Are You Going to Kiss Me Now? (6 page)

By the time we got to Johannesburg, I’d watched the boxed set of
Small Secrets: Seasons Two, Three, and Four
two times and was feeling like Joe Baronstein was qualified to do anything—dance, act, sing, fly, perform surgery…whatever. I even downloaded the fantastic soundtrack on to my Droid. Joe worked a fiddle like nobody’s business. It was like hillbilly rock. I was digging it. When he came out of the cockpit after landing I clapped impulsively. Everyone turned to look at me. Thank God Cisco joined in the clapping; he must have thought I was politely applauding Joe for landing us safely on the African continent. Everyone glared at me as they reluctantly joined in the awkward round of applause. I got paranoid that Joe
knew
I had been watching the show. Oy. Then they all went back to their Blackberries and iPhones. I took the opportunity to check in with Jordan.

J:

Do you think Joe Baronstein might possibly leave his wife for me? Is a thirty-eight-year age difference too much?

X, F.

Eve Larkin had been applying makeup since Joe announced our initial descent into Tambo Airport. It was really,
really
early in the morning, and I couldn’t figure out who she thought would be looking at her in South Africa at 5:00 a.m. Fool that I was.

Milan woke up after a series of vigorous shakes on Erin’s part. I really didn’t envy her job.

“What?” Milan snapped, turning her back on Erin and burying her face in the seat she’d never bothered reclining.

“We’re in Johannesburg, Ms. Amberson,” Erin said with a great amount of tact, considering the episode with the fried chicken.

“Great,” Milan growled facetiously. She looked furious to have been woken up, despite the fact that she’d been asleep for almost fifteen hours. She fished through her purse and dug out a few pills that she swallowed dry. Then, ignoring the “fasten seat belt” sign and Erin’s protests, Milan got up to go to the bathroom while the plane taxied to the terminal. She came back with her face cleaned up a bit. Her hair was in that sloppy knot that only gorgeous girls can pull off, and her eyeliner was back where it was supposed to be. Her lips were naked, but they were lightly stained from whatever she had on the night before. I caught Eve looking at her enviously. Though Eve was exquisitely finished, her beauty was labored. Milan’s was natural.

Cisco had all his stuff packed up except for
The Fountainhead
. He was still engrossed as the rest of us stood up to exit the plane. He had a highlighter and was painstakingly tracing passages. His lips moved a little as they followed his eyes slowly across the page. I was fascinated. Chaz and Milan were staring too. Chaz’s lips were upturned in a Cheshire cat–like grin. Milan looked dazed and bemused.

Outside, the air was surprisingly cool. It felt great after the long flight. Joe led our motley crew reluctantly inside the gate, where we were met by an army of bodyguards and a UNESCO representative named Mogens Netzumi. He thanked us all for our participation in the Education for All program, which, thanks to people like us, he explained, had benefited more than ten thousand illiterate youths in less than two years. I was feeling awfully important.

Once we got inside the terminal, I understood why Eve had been applying makeup. There was a throng of photographers. All I saw were huge cameras and blinding lights, and everyone was screaming and shouting. I felt much too tired for this again. Cisco gave the exact same speech he gave in New York, which went over really well, again. He even did the air quote thing, which made me realize it was rehearsed after all. Eve gave a short but intelligent statement, and Milan just smiled and answered questions about her personal life. I don’t know why, but I was surprised that people in South Africa would wake up this early to ask Milan Amberson if she was having a lesbian affair with her psychiatrist’s daughter. I somehow imagined they’d have better things to do. Then it occurred to me that most of the voices sounded American or British, which led me to believe that these people had actually flown here from other countries just to take a picture of Cisco, Milan, Joe, and Eve at the airport. I hoped they got paid well.

“Did we honestly fly halfway across the world for this?” Eve whispered to Joe bitterly. Milan was getting a lot of attention, and I sensed Eve wasn’t happy about it. Joe had his arm around Eve’s shoulders, and her arm was around his waist in a show of fake camaraderie for the paparazzi. He laughed off Eve’s question, and they both smiled for the cameras like old pals.

