First Class Killing

by Lynne Heitman

  “Jamie. He’s my brother.” Maybe I could sit in the lav for four hours. “Where did he come from? He wasn’t there earlier.”

  “He was a runner.” He clipped the manifest back to the wall. “And an upgrade. He showed up at the last minute.”

  “Figures. He never could be on time for anything. What is he doing here? He lives in New York.”

  “How would I know? He’s your brother. Wait, you didn’t know he was in Boston?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to make of that, and I didn’t feel like expounding. “Well, what are you doing here? Go out and say hello.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Don’t you want to see him?”

  “It’s more the other way around.” I folded my arms across my chest and backed as far as I could into the galley. “He doesn’t know I’m a flight attendant. The last he heard, I had left my job at Majestic and was looking for another management assignment.”

  “You’ve been flying for almost two months, in training for almost as long. Don’t you two talk?”

  I reached down and straightened my name tag. “Not lately.”

  “I see.” He started setting up his clipboard to take breakfast orders. “How long?”

  “Eight months. Since the day before Christmas.”

  “Christmas was ten months ago. Hello? What’s going on with you two?”

  “It’s a long, boring story.” Which I didn’t want to discuss. I was busy thinking ahead, trying to figure out how to work the entire flight without ever leaving the forward galley. Maybe the captain would let me sit in the cockpit for the duration of the flight. “Tristan, would you do the safety demonstration?”

  “Under one condition.”

  “Anything.” The thought of standing in front of my estranged brother demonstrating how to buckle a seat belt made my skin vibrate.

  “You have to promise to tell me that long, boring story the second we get the chance.”

  “Fine. Done.”

  “You also have to do color commentary for the briefing. I can’t do both.”

  I was mildly concerned that Jamie would recognize my voice if I read the safety briefing, but there was only so much work I could weasel out of. Besides, no one ever listened, and he was no exception. As I recited the instructions, he kept his head down, working on his laptop.

  When the demonstration ended, Tristan made a last sweep through the cabin to take drink orders, which I was supposed to have done. I peeked around the corner to look again. Jamie’s hair was shorter than I remembered. We hadn’t spoken for eight—ten months, but the last time I’d seen him had been six months before that. Could it have been that long? I stole another peek. When he lifted his eyes, I pulled back.

  Seeing him after so much time, seeing that he had changed while I wasn’t looking, even if it was just a haircut, caused a sharp pain in my heart. It made me wonder what else had happened without me. Not much had ever happened in his life that I hadn’t known about.

  The captain came on with his prelaunch announcement. Tristan arrived, bounced into the jumpseat next to mine, and strapped in.

  “He’s adorable, Alexandra. Just like you. Polite. Considerate—”

  “You talked to him?”

  “Yes, I did. I said, ‘I love your suit. Is that Joseph Abboud, and did you know your sister is cowering up in the forward galley?’ ”

  “You’re such a comedian.”

  “His eyes are a really cool shade of dark blue. Yours are blue, aren’t they?” He turned to me, leaning forward and away so he could check.

  “Gray. Jamie looks more like my mom. I look like my father.”

  “He has that smoldering boy-next-door thing going on. How does one do that, I wonder? The boy-next-door thing I get, being from Wyoming. It’s the smoldering I can’t seem to master.” Tristan reached up and adjusted the knot of his tie. “Does he work out?”

  “I thought you were in a relationship.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t look.” He smoothed his hair behind his ear. “Is he straight?”

  “Happily married with two kids.”

  “To a woman?”

  “Tristan—”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s an investment banker. Very successful for his age. Last I heard, he was up for partner at his firm.”

  “The plot thickens. Let me see if I can get this right.” He tipped his head back and did the Freud chin stroke. “He thinks you’re still a master of the universe. Mistress of the universe? In the meantime, little brother has turned into a Wall Street whiz kid. He’s never seen you in your cute little uniform, and now you have to serve him his first-class orange juice.” He looked at me with unabashed delight. He had nailed it, and he knew it.

  “Tomato juice,” I said. “He likes tomato juice.”

  “If it wasn’t you, dear, I would say this is all rather delicious.”

  “I don’t know what to say to him.”

  “ ‘Hello. Nice to see you. Oh, by the way, I’m a flight attendant now. Can I freshen that drink for you?’ ”

  I brushed my hand across my skirt. A single wayward thread poked up to mar the smooth cotton expanse. What would I say to him? That I had become a flight attendant without telling him would be obvious. Not so that I was an investigator pretending to be a flight attendant, which, of course, I hadn’t told him, either. Could I even tell him that? He was not one step behind but two, which is what happens when you don’t speak to each other.

  “Or we can cut two holes in one of the trash bags, and you can wear it over your head while you do the service. What are you so ashamed of?”

  What a complicated question that was, made more so given who was asking. There was just enough arch in Tristan’s tone to remind me he had an investment in my answer.

  “I’m not ashamed to be a flight attendant. Great people do this job and love this job, including you, and so many people do it so much better than I do. It’s not that. It’s the going backward part. I used to run a big airport operation with hundreds of people reporting to me. I had responsibility and authority that I worked hard to get. Now I don’t. He’ll think I gave up, that I got scared and threw in the towel, because…because that’s how he thinks. Jamie is very driven. You gave up a management job. You know what that’s like. Some people don’t get it.”

