Disclaimer-I want to note something-I wrote this story prior to posting it up. Some elements of my story are in other fics of Red Eye. If you think I'm copying these people, plagiarizing them somehow, I'm not. I'll just be blunt: this is coincidence. That's the best defense I've got. If you don't believe me, fine, go read something else, or better yet, read one of my other fics to see if I've ripped anybody else off. I'm trying to be original here. This is what the Muses delivered to me.

Thank you

AN:this chapter was meant to be longer…but I think six pages is enough, right? So…I'll put up the rest of this acene in Part Three.

oh, and guys-a beta reader would be super, so if anyone would like to for me, I'd be grateful. Free Tex Mex….

Part Two- Accusation

The next day, rather than repeating the little rebellion she'd committed to the day before, Lisa was in work on time. She didn't have enough time in the morning to check for Floridian Florists in the yellow pages, but she was sure the Lux had a book somewhere, so she could take care of it during her break.

Though her greatest fears had been calmed, Lisa was still uneasy. A secret admirer is one thing, but where that stops and stalker begins, Lisa didn't know. She supposed that to some people, that would seem paranoid. She should be thankful for the flowers, not freaking out. But Lisa had had two horrible experiences already, and she didn't want to strike out with three. And naturally, Jackson was lurking in the back of her head too, those arrogant eyes flashing out of the shadows of her mind.

Again, the day was rather normal. The first big incident of the day was that the continental breakfast ran out of jelly doughnuts. This was soon followed by the second big incident of the day, a six year-old boy eating too many of said jelly doughnuts and puking onto the breakfast room floor. Actually, the latter problem solved the former because after that the other present guests weren't very concerned about their food, or lack thereof.

Roughly twenty minutes after the boy had began 'redecorating' the breakfast room floor, Lisa was briefing Cynthia in the lobby.

"Okay, now, most of the guests had eaten around eight, so the, uh, exposure was minimal," Lisa said in her quick-business-like tone that she slipped into when she was in manager mode.

Cynthia swallowed a little. This was so gross. "Uh, that's good…"

"If they complain, tell them to fill out a comment card." The Comment Card box had become Lisa's favorite re-direct, but only for guests whom she termed 'guests with too many "special" needs'. Little did Lisa know that that had made her Cynthia's hero all the more. "We can't do anything about things like this.

"And…" she checked the file in her hand, "The family is in room 2048. Check on them, make sure the boy's okay. We've got some Tums and stuff in the back room in the blue cabinet and they can get ginger ale at the vending machine by the indoor pool. If they want the boy to see a doctor, there's a medical center just about two miles away. You can give them these directions."

Cynthia took them.

"Oh, and they're the Riley's, the boy's name is Danny."

"2048, Rileys, Danny, ginger ale and Tums, go tit," Cynthia confirmed.

Lisa gave an approving nod. "Okay, now, we're really lucky that the breakfast room is tile, so it was easy to clean up. But, the smell might still be hanging around, politely suggest that people eat on the east side of the room."

Cynthia flinched a little. Ew. Never had she been so happy that she worked on the opposite side of the building from the breakfast room.

"Oh, and we'll need more jelly doughnuts for tomorrow."

Cynthia grimaced. "Right…"

Lisa was about to go, but she paused. "Hey, do you know if we've got a phone book here?"

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Uh…well, I guess we've got yellow pages."

"Where?"

"Uh…I think…yeah, I saw one under Tod's desk the other day."

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Why is it under Tod's desk?"

Cynthia gave a shrug. "I guess he's hording it or something."

Lisa smirked. "I'll have to slip it away from him, convert-like."

Cynthia grinned. "Hmm… Good luck. I bet he's real protective of it." She paused. "Hey, why do you need it anyway?"

Lisa thought for a moment and decided to reply: "I'll tell you later, after work I guess. Why don't you go check on the Riley's, okay?"

Cynthia nodded. "Right, boss," she said, giving a small salute before heading for the elevator. Ugh, she hoped the kid wasn't still puking.

About three hours later, Lisa had found the yellow pages book under Tod's desk. Tod, who was in the advertising department, wasn't around, she ended up not having to lower herself down from the ceiling on a wire to get the book.

She flipped around to the F's. Surprise, surprise, there were lots of Florida Florists, Florida Floral Arrangements, and so on. There were three Floridian Florists in the Miami area, and Lisa found. She also discovered that Floridian Florists was actually a chain that was spread throughout Florida, though she'd never heard of them before.

