by Claire Adams
"Ma'am, I have your towel and Perrier," I said as I tapped on 2D. The small door opened and an elegantly dressed woman in her seventies smiled at me as I set the tray down on the small table inside the door. As part of our training, we had been instructed not to call our guests by name until they indicated that they wanted us to do so. Despite this, I still made sure that I knew every one of my guests' names before the flight took off, so I knew that this beautiful woman's name was Crystal Wexler Van Horn.
"Oh, stop calling me ma'am. It makes me feel old, dearie," she scolded.
"Yes, ma-Ms. Van Horn," I replied.
"Oh good lord, that's even worse," she moaned. "Mrs. Van Horn was my bitter old mother-in-law! Call me Crystal, dearie."
"Yes, Crystal," I said uncomfortably. It was one thing to call someone by a courtesy title, and quiet another to be asked to call an elder by her first name. I wasn't sure I could do it, but I knew I had to.
"Don't look so uncomfortable, I know you think you're not supposed to call your elders by their first names." She smiled with a twinkle in her bright blue eyes. "I just don't like anything that reeks of rules or decorum."
"That's because you are a rude woman with absolutely no manners," came a voice from 1D. Shocked, I turned to see an almost exact replica of the woman sitting in front of me. I quickly turned back to Crystal.
"It's okay, dearie," she laughed loudly. "We're used to that reaction, you see, we're twins."
"For better or worse," said the woman behind me dryly. "It's been quite a burden to walk through life looking exactly like someone else."
"Oh lighten up, Cornelia. You're such a drag sometimes," Crystal said as she waved a hand at her sister. "Now introduce yourself properly and then come in here and sit down so this nice young woman can bring you what you requested."
"Cornelia Wexler Rothschild," said the woman as she held out a hand for me to shake. I lightly grasped it and quickly let go as I ushered her into the pod where her sister now sat holding the warm towel up to her face as she sighed happily.
"I'll be right back, Ms. Rothschild," I said as I quickly walked back to the galley to get her items. But not before I heard her mutter, "Oh good lord, are we going to have to put up with that baloney the whole flight?"
When I returned the sisters seemed to be engaged in a deep discussion about which reef they would be diving at first, so I set the tray in front of Cornelia and backed out of the pod, softly closing the door behind me.
I then turned my attention to the occupant of 3D.
"Sir, is there anything I can get you?" I said as I softly tapped on the pod door.
"Yes, please," he called as I opened the door and peeked in. I inhaled sharply as he looked up at me from the laptop he had balanced on the table in front of him. His dark eyes held mine for a moment before the sound of mail arriving diverted his attention. His wavy dark hair showed signs of having had his hand run through it numerous times and as a result was rather messy, and the shadow on his face told me that he probably needed to shave several times a day in order to keep his face smooth.
When he looked back up and smiled, my heart dropped to my stomach. This was literally the most handsome man I'd ever met in my entire life. I looked away for a moment and then brought my eyes up to meet his again. He was still wearing a warm smile, although now it was somewhat amused.
"So, this is your maiden voyage in first class, is it?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," I replied as my eyes widened briefly wondering if I was giving off a signal that let him know this.
"Don't look too surprised, Ms. Warner," he chuckled. "After all, I do own the company, so I have access to all kinds of records and things."
"Oh!" I exclaimed and then felt the blush rising in my cheeks. I was embarrassed that I hadn't thought of this first, after all, it was my job to know everything necessary to make guests feel comfortable.
"We don't expect you to know everything, you know," he said as if reading my thoughts. I blushed harder and simply nodded as I tried to think of what to say next. "Now, you asked if I needed anything, and I said yes."
"Yes, sir," I managed to squeak out, relieved that he was helping me, but ashamed that I couldn't pull myself together and act like the professional I was being paid to be.
"I'd like a warm towel, a Perrier, and some cheese and fruit, please," he said. "Maybe an apple and some Brie?"
