Stephanie. Ted. Sure. Easily confused.
Chucky sniffed the air, perhaps getting a whiff of cocktail peanuts being boarded by the ground crew.
A long silence, only broken by the air moving in and out of Chucky’s nostrils, caused everyone to shift uncomfortably. Everyone except Captain Brewster-Yarley, who stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her feet spread apart, and her gaze fixed on the pig.
Finally, a dark-haired woman in a navy business suit, presumably Stephanie, breezed down the Jetway with long, confident strides. She didn’t need to ask about the situation. The pig made it apparent.
She turned to the woman. “Ma’am, in order to bring an animal onboard, you need to have proper accreditation and certification. We have to be assured this is not a pet.”
“I do.” She pulled out the papers.
Stephanie looked them over, then said, “Ma’am, will you please step over here?” Stephanie guided her a few feet away, then joined the group, refolding the papers. “Captain, she has all the valid papers. However, I thought this was a seeing-eye animal.”
“Isn’t it?” Danny asked.
“No. It’s a companion animal.”
“What’s that?” James asked.
Stephanie glanced back at Anna Sue. “They can be used for many different purposes, like children with cancer, the elderly, people in hospice, trauma victims and”—she glanced at the piece of paper the woman had handed her—“the emotionally challenged.”
It didn’t matter that Stephanie’s tone suggested nobody should look. Everyone looked at Anna Sue in her dark sunglasses and her pig on a leash.
“She’s not blind?” Danny whispered.
“No.”
“Then why does she have dark sunglasses on?”
“Probably for the same reason she has the pig,” James blurted.
Everyone looked at the captain, one silent question on their lips: what would happen at forty thousand feet if Anna Sue didn’t have her pig?
Stephanie filled the silence. “These animals are very well trained, and many are trained to be on public transportation. We are not permitted to ask any more questions about the disability, only verify that the animal is a certified companion.”
“Why not get a boyfriend and be done with it?” James asked.
“We don’t have a full flight today. GiGi, get Ms. Givens on a row by herself,” the captain said.
“What are we going to do if the pig needs to go to the bathroom? What if it belches? Do you understand what this is going to do to the passengers? Do you understand how upset everyone is going to be?” GiGi stomped her airline-issued pump.
The captain turned to Stephanie. “Contact GiGi’s supervisor and alert her to how upset GiGi is about this. GiGi, you’re welcome to file a complaint when we return.”
GiGi spun on the same heel that had impaled the carpet, then walked back to the plane, ranting about what the passengers were going to have to endure.
The captain beckoned Anna Sue over to join the conversation. “Ms. Givens, we’ll do everything to accommodate you, but I ask that you would accommodate us. I’d like to board you last. I need to figure out where to put you both, and we may have to put some special procedures in place. All right?”
“I understand,” Anna Sue said, removing her glasses. “Thank you.”
“If you’ll return to the gate, I’ll alert the gate agent when I’m ready for you to board. Thank you for flying Atlantica.”
Chucky and Anna Sue started down the Jetway.
“Oh, and Ms. Givens,” the captain called, “one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“My apologies if at any time you were treated disrespectfully.” The captain looked at James. Everyone looked at James.
James gave an apologetic smile and said, “With a name like GiGi, you’ve got to assume she’s not into pigs. It’s nothing personal.”
A small scowl appeared on her face, but Anna Sue still seemed pleased with the captain’s remarks. She turned and left without a word. James went to tell GiGi.
The captain turned to Danny. “When the passengers begin boarding, I want you to discreetly ask if anyone has Ambien.”
“Ambien?”
“Now, let’s get this plane ready to board. We’re already running late.”
The captain headed for the plane, leaving Danny to wonder if everything his fellow first officer said about this red-flag, yellow-sticky-note woman was true.
James returned, stopping beside him and watching the pig waddle out of sight. “Pork,” he said. “That’s one way to keep the terrorists off the airplane.”
Danny sighed. “Is there anything that will keep you off the airplane?”
Chapter 7
Lucy watched passengers grumbling and checking their watches. She couldn’t care less when the plane took off. She had nothing but time to burn. She ignored the fussing crowds and took in the sights from the large window that gave her a great view of the busy runways.
She was having a hard time fighting off the urge to hoard Cinnabons while waiting. That’s all she needed, not to be able to fit into any of the new outfits she bought for the trip.
While she waited, Lucy allowed herself to think of Jeff. It would not do any good to suppress the feelings. She needed to face it all, let herself grieve that the relationship was over, try to figure out why it failed, and return to America completely healed.
She’d first met Jeff at an engagement party for one of her friends. He was the date of an acquaintance of the engaged, but when Lucy stepped out on the balcony for some air, he seemed to forget he’d come with anybody or why he was there in the first place. For forty-five minutes, Lucy drank champagne but tasted only compliments. Like two magnets snapping together, they were instantly attracted.
He wasn’t serious with the woman who’d brought him, he’d said. The next day he called, wanting to see her for lunch.
In retrospect, his character hadn’t been foremost on her mind. And she had to admit, it was intoxicating to be the one who stole the guy, since for most of her life guys had been stolen from her.