Lisa decided to just call each Floridian Florist in the order the yellow pages had placed them. The first was on Orange Groove Road, a road closer to the shopping district, and therefore Lisa could guess that this was the big Floridian Florist store of Miami.

Using her manager-code-of-ethics, Lisa chose to call on he cell phone, not the hotel's.

"Floridian Florists, how may I help you?" a masculine Southern-accented voice spieled.

"Hi," Lisa greeted cheerfully. She herself being one who had to greet people on a day-to-day basis giving the same pre-approved lines, Lisa wasn't uncomfortable when others spoke to her in the same way, a quality that many people don't carry, "You guys do flower deliveries, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," the man replied, "We deliver anywhere within the Miami area. If you want to have an arrangement delivered, you have to come into our store yourself, but if you only want a bunch of flowers, like roses, we can do that over the phone."

"Uh, well, I'm calling because I received some flowers," Lisa explained.

There was a pause on the other end and Lisa was about to go on before he came back on: "Floridian Florists do offer refunds, ma'am, but only under special circumstances."

"Uh, no, no," Lisa said quickly, "I didn't pay for them. I just, uh, don't know who sent them to me."

"Oh." The clerk replied like this had happened before. He seemed a little embarrassed. "Yes, ma'am, we offer anonymous deliveries."

Lisa's stomach sank sickeningly. "Don't tell me you don't know who sent these."

"Well, uh…" The clerk faltered, but then caught himself. "Let's just make sure that we sent you the flowers, ma'am. See, we've got three offices down in Miami right now. Just tell me your address and I'll see if you're in the computer."

Lisa paused nervously. She was calling to prevent a stalker, but she was about to hand over her address to a complete stranger? That didn't seem to make sense.

"Um…could I just give you my name? Would that be enough?" she asked carefully, trying to stay polite. That would work. It obviously wouldn't matter if her address was already in the computer, but if it wasn't, she wouldn't have given out too much information.

The man gave an irritated sigh. Lisa understood; it didn't feel good to be mistrusted.

He said curtly, "Names aren't always given for deliveries, ma'am. But I'll check."

"Thank you," Lisa said sincerely.

Lisa could here someticking sounds on the line, which she knew was the tapping of fingers on a keyboard.

"All right, what's your name?" the clerk asked tersely.

"Lisa Reisert," she replied.

There was a slight pause.

"Lisa Reisert?" the man asked back, and for once he actually sounded interested in what she had to say. But Lisa groaned inwardly.

She'd gotten some media attention from the incident a few years ago. Fortunately a lot of the attention had been focused on Keefe. However, thanks to Jackson's brilliant idea to keep someone hostage in front of all of Flight 1019, the 'incredible, inspiring story' had naturally been uncovered by the media eventually. While Jackson had gotten the spotlight, Lisa had been helplessly dragged along with him. She'd been pressured to retell the whole ordeal, and doing it willingly for the DA, the police, and her family had been hard enough. She'd been forced to take a month long vacation after the trial until everything had calmed down.

"Um, yes," she replied.

"The one from TV?" he asked.

Lisa mentally cursed. "Look, could you please just check to see if I'm in your computer or not?"

But the clerk ignored her. You could hear the smirk in his tone: "So that guy really threatened you the whole flight, in front of all those people?"

Lisa's temper was really starting to get the better of her. "Just check the computer, okay?"

"And he never even held a gun to you or nothin'?"

Lisa took a deep breath. "If you don't want to talk to me, sir, could you please put someone else on the phone so that I can find out who sent me the flowers?" she spoke as calmly as possible, in a rather phony voice.

Again, he ignored her. "You sure you didn't like the guy?" he remarked. "Hmmph. You know, I don't care what the lawyers and judge say, lady. I know you were really working with that guy."

Everything in Lisa went cold for a moment. Her eyes were wide and her joints were frozen in time. Working with…?

He was still talking snidely into the phone, "I know everybody else for got about it, I but I saw that stewardess on TV. Says she thought you two were a couple or somethin'. Even says she saw the two of you go into the john together? I wasn't aware that joining the mile high club was against the law, Miss Reisert."

That was it. Lisa hit the 'end' button with a short cry of frustration and anger. She was shaking with anger. She'd never felt this way before, never felt so much ferocity and known that there was nothing she could do about it.

God, how could anyone think those things? Working with Jackson? Was this guy just one nutcase or did people really think that she…that she had tried to murder the Keefes along with Jackson?

And the mere entertainment of the thought that she and Jackson had…had taken part in any form of intimacy just made her want to vomit up jelly doughnuts like little Danny Riley.