  “I always preferred to think of it as making a better choice for myself.”

  Okay, here was the further complication. Jamie would think I had lost my mind if I told him the real choice I had made. It might be hard to convince him otherwise, since I spent the first five minutes of every day trying to convince myself that I hadn’t.

  “I don’t know if Jamie would accept my choice.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “What?”

  “He’s your brother, not your husband. It would be a shame if he didn’t support you, but he’s got his life, and you’ve got yours, right? At some point, even families end up going their separate ways.”

  “I guess so.” We were in a lineup on the taxiway, so every once in a while, we would inch forward and stop. Mostly we were idling in one spot. “It’s just…he’s my only real family now.”

  “Yet you’re not speaking. Isn’t that interesting? What’s it about, anyway?”

  There was no point in trying to resist him. He would be relentless until he pried it out of me. “Jamie and his wife invited me to come down for Christmas dinner last year, and I didn’t make it, and he got angry, and I got angry, and we never really made up.”

  “That’s it?”

  “It seemed big at the time.” I stared down at the worn rubber floor covering, where a thousand flight attendants before me had rested their feet. “It has to do with my father.”

  “Doesn’t it always? Go on.”

  “We hadn’t had anything close to a family holiday gathering in ages. I’ve worked in airports forever. You know what that’s like. Christmas at the airport.”
>
  “Or at thirty-five thousand feet.”

  “Right. But I didn’t have a job last year, so I was excited. I bought gifts for the kids and for Jamie and Gina. I got them this really neat…anyway, I ended up sending the gifts.”

  “Why didn’t you go? This doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  “Because after I accepted their invitation, he invited my father.”

  “You said it was a family dinner. What am I missing?”

  “I can’t stand my father.” The sharp pain in my heart was now a stabbing pain in my gut. “I can’t remember the last time I was in the same room with him.”

  “My goodness, you have a lot of estrangement in your life. Are you sure you’re not gay? Who in your familyare you speaking with? Your mother?”

  “My mother is dead.”

  “She is? Oh, dear. I’m sorry.” He reached for my hand in my lap, gave it a quick squeeze, and let go. He always seemed to know just the right grace note to hit.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “And that made Jamie how old?”

  I always had to think about it. For some reason, instead of just subtracting five from my own age, I always did it by taking the year she died and subtracting the year he was born. “Nine. He was nine.”

  “So you’re his mom-sister. Complicated. Did he beat you?”

  “Jamie?”

  “Your father, ninny. Is that why you hate him? Or maybe he molested you.”

  “No. Nothing like that. My dad’s a bully. He’s intellectually abusive. He loves to club you in the head with his massive intellect. He convinced Jamie he was stupid.”

  “How stupid can he be if he’s a big cheese in a Wall Street firm?”

  “He’s not at all stupid. He has a learning disability, and before it was diagnosed, he had a hard time in school. Really hard. My father used to make fun of him, of how hard he tried. Called him lazy, stuff like that.”

  “Sounds as if Daddy is the one who was fucked up.”

  “Once Jamie was diagnosed, he learned how to compensate. He might even overcompensate.”

  “Thus the whiz kid stuff.”

  “Yeah. But back then, he was just this little kid with no friends and no mother and a miserable, self-loathing prick for a father who got his kicks by picking on him. My stomach is seething right now just talking about it.” Which was exactly why I hated rehashing the stuff.

  “Why would Jamie invite his prick of a father over for Christmas?”

  “I have no idea. Honestly, I don’t know why he invited him.”

  “You didn’t ask?”

  “I got pissed off, and then he got pissed that I was pissed, and we had a big fight and hung up and never called each other back. This is the first time I’ve seen him since.”

  I felt the aircraft turn. We were in the pause between taxiing and blasting down the runway. The captain hit the gas, the aircraft surged, and the g-forces pushed us forward against our harnesses. I didn’t much like flying backward. The two of us sat quietly as the aircraft lifted off and settled into a steady climb.

  “I have the solution,” he said finally.

  “What?”

  “Apologize.”

  “No way. I didn’t do anything. I mean, I did, but…” That all came out much too fast, and I started feeling how I probably sounded—like a ten-year-old. “I know I need to, but I can’t right now. It will turn into a big thing. Everything is a big deal between us these past few years. It takes so much time and energy and—”

  “And he’s not worth it.”

  “I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is I can’t deal with it right now.”

  “Then when?”

  “It’s on my list.” I said it quietly. Maybe I really didn’t want him to hear it.

  He shook his head. “You’re an idiot. Truthfully, Alexandra, I’m not trying to be mean, but who else do you have in your life? I know I’m wonderful, and Reenie is, too, and we love you, but shouldn’t you have some connection to some member of your family? It’s cold out there without them. Take it from someone who knows.”

  The aircraft was banking left, making a grand, sweeping turn west. It would be time to go to work soon.

  “What,” he asked, “did you end up doing for Christmas, anyway?”

