by Ford, Mia
While it was on the ground, it looked and felt like an overgrown tin can, but I knew it to be something different. I knew it to be a dream maker, something magnificent that could change a person's life, even. It could make the seemingly impossible possible, and to me, that made it the closest thing to magic that any of us on earth were ever going to get.
"Jess!” Becca called out. “Hey, Earth to Jess! What could you possibly be thinking about right now? What do you think about while we do these preflight checks?"
“Nothing,” I answered quickly, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming on the job. “I guess I just let my mind wander. Why, what do you think about?”
Becca and Trish, two flight attendants I had been on dozens of flights with already, exchanged a glance and a knowing set of smiles. These only made me feel more insecure, and I ducked my head. I could see them wanting to ask me more questions, and the only way I knew how to stop that from happening was to concentrate on doing my job.
It served me right to be questioned this way. That's what I got for letting my mind wander on the job the way I was doing. Romanticizing the job was one thing, but letting it show on my face was another. Thinking about the nature of travel wasn't what I was paid to do. I was paid to make the plane ready for the people who had somewhere to go.
I could see Emma's face in my mind's eye, rolling her eyes and telling me I needed a better poker face if I was going to think of things unrelated to work. She would probably tell me not to waste my time thinking about things not related to finding a better boyfriend, too, knowing my daughter. Thinking about it was enough to make me smile. I was still smiling when the pilot and co-pilot boarded the plane.
“Ladies! Ladies, ladies. Aren’t you a bunch of overachievers, on the plane before your valiant pilots have even arrived?”
"Captain Stevens." Becca nodded at the pilot with a thin smile I recognized instantly as phony. "Good to see you."
"But seriously, ladies," he pressed on, either not hearing Becca or not caring about what she had to say. "What's the endgame here? If I didn't already think so highly of you all, I would say you were trying to make me look bad."
“Of course not, Captain Stevens,” Becca said. “Nothing like that. We just like to get a jump on our duties. Besides, your responsibilities really begin when we’re in the air.”
“Right! That’s exactly right. I knew I liked you for a reason. And anyhow, it’s not like I was just playing with my dick or anything, you know? I was getting to know our new pilot here. Good enough reason as any, wouldn’t you say?”
The dick comment was something I would have flinched at several years ago, back when I had first begun my job in the sky. At this point, though, it didn't do anything to me at all. I was used to the often chauvinistic comments of the pilots, and the other girls were, too. It was part of the job, and a part I was mostly at peace with.
And even if that hadn't been the case, the chances of me paying Captain Stevens much mind at this point were awfully slim. It was the man he was with who had all my attention. The guy standing next to him, who looked vaguely uncomfortable with Fred's arm looped roughly around his neck, was one of the most gorgeous guys I had ever seen in real life.
He was the kind of good looking you didn't expect to see in real life. Most guys that looked like this one were reserved for movie screens or the covers of GQ. They weren't out walking around amongst normal people, and they definitely weren't the new pilot you got to fly with.
This guy was tall, probably close to a foot taller than me, with thick, dark hair and dark eyes to match. It wasn't just that he was hot, either, although that was a fact I doubted anyone could deny. There was also just something about him. There was a calmness, almost a stoicism, about him that made me immediately interested in who he was.
It was the last thing I was expecting on this flight, and I had to mentally kick myself into gear to look somewhere other than at the new guy's face. I busied myself with checking the magazines in the backs of the seats while the other girls took their best shot at flirting with the new co-pilot. At the same time, they fielded a series of less than stellar jokes made by Fred, which they undoubtedly put up with just so that they could make eyes at the newbie. They were the kind of jokes a person only laughed at as a means to an end, and although I found myself smiling at them, it was only to be polite. Even that felt like a whole lot of work. Something about seeing the strange new pilot had thrown me off my game enough that every movement felt like more work than it should have been.
“So, which one of you is it going to be, anyway?” Captain Stevens thundered so loudly that the plane felt too small for all of us to stand inside of it. “Which one of you is going to break our young buck in?”
“Sir!” Becca admonished with a laugh. “Really, what a question!”
“She’s right, Fred, really,” Tricia laughed along with Becca. “This isn’t an auction. This is work! We’re all very busy and professional women. Isn’t that right, Jess?”
“W-what? I’m sorry,” I stammered, feeling my face flush bright red. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“Bullshit!” Fred Stevens cried, his voice so boisterous now it made me jump practically out of my sensible shoes. “No way you weren’t paying attention, my dear. Don’t believe that for a second. Look at that fucking face! That’s not the kind of face people don’t pay attention to, okay? Take it from one who knows.”
“One who knows, huh?” Tricia asked in a teasing voice, “And how would you know? Are you saying you and this Mister…?”
“Larson,” the gorgeous pilot interjected, his voice so low and smooth that it made my heart jump in my chest. “Drew Larson.”
“Thank you, sir. So, Stevens, are you saying that you and Mr. Larson here draw the same kind of attention? That both of you are just fending the ladies off with sticks, is that right?”
