A stewardess comes rushing over, trying to calm him down, but it doesn’t work. As she flitters about, the dark man only seems to be getting angrier by the second, his brows lowering as his jaw tenses.
“Sir, please calm down,” she begs helplessly. “You’re disturbing the other passengers and causing a scene—”
But he cuts her off.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls.
Now a male flight attendant comes over, his face worried as he nervously tugs on his sweater vest.
“Sir, if you’ll just take your seat, I’m sure we can figure this out,” he says in a soothing voice.
“Shut up,” the man snarls.
That’s when the male flight attendant screws up his courage.
“Sir, if you’re going to cause a scene, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the first-class area—”
“I paid for a first-class ticket, so I’m not going to leave first-class!” he snaps.
Oh shit. Is the handsome passenger one of those entitled bros who always thinks they’re right? A male Karen, if you will? I hate shit like that. Meanwhile, the male flight attendant takes another deep breath.
“Well, I’m sorry, but if you won’t settle down then I’m going to have to ask you to—"
Suddenly, everything turns on a dime because the handsome passenger pulls his suit jacket back, and out of nowhere, there’s a gun in his hand. The cabin is silent for a moment as we recoil with shock, but then people start screaming.
“Gun, gun!” A middle-aged lady shrieks.
“Oooh!” screams another elderly woman, cowering behind the seat back in front of her. Meanwhile, the flight attendants are no use. They’re backing away from the man now, holding their hands up in surrender as they look at each other with panicked eyes.
Obviously, the cabin has turned into total chaos as the man continues to brandish the weapon, his expression vengeful. Another flight attendant springs forward and tries to plead with him, but I can’t hear anything they’re saying due to the pandemonium. Quite a few passengers are screaming now, while others sob with fright. Others are unbuckling their seatbelts to run to Economy, while others cower behind any surface, desperate to avoid the gun-wielding maniac.
“Put the weapon down!” one of the passengers shouts. “There’s no reason to do anything drastic, sir, this issue can be taken care of without—”
“Holy shit! OMG, is he going to kill us?” another interrupts. “How did he even get onto the plane with a gun? Did he not go through security?”
But then, someone screams, “I think we’re being hijacked!” The word “hijacked” only makes things worse because before, this could have been chalked up to a passenger disturbance. Things have been so crazy in the air lately that the FAA has increased its penalties for violence in the air. But hijacking is another ballgame, and if anything, the pandemonium in the cabin only increases.
“Save us!” someone shrieks.
“Help! Help!” another screams.
I can tell that the crew is beyond frightened as they tremble, pleading with the irate passenger to calm down, but it doesn’t help. One particularly brave flight attendant actually tries to rush the man, brandishing a coffee pot in one hand, but it’s useless. The passenger is double the flight attendant’s size and literally bats him away like a child. People scream as they watch the steward tumble to the floor in a heap, letting out a pained groan as he clutches his stomach.
“What the hell is your problem, man?” one guy shouts.
“Yeah, what do you want?” another bellows.
“Don’t agitate him further!” someone screams in warning. “He’s worked up enough as is and who knows, he could go bat shit crazy!”
Clearly, there is no plan here. It’s been so long since 9/11 that no one really knows what to do, and as a result, I realize I need to step into the gap. Swallowing thickly, I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. My hands are up as I turn to face the passenger even as my heart beats triple-time. What am I going to do? How can a call girl save a plane full of passengers that’s in the middle of being hijacked? I have no idea, but I know that I have to dosomething. It’d be foolish to wait for this guy to calm down on his own, especially since tensions are only ratcheting up to a breaking point. Clearly, if we get to that level, it’s going to be really ugly.
Biting my lip, I take a deep breath and slowly walk down the aisle to the handsome passenger. It’s true, he looks crazed. His black hair is rakishly disheveled, and his button down has come untucked. Plus, there’s a gleam to those blue eyes that appears dangerous, but I gather my courage before coming to a full stop.
“What do you want?” he snarls. He swings the gun to point at me, and I hold my hands up while staring at him with wide eyes.
“Um, can we talk?” I ask, my voice barely audible around the lump in my throat.
He shoots me a disbelieving look.