“Guys, guys,” Cisco interrupted heroically, “we’re here to raise awareness about illiteracy in Africa, not Ms. Amberson’s personal life. Everyone’s briefed on that already, no?”

The photographers laughed, and Milan looked at Cisco with a mixture of gratitude and resentment.

Chaz and I just stood back like two golf caddies at the World Open. I could tell he was trying to keep a distance from me—like my anonymity was contagious—but there was no pretending we weren’t together in our nobody-ness. This became even more apparent when there was a sudden burst of excitement and all the photographers nearly trampled the two of us in an effort to reach a very blond, tall, skinny, young guy carrying a guitar case and heading in our direction. He was surrounded by security as well. Joe muttered something under his breath before breaking from our group, and the two hugged in what can only be called the world’s most awkward embrace. The photographers were going C-R-A-Z-Y. It was Jonah Baron.

Like I said, Jonah Baron was a teen idol who just happened to be Joe Baronstein’s illegitimate son. They were both so famous in their own right that their relationship wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when you thought of either one of them—sort of like Nicholas Cage being Francis Ford Coppola’s nephew or Miley Cyrus being the daughter of Billy Ray—but it was a fact nonetheless. I saw an interview with Barbara Walters where Joe said he was proud of Jonah’s success and that the two were working out their “differences.” Differences? Can you imagine when Joe Baronstein, America’s hero, had to tell his wife of twenty years that Christian pop star Jonah Baron was his son from an affair he’d had with a makeup artist seventeen years before? And that she had the paternity tests to prove it.

As I said, I don’t go in for the boy bands (or the Jesus sound), but it’s believed Jonah is the second coming of Justin Timberlake. They even call his fans “disciples.” Scary. At seventeen, he’d already opened for Westlife and Day26, which was impressive. But Joe Baronstein was Jonah’s father, and I think that might have helped just a little, right? And spare me the “I changed my last name and I did it on my own” crap you read about in
People
. I mean, explain Kate Hudson to me, please? Has she made a good movie since
Almost Famous
?

Anyway, in his defense, Jonah Baron wrote all his own music, and he had actually done a lot of missionary work. But, more importantly, he was rumored to be a virgin, complete with a promise ring and everything. I was impressed with his position on the subject. Unlike myself, he certainly wasn’t a virgin for lack of opportunity. That was for sure. He was really cute in person. Standing next to his father, the resemblance was uncanny…except Jonah was young, blond, and didn’t have the big honker. My crush started shifting a little. Then I noticed that Copilot Ted Montgomery and stewardess Erin were shaking everybody’s hands and waving good-bye. Where the hell were they going?

J:

Update:

A) Jonah Baron is here too. You know, THE VIRGIN…like us. He’s cute and is flying in the cockpit with Joe. Weird to see them together.

B) This means Erin and the copilot will not be on board. Somebody feels it’s safe to let Joe fly us solo the last leg of the trip. Anyway, I smell too bad and am too tired to worry about it.

C) I’ll text when we land.

X, F.

I sent the message and turned off my phone. The flying time to Madagascar was two hours and fifty-four minutes. I was asleep before we reached cruising altitude.

“I think celebrities suck.”

—Eddie Vedder

I’ve heard it said that after a trauma, a person’s sense of time and perception gets fuzzy. Maybe that’s what happened to me. I’m still not sure. I’ll just tell you what happened as I remember it. That’s the best I can do.

All I know is that by the time we finally got everyone out of the ocean and back onto the landing strip, the plane was almost gone. The only visible sign was the back end, which was slowly disappearing into the sea like a whale’s tail. We all stared silently as the water swallowed the whole thing up, and then it was as if there had never been a plane at all.

“You idiot!” Milan shrieked, soaking wet and pulling a long platinum extension right out of her head. “If my iPod is ruined, I’ll fucking kill you,” she yelled at Joe, frantically searching through her wet Balenciaga bag for undamaged goods.

