiki? I like that. Okay, what else? Let's see.... be honest with me, if something annoys you let me know and I'll either agree or we'll fight about it and I'll win."

"As simple as that?" Kyle grinned.

"Probably not, but we'll figure that stuff out as we go. One last thing for now," She said, pausing. "Please don't lie to me. If you start doing that, then I can't do my job, and you'll be the person who feels the impact of that."

"Because you'll punish me?" Kyle asked, still grinning.

Patricia snorted. "No, but if that's what you're into, I think we have people for that. No, what I mean is if you're having an affair then tell me. It's no-one elses business, but if it can have a future consequence then I need to know so I can prepare, or take action to make sure it doesn't become an issue."

"Wow, okay. Well, I'm not having an affair, so that's one thing off the list."

She shook her head. "Just one of a million different things you could use as an example."

There was a knock at the door and the receptionist entered. "That's your aircraft ready for boarding. Hope you both have a good flight."

"Thanks, LeBron," Patricia said, rising and heading for the door.

"Yeah, thanks, man," Kyle added.

"Shall we?" Patricia asked, waving towards the small Jet parked on the tarmac fifty metres away.

If you're going to fly, then private luxury jet is the way to do it, Kyle thought. Big leather reclining seats, big TV, DVD's, games, great food, drinks, even a kick-ass internet connection. Bathroom with a multi-head shower, a kitchen with a proper coffee machine. Luxury in a steel tube at thirty seven thousand feet.

"Very nice," Kyle noted as he finally took his seat.

"Your first time in a luxury jet?" Patricia asked, settling herself across the small aisle from him.

He nodded. "Only ever flown with United and the seats aren't exactly spacious."

Patricia smiled. "Well, if you're flying then most of the time it will be in jets like this. You should buckle up. We'll be taking off in the next few minutes."

"Cool." Kyle did as asked and got comfortable in his leather seat, facing forward on the right side of the aircraft, while Patricia did the same to his left. As he looked around he had another of those surreal moments, wondering how the hell his day had started writing a paper on 'Project Budget Control and Financial Reporting Issues' to suddenly being on a private jet with his 'assistant' about to travel to a Caribbean island to meet sisters he never knew he had.

The thought of Katie and Kara brought the subject to the fore in his mind again and he frowned.

"Everything okay, Kyle?" Patricia asked. "Are you nervous about flying?"

"What? No, never been a nervous flyer." He considered telling her about Myrtle Beach, but figured he'd better get to know her better and then decide. Kyle knew if it was just him and his two sisters who knew what happened then he wouldn't ever need to tell anyone, but he was genuinely worried that there were five other people who already knew.

Patricia turned her head forward and settled back in her seat. "I used to be terrified whenever I got on an aircraft, but in the last nine years I've been on so many flights it doesn't bother me at all anymore."

Just at that, the Pilot of the jet appeared, introducing himself as Captain Oates. He ran through the usual safety announcement, where the lifejackets were, and that the forecast was good for the weather and the flight should be arriving on time.

He disappeared into the cockpit and locked the door and seconds later the jet was rolling onto the runway. It accelerated rapidly, pressing Kyle into his seat and then they were off the ground. He watched out the small window, looking down at streetlights and cars moving on the Interstate, seeing the glow from the city in the night sky.

As soon as the aircraft levelled off Patricia unbuckled her seat belt. "Fancy a drink?"

Kyle shrugged. "Sure."

"Well, get comfortable. We're going to be here for a while. How does a Mojito sound?"

Kyle gave her a thumbs up and unbuckled his seatbelt, then reached down and unlaced his new boots, bought earlier that day, then slid them under the seat. He pulled out his phone and checked his emails while Patricia was in the galley.

Nothing from Casey, but an email from Ed, so he opened it up.

Hey fucker,

Casey says you've fucked off on a business jaunt for a week. WTF, dude? We're meant to be poon hunting this weekend! Anyway, where the fuck are you? And how much dick are these director fuckers gonna make you suck?

Ed, Esq.

Kyle shook his head. Ed had the subtlety of a wrecking ball sometimes, but he was a good friend. He typed back a reply.

Nutsack, Busy working, preparing briefings on all kinds of stuff. Could really do without this, but if I do a good job then instant promotion. That's worth another 27K a year. Think how many beers that would buy!!! I'll be in touch in a couple of days. Stay OUT my apartment!!! You still owe me new sheets from the last time! K ps gave your number to a limo driver chick. Kinda hot, you two should have babies. :D

Patricia appeared with a large jug on a tray as well as two glasses of Mojito. Kyle could smell the lime before she even put it on the table in front of his seat.

"Emails?"

"Yeah, my buddy, Ed."

"You didn't tell him what's going on, did you?" She gave him a stern look as she sat down opposite him.

Kyle chuckled. "No, just told him it was a business trip for a week and that I might get a promotion out of it."

She nodded and sipped at her drink. "I've always loved these."

Kyle tasted his own and nodded in agreement. "Nice."

"The pastry chef on the Island does a Mojito Sorbet. It's incredible."

"Sounds it," Kyle replied. "So tell me about the Island then. What's it like?"

"It's basically paradise. It's hot, there's a gorgeous cool breeze in the evenings and the air always smells really clean. It's got white sandy beaches, clear blue water, palm trees. The accommodation is... luxury, to say the least. It's very chilled, open and bright. The main house is a mixture of ancient Japanese architecture with a beach hut twist."

Kyle laughed. "That sounds like a sales pitch."

She smiled. "It's how one of the guests described it and it's kinda stuck. Let's see. What else? Well, it's got all sorts of facilities. A gym, swimming pools, a club, recording studios, helipad and a pier for the boat. There's a couple of speedboats too if you want to go for a run. It's got state of the art facilities to run the businesses from, as well as all the usual tennis courts, medical clinic and a whole load of guest houses."

"It sounds enormous," Kyle observed. "And amazing."

"It is amazing. It's not huge though. As Islands go it's pretty small. It's built around two peaks with the main house on the western side and the guest accommodation on the eastern side. The southern side is a wide bay and the northern side is mostly cliffs, but it's gorgeous, and the view of the sunsets from the main house are incredible."

"How many people are on it?"

"Between serving staff, kitchen staff, maintenance and cleaners, as well as the Doc, the Dentist, trainers, security...."

"Quite a lot then?" Kyle asked, surprised. He thought she was going to say somewhere between seven or twelve.

"I think it's usually around ninety people residing there at a time, but they're not there permanently. Four months on, two months off is the normal rotation. Edwin is the only one who lives there though."

"Who's Edwin?"

"The Island Manager. He was involved in building the place years ago and stayed on to do upgrades and improvements. Mister Tripps lets him live there, and he runs the place like a finely tuned engine."

"That's handy, I guess." Kyle took another sip of his drink. "So what should I expect when I get there?"

Patricia smiled and put her drink down. "Well, it'll probably be a bit of a culture shock when you get there. Edwin will probably call you Master Watson, or Master Kyle. That'll be because the staff on the Island will follow his lead. You'll be waited on hand and foot, but you'll also have to work really hard."

"Doing what?"

"Everything from reading briefings on the various businesses to improving your own personal image, to..."

Kyle frowned and cut her off. "What does that mean? Improving my image?"