"No way! I say take it from one who knows because none of you ladies have ever looked at me the way you're trying not to look at my young co-pilot. That’s how I know.”
"Speaking of co-pilot, I hate to play the stick in the mud, but don't you all think it's time to start getting into place? People will start boarding soon, and I doubt they'll expect us to be standing around talking like this."
All of the banter stopped immediately. Both of my friends and Captain Stevens turned their attention to this Drew Larson. I expected some kind of a fight from Stevens at least, who never took kindly to being told what to do, but there was nothing. I could hear him grumbling a little as he made his way to the cockpit, but considering the loose cannon the venerable Fred Stevens usually was, that was nothing.
My friends both nodded at Mr. Larson and hurried toward the back of the plane, whispering and giggling to each other as they went. I turned to do the same, careful not to make eye contact as I went, and was almost to the safety of the back of the plane when the new co-pilot spoke up.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Is it about Captain Stevens?” I asked, turning and doing my best to look professional and not at all shook up as I did. “Because I can assure you, he’s harmless. I know he doesn’t always come off that way.”
“No, actually, it’s not about him. I kind of pegged him as harmless right off, you know? All bark, no bite?”
“That sounds about right,” I said, toying with my hair despite the fact that I didn’t really want to be flirting with this man. “And the bark gets worse, depending on how things outside of work are going. Or at least, that’s what I’ve come to believe.”
“I have no doubt. Now can I ask you a different kind of question? A question that doesn’t have anything to do with Fred and the source of his bark?”
“Of course, you can,” I answered breathlessly, wondering if the girls were hearing any of this in the back. “Although, I can’t promise to have the answer.”
“Something tells me that you will, seeing as it’s about you.”
“About me? What about me?”
&nbs
p; “I was just wondering,” he asked. “Do you like to fly?”
“Well sure, it’s my job.”
“Right, I know that,” he said. “And that’s the answer that makes the most sense. But outside of the sensical answer, do you like it? Do you like being up in the air?”
“I love it,” I answered quickly, all of my hesitation momentarily gone. “I love it more than almost anything else on earth.”
“Tell me why,” he said.
“I love meeting new people all of the time, whether the passengers or the other crew. I love wondering what kinds of lives those people lead, where they’re going and where they’ve been. I love the idea that these planes could take us anywhere in the world. All we have to do is decide where we want to go.”
As soon as I stopped talking, I felt a wave of embarrassment flood my body. I'd meant to answer him, sure, but I hadn't meant to go into such specifics. The things I'd just told him were things I never said out loud, not to anyone. I couldn't understand what had made me just unload all of my thoughts on this man, who I didn't even know. All I knew was that I didn't want him asking me any follow-up questions, and so I turned his own question around on him in a preemptive strike.
“And what’s your answer?”
“To what, whether or not I like to fly?” he asked.
“No, actually, I think I already know the answer to that,” I said. “Something tells me you love it. But why? What’s your reason?”
“I love the control. The feeling of having total control over something so magnificent as an airplane. There’s nothing else like it. There’s no rush better in the world.”
It was a straightforward enough answer, but the way he looked at me when he was done talking wasn't straightforward at all. His eyes began on my face, but from there, they moved down slowly, taking in every inch of my body as they roved. Every place his eyes landed felt suddenly naked, like he had the power to take anything he wanted with his eyes alone. I felt frozen under the weight of his gaze, and if it hadn't been for the sound of Fred's voice ringing out from the cockpit, I didn’t know what would have happened.
“Hey! Pretty boy! Any chance you’re going to come up here and do some actual work? Or were you just going to talk to that pretty young thing all day and night?”
“Coming,” Drew called over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving my body. “On my way. As for you,” he directed his words at me, that intensity still all over his face. “It was good to meet you. Very good to meet you, in fact. I look forward to getting to know each other better while I’m working with your crew.”
His eyes did one more quick up and down movement, and then he was off, headed towards the cockpit so quickly that it was hard to believe that the two of us had ever had a conversation to begin with. I immediately set my mind to remembering that one of my hard rules was that I would never date a pilot, no matter what.
I had spent enough time with pilots to know exactly what they were like, and it wasn't what I was looking for. They were arrogant and inconsistent and would only come in and out of my life. And not just my life, but Emma's as well. A pilot was the last thing I wanted for myself, but as I made my way to the back of the plane, I found that I couldn't quite get Drew's searching eyes out of my mind. They were still roaming up and down the length of my body, and no matter how many times I shook my head to clear his image, I couldn't quite manage it.
“Enough, silly girl,” I whispered to myself, annoyed by how girlishly foolish I was behaving. “Just stop it. That guy is off limits, no ifs, ands, or buts.”
Chapter 4: Drew
“I ever tell you about that time I had with the Chinese hooker, pretty boy?”
I was getting pretty goddamn sick of him calling me pretty boy. “Wait, Fred, are you telling me your Chinese hooker was a pretty boy?”
“What?” he asked, scowling.
“I mean, it’s fine if that’s what you’re in to,” I said, not letting him continue. “But I don’t really want to hear the story if that’s the case.”