Still, was it completely unpredictable that he’d gotten restless? He couldn’t even commit to a date for one night without flirting with someone else on a balcony.
Emotion swelled in her throat, and she allowed it. She’d fallen hard for him, and denying it would only prolong the pain. Sucking in deep breaths through her nostrils, she closed her eyes and tried to center herself.
Focus on what you want your life to be. See yourself happy, married, wildly in love. Picture it.
A loud and jarring announcement instructed passengers to prepare to board Flight 1945. Lucy gathered her belongings and her emotions, taking a moment to swipe gloss across her lips.
She stood. It felt like a defining moment. Sure, she was only boarding an airplane, but it was more than a plane. It was a destiny.
Yet in every mind-focused moment she’d ever conjured, a pig never appeared.
Several people were pointing and talking about it as Lucy moved into line. The woman stood off to the side, near a column and next to a trash can, clutching its leash. The pig looked barely capable of walking. Its belly, full and round, grazed the carpet as it stood sniffing the side of the trash can. The woman wore dark sunglasses, making the situation seem even stranger.
“What’s with the pig?” Lucy asked the stranger in front of her.
The woman, in her early eighties, seemed put off. “It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is!”
Lucy noticed this woman holding the arm of an even older woman, bent like the cane she used to walk. They shuffled forward, the younger of the two commenting on travel.
“What has it come to? First they practically strip-search you, and now you have to travel with farm animals? Disgusting!” The woman turned to Lucy. “They made my mother take off her shoes. Look at her! Does she look like she’s capable of taking off her shoes? Or hurting anybody?”
She didn’t look like she w
as capable of making it onto the airplane.
The woman’s tart tone continued. “My mother is one hundred and three years old. This is the first time she’s ever flown on an airplane. And she’s subjected to this!” Her shaking hand directed everyone’s attention to the woman in sunglasses. Her voice lowered. “I saw her talking to the gate agent, which means she’s going to be on this flight!”
Her mother looked up at her like she’d just noticed she was talking. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing, Mother.” She gave Lucy a woeful look. “I can only pray we’re not sitting near the pig. If we are, somebody’s going to hear about it.”
About twenty-five people already had, but Lucy just nodded and tried not to engage. Some people couldn’t be flexible. Lucy wondered why the pig was there at all and bet that if George Clooney boarded with his pig, no complaints would arise. Of course, George’s pig was dead.
Instead of her usual reading fare of People and Us Weekly, Lucy had brought something meaningful, something life changing. Patting it with her hand, she moved forward and wondered if she would be sitting next to the pig.
Better it than a man.
“It’s hot in here,” GiGi said in between, “Welcome aboard,” and, “Good morning.”
Danny smiled and nodded at the passengers, but couldn’t figure out how to slip in, “Do you carry sleeping pills?”
Why did the captain need them? He could just go and ask, he supposed, but something about C. J. Brewster-Yarley made him want another option. So instead, he kept looking for the perfect person, someone with a bright, cheery face and dark circles under their eyes.
“Welcome aboard,” Danny said to a woman in polka dots. She looked friendly enough.
“Welcome to my new life,” she replied with a smile.
“You don’t happen to take sleeping pills, do you?” It sounded as awkward as if he’d just pointed out that her bra strap had slipped down her shoulder. He tried a polite smile, even against GiGi’s hard stare.
“Why?” the woman asked, suddenly not as cheery.
“Those bright, sunny polka dots might keep you awake.” Grin. Sell it. Come on. Sell it.
A small smile returned to her face as she glanced down at herself.
“You look ready for a great trip,” Danny said, patting her on the back and helping her along.
“Thanks.” She continued on to her seat.
“Welcome aboard,” GiGi said, then whispered, “Why are you asking people for sleeping pills?”
“Just roll with it. The captain’s orders.”
“Ugh. I’ve flown with some weird people—welcome aboard—but this takes the cake. I’m all for women in aviation, but there are women and there are freaks.”
“She’s a hero, you know,” Danny said. “Welcome aboard.”
“So I hear. I’d have settled for a quiet disposition, but that’s just me.” GiGi stepped aside to help a woman who looked old enough to remember life before airplanes. The woman with her was already complaining about the pig.
Through a tense smile, GiGi assured her the pig wouldn’t be a problem.
James came out of the cockpit. “I have to go get the pig lady. Captain wants me to apologize and make her feel comfortable.”
“You could start by calling her Anna Sue,” Danny said.
“Right. Anna Sue-eee!”
“Welcome aboard. You’re not seriously going to keep this up the entire flight.”
“Hey, I’m not the one with sticky notes all over the windshield.”
“You’re not the one in charge, either, so let’s make this as easy as possible.”
James smirked. “Yeah, right. You’ve got a long flight ahead of you.”
“You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you? Welcome aboard.”
“No, you’re in denial. The plane isn’t even off the ground and we’ve got a prisoner and a pig. Should I say more?”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I have to go board a woman with a pig now.”
