Page 2 of Parker

“Oooo!” she says, her eyes lighting up. “I’vealwayswanted to go to Vegas! Do you gamble?”

“No. My family owns a travel business. I’m attending a conference.”

“Business, huh?” She looks surprised. “I wouldn’t have clocked you over eighteen.”

“I get that a lot,” I say, grinning at her. “I’m twenty-two.”

“So…you’re going to a travel conference?”

I take a sip of the hot, bitter coffee. “Yep. We do tours out of Skagway. This conference networks our business to travel agents in the Lower 48.”

“Skagway. Huh. I’m from Haines.”

“We’re neighbors.”

There’s a 45-minute fast ferry that goes back and forth between Haines and Skagway several times a day in the summer and a DOT car ferry that picks up the slack for the rest of the year. Unlike Skagway, which functions primarily as a tourist town and isn’t flush with year-round shopping and services, Haines is a more conventional, livable town. In fact, plenty of folks in Skagway head over to Haines for the health center, grocery stores, auto part shop, and home goods store. I’ve been grateful for the sports and outdoor shops in Haines more than once when an Amazon delivery got delayed.

“Not anymore,” she says, pursing her lips. “I liveherenow, in Juneau, and I like it a lot better than Haines. More people. More tourists. More to see. More to do.”

“Then you’ll definitely have to get to Las Vegas at some point,” I say. “If you think Juneau’s hopping, Vegas will blow your mind.”

“I’ve seen it in the movies,” she says wistfully. “You know, likeThe HangoverandOcean’s Eleven. It looks amazing. I’m saving up. I can’t wait to get out of Alaska.”

This is a familiar theme among some young Alaskans: they “can’t wait” to leave Alaska. And I mean, yes, the first time you go to a city—or even a large town!—in the Lower 48, you realize that McDonald’s, Home Depot, and Target are all within five minutes of each other. Everything is close and enormous—hotels, malls, airports—everything. You can’t beat the convenience.You want something? You need something?You step out of your door and go get it. No need to wait two or three weeks for Amazon to deliver.

That said, since I was eighteen, I’ve been going to travel conventions for my family, and I’ve visited Las Vegas, Memphis, Fort Lauderdale, and Frankfurt, Germany. And so far, I’ve never seen anywhere as beautiful as Alaska. And the farm-raised salmon served everywhere else in the world? OMG. So gross. The people aren’t as friendly or patient, and whether you realize it or not, you start missing the mountains and the fresh air after about a week away. Or at least, I do. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy traveling for business. I like stocking up at Target. And I love seeing a little bit of the wider world. But after a week or two somewhere else, I can’t wait to get back home.

There’s an announcement saying that my flight will start boarding in ten minutes, so I leave twenty dollars under my coffee cup—much more than I owe, but I figure I may as well contribute to her get-out-of-Alaska fund—and swing my backpack onto my shoulder.

And that’s when I see him, standing in line at the café.

Quinn Morgan.

Blech.

I stare straight ahead, fast walking on autopilot, and hoping that if I’m quick enough, he won’t see me.

“Parker! Parker Stewart!”

Shit.

I turn around to scowl at him.

“I thought that was you!” he says, a wide smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. A quick perusal of his stupid face shows me that he’s trimmed his formerly ratchet beard and cut his scraggly hair since the last time I saw him. It’s not a huge improvement, but he looks a little less like Bigfoot and slightly more human now. “Wait up! I’m just grabbing coffee and a muffin. I’ll walk over to the gate with you.”

I give him a look that makes it clear I’d sooner eat glass then turn and walk away.

With any luck, I’ll get in line before him and be able to avoid him for the trip to Seattle. I stop by the ladies’ room, peeing as quick as I can, relieved when I don’t see him at the gate. I hop into line, scan my ticket, and sail onto the jetway.

Quinn averted. Yes!

“Welcome to Alaska Airlines,” says the flight attendant inside the jetway.

“Thanks.”

Even though it’s early, it looks to be a full flight, and the passengers in front of me move slowly, putting their belongings in overhead compartments before sliding into their seats. Clammy, cold, January air seeps into the plane, and I shiver.

“Cold out there, huh?” booms a garrulous voice from behind me.