  “I ate a frozen pizza and half a pint of ice cream and went to the movies by myself.”

  “I rest my case.”

  Chapter

  9

  TRISTAN WAS IN THE GALLEY, WORKING FROMthe seating chart to prepare the drinks. I stared over his shoulder, bounced on the balls of my feet until my calves ached, and did nothing useful. “Do you have any celery? Jamie likes celery in his tomato juice.”

  “He didn’t ask for it, but I’ll check.” He found a stalk, dropped it in, and placed the glass in the last empty spot on the tray. I stared at the drinks for half a second, then picked up Jamie’s and left the rest. “I’ll be back for those. Let me do this first.”

  I tried a couple of smiles, all of which felt forced and painful. I picked the one that felt the least cheesy. When I pulled up next to Jamie’s seat wearing my forced and frozen smile, he didn’t even raise his head.

  “Jamie.”

  He glanced up and didn’t quite register who it was leaning over him to deliver his drink. He reached for it with a polite smile that turned to stunned surprise.

  He blinked at me, then looked up toward the galley, as if it would help his understanding to see precisely where I had just come from.

  “What are you doing here? What are you wearing?”

  Then I watched his eyes as they made the slow and deliberate sweep from my face to my uniform to my name tag and back. The look that crossed his face in the moment of comprehension was pure reaction, a translation, stark and true, of the thoughts running through his brain. He recovered, but not in time. I hadn’t seen my brother in ten months. The first thought he had when he saw me in my uniform was disappointment.

  “Hi, Jamie.” I crossed my arms as though I could hide my entire body behind the two bare lengths of skin and bone. Awkward was not even close to what I was feeling. He was strapped to his seat, bound by FAA rules to stay that way, so we couldn’t greet each other as we might have before the great estrangement—with a hug. I didn’t feel comfortable leaning down to kiss him, and shaking hands would have been beyond weird. So we did nothing, and the space between us might as well have been the space between Mercury and Pluto.

  My smile was gone, but he offered an uncertain one that grew bigger when an idea came to him. “Wait. Is this one of those management walk-a-mile-in-my-shoes programs?”

  “No. I’m your flight attendant, and I’ll be serving you today.”

  “Oh.” Now his smile was frozen.

  “How are you, Jamie? How have you been?”

  “Good. I’ve been good. When did you start—”

  “A couple of months ago. How’s Gina?”

  “Good.”

  “The kids?”

  “Great.”

  My next question would have been about what he was doing in Boston, but if I asked it, he might feel obligated to offer a lame excuse about why he didn’t call while he was there, something he didn’t want to say and I didn’t want to hear. But with that question in the way, I couldn’t see past it to another. I smiled and nodded. He smiled and nodded and moved his juice a centimeter to the right.

  “You changed your hair,” he said, looking and then not looking at me.

  “I did. Yeah.” I reached up and pulled at the ends in the back. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might look different to him, too. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s really different. I’m not sure I would have recognized you.” He looked at me steadily for the first time, not at my uniform or my waistband or the tray table. I was the one who flinched.

  “We should talk, Jamie, but I have to serve the other passengers first. I’ll come back.”


  “Wait, are you…will you be in LA tonight?”

  “I’ll come back when I have a minute.”

  “Okay. I’m not going anywhere.” He managed a real smile for the first time, one that helped me recognize that he was really in there. It was good to see, but I didn’t have one for him, and I wasn’t sure why.

  Not being the best flight attendant ever to travel the skies, I’d had difficult trips, most of which were memorialized in my personnel file. But I’d never had one as tense and nerve-racking as this one. I mixed up meal choices twice. I had to be asked three times to bring creamer out to a coffee drinker. I actually dropped a sticky almond pastry onto a man’s sleeve when the tongs slipped. Eventually, Tristan took pity on me and swapped positions, leaving me to hide out in the galley, where I hoped Jamie wouldn’t come and find me, and I hoped that he would.

  “Alex.”

  I turned, and he was standing there with his hands in his pockets, his expression a little hopeful and a little nervous, and now what I thought about when I looked at him was last Christmas Day and my celebration of pizza, butter pecan, and self-pity. It made me feel vulnerable, and I couldn’t have that, so I went with angry, which was why I couldn’t make myself hug him. I knew he was waiting for a sign. That’s the one he got. I felt crummy about it, but it was how I felt.

  He tried to find a comfortable place to lean against and couldn’t seem to. “I…uh, so I got promoted.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and offered his business card. I took it.

  “You switched firms.” I ran my thumb across the raised letters and the phone number I had never called. I wasn’t the only one who had made changes.

  “They offered me a partnership.”

  “A partnership. Wow, Jamie, that’s…great. I know that’s what you’ve been working for. Congratulations.” I reached down to slide the card into my pocket and saw something on the back. A phone number he’d written in. “What’s this?”

  “Our new home number. I bought a new house.”

  “You did?”

  “About six weeks ago. We just moved in.”

  Hearing that was like a blow to the chest. He had changed practically his whole life, and I had missed it. I couldn’t tell if I was angry or sad or…I couldn’t be angry. I had done the same thing. We had done it to each other.