by Whitney G.
I GROANED AND GOT DRESSED, taking my private elevator down to the parking garage. I pulled out my phone and started to send Gillian another text, but then I looked through our history.
She hadn’t responded to me in over two weeks, and the last time she texted me—months ago, I’d never sent a reply.
Shit...
I sped out of the garage and toward her Brooklyn apartment, risking the ire of her neighbors by temporarily parking my car in the middle of the street. I rushed up the outside steps, not bothering to knock on the cheap door, and stormed up four flights.
The “Two Broke Girls” sign was no longer hanging on her door, but I knocked anyway.
No answer.
I heard a female’s voice inside so I knocked even harder, refusing to let Gillian ignore me.
The door swung open and it wasn’t Gillian or her roommate. It was an older woman holding her cat.
“Well, yes?” She smiled at me. “What can I help you with today?”
“I’m looking for Gillian Taylor.”
“Who?”
“The woman who used to live here. Black hair, green eyes, beautiful. Where is she?”
“Oh! The girl with the crazy roommate. They moved out over a month ago.
A month ago? “Where did they move to?”
“I’m not sure.” She tapped her lip. “But wherever it was, it was probably someplace really nice. The crazy girl’s dad picked them up in a limo. A limo...”
“Thank you.” I walked away and headed down the steps, returning to my car. I couldn’t believe this shit, couldn’t believe I’d let this much happen within so much time without even noticing it.
I turned my key in the ignition and felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. It was a text message.
Gillian?
I clicked on her name and read the response.
Gillian: Um...I’m not sure who you’re trying to reach, but this phone number doesn’t belong to a ‘Gillian’. I’m Clara. That said... If you’re interested in “making up” by “eating my pussy all night until I come on your face” then, no need to text back. Give me a call :-)
GATE B36
JAKE
Atlanta (ATL) —-> Paris (CDG)
A WEEK LATER, I STOOD at Gate B4 in Atlanta’s airport and printed out the weather reports for tonight’s flights, hoping like hell whoever I flew with would be somewhat competent. The first officer I was originally due to fly out with had contracted food poisoning overnight, so scheduling was supposed to be sending a reserve pilot so we could finally get onboard.
“Mr. Weston?” A familiar, male voice said from behind. “Mr. Weston, is that you?”
I turned around and found myself face to face with Ryan. Simulator Ryan.
Get the fuck out of here...
“Looks like we’ll be flying together in the real-world now, sir.” He smiled. “Maybe you can show me that magic carpet button, right?” He laughed and waited for me to join him.
I kept him waiting.
I tore off the remainder of the weather reports and signaled to the gate agent that we were ready. And as she led us over to the door, I noticed Gillian’s supervisor, a blonde, and Gillian heading in our direction.
“You ladies on Flight 1543 with service to Paris as well?” The gate agent asked. “Let me scan your badges after the pilots step onboard, please.”
I looked back at Gillian, waiting for her eyes to meet mine, but they never did. She kept them glued to the ground, and when she did board the aircraft minutes later, I overheard her say to her supervisor, “I’ll do my best on this flight, Miss Connors, but can you please keep Captain Weston the hell away from me if he chooses to leave the cockpit?”
Miss Connors gave her an assured, “Of course,” and then she threw a scowl in my direction.
I’d planned to remain in the cockpit for the first few hours of the flight anyway—mainly because I didn’t trust Ryan alone for five seconds, and I wasn’t sure he’d been joking about that magic carpet button.
“Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain, speaking,” I said over the speakers, once boarding was complete. “On behalf of the flight crew, we’d like to welcome you aboard Elite Airways Flight 1543 to Paris. Our flight duration is around eight hours and twenty minutes and we are expecting a fairly smooth flight today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.” I ended the message and waited for our turn to take off on the runway.
“Um, sir?” Ryan tapped my shoulder.
“Yes, Ryan?”
“No disrespect or anything, but you forgot like four whole sentences of the mandatory greeting. That’s like a write-up worthy offense.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, the greeting: I really love flying for Elite! It’s the best job and the most exciting airline in the world! And then you’re supposed to say something witty, or tell a funny joke to make all the passengers feel comfortable.”
I blinked. “Do you feel comfortable, Ryan?”
“You want an honest answer?”
“I would love an honest answer.”
“Well, I might feel more comfortable if you’d told a joke. Might have convinced me that you’re an actual human being and not a robot outside of the simulator sessions, and might’ve even made me more comfortable flying an Airbus321 for only the fourth time.”
Jesus Christ... “Elite one five four three ready for take-off.” I called to control. “Runway two-niner.”
“Copy. Cleared for takeoff. Elite one five four three, runway two niner.”
I pushed the throttle forward, propelling the plane down the runway at maximum speed. The lights on the ground glowed brightly through Atlanta’s dark blue nightfall, and the yellow signs that lined the side of the tarmac gleamed brightly as the plane’s lights shone over them.
