by Whitney G.
“I’ve found it,” I said, picking up a copy. “Where do I check out?”
“Far right wall.” She smiled. “Happy reading!”
“Thanks.” I walked away from her and headed toward the counter, stopping when I saw a black book with the title, How to Date a Pilot (And Have Cockpit Sex!). I knocked it onto the floor and purchased my book.
I disregarded my previous plans for the Financial District and hailed a cab straight to my condo.
Since I was off for the next few days, I poured myself a few shots of bourbon and tossed them back. Then I took Gillian’s book out of my bag and sat on my couch.
I stared at it awhile, still unsure of whether I wanted to read it or set it afire.
It wasn’t until a little after midnight that I finally flipped open the page and read the first few lines:
PRE-BOARDING
GILLIAN
Prologue
HOW MANY TIMES WILL you burn me?
Three, four, five, maybe ten—
Is it me who’s burning you?
Yes, ‘this’ needs to end.
If you walk away first, I’ll follow suit.
I’ve told you this before, and yet you never do...
THE FIRST TIME I FLEW through severe turbulence, I swore on my life I’d never fly again.
It was during a red-eye flight from Seattle to London, and three hours in, we were swept up in a sudden summer storm. The plane shook violently as the passengers screamed and prayed for their lives, and my calm assurances of “Hold on! Everyone, please just hold on!” fell on deaf ears.
The pilot was young and inexperienced, his soft voice not comforting in the least, and as the glasses from the first class cabin shattered onto the floor and luggage toppled from the overhead bins, I promised myself that if we ever landed, my days in the sky were long over.
I broke that promise hours later, of course, but I could finally say that I’d experienced the worst of what turbulence could ever be.
Or, so I thought...
I READ THE ONE AFTER that, and as the hours passed, my eyes took in her sentences—devouring her every word.
GATE C45
GILLIAN
MYSTERY PILOT IN EROTIC ROMANCE BELIEVED TO BE RELATED TO AN AIRLINE EXECUTIVE
—E! News
AUTHOR OF PREVIOUS BESTSELLER, MILE HIGH CLUB UNVEILED, ADMITS TO “HEAVILY SAMPLING” TAYLOR G.’S FIRST NOVEL AMIDST THOUSANDS OF FAN ACCUSATIONS
—RT BOOK REVIEWS
ELITE AIRWAYS MAKES ALL EMPLOYEES RESIGN NEW NON-FRATERNIZATION POLICY. CLAIMS THE MOVE HAS “ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT BOOK”
—USA Today
‘TURBULENCE’ TO RECEIVE A RECORD FIFTH PRINTING WITHIN FIRST THREE MONTHS OF RELEASE
—The International Times
AUTHOR OF ‘TURBULENCE’, TAYLOR G., BEGINS INTERNATIONAL BOOK TOUR AS NOVEL CONTINUES #1 REIGN FOR THIRD MONTH IN A ROW
—The New York Times
OFFICIAL ELITE AIRWAYS PRESS RELEASE
*Regarding the fiction that is still being propagated as fact via a former employee*
OUR ESTEEMED AIRLINE has now completed an extensive investigation process that included all of the pilots who currently fly for our company. The results indefinitely conclude that the former employee in question, Miss Gillian Taylor (writing as “Taylor G.”) was never involved in an interpersonal affair with one of our pilots.
We will no longer issue any more press releases regarding this matter, but as mentioned previously, we wish Miss Taylor the best of luck with her newfound literary success.
GATE C46
GILLIAN
New York (JFK)—> Salt Lake City (SLC)—> Pittsburgh (PIT)
“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE camera...” Jake whispered into my ear as he pulled me back by my hair, fucking me deeper and deeper.
I looked right at the lens, crying out as he filled me with every inch of his cock. His left hand squeezed my breasts, pinching my hardened nipples as I cried out.
“Jake...Jake...” My body spasmed violently beneath his and he flipped me over, covering my mouth with his and claiming my lips until I went completely still.
Then, just like he’d done in every other viewing of this video, he kissed me before turning off the tape. I immediately hit replay, watching it for the umpteenth time.
“Miss Taylor?” The interviewer from Midnight Ramblings suddenly stepped into the room.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to personally thank you for letting us interview you tonight.” She extended a bouquet of flowers toward me. “Not too many people are willing to fly to Salt Lake City, so it was an absolute pleasure, and I look forward to your next novel.”
“Thank you. I’m honored you invited me.”
“Do you mind signing a few copies before you go? They’re on the table by the soundstage.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Great! Thank you once again!”
I waited until I heard the click of the door, and then I finally let my perfectly-rehearsed smile falter and fade. I let the tears roll down my face, let my chest heave up and down like it always did after these unfulfilling interviews.
With no shame, I dialed Jake’s number, but instead of going directly to voicemail, there was a new message: “This number is no longer in service.”
SUBJECT: YOU.
You’re still my anomaly.
