Chapter 67: Elise

I stared blankly ahead. The moron in front of me had put his chair back so far, his head was practically in my lap. (And I usually enjoy that sort of thing!)

"Sir," I said quietly. "Could you please put your seat to the upright position?"

Bert shrugged. "Oh, fine."

That's right. We ordered our tickets, got on a plane... got on a another plane... strolled around the Vancouver, Canada airport, got on another plane, spent a night at some airport in South America and then got on another plane.

That's right. We got to spend exactly six hour at Sant Onaray... and we ended up staying at the same hotel as Bernard, Fran and Manny. And we all had been drinking the tiny bottles of hard liquor they serve on airplanes... Not that I'm proud of this, but there's a good chance that I Frenched both Fran and Bernard.

And I most definitely slept with Manny. Again.

Shit.

So, there I was, back on a plane, with Bert sitting in the seat in front of me and Elle sitting across the aisle, chugging a bottle of wine with an older woman glaring at her.

"Elle," I whispered. She didn't hear me. "Elle!" I hissed louder.

She raised an eyebrow at me as her head wobbled and fell over onto her right shoulder. "Wot?"

"Give me that."

Elle frowned and shoved the bottle at me. The older woman nodded in thanks. I smiled and took a few gulps of wine before handing the bottle back to Elle. The older woman looked not amused.

I didn't care though. I'd been on 11 different planes in 11 different countries in the past week and I was sick of it. Besides, no one needed to ever, ever go on a plane sober. It's just not right.

Our plane landed. I dragged my bag (I'd started this trip with two bags, actually.) behind me as Elle and Bert followed.

Bert winced. "Where are we?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a hairy Irishman and a troll. Why do we keep seeing them?!

"Bernard! Manny!" I shouted from across the crowded airport. "Fran!"

Manny looked at me, blushed and gave a little wave.

Elle, who was pissed by this time, slumped herself against a wall and closed her eyes. "Where the bloody fuck are we?"

"Heathrow," Manny said.

Elle opened one eye. "...Really?"

Fran nodded. She didn't look exactly sober herself.

"Thank God," Bert said. He gave Bernard the up-and-down look. "Why are you in a skirt?"

As agreed, we took separate cabs home and arrived in Bloomsbury at the same time. It was raining hard when we stepped out of the cab and it was actually comforting. We were definitely back in London.

While Bernard and Manny squirmed inside of the back window of Black Books, Bert, Elle and I just went in through the front door. Bert tossed himself onto the sofa... and then bolted upright.

"Guys."

Elle threw a book at him. "Bert, pack your things. I never want to see you again. And you can tell your mother thank you for a week of plane-traveling hell."

"No, guys. Look." He pointed out the window and wandered out of the store, wide-eyed at the horrid sight now sitting across the street, situated right beside Black Books.

"Elle," I said quietly, but firmly. "Come outside."

The three of us stood in the street, in the rain and stared.

Illuminated by a bright, neon sign were the words "Goliath Books" with "Books, Books, Books" written in the windows in bright white print. Standing in front of the store was Bernard, Manny and Fran, looking as horrified as we did.

Elle didn't say a word. She just closed her eyes and stumbled back inside.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

She sighed and looked at her feet. "I'm going on holiday."

(Readers: Thank you for reading our little fanfiction thus far. We, the writers, are starting college shortly and may not have time to update this for a while. Stay tuned, because we very well might be back!)