We ascended into the air, and faint hints of adrenaline I used to live for rushed through my veins.
Ryan remained in contact with control, shocking me with his sudden professionalism, and as we cleared our cruising altitude of thirty-three thousand feet, I turned off the seatbelt sign.
“Ladies and gentlemen...” Gillian’s voice came over the speakers, rendering me still. “The captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. You are now free to move about the cabin. However, we always recommend to keep your seat belt fastened while you're seated.”
I’ll be damn if she doesn’t talk to me on this flight...
“So,” Ryan said, clearing his throat. “You’re not going to tell me that joke? It actually would help.”
“Sure.” I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. “Knock. Knock.”
He smiled. “Who’s there?”
“Mr. Shut the Fuck Up.” I motioned for him to hand me a clipboard. “Let me test you on some stuff while we’re here so I can feel safe whenever I need to leave and go the restroom.”
Whenever I need to leave and go find Gillian...
IT TOOK ME FOUR HOURS to convince myself that Ryan was actually a good pilot; he just needed to learn how to take things seriously. When he assured me that he would be okay for five minutes, I left the cockpit and spotted Gillian standing in the closest galley.
“Hello,” I said, walking over to her. “Can we talk?”
She said nothing.
“Gillian.” I stepped next to her. “Gillian, I know you hear me talking to you.”
She didn’t look up. She continued preparing dessert cups, and as I leaned close, I noticed tears falling down her face.
“Gillian, please talk to me. Let me make this right.”
“I’ll have someone bring you your Coke in a minute, Captain.” She picked up her tray and moved past me.
I watched as she served every passenger in first class, as she avoided my gaze and took her time pouring extra wine. I waited for her to return so I could force her to listen to me, but she never did. Instead, she moved to the galley near the middle of the aircraft and finished serving her desserts from there.
; Angry, I returned to the cockpit—killing time by thinking of other ways I could get her attention. I lasted all of thirty minutes before deciding I would let everyone on this plane hear what I had to say to her if need be.
I walked through the first class cabin, then the business and the economy, looking for her. I reached the back of the plane, finding myself next to the lavatories with no luck.
Annoyed, I knocked on the door of the lavatory on the left and a male voice answered. I knocked on the right one and immediately heard her distinctive voice.
“Someone’s in here,” she said. “The occupied light is on.”
I knocked again, even harder. I heard her groan and toss something to the floor.
“The occupied light is clearly—” The door swung open and she gasped, looking me up and down. Her eyes were filled with tears and her face was flushed red, yet she still looked absolutely stunning.
Behind her, in the lavatory, crumpled Kleenex littered the small sink and her phone sat still on the ledge.
I considered remaining calm, going with the bullshit, “Please hear me out” approach, but I decided not to waste my time.
“We need to talk, Gillian,” I said. “Now.”
“I’ll pass.” She tried to slam the door in my face, but I held it open and pushed her inside—locking the door behind me.
For several seconds, neither of us said a word. We simply stared at each other in silence, waiting for the other person to start. I was supposed to apologize right now, to say something poignant and sweet that I knew would get to her, but I had a feeling that shit wouldn’t work tonight. And I had a more important question on my mind, anyway.
“I have nothing else to say to you, Jake,” she said softly. “Nothing else to say.”
“Good, I’ll do most of the talking.”
“Well, that’s quite ironic. You don’t normally talk at all.”
“Are you fucking someone else?”
“What?”
“Do I need to repeat it?” I closed the gap between us. “Are you fucking someone else?”
“We haven’t spoken in weeks.” She hissed. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, and this is the first thing you ask me? How about, ‘Hello, Gillian. It’s been a long time since we last spoke. How are you?’”
“Hello, Gillian.” I locked my eyes on hers. “It’s been a long time since we last spoke. How are you? Are you fucking someone else?”
“No.”
“Are you seeing someone else?”
“That’s the same goddamn question.”
“Then give me the same goddamn answer.”
“No.” She crossed her arms. “No, I have not been seeing someone else, but I will be soon. And you know what? It’ll be someone who doesn’t make me feel this way every few weeks, someone who doesn’t get a sick thrill out of disappearing on me for weeks at a time or leaving me wondering at all hours of the night because he won’t open up to me. Best of all, it’ll be someone who will respect me and not act like loving me is a burden.”
“I’ve never said loving you was a burden.”
“You’ve never said you loved me at all.”
Silence.
“Gillian...” I looked right into her eyes. “Listen to me.”
“Screw you. Let me leave, please.” She pushed me, but I held her still. “Let me leave right now, Jake.”
“No.” I pulled her close and wrapped my arm around her waist, using my free hand to wipe her tears with my fingertips. I ran my hands across her back and kissed the edges of her mouth, softly biting her bottom lip to calm her down. “You know that I would never want to hurt you.”
“Do I?”
“You fucking should.” I bit her bottom lip again, harsher this time, and then I whispered against her mouth. “I need you to give ‘us’ another chance.”
“What makes you think I would be stupid enough to do that?”