"Yes, sir!" I quickly replied and turned to exit the pod.
"Oh, and I would prefer it if you called me Austin, rather than sir," he said to my back.
"Yes, sir-Austin," I obediently replied as I spun back around and found him looking at me with the same warm smile. "I'll do that from now on."
"Good, I'd like that," he smiled.
Chapter Sixteen
Austin
I chuckled softly as Emily exited the pod and went to find the things I'd asked for. There was a sweetness about her that I didn't normally associate with flight attendants who worked for Marks Air. Most of the attendants had a mixture of the best qualities of food servers, teachers, and therapists with a tinge of drill sergeant mixed in for good measure. I liked a little toughness in flight attendants because it meant that passengers could relax and feel safely cared for on any given flight, but it also meant that I also deflected the overtures of beautiful attendants – most of the time.
Emily Warner seemed different than the average attendant and I wondered how she had made it through the hiring process given the fact that she was rather young. I looked up her personnel record and found that she lived in Las Vegas, had graduated from a north side high school, and claimed one exemption on her W-4 form. She'd gotten stellar reviews for the past two years and had a long list of customer compliments attached to each review, and she'd been promoted to first class crew only days before this flight took off. I searched the database looking for more information, but got nothing.
When she returned a few minutes later, I smiled as she looked me in the eye and then blushed before looking down at the table where my laptop sat.
"Oh, sorry," I said as I quickly shifted the computer to the shelf next to my seat.
"It's no problem, sir-Austin," she said quickly correcting herself. "Would you like me to set up the table or just leave the tray?"
"Go ahead and set it up," I said as I gestured at the table. "I want to see how well you've learned what you were taught."
"Yes...Austin," she choked a little as she swallowed her inclination to say sir. I watched as she moved the tray to the ottoman that was on the opposite side of the pod and then quickly fluffed a cloth before laying it over the table and moving everything on the tray onto it. The set up, complete with a small vase with a single iris in it, was perfect.
"Very nice, you've learned well," I smiled.
"Thank you," she replied as she turned to pick up the tray and moved toward the door. "Will there be anything else?"
I held her gaze for a long moment, she had soft eyes and there was a gentleness about her that made me want to stand up and pull her into my arms.
"Austin?" she said quietly breaking through the beginning of my daydream.
"Yes? Oh, sorry, I was thinking about...something," I quickly covered as I looked down at the table.
"Can I bring you anything else?" she repeated her question.
"No, I think I'm good," I replied before I looked back up at her and added, "For now."
She smiled as she blushed again and then backed out of the pod saying, "If you need anything, just press the call button and I'll be right here to get it for you."
"Oh, don't worry, Emily," I said. "I won't hesitate."
Chapter Seventeen
Emily
"I think he's flirting with me," I hissed at Trish as she walked back into the galley with an irritated look on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing that a little knee to the groin won't fix," Trish whispered as she rolled her eyes. "Mr. Grabby Hands is getting drunk and telling me his life story while he tries to make a
play for me. Ugh."
"Oh ugh," I sympathized. Drunk passengers were always a nightmare to have to deal with on a flight, but at least in first class, we could keep them isolated from the other, non-drunk passengers and keep the damage to a minimum. The downside was that flight attendants often had to deal with the drunks on their own in the privacy of the pods. "Do you want me to come with you next time you go over?"
"Nah, he's going to learn really quickly that I don't put up with drunken little boys who try and sell sob stories about their miserable marriages," she smiled.
Trish was an expert at dealing with these guys. She was one of the few women I knew who could tell a man to go to hell and have him actually thanking her for the opportunity. I called her a magician, but she said it was just the result of growing up in a household full of drunk men who were always grabbing at the women. Self preservation was high on her list of priorities and she didn't have a lot of patience for the gospel of female self-sacrifice or solicitousness. She did understand, though, that good customer service was the basis for her continued employment, so she learned to give them the rope with which they'd eventually hang themselves. I, for one, enjoyed watching.