Miss you,
Gillian
NO ANSWER. AS USUAL.
I hit refresh a few times, hoping for something—anything, but nothing came.
A light knock came at the studio door and I quickly wiped my eyes.
“Come in,” I said.
“Okay, yeah.” Kennedy walked in, talking on her cell phone. “Right. Well, we can talk about that on Friday. I’m with a client. Friday, Kenneth.” She shot me a quick ‘I’m so sorry about this’ look and spoke to whoever Kenneth was for a few more minutes before hanging up.
“Well,” she said, giving me her full attention. “This particular interview went rather well, didn’t it? I think you did an amazing job.”
“Thank you.” I feigned a smile. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to sign the books and go home. Can we bypass the extra photos thing?”
“I’m ten steps ahead of you.” She placed a bag on the table. “Here are the books and there’s a pen inside. Are you still up for a dinner with readers tomorrow?”
“Always.”
“Great. I’ll go tell them we’re leaving shortly and be right back.”
As she left, my phone vibrated against my thigh. My heart stopped.
Jake?
I unlocked the screen and opened my email app.
Not Jake.
Not even close.
It was Ben.
SUBJECT: FATE.
I know that your book is really about us. You didn’t have to make me a pilot to make it more interesting. A stockbroker is just as impressive. I’m here for you and I will take better care when we get back together. I want to take you out for dinner sometime this month. Can you wear the dress I prefer this time, though? It’s only fair, since you want me just as much as I want you.
—Ben
UGH...
GATE C47
GILLIAN
Pittsburgh (PIT)—> Salt Lake City (SLC)
ANOTHER INTERVIEW CAME to an end, another stack of books quickly signed, and another bouquet of flowers were placed into my hands three days later. This time though, I didn’t sit in the green room to kill time. I headed straight to a waiting town car, prepared to sleep more thoughts of Jake away.
As soon as I slipped into the backseat, my phone rang. My mother.
“Yeah?” I answered, not bothering to say hello.
“Did any of this come about because we didn’t give you enough attention, Gillian?” My mother’s voice came over the line as I stepped into the green room. “Is that why you felt the need to lie to us about quitting your job and hiding this novel business?”
“It was never about any of you,” I said flatly. “Everything can’t always be about you, you know.”
“If you’d gone to MIT, I wonder if any of this would’ve happened.”
I bit my lip, trying to hold in my anger. To my surprise, my family were stunned by the release of the book, but not in a good way. It didn’t matter that I’d accomplished something none of them had done. It was “mindless writing,” “words that could’ve been put to better use in a research setting.” It still wasn’t good enough. I still wasn’t good enough.
“Your father and I are going to fly up to see you for lunch next month. We want to discuss the best way to attack this head on. We need to figure out a way to field questions our colleagues have about your...Your book.”
“You know what?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Don’t bother coming to visit me. Ever. Until you and everyone else in the family gets your heads out of your asses. I published two books. Two. And instead of having relatives who say, “Congratulations, we’re proud of you.” You still manage to make me feel like a disappointment.”
“Gillian, I’m impressed with all you’ve done, I’m just trying to make a connection with you.”
“I’ll send you my signing schedule. If you want to see me, buy a ticket...Since none of you have even bought a book yet, that would be nice, I think.” I hung up before she could say anything else.
My phone immediately vibrated and I saw that she’d sent me a text.
Mom: I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you...Not at a signing though. One on one. So I can apologize in person. So we **all** can apologize in person...
I started to text her “No thanks,” but another text from her came through. A series of pictures of my sisters, my brother, and she and my father holding my book.
I stared at the pictures for several minutes, failing to hold back tears because I didn’t want to believe that the pictures were real.
Me: I would like that very much...
GATE C48
JAKE
New York (JFK)
I STEPPED OFF THE ELEVATOR at my condo, ready to get some sleep after a particularly long flight, but my cell phone rang before I could open my door. Unknown number.
“Who is this?” I answered.
“Is this Mr. Weston?” It was a male voice.
“Depends on who’s calling.”
“This is Dr. Armin from Infinity Assisted Living. Is right now a bad time?”
“No.” I swallowed, fearing the worst.
“Great. I was actually calling because—”
“Are you calling my Jake?” My mother’s voice was in the background. “I’ve told you to stay the hell out of my room unless he’s with you. I don’t trust you or your staff, and I swear to God if you’re talking to someone other than Jake right now, I will make sure he sues you for malpractice.”
“Mr. Weston.” The doctor sighed. “Are you by chance close enough to get to Newark right now?”
I hung up and took the elevator downstairs, catching my car before the valet could put it away.
I sped toward New Jersey, toward the care facility, without a second thought, nearly getting in several accidents along the way.
When I arrived, I didn’t stop at the visitor’s desk. I walked right by the receptionist, giving her a look that dared her to get in my way. As I approached my mother’s room, I hoped she’d still have a few more minutes, that I hadn’t missed her in that state yet again.