“Your iPod?” Eve barked incredulously. “I almost drowned! And you pushed me out of the way, you little monster.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Milan said, wringing her tank top out and shivering. “You didn’t almost drown. We were three feet from land the whole time.” Milan looked comedic standing there in her wet fur vest with pieces of her long hair missing from the ears down. She was like a gorgeous Amazonian rodent looking for cheese as she began scrambling to collect her things. She picked up a travel-size hair gel and threw it at Eve.

“Why don’t you have something to eat and chill out!”

“Jesus Christ, Jesus, Jesus Christ” is all Joe said as he stared into the placid ocean at the spot where the plane used to be. His leg was bleeding.

“Where is everybody?” Chaz asked, looking around for paparazzi or a rescue team at the very least. I turned around and took in the scene. It was a good question. Where was everybody? We were standing on some kind of elevated patch of land. The ocean was below us, and the “landing strip,” which was behind us, was nothing but an overgrown dirt road. In the distance was a thick mass of what looked like gigantic bonsai trees that sprang from the dry earth unexpectedly. The only sign of human life was an ancient-looking control tower, which was lying on its side, making crackling noises. That must have been the initial crash.

“I thought you knew how to fly a plane!” Milan yelled at Joe. “Is landing on actual land out of your area of expertise?”

“Hey!” Joe barked at Milan. “Back off. I can’t think.”

“Obviously.”

“Where are we?” Eve asked, looking around. “I thought we landed.” Her giant head was poking out of the white poncho, which was stretched out like a long dress, making her look like a drowned Q-tip. She couldn’t have weighed ninety pounds wet.

“Oh my God, maybe we’re dead!” Chaz squealed.

“Oh shut up!” Milan shouted.

“Oh Jesus,” Joe moaned again, his head buried in his hands.

Maybe I
was
dead, I thought, as I absorbed the wet and disheveled faces of Milan Amberson, Eve Larkin, Jonah Baron, Joe Baronstein, and Cisco Parker. Or maybe I was dreaming. It was uncanny. I mean, what was I doing here with these people? What had happened?

The plane wheels had touched the ground. Joe announced our arrival from the cockpit and that it was safe to turn on electronic equipment. Everyone turned on their cell phones except Eve, who was shakily applying her last lipstick coat in preparation for the photographers. The runway was so bumpy it felt like riding a road bike over gravel. I honestly thought I might puke so I reached for the barf bag just in case. I tucked my phone inside the barf bag so I’d know where they both were in an emergency. I rolled the bundle into my back pocket. We were still taxiing along when Milan unbuckled her seat belt and got up to use the bathroom. That’s when I felt the bump and then watched her (like it was in slow-motion) as the plane suddenly stopped hard and she flew backward toward the cockpit door. And then the whole plane slowly tipped forward and felt like it was sliding. When I opened my eyes, the plane had leveled out again, but it was rocking back and forth like we were on a boat. I definitely got the impression that we were floating. I actually think we landed at one end of the “runway” and then taxied right over the other side and straight into the ocean.

What was weird was that none of it was particularly scary. There was no screaming or anything. It was more disorienting, like when your knees buckle and you’re suddenly not standing anymore. It wasn’t until I looked out the window and saw all the water that I freaked. The plane was in the water! Everyone was silent except Milan.

“What the hell is going on?” she squeaked from a fetal position, curled up against the cockpit door.

I was waiting for somebody to do something, but nobody moved. They all just sat in their seats like we were in a movie and the director was about to yell, “Cut!” I finally unbuckled my seat belt and ran to the cockpit. Milan rolled aside to let me pass, and I pushed the door open hard.

“Mr. Baronstein!” I yelled, as I took in the scene. There was blood all over the dashboard and on the window. “Oh my God! Are you OK? Oh my God.”

“He’s fine,” Jonah said. “It’s just his knee,” he said, frowning. “He was trying to block his face from the impact.”

“Well, open the freakin’ emergency doors!” I yelled. They both stared at me like they were trying to place my face or something.

“Hey, you!” I shrieked at Joe. “Open the doors—the plane is sinking.”

