Red Eye to Los Angeles

By Kat Fenn

The standard disclaimers apply, these characters don't belong to me – thank you Mr Bellisario for dreaming them up!

A/N: This story follows: Welcome to South Africa, Happy Birthday and My Portugese Connection.

Chapter 1

Caitlin O'Shaughnessy stared at the ringing telephone with hatred in her heart. She hadn't even had a chance to run to the bathroom all afternoon. Why oh why did the phone only ring off the hook when it was just her manning the office? She chewed her lip. "Aw, stuff it!" she thought to herself, launching herself out of the chair in the direction of the bathroom.

Suppressing a sigh of relief as she emptied her bladder, Cait quickly zipped up the front of her bright red flightsuit and scurried back to her desk. As she was about two feet from the desk. The telephone rang again. Sighing, this time in annoyance, Cait took a deep breath as she snatched the phone from its cradle.

"Santini Air," said Cait, as she sat down, adjusting the phone wires.

"Cait? It's Michael. I was just checking if anyone was there, I'm on my way over there." Cait bristled a little at his flat, factual tone.

"Hang on just a sec, Michael. Dom and String are off doing a stunt and won't be back till late tonight, or maybe even tomorrow morning."

"That's OK, it was you I was looking for anyway…I'll see you in about ten minutes." The line went dead.

Cait stood for a moment, frozen in shock. Her? Michael wanted to speak to HER? Not String?

"Hello? I have a delivery for Mr Dominic Santini," called out an unfamiliar voice, startling Cait.

"I'm comin' right out," yelled Cait, coming back to her senses. She cradled the receiver and made her way round the desk, with its towering pile of paperwork which she promised Dom she would try to get through before the both of them got back.

Making her way to the passage in front of the door which led into the main parking lot of Santini Air, Cait quickly signed for the thickly padded envelope and dismissed the delivery boy with the two crumpled dollar bills she found in her pocket.

Cait determinedly made her way back to the desk. Well, if Michael was prompt (and he usually was) she had eight minutes. She could, in the eight minutes, sort through the pile of paperwork into things to be filed, things that she could do at home, and things that HAD to be done while she was at the office. After Michael left and the filing was done, she would then reward herself with a juicy cheeseburger and beer at McGilray's on her way back to her apartment before settling in for the night with the remainder of the paperwork. "That's the plan!" she crowed delightedly to the empty office, pulling out the plastic in-trays she used for filing.

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"Take ten, everybody!" bellowed the Director through his megaphone. Brushing the back of his hand against his sweaty brow, String breathed a sigh of relief to himself. He smiled his thanks at Dom, who at that moment scurried up with a cold bottle of lemonade and pressed it into his hand.

"So we ready for the stunt in the next scene, kid?" Dom pulled out a bright red hanky from his trouser pocket and wiped his forehead. He was already dressed in his all-black costume and held a black woollen balaclava in his hand.

"Yeah. Just need to get changed," said String, looking at the black clothes in distaste. It was swelteringly hot and humid on set, and himself and Dom were playing robbers staging a getaway in a typical cop movie. The stunt called for Dom to hold the helicopter steady whilst String made his way out of the window of a moving car and onto the right skid of Dom's chopper and hung on for dear life until the Director called cut. Of course, he would be dressed in all black with a black balaclava on his head – "Don't bloody robbers have any more sense than to wear black in the sweltering heat?" he thought sourly to himself, as he slurped the last of the ice-cold lemonade from the bottle.

"Just one take, kid, and we're outta here," said Dom in an undertone. "Before I die of heatstroke," he added.

"Aw, c'mon Dom, you gotta stay alive till next week – otherwise you'll miss Karen coming! Besides, you're in the chopper – you can always fly with the window open. That'll keep you cool, at least," said String, winking at Dom. His girlfriend, Karen, would be moving to LA the following week from South Africa and he knew that Dom was looking forward to having some extra help in the office. Cait did very well with the paperwork, but Dom had discussed expanding the school part of Santini Air with him, and was hoping that both String and Cait would take on more students. He smiled to himself at the memory of Dom clapping him on the back as he guffawed at String's sour expression, topped with his customary eyebrow quirk, in between reassuring his young friend that he would keep his contribution to teaching to a minimum.

"Mr Santini, Mr Hawke? The Director wants you on the set and ready to go," said a runner, panting.

"Sure thing, we'll be there in a jiffy," said Dom.

String sighed as he trotted to the little trailer they had been allotted, unfastening his shirt buttons and jeans zipper as he went.

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