by B R Snow
“Got it,” I said, leaning back in my seat as the plane started to roll down the runway.
I took a few deeps breaths when we left the ground and quickly ascended. Neither one of us said anything for a long time. I assumed he was refilling his drink. I, on the other hand, was waiting for my stomach to get off my vocal chords.
“I’d like to thank you again, Suzy,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that. In fact, I’m still not sure why you did.”
“Self-interest, primarily,” I said, unfastening my seat belt as the plane leveled off without the slightest sign of turbulence. “You’re going to make us a lot of money.”
“We’re going to make each other a lot of money, Suzy. But I don’t think that’s the reason you did it.”
“I can’t wait to hear your theories, Victor,” I said, getting up from my seat to open the dog crates. “But not today. In fact, I think I’m about to lose the connection.”
“Okay, I’ll be in touch soon. Enjoy the Caymans,” he said, giving his ice one last loud rattle then laughing as he hung up.
I put my phone away, returned to my seat and made room for Chloe on my lap. She stretched out and rolled over on her back. I gently scratched her belly and moved my seat back.
“Do you think we’re going to be able to work with him?” Josie said, leaning forward from the seat behind me.
“Oh, we’re not going to have to work with him,” I said, closing my eyes.
“You’re going to turn your mother loose on him, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” I said with an evil grin.
“That’s diabolical,” Chef Claire said, laughing.
“Anything to get away from that incessant rattling of ice cubes,” I said. “It’s so annoying.”
Josie rattled the ice cubes in her glass of soda in my ear.
“You mean, like this?” she deadpanned.
“You’re really not funny.”
“Time will tell,” she said, giving the ice another rattle in my ear.
“Chef Claire, please do something,” I said, trying to drift off for a nap.
“You mean, other than laugh?”
“Break out the brownies. That oughta shut her up.”