"Now, what were you saying when I came in with my tale of woe?" she asked as she mixed another martini and rinsed out the teapot the Brits had finished with.
"I think he's flirting with me," I whispered.
"Who, boss man?" she whispered back.
"Yes, him," I said as I tipped my head toward his seat.
"So? Go for it!" she urged me.
"Trish, get serious, I'm married," I said as I held up the hand on which I wore my wedding ring. "Oh crap."
"What?" she looked genuinely confused.
"I'm not wearing it!" I hissed. I'd forgotten to put my rings on before I'd left the house. I knew Tommy would be pissed as hell if he noticed them sitting on the dresser – or worse, the kitchen windowsill where I'd set them when I'd done dishes the night before.
"Smooth move, Princess," Trish grinned.
"It wasn't on purpose!" I protested. "And second, Ms. Smarty Pants, he's my boss."
"So? Lots of women have passionate affairs with their bosses," she shrugged. "Why not you? I mean, it's not like you're happy being married to a drunken idiot who fails to hold up his end of the deal, are you?"
"Trish, that's not fair," I said. "Tommy is depressed because he lost his shot to play pro ball. I'm not going to abandon him just because he's having a rough time."
"Oh God, you should hear yourself," she said rolling her eyes. "Seriously, how long are you going to tell yourself that lovely little lie? Tom was injured, yes, but he's had two years to pick his sorry ass up of the ground and do something else. Why not join the league as a pitching coach? Or get a teaching degree and coach high school? Hell, why not do anything other than work a 40-hour job as ground crew and then go home and get stinking drunk every night?"
"That's unfair," I mumbled.
"No, it's not unfair, Princess," Trish was stubborn when she felt strongly about something. "Life is not fair, but you know what? You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start over again. You don't sit down in the corner and wait for your wife to kiss your boo-boo and make it all better. What a jackass."
I turned and looked at her. Her eyes were flashing and there were red spots on each of her cheeks. I'd never seen her quite this worked up before and with a worried look on my face, I backed up a bit to give her some room. She saw my fear and immediately turned soft, placing a hand on my shoulder as she spoke.
"Look, Princess," she began. "I'm not saying that you need to kick him to the curb simply because things got tough. I'm just saying that for as long as I've known you, things have not been good between you two. And now that you're moving up in the world, you might need to reconsider whether you want to be married to your high school boyfriend who seems locked into the role of fifteen-year-old child."
I nodded as I felt the tears begin to well up for the second time that morning.
"I'm just saying that there's nothing wrong with moving on," she smiled sympathetically. "You don't have to be the Emily you were at fifteen just because Tom is. You deserve happiness, Princess."
"I know, I know," I nodded.
"And if you have the chance to hop on the boss," she whispered suggestively as she cheerfully cuffed my shoulder. "Then, I think you should go for it!"
"You're impossible," I laughed, grateful for her honesty, but also frightened by what it meant. For the last six months, I'd thought about leaving Tommy on a regular basis. He wasn't the guy I'd married four years ago, and he didn't seem to be incredibly concerned about that, either. I wanted more out of my life than settling down in a north Vegas house and having children, and at this point, I couldn't imagine having children with Tommy acting like one himself.
Just then, Crystal in 2D pressed the call button. I forced a friendly smile and left the galley to see what she neede
Chapter Eighteen
Austin
I'd been working for several hours when Emily poked her head in to check on me.
"Do you need anything, Austin?" she asked in a voice that was so sweet it made me chuckle. Her brow furrowed for a moment, but was quickly replaced by a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you," I explained, self-conscious about feeling like I needed to explain. "It's just that the sound of your voice reminds me of all the good things I remember about the neighborhood I grew up in."
"Really? Where did you grow up?" she asked.
"Brooklyn, more specifically, Bushwick," I said.