“No, you dipshit,” he said. “I was calling you pretty boy.”
“Well, stop,” I said firmly. “That’s just fucking weird, man.”
Fred narrowed his eyes and stared straight ahead for a moment. Then he burst out laughing. “Okay, fair enough,” he said. “No more ‘pretty boy’.”
“Good,” I said.
"So anyway, this Chinese hooker, who was most definitely a woman,” Fred continued, almost as if I hadn’t interrupted him at all. “Let's just say, a Chinese hooker in Taiwan is a recipe for disaster, especially when you've been on a drinking binge for a week. I almost don't want to elaborate, but boy, you know I'm going to. You don't hardly know me at all, and I bet you already know that much."
I smiled and nodded to show that I was listening, but my mind was as far away from this conversation as it could get. We were already halfway through our flight, and I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the little blonde flight attendant.
When I had first seen her in the Pilots’ Lounge, I had known immediately that she was the kind of chick I would want to bang. When I found her on my flight, that temptation had become far more real. I wasn't even sure if she had given me her name, for Christ's sake. I didn't think she had, and I didn't think Fred had, either, but I also didn't really give a damn.
It wasn't like I was interested in her for her life story. I wasn't even sure why I had asked for her opinion on flying, except that I hadn't wanted her to walk away from me quite yet. Sure, her answer, and the passion I could sense behind it, was more interesting than I had anticipated, but that didn't mean I legitimately wanted to get to know her. I didn't want that. I just wanted her .
I wasn't any more interested in dating her than I was in dating any other woman on the planet. I wanted to fuck her, and I wanted it badly. That wasn't typically something I really had to give much thought to, seeing as Fred's over the top assessment of my prowess with women had been pretty on point.
Usually, when it came to women, I just had to flash a smile at the one I wanted, and she practically fell into my bed. It wasn't something I gave much thought to. It was just the way things were. There was something about this chick, though, that made me think it might not be quite that easy. I had no clue where that idea was coming from, only that something told me it was correct. If I was going to get this chick into my bed, it was going to require a different kind of approach. That, I was certain of. What I wasn't so sure about was if it was worth the effort it might require.
“Hey, Boy, you listening to me?” Fred asked.
“Tales of the hooker from hell, right? Weird uses for chop sticks, face like a hammered wok, and banging that ass like a gong? Don’t worry, Fred, I’m right here with ya.”
You racist asshole.
“I’m sure I could tell you some stories that would turn your blood cold,” I said.
I couldn't, in fact, at least not when it came to things like prostitutes. A prostitute was something I had never needed and never once considered looking into. I wasn't interested in trying to swap my life story with Fred Stevens. I just wanted him to be sure enough that I was paying attention to him for him to be content. I'd never been a huge fan of flying with an overly chatty pilot, and this yahoo was no exception. I just wanted him off my back so that we could land this plane safely, and so that I was free to think the situation with the little blonde over.
“Once again, pretty boy—”
“Call me ‘pretty boy’ one more time, Fred, and I’m about break some serious FAA regulations by throwing you off this fucking plane.” My fists clenched as my patience finally ran all the way out.
“Fine, fine, whatever you say. The point I was trying to make, before you so rudely interrupted me, was that you don’t seem like you have to pay for it. Which is why I highly doubt that you’ve got a whole lot of hooker stories of your very own. But hey? What the hell do I know? Different strokes for different folks, am I right?”
“I believe you a
re, Fred,” I said, shaking my head. I was astounded by how stereotypically male this guy was. “I believe I would have to agree with you there.”
“Good. I certainly do value being agreed with, Drew . That’s something you should know about me if we’re going to be flying together. Now, I gotta piss like a Russian racehorse. Why don’t you go ahead and ring the intercom so I can see to it?”
I nodded, doing as he asked without comment. This, at least, was nothing out of the ordinary. It was one of the rules of flying that no pilot was supposed to be in the cockpit on his own. Any time one of us needed to do anything that took us outside of it, we were required to call in one of the flight attendants, just for safety’s sake. They all knew the protocol and were primed to expect that sort of a call. Only a few moments passed before there was a knock at our cockpit door. I glanced up at the screen that let us see who was on the other side of the door and smiled a little. It was the blonde flight attendant, the one I’d been interested in checking out a little bit further. I grabbed Fred’s arm as he stood, finally ready with a question of my own.
"What's that one's name?" I asked nonchalantly, indicating the grainy image of the hot little blonde. "I don't want to seem like too big of an asshole, you know?"
“Well, I can’t help you with that part, but the girl’s name is Jess. Pretty little thing, ain’t she? Little too quiet for my taste, but still a pretty little thing.”
He coughed loudly and cleared his throat, doing these things practically in Jess' face as he opened the door and slid past her. It was, frankly, disgusting, and I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd said something to him about it, or at least made a face. Instead, she only smiled at him, all business, and sat in the seat Fred had been occupying as he loudly shut the door.
“Sorry about that,” I said conversationally, never taking my eyes off of the night sky to look at her as I spoke.
