16 LIL’S EYES WIDENED as she and Dan entered the Terraces Lounge, British Airways’ luxury waiting area for first-class travelers. As far as she knew, they were in JFK Airport, but the Terraces transported them to another planet. A cross between a bar and a full-service spa, the lounge featured reclining lounge chairs under white umbrellas, trickling water fountains and the scent of freshly cut grass. She even heard birds chirping, though it seemed unlikely that they were nestling behind the übermodern steel bar among the pricey liquor bottles. “Sweet, ain’t it?” said Dan. “I mean, isn’t it.” Sweet, indeed. And exclusive. “Would you like a preflight massage?” he asked. “Excuse me?” “They have reflexology, too.” Lil wasn’t sure she wanted some unknown person manhandling her body or her feet. “No, thank you.” “There you go, denying yourself pleasure again. How about a drink? You seemed to like that cognac a few nights ago.” Yes, but it had made her so drunk that she’d almost lost all resolve and ordered that bucket of chocolate icing from the chef.