"And, I remind you of Brooklyn?" she said with a doubtful look on her face.
"Well, not Brooklyn Brooklyn," I explained suddenly feeling tongue-tied. "It's more like the feeling of being in Brooklyn and all the things we used to do on really great summer days."
"Ah, I see," she smiled this time it reached her eyes and they took on a mischievous glint. "So, what you're saying is that I sound like a childish summer day buried somewhere deep in your memory and when you hear the sound of my voice, you're thrown back to street corners where the fire hydrants are spilling water on the hot pavement while kids dance in the puddles."
"How did you know-" I said, stunned that she could conjure up such a specific memory – one that she hadn't been present for on Grove Street.
"I have some similar memories of summer afternoons in my neighborhood," she said, shrugging as if that summer memory was the same for kids all over the country. "And they often make me laugh, too."
I looked up at her from where I sat and studied her face for a moment. She wasn't stunning like so many of the girls I dated, but she possessed a simple beauty that none of them could match. I felt something inside me stir as I looked at her. She'd taken off the flight attendant uniform cap when we'd taken off and now, eight hours into the trip, her neat little bun was starting to come undone. Tendrils had escaped from the pins she'd used to keep it all out of her face and were softly framing her face, and I smiled as I stood up and walked toward her.
A dark cloud passed flitted across her face making me pull back just before I reached out to push the wayward hairs away.
"Do you need anything right now?" she asked in a very businesslike tone.
"Uh, no," I said as I covered my surprise at her quick defense. "I was just going to stretch my legs and use the facilities."
"I see," she replied as she backed up into the main cabin. She was blushing again, and I had no idea why. "I'll check back with you in a bit about a meal."
I nodded as I turned slightly away from her so that she wouldn't notice the effect she'd had on me, and as I did, I felt profoundly confused.
Chapter Nineteen
Emily
The rest of the flight passed without incident. Or with only minor incident, as the Wexler twins, Cornelia and Crystal, overhearing Trish tell me about how the drunk in 2A was becoming more hands-on than she was comfortable with staged an interventi
on and shamed 2A into sitting quietly in his pod for the duration of the flight. I didn't hear what they said to him, but Trish later told me that Cornelia delivered a blistering lecture on the appealing lack of manners in today's young folk. Crystal acted as her congregation and replied in typical southern call and response fashion, "Mmmm hmmm," and "Oh Lordy, yes," whenever her sister made a particularly pointed jab at the man.
We were giggling about it in the galley when Austin walked in and cleared his throat.
"Oh, Mr. Marks, I'm so sorry!" Trish exclaimed as she dropped a china teacup shattering it into numerous pieces.
"Hey, hey, hey," he said as he bent down to help her pick up the shards of broken Wedgwood. "That'll come out of your salary, young lady."
"Oh my gosh, I know," Trish said sheepishly as she looked down ashamed at having lost her cool cover.
"I'm teasing," he laughed as he looked up at me and made my heart drop to my stomach. I could feel the heat rising from my chest and spreading up to my cheeks and I cursed myself for not being more like Trish. "No one pays for something we buy in bulk. I'm sure customers break way more of this stuff than you folks do."
"Oh, right," Trish laughed weakly as she deposited the fragments in a paper bag so that they wouldn't tear open the plastic bin liner.
"I just wanted to tell you both that you've done a spectacular job on this flight," he smiled warmly at Trish and then looked at me. "And you. I don't think anyone would ever have guessed that it's your first flight in first class."
"Thank you, Austin," I said, shyly smiling as I looked up into his dark eyes. For a moment, I imagined what it would be like if he took me in his arms and pulled me to him. I knew what his body felt like beneath that tailored suit, but what I really wanted to do was unbutton that soft silky shirt and bury my face in the smell of his chest while I ran my hands over the bare skin of his muscled chest. I could feel his hands reaching around and cupping my bottom as he pulled me tightly to him before leaning down and tipping my face up so that...
