Closely Guarded Secret Read Free Page B

way to the connecting gate. I don’t have time for the safety and security of the first class lounge to wait for my flight. I sit with my back against the window as I feel more in control this way, and, it’s easier to people watch. I find myself looking everywhere. Shit. I need to calm down.
     
    I’ve tried not to let my past interfere with my future, but being here brings it all back to the surface. I need to call my psychiatrist back in Seattle. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. My mind drifts back to something he said to me: “Time will heal your wounds, Ali. Don’t let your past define who and what you want to be. Eventually, you’ll get to a place where you can trust again. Don’t give up on yourself.”
     
    Dr. Hunter helped me tremendously with getting to the point I’m at now. He helped me to find my voice and the determination to fulfill my dreams. When I moved from Seattle to San Francisco, Dr. Hunter arranged for us to have our sessions by phone. I’m grateful to him because he saved my life. If it wasn’t for him . . . I can’t think about that dark pit anymore.
     
    The gate agent finally calls us to board. I spring to my feet, almost running, and cutting people off and apologizing at the same time. I can’t get on the plane fast enough. I get to my seat and buckle myself in so tight, I gasp and have to loosen the strap to breathe. Once everyone is on board, I hear the familiar announcement over the PA, “Flight attendants, prepare for take off and cross check.” I never thought those words would be such a welcoming sound to my ears.
     
    Yes, my seat is up and the tray table is in its upright and locked position. Can we just get the fuck out of here, now? We push away from the gate, and as we start to taxi, the fear and tension melts away. I feel calm; however, the anxiety of flying remains. I grab on for dear life, white knuckles and all.
     
    Once we’re at cruising altitude, I put my earbuds in and lose myself in music. Music, like skating, has always been a constant for restoring a sense of peace within me. My mom always had the radio playing classical and eighties music at home, but I love all genres. My playlist pumping my favorite songs through my headphones transports me to a different plane. Music and skating shred the demons of my Houston past as easily as the skate blades slice through the ice.
     
    Leaning my head against the window, starring down at the city, I watch as it gets smaller and smaller, until it’s no longer in sight. With the music on shuffle, Alicia Keys “Empire State of Mind” is the next song. That’s too weird, but so fitting. My heartbeat returns to its normal rhythm. I’ll be glad when this trip is over.
     
    #
     
    As soon as we land, I see I’ve missed a call from Steven and I send him a quick text as we wait to deplane and let him know I’ve arrived safely.
     
    Finally, I get a taxi and the cabbie is driving as though his life depends on it. “Sir, I’m not in that big of a rush.” To die. He doesn’t say anything but I notice he slows a little.
     
    The colors of chocolate and vanilla ice cream surround me as I walk through the modern, cozy and comfortable lobby of the Library Hotel. Filled with sunlight, books, flowers and fresh fruits, it’s as welcoming as a beloved childhood home, but a lot less messy.
     
    Once in my room, a quick call to Crystal, my contact at Forbes, confirms the location and that all of the equipment is there and ready. Nothing can go wrong with this shoot. I finish unpacking everything but my skates. After my flight today, I’m definitely glad I brought them with me.
     
    My stomach grumbles, a sign for me to feed my ravenous appetite. The restaurant is busy, but they seat me right away at the bar. I make a quick selection from the menu and ask for a glass of wine. A couple of sips of the light and crisp Pinot Grigio perk me up a little, but will help me sleep later. While waiting for my food, I check my