Page 7 of Love Off Course

As he starts launching into Steve Perry’s “Oh Sherrie,” I shake my head and turn around to watch this shitshow.

“It’s Sheridan,”theSheridan Reid barks out, her neck blazing crimson. “No nicknames. Not short for anything. Just Sheridan.”

No one listens.

And something tells me she’s a whole lot more thanjustSheridan.

Damian starts singing along, snapping his fingers in the air above him and dramatically jolting back and forth in his seat. His assistant looks as though he’s about to puke.

“I know this song,” the old lady says, smiling at her husband.

“This is one of your favorites, Doris.” The man looks at her as if she hangs the moon.

The leggy knockout joins in on the singalong, but she doesn’t know the words. Girl tries anyway. And Lawton, he’s trying to show off some ridiculously porny moves in the aisle as he gyrates his way toward Carson. Carson laughs and can barely keep singing.

I’m flying with a bunch of idiots.

And a princess having a meltdown.

TheSheridan Reid is so red-faced she looks like her head might burst. It’s comical until I notice the slight tremble in her hand. One barely noticeable wobble of her bottom lip. Something about that small display of vulnerability hiding beneath her tough exterior has me feeling bad for her.

“Stop showing off, idiot, and get your ass back in here,” I bark out and offer a loud whistle too.

He chuckles but in the next instant, he’s back in his seat. “Got her name for you.”

“Thanks for that. But I don’t care,” I remind him.

“I think you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Maybe a little. Like just a tiny bit.”

“Nothing. You know my heart beats for one woman.”

“Such a fucking momma’s boy.”

I laugh and swat at him. “You’re a dick.”

“A dick who gottheone’s name for you.”

“She’s nottheone. Jesus, man.”

Our playful banter is cut short when we receive communication from dispatch. Possible navigation change to avoid Rodrigo’s trajectory. We spend the next three hours focused on the quickly changing weather situation.

“We can’t reroute to Mexico City,” Carson says. “It’s full. We don’t have enough fuel to wait our turn.”

I knew it.

I fucking knew it.

Having lived on the Pacific coast my entire life, you get a feel for weather patterns, especially hurricanes. EvenMamáwasn’t worried, assuming it’d make a wide arc, bypassing Mexico, but Rodrigo felt like coming home.

“Tahueca has an airstrip. Not big enough for commercial airliners, but it’s a place to touch down and refuel.”

Carson gives me a knowing smirk.

“Don’t say it.”

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