“Because I’m not the only person here who has ever made a mistake.” My lips brushed against hers. “I recall the start of this being quite fucked up.”
“It’s still fucked up.” She looked as if she was about to cry again, but I wiped away the tears before they could fall. She began rambling, launching into one of those long, epic rants I actually missed and I couldn’t help but kiss her lips.
She tried to pull away from me, to act like moans weren’t escaping from her mouth, so I kissed her harder until she finally gave in to me.
“Are you having sex with someone else, Jake?” she whispered against my mouth.
“No.”
“Have you been dating anyone else?”
“No.” I slapped her ass and yanked her hair out of its bun. And as she continued to ask questions like only she could, I kissed her until she was too breathless to ask another. Until she gave me a glazed over look that said she was actually willing to listen to me.
“We can talk tonight,” I whispered. I grabbed her hand and pressed it against the front of my pants, letting her feel how hard she made me. “We can talk about whatever the hell you want to talk about tonight...”
GATE B37
GILLIAN
Paris (CDG)—-> New York (JFK)
HOURS AFTER LANDING in Paris, Jake pulled me close against him in his suite’s Jacuzzi. My back was pressed against his chest and he was running his fingers through my wet hair—kissing my neck every few seconds.
Despite what he'd said on the plane about talking about “whatever [I ] wanted,” no words were spoken when we first checked in. Instead, we’d spent most of the night re-connecting all over his room, letting our sex say all the things we still struggled to say aloud to each other.
It wasn’t until a couple hours ago, that he’d held me still and began to tell me about all the things that had plagued his entire life. His father’s lies. His brother’s assistance in protecting those lies. His ex wife. And the saddest story of all, his mother.
“That’s where you go every three weeks?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I felt guilty for assuming it was something else. “Does your brother or your father ever go visit her?”
“No.”
“Do they know where she is?”
“They do,” he said. “I’m sure they’ve sent things their money can buy. Maybe once or twice they may have snuck in under the guise of a charity event, but...”
“They can’t let the truth get out.”
“Exactly. That can never get out because it would ruin them both,” he said.
“But why haven’t you said anything about it at least?”
“There’s nothing to gain,” he whispered into my ear. “Do you mind if I change the subject?”
I shook my head and he slid his hands underneath my thighs, slowly turning me around until we were face to face. He leaned forward to kiss me—letting his teeth slightly bite my bottom lip, and then he grabbed both my hands.
“I want us to make this work,” he said, looking into my eyes. “I need us to make this work.”
“I said I was willing to give us another chance when we were on the plane.”
“No, no, no...” He shook his head. “You don’t understand what I’m saying.” His eyes were still on mine, looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him. “Almost everyone in my life has betrayed me at some point or used me for some type of personal gain. Almost everyone...My father is a goddamn liar and a cheat, my brother is a manipulative hypocrite, my ex-wife is an opportunist and a father-fucker.”
“You on the other hand...” His lips found mine again and he pulled me down against his chest. “You’re my anomaly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Surely after all the crossword puzzles you’ve stolen from me, you know what the word ‘anomaly’ means.”
“I know what the word means, I mean in terms of us.”
“I mean that although I’m sure you’re practically incapable of doing any of the things my family has done, I don’t ever want to have to wake up and read the papers to find
out about what lies your spinning, I don’t want to have to worry about you being with someone else, and something tells me no one else would put up with your incessant talking as much as I do, so this relationship would actually be in your best interest as well.”
“One of those clauses was not like the others...”
“I’m aware.” He let out a low laugh. “I just need you to promise to continue being my anomaly. And I’m also just not sure how to say I love you.”
I sucked in a breath, my heart immediately full of butterflies, and his mouth claimed mine with kisses, breaking down any playful resistance, cementing his feelings over my own.
When he finally let me go, I remembered what I needed to talk about tonight. What had changed in my life since we last broke up. “Wait, Jake. I have to tell you something.”
He ignored me, pressing his lips against mine again, slipping his tongue deeper into my mouth.
“No, wait...” I pulled away from him. “It’s really important.”
“Is it bad?”
I hesitated. “It depends on your definition of bad.”
“You know what bad is, Gillian.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Is it really that bad to where you have to tell me right now, or can it wait?”
“It can wait.”
“Good.” His mouth was on mine again and he pulled me into his lap before standing up with me attached to his waist. “Tonight, I just want to focus on the good, and the fact that I really do love you.”
“If you love me so much, maybe we don’t have to do so much fucking anymore...”
“We’ll always be fucking, Gillian” He smiled, biting my lip before tossing me onto the bed. “That’s the best part of us.”
GATE B38
JAKE
New York (JFK)—-> Tokyo (NRT)
FOR THE FIRST TIME in years, I felt that everything in my life was almost right. That thrilling adrenaline rush I once lived for at every takeoff had now returned, and the fact that I finally had someone who wasn’t out to use or betray me made me feel like I was capable of trusting again.