“Don’t complain. I’ve got to hunt down sleeping pills from passengers.”
“Why?”
“That’s what the captain said to do.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know.”
James raised a skeptical eyebrow, then lowered his voice. “I’ve got a bottle of Ambien.”
Danny turned to him. “What?”
“Shhh.”
“You have sleeping pills with you?”
“Lower your voice, would you?”
“That’s against FAA regulations. You can’t take sleeping pills when you’re on a trip.”
“Did I say I was taking them?” James asked with mock innocence. “I also have low blood sugar, but don’t let that get out.” He winked.
“You could be suspended for having those.” Danny was careful to not even take Benadryl, which could render him unconscious for hours.
“Do you want them or not?”
Danny glanced into the cockpit, then at the passengers. Fine.
“They’re in my bag. Inside pocket.”
GiGi returned, fanning herself. Danny wanted to remark that it might be her hot glare causing the cabin temperature to rise, but he didn’t need more trouble. He was already about to be in possession of a drug that no pilot should ever have or get from another pilot.
“This is going to be a long flight,” she said. “The guy in 20E is already asking for a blanket. We haven’t even closed the cabin door yet! And did you see the guy clutching his stomach?”
Danny shook his head.
“I asked him if he got airsick, and he went pale. I mean, this is not good.”
“Mix in the pig and we’ve got a Leslie Nielsen movie.” Danny cracked a smile, realized he shouldn’t have, and immediately retracted it.
Kim approached. “We’ve got a couple on their way. Gate agent says they’re about five minutes out.”
“We’re already running late. Why not another five minutes, right?” He asked her to greet the remaining boarding passengers. He found what he hoped was James’s carry-on in the closet, dug around in it, and found the pills. Hiding them in his pocket, he went into the cockpit.
“All right. I’ve got the pills,” he told the captain.
“What pills?”
“The sleeping pills you asked for.”
“I was joking, Bubba.” Danny blinked.
“Did you think I was going to crush them up and feed it to the pig in applesauce?” she asked.
Unfortunately, yes, that thought had crossed his mind.
“Where did you get sleeping pills?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll just put them—”
They heard shouting. The captain rose from her seat and went to the door. An elderly woman’s screechy voice quieted the plane.
“Does it have a ticket?” she yelled. “Is it a Gold Star member?”
GiGi, scraping loose hairs back into her chignon, cast a pleasant look at the other passengers. “Ma’am, the pig isn’t going to be anywhere near you.”
Which implied it would be near someone.
“It’s the idea, don’t you see? It’s the idea that I’m flying with a pig. Don’t you remember the days when you stewardesses wore nice clothes? suits? pantyhose? makeup? What has happened to this industry? Is there an all-you-can-eat buffet in the back? Am I supposed to serve myself coffee out of a machine near the bathrooms? This is not what flying is supposed to be!”
The captain turned to Danny. “Get me some applesauce.”
Danny smiled.
“Now.”
“Seriously?”
“Bubba, do I look like I’m kidding?”
Chapter 8
Under normal circumstances, the stuffy, diesel-laden air would bring back good memories for Jake. He’d been on his share of tour buses, back when they opened for bigger bands, hoping to hit the big time. He liked the smell. It also reminded him of snow s
kiing, when you hopped on at the base of the mountain, down where the fumes gathered against the cold ground. It made the ride to the top that much better. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the crisp fresh air of Winter Park.
But he wasn’t about to close his eyes. Already, one of the flight attendants seemed suspicious of him, asking him why he was holding his stomach. He’d hoped the pig would be enough of a distraction to keep anyone from noticing him.
He pushed his duffel bag into the overhead compartment, fumbling with it as he tried to keep the bottom of his T-shirt from riding up his belly. The bag fell backward, hit him on the head, then hit a man sitting across the aisle.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” Jake said, scrambling to retrieve the bag. He stepped out of the way to let the other passengers by. A break came in the line, and he had no choice but to call for a flight attendant. The same irritated woman who’d asked about his stomach appeared.
“Sorry. I just have a bad back and can’t get my bag up there.”
“A bad back and a queasy stomach,” she said. “May be a long flight for you.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He let go of his belly and put his hands elsewhere while he watched a woman half his size struggle to get the bag in place. It was all he could do not to help her, but one wrong move and everyone would catch a glimpse of duct tape on his stomach.
“There,” she said, exasperated. “I think I got it.” She glanced at him. “You’re hot too?”
“Um…I had a girlfriend who thought so. Once.”
“I meant you’re sweating.”
Below each pit, a ring of sweat had formed. No matter how hard he played off his fears, his sweat glands betrayed him.
“Thanks for your help.” Jake quickly found his seat, sliding down and wishing he could slide under.
He tried to rationally think through the paranoia, but that was like mixing oil and water. Instead, he pictured Idya Van Der Mark, a woman who lived frugally but kept five diamonds under her mattress. Why? At her age, why not at least sell one and enjoy life a little?
He wondered what they would talk about. Would she have any interest in his almost-but-not-quite-successful band? Would she understand his American lifestyle?
Skid Page 6