“They should open automatically,” Joe said, snapping to attention and pushing a few buttons and levers. “It’s jammed,” he said, examining the lever like a foreign object until Jonah helped him pull it down and I heard the door release pressure. I ran out into the cabin, followed by Jonah. Joe just sat there staring at the dashboard.

“Get out!” I shouted at Joe. Jonah didn’t seem to notice or care that his father was semicatatonic.

“I’ve got to send an ELT,” I heard Joe say weakly.

“Dad, just get up. Let’s go,” Jonah instructed, reluctantly helping his dad out of the cockpit.

Eve, Milan, and Chaz were bickering as they attempted to push the emergency exit door up and open. The plane was still floating, so we had plenty of air and time to all get out. With the help of Joe and Jonah, the door finally released, but not before water started slowly flooding into the plane.

“I’ve got to get my stuff,” Milan said as she started dragging her feet through the water back toward her seat.

“Forget your stuff,” I yelled. “Just get out. Everyone, get out.” Milan ignored me and went back for her purse, pushing Eve and Chaz against the door in the process. For whatever reason, Cisco still had his seat belt on and was looking out the window.

“Hey, Thor!” Milan said as she passed him on the way back to her bag. “Get up!” He just sat there. America’s ten-million-dollar-a-picture action hero just sat there doing absolutely nada. Jonah unbuckled Cisco’s belt and managed to get him out of the plane, but not before Eve and I were out and swimming toward the nearby bluff. My shoes nearly slipped off in the water.

The plane was only about eight feet from the base of the island, so it didn’t feel like we were in any real danger of drowning. What was odd was that the water was deep and there was no beach the way there always is in the movies. The island sprouted out of the water like a little iceberg. Eve and I hovered at the slimy base waiting for the others. We saw Milan slide out of the plane and start swimming (holding her bag above her head) until she pulled herself up onto the wing of the slowly sinking plane. With her legs straddling the wing like a saddle, she began trying to throw the contents of her purse up and over the steep side of the bluff. Her glitter BlackBerry bounced off the side of the small cliff and landed back in the water, where it promptly sunk.

“Shit!” she cried. “That’s my whole life.”

Jonah yelled at Milan to get off the wing as her added weight—minimal as it was—was causing the plane to submerge faster, and Cisco was still inside. In retrospect, seeing as the imminent danger was indeed minimal, Milan probably had the right idea. I mean, we easily could have gotten all of our stuff out before the plane went under. But I think we all assumed getting to land safely was more important than saving our electronics and makeup bags. At least, I thought so before I saw fat Chaz doggy paddling to shore, resting his laptop on the plane seat he was using as a floatation device.

As I said, the water around the island was deep. There was no beach. The only way to climb up the side of the landing strip was to hug it and push with your legs like a horny monkey. I know it’s nuts, but I was actually lucid enough to want everyone else to go first so that nobody (especially Cisco) could see me in the humiliating posture that Academy Award-winner Eve Larkin was assuming. It was ugly. I saw that Jonah was still making his way to the rock with Cisco on his back. (Can Cisco Parker not swim?) I insisted that Chaz go next so that he might help pull the rest of us up. Why I thought he was equipped for such a job I have no idea. The sight of his fat ass and chubby legs humping the mountainside was hilarious. Milan laughed unabashedly.

“Screw you!” Chaz cried as he clutched the cliff and pushed off with his pink, shoeless feet. I started laughing too. He turned around to give us the finger, and his laptop went crashing into the water. I heard a little cry escape his lips.

Milan managed to scale the side only slightly more gracefully, and I followed her in the hopes that I could get to the top before Cisco could see me. The last one up the bluff was Jonah, who made it quickly. Halfway up he looked back at his guitar, which was floating out to sea. Tears were streaming down his face. I considered going after it but changed my mind. What if there were sharks or something? He could afford to buy a new one.

About an hour later, by the time we were all out of the water, the plane was gone. “Where are we?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Joe said, dragging his palms down the sides of his face. “I think we’re in the wrong place.”

“What do you mean we’re in the wrong place?” Jonah asked.

“I mean, I think I landed on the wrong island.”