Sky-High Dreams
Disclaimer: Unfortunately White Collar doesn't belong to me – thanks USA Network for the lovely show!
Thousand thanks to my wonderful beta – mam711
There was a reoccurring dream he had.
Expensive lifestyle - private jets, exclusive airport lounges, Italian or Brazilian roast available at whim. Expensive clothes tailored only for him, several cars at his disposal. A mansion with several rooms and bathrooms, entertainment, and of course a big garage, not to mention the view. Servants, wealthy friends, loving parents.
He always did what he wanted and this time he wanted to fly, and do so with style. So started Neal's big adventure.
Appearance is everything – his first day was spent securing appropriate clothing, as the plan was to sneak around the best of what airports have to offer. Stealing something tailored for his lanky frame would be very difficult; therefore the aim was to get the best of the best. Armani Kids just had a new collection out; he trailed after a bunch of bored wealthy teenagers and charmed his way into their group. He spun a tale about his father blocking his black card for destroying one of his cars, not that it was his favorite anyway, but the punishment was more painful than he deserved. Not to mention that he was invited to a private dinner today, and the airline had lost his suitcase. They of course paid for the losses but his favorite tailored suit was there and he needed a new one right away.
It was amazing what the kids would believe, and of course Neal was a great storyteller, with appropriate sounds and facial expressions; he exited the store with a new suit, two ties and two shirts, and one of the lesser credit cards of one of his new "friends".
The next step followed a similar pattern; he was sure that by the end of the week the more-wealthy part of New York would be happily chatting about the charming young man by the name of Patrick Rosso. The less fortunate would curse his name while paying credit cards bills, if they ever even noticed the unexplained charges.
At the end of the day he had a nice and very expensive carry-on bag with a Louis Vuitton logo full of clothes appropriate to his newly-acquired status. He donned one of the suits, left the top button of the shirt open and the tie in the bag, feeling a little rebellious. His new shoes shone with Italian leather, and his wrist sparkled with a platinum watch.
He wanted the full experience – and that included a nice flight to whatever destination he would be able to get. He walked slowly through the airport noticing all the shops and especially people that fit his interest. He practiced his fast-hands skills going through several newly-acquired wallets, passports and boarding cards, quickly losing those he was not interested in, at the same time stuffing his own wallet with money and one or two nice-looking cards. No, he would not use them right now, he wasn't stupid, but appearance is everything; the nice set of black and golden cards in his wallet would tell a story without even opening his mouth.
Finally he found what he was looking for – the face looking at him from the stolen passport looked close enough to his own that with wit and charm he should be able to do anything he wanted. The flight was leaving in two hours; he had just enough time to visit a VIP lounge hidden from prying eyes.
He entered the lounge with all the self-confidence his 16 year-old body in new clothes could muster, that didn't even fluster when he was asked for his membership card and boarding pass. He smiled his most charming smile and fished his wallet out. The card, he quickly explained, belonged to his father, but of course he could use it – right? No one could resist his charms, and of course he was allowed in, given whatever he asked for, including Italian roast espresso. He entertained himself by pretending to read an Italian paper he had also asked for. In reality he observed people, how they behaved, what they did, small quirks and tics that allowed him to copy the behavior and blend in better. At the end of the hour, paper set aside, coffee drunk, he was ready for the second part of the plan.
If he sat beside the man he had stolen documents from for sure it would not end well. So he went to the check-in desk and charmed again a change of seat – first class was full, but he graciously accepted a change to business class to get away from his angry father.
He was amazed how easy all had gone; he boarded the plane at the last possible minute and kept away from the seat he had just changed. The flight was short but as luxurious as his stay in the lounge – he decided this time to forgo coffee for hot chocolate and a selection of snacks. When they landed in Chicago two hours later he was tired with the excitement of the day but decided to do a flight back on the same day.
Twelve hours after the beginning of his adventure he was back home, old clothes on his back, and new confident smile on his face. The bag with all his new belongings waited in a new hiding spot, safe, to be used the next time he wanted to hone his skills.
And then he woke up. The shrill beeping of the phone's alarm as it flew through the air reminded him painfully about reality. The trailer smelled of booze and sweat, the fridge was empty and the milk was spoiled. The last memory of the dream was lost in reality. He fell asleep at school dreaming again of diamond watches, Brazilian coffee, feather pillows and pink clouds visible from his private jet.
THE END