We take a bus to the airport, disembarking not at the departures terminal but instead at the cargo terminal. I hoist the backpack higher on my shoulder and glance up at Frankie as the bus drives away without us.
“So, I take it we’re not flying first class?”
He smirks at me, slipping his arm around my shoulders. “You know I was never a first-class kind of guy, Bambs.”
I laugh a little, though it’s half nerves. He smirks and tugs me forward with him.
Then, I really watch Frankie shine.
I don’t say anything, not at all, as Frankie charms and bribes his way through the systems of security that would usually keep a guy like him out. It’s clear that this was the work he was doing all day, since half of the people don’t look surprised to see him there. Instead, they just take wad after wad
