2
It was exactly fourteen minutes until takeoff, and Chris was cutting it close. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a layover, let alone traveled on a commercial airline.
Still catching his breath, he walked down the jetway toward the plane, fixing his well-worn baseball cap lower over his brow. At the entrance of the plane, he inhaled a calming breath as he passed those really tempting first-class seats on the way to the cramped and overcrowded ones behind. He scanned the rows laid out in front of him. Almost everyone was already in place with heads bowed over a book or cell phone. Some inspected their cramped surroundings, but no one took any extra notice of him.
No one stared. No one made a fuss, pointed, asked for a picture. Nothing.
Between the gate agent not recognizing him and this, he was sure his star status had not only fallen, but imploded into a black hole.
Was he so egotistical he expected to stand out, be treated differently?
He shook the thought from his head. This was what he wanted, what he needed. To avoid attention.
He made his way to the back of the plane and turned toward his seat, blocked by someone already in the aisle seat. “Excuse me, can I…”
A pair of startlingly blue eyes blinked up at him expectantly. “Do you need to get in?”
“Yeah.”
The young woman stood, allowing him to slide into the row. He settled in his seat with a sigh and, out of the corner of his eye, caught her movements as she sat back down. Opening a magazine, she leaned back into her seat, getting comfortable.
As if that was possible. Chris buckled the seat belt nice and tight. Not that it mattered. If the plane went down, a thin strip of cloth across his lap wasn’t going to save him. The thought made him squirm, and he pushed his neck against the headrest, a low groan escaping his throat when one of the flight attendants began the safety speech over the loudspeaker.
“Hey, um, sir, are you okay?”
Chris slanted his gaze to his neighbor. “I’m a little…”
“Don’t like flying?”
“No. Not really.” Not liking flying was an understatement, especially without the assistance of some alcohol. He’d learned from his first flight that they didn’t serve drinks until they were up in the air, and those tiny bottles of vodka were crazy expensive. Didn’t stop him from ordering the limit, two, but still. Flying coach was for the birds.
“A few more hours, that’s it,” he whispered to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing, only trying to calm down.” This was why he took private planes on the rare occasion he had to fly anywhere, so he could get drunk and no one would care or notice how scared he was. Though, Wes clearly didn’t want to give him even that luxury of having a panic attack in private.
“You can talk to me, if you want. I mean, if it’ll help,” his seatmate said.
“Okay,” he agreed after a deep breath, his body rigid and unmoving, save for a bouncing knee.
The engines roared as the plane taxied toward the runway, and his blood pounded in his ears.
“I’m reading this magazine.” She held it up for him. “Do you want to take a quiz? It’s to find out your workout personality.”
He glanced to her hands which held brightly colored pages with ads for sneakers and sports bras before he faced front again where a flight attendant demonstrated how to put on an oxygen mask.
That must have been enough of an answer for her because she cleared her throat. “What are you most likely to be doing on a Saturday night? A, unwinding with a book and bubble bath. B, going for a run to outdo your best time. C, challenging your friends to a game of poker or Scrabble.”
Obvious choice. “High stakes poker, C.”
“Poker,” she repeated, checking off the letter with her pen. “At work, you have a reputation for being… A, the independent and sometimes hard-nosed one, who strives for personal best. B, the laid-back one to organize projects on your own. Or C, the social butterfly who energizes everyone.”
“Social butterfly, I guess,” he said as if that wasn’t the exact reason he had been sent on this sojourn.
She checked off the box. “Last one. After a bad day, what would cheer you up most? Indulging in your favorite dessert, the knowledge you can overcome any obstacle, or a pep talk from a friend?”
The pilot called for the flight attendants to have a seat and prepare for takeoff. Chris closed his eyes, grimacing in anticipation. “Can the pep talk be naked?”