I opened the door to her room and she sat up, staring at me.
Tilting her head to the side, she furrowed her brow.
“You look terrible, Jake,” she said. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
Exhaling, I walked over and hugged her.
“Jake?” She squeezed my arms. “Are you okay? You don’t normally hug me for so long.”
I hugged her for a few more seconds before letting go. “How long have you been up?”
“Since six this morning. Why?”
“No reason. Do you know what year it is right now?”
“2014.” She shrugged. “2015, maybe.”
“Close enough,” I said. “How old do you think I am right now?”
“Depending on the year you’re thirty-eight or thirty-nine.”
“And what do I do for a living?”
“From the way this conversation is going, you host a version of Jeopardy.”
I laughed and she smiled.
“You fly planes like you should, Jake,” she said. “You also get angry so often that you’re considering a way to be paid for testing stress balls.”
“I’ve never considered that.”
“You should.” She laughed, patting a spot on her mattress. “Sit down.”
I took off my jacket and obliged.
“My questions are far more interesting than yours. Is it my turn?”
“Yes. Ask away.”
“Are you trying to have any babies yet?” she asked. “Any mini-Jakes I need to look forward to?”
“No. Can we talk about something else? How you’re feeling perhaps?”
“I’m great,” she said. “For now, anyway. Not sure how long this will last.”
“It’s already been worth the drive for me.”
Laughing, she pointed to her stack of blankets in the corner, and I covered her in a new one, taking my seat next to her again. When her laughter stopped, she got serious all of a sudden. “If I ask you something, do you promise to tell the truth?”
“Only if it won’t hurt you.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay, that’s fair enough. When was the last time I was like this? Lucid for more than an hour at a time?”
“Please don’t make me answer that.”
“Tell me.” She smiled faintly. “I probably won’t remember this moment in a day or two anyway.”
I kissed her forehead. “Two years ago.”
“Years ago?” Tears welled in her eyes.
I nodded. “You’ve had moments, hours here or there, but full days? Two years ago.”
“Is it true that you’re the one who sends me the blankets and care packages every day? It’s you?”
I nodded, noticing the tears rolling down her face.
“And, the catering company that only delivers to me. Is that you, too?”
“Yes.” I wiped away her tears. “You hate the food they serve here. You won’t even eat their ice cream. You don’t trust it for some reason.”
She laughed, holding her stomach. “Thank you, Jake. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.” I asked her more questions, trying to soak up as much time as I could, trying to enjoy the company of the only person in my life worth talking to.
Occasionally, she would interrupt my questions and say, “Okay...What’s her name?” because she swore all of my relationship questions meant something other than casual conversation. That I was thinking about someone, but I wasn’t. I hadn’t thought about Gillian until just now.
“Before I forget—ha!” She snorted, pulling a notebook from underneath her pillow. “I apparently told the staff to give me this notebook if I was ever lucid for more than a day.” She flipped the pages open. “I need you to speak with your father and your brother when you get a chance.”
“No.”
“Jake—”
“Absolutely not. They’re the reason you’re like this. They’re dead to me.”
“It’s important.” She looked sincere. “Really important.”
“Then why can’t you tell me?”
“Because you need to hear it from them.” She flipped to another page. “You also need to deliver a few messages for me. For your father, you need to tell him that I forgive him for all of his lies, and I do wish him the best with Elite. I really do.”
I touched her forehead, certain she was coming down with something, that she couldn’t be serious.
“Also, tell your brother that I miss him. That I love him and his children very much. Even though well, you know...”
She frowned. “I’d rather not think about how he erased you.”
“What about Riley? Since I’m going on a hate tour, would you like me to deliver a message to her as well?”
“No.” She scrunched up her face. “I never did like that cunt. I had a feeling she was always a little too nice to your father, and I warned you about her, even. You should’ve listened.”
This time it was me who laughed. “Lesson learned.”
“Is it?” She closed her notebook. “If it truly is, whatever woman you’re currently over there thinking about—I can tell, so don’t try to deny it...Whoever she is, maybe settle down together, have some grandchildren that I’ll be lucid enough to enjoy for a few hours another two years from now?” She squeezed my hand. “I’m always right, Jake. Just do what I say.”
I tried not to laugh again, but I couldn’t help it. I held her close and changed the subject, listening to her talk to me for the rest of the night, enjoying every second of her company.
I told her I loved her, repeatedly, as her hand clasped mine atop the blanket and our time slowly ran out.
Before she fell asleep, she hugged me hard and kissed my cheek, pleading with me to meet with my father and brother.
I stayed by her side until she opened her eyes again, to see if she would make it for the second day in a row.
She didn’t.
She had no idea who I was, but she said I looked a lot like her oldest son. She asked me to leave a picture of myself at the front desk so she could show him, and then she told me to get the hell out of her room so she could get some more sleep.
