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wouldn’t have guessed her to be over twenty-five, give or take a year. She shrugged, blaming it on Eden’s beauty and melanin, and appreciated the comfort the woman’s presence offered.
    â€œIt’s truly nice to meet you. Please call me Charly,” Charly said, nasally, suddenly feeling even more stuffed up.
    Eden proffered her hand. “Only if you’ll call me Eden, and try not to view me as your warden. I know a lot of celebs view us that way, because we’re hired chaperones, and many think that means guardians. So, I just want you to know I’m here to get you where you have to go, make sure you’re okay, and make sure you have everything and anything you need. But I’m not here to police you, just provide.”
    â€œI like you, Eden,” Charly said, shaking Eden’s hand. Now she really dug Eden’s style, especially the no-policing part of it. “Okay, so I guess we just need to stop by baggage claim, so I can grab my luggage, then we’re off.” She removed her palm from Eden’s, then blew her nose. “That is . . . if we’re safe. You drove up like you were at a drag strip, not an airport, so I’m not so sure about that,” she added as an afterthought.
    â€œWhip—I mean the driver—used to . . . well, you’re kind of right; he used to race, but you have nothing to worry about, he won’t drive that way with you in the car.” Eden laughed, then shook her head in wonder. “And carry your own bags? Really? Charly. Charly. Charly. You’re fresh—new—unaffected. No diva tendencies. I like that! You’re going to be a pleasure to work with. And I hope your cold gets better.” She walked toward the limo.
    Charly tilted her head, following Eden. She knew she wasn’t like many assumed she’d be; she’d heard that many times. What hadn’t graced her hearing was that she was a pleasure to work with. She was much too jazzy for the average person. She spoke her mind, and that usually didn’t go over too well with others. “Just allergies. Unaffected? How?” she asked Eden.
    â€œYou’re refreshing, Charly. How many people’s egos wouldn’t be affected by being flown out private? Seems you’re pretty special.” Eden winked, then rapped her knuckles against the vehicle, obviously trying to get the driver’s attention. “And you have a great sense of humor too. You know there’s no baggage claim here. Not at a private airport.” She laughed and waved her hand at Charly’s statement, obviously mistaking it as a joke.
    Charly shrugged, then laughed at herself, though she hadn’t meant to be funny. Flying private had been the furthest thing from her mind when she’d boarded and after she’d landed. Yes, she’d flown exclusive—that’s what first class was to her—but she had been too tired to think about how she was traveling when she had gotten on the plane in Teterboro, New Jersey, which was nicknamed the Clearport. It was barely ten miles outside of New York, and served as the favorite airport of VIPs, or so Mr. Day had told her. Now she understood why she had only seen a couple other people getting off the plane. It wasn’t a flight many could’ve afforded, and she put herself in that same category because she wouldn’t buy anything too pricey—unless, of course, someone counted bags and shoes. “All right for my being refreshing and funny, Eden. Ready when you are,” she said, but thought, All right for me not knowing commercial from private . That’s one I won’t ever admit. She laughed at her own joke, then cringed from her pounding temples. “Thank you,” she said to Eden, who’d opened the back door for her, then slid inside the SUV.
    â€œNo problem,” Eden said with a smile in her voice.
    Charly could hear the driver adjusting her luggage in the trunk before