Page 6 of On the Fly
“I won’t take but a minute. What time are you coming home tomorrow?”
He dug through the box, finding a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips. He eyed the sandwich closely. It hadn’t held up under the hours of waiting, so he pushed that aside and opened the bag of chips.
“I’m hoping to get out of here by late afternoon.”
“I have your room ready. I’m making your favorite dinner: spaghetti and meatballs. I can’t wait to see you.”
Ander’s mouth was full, but he smiled. That was Erik’s favorite dinner, not his. His mother was smart as a whip, but somehow ditzy at the same time. He’d given up understanding her years ago and went with the flow as much as he could. She tended to be a force of nature.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ve gotta go.”
“Me too. Busy weekend! Love you.” She was gone, not asking a question about the business she now partially owned or what it would take to keep it running. She trusted him to handle it all.
“Me too.” He relaxed back in the seat while finishing the bag of chips. He was too young to be this overworked. A sigh escaped him as the chair cushioned every inch it touched. Every chair he’d sat on in this building was comfortable as hell. He had to fight the urge to lay his head back and close his eyes. His old man sure hadn’t skimped on seating quality.
Chapter 4
Emma stood in front of the executive team with her head cocked slightly to the left in a weak effort to block the glaring spelling mistake in her PowerPoint presentation on the big screen behind her. She forced herself to stay in the moment, remembering all the social media insights for Rora Airlines. She also had to concentrate on presenting herself as calm, reasonable, and together—all things she absolutely wasn’t while standing in front of this room filled with stuffy old men in three-piece suits. She had to pull on her training from her previous career, but there was a reason she’d moved on from that. She hoped no one noticed her white-knuckled grip on the remote control or her fingernails digging into her skin or her rumpled clothes from having had to dress in the hotel lobby bathroom because of a delay in getting inside her hotel room.
Since her harrowing trip on the plane, nothing had gone according to plan. All the signs were there as to what this weekend was going to bring. If she were smart, she would rent a car and drive herself back to Georgia, but much like a train wreck, she couldn’t look away. She’d stick this out until the bitter end, no matter what her intuition screamed at her.
“So, you’re saying you need additional staff.”
Seriously? She’d explained the growth they’d experienced in the last six months and what their needs were going forward. Andthatwas their concern, not all the missed opportunities. While Alexander Jorgensen had understood that he needed a social media director, he never truly valued the impact this department could make on the overall company bottom line.
“Well, if extra bodies are hard to come by, I think a liaison between the different IT departments would be the most beneficial.” She clicked a slide to bring up the numbers of social media users and their clicks on the buy links to the Rora Airlines website. The numbers were staggeringly high. “I can push customers to our website. You’ve seen the numbers on that, but I’m then lost on conversion, on how many book flights. More so, I have very little communication with anyone other than Public Relations. I’m left out of the loop on most promotions and sales. I find those by searching our website every morning. If I were given a chance to plan my posts, I believe we could make a difference in filling our planes. But we have to be more cohesive going forward than what we’ve been to date.”
The conference room door opened, and she assumed it was another executive to fill the few remaining chairs in the room. Maybe even the seat at the head of the table that had been empty throughout her presentation. But she couldn’t see the new arrival with the projector acting as a spotlight on her and shadowing the room.
“We’ll take that under advisement. What do you hope to accomplish in your time tomorrow?”
“Great question.” Emma walked to her laptop and shut the lid, ending the visual part of the presentation. The overhead lights slowly came on, and she turned to James, the head of public relations, who’d asked the question. “I’d like to roll out the idea for an on-plane initiative with the flight crew, something that adds a small amount of incentive points to their comp time for any happy moments or meaningful selfies—anything fun with children or pets, that sort of thing. Today’s social media is about engagement. Engagement ultimately creates brand loyalty.”
“I think it’s a great idea. How do they send you the pictures?” another executive asked.
“Through social media or even text. I’ll need a few details from the sender, but I’ll work all that out with legal before we fully roll this out.”
“I have a question.”
Emma froze.
That voice. In the three seconds it took her to turn toward the conference room door, her face flushed with heat then her gaze connected with the man from her flight to California. Her stomach dropped to her toes. What in the world was he doing here? She stood there, stunned, processing, as he continued with his question.
“I’ve recently experienced the seriousness of passengers afraid to fly. How would you suggest we help those in need through social media?” He had his arms crossed and leaned against the doorframe in a casual gesture, as if he felt right at home interrupting her presentation.
The heat in her face cascaded down her body at his question. He’d solidified his place as the biggest jerk on the planet, and that said a lot with the way he’d jumped up from his seat and hightailed it to the front of the plane practically before the airplane had even come to a full stop. No “so long.” No “nice knowing you.” Nothing. Just whoosh, gone. She blinked at him now and forced herself to not roll her eyes at the stupidity of his question. Or the way it had to be meant to throw her off her game. His casual attitude didn’t fool her in the least.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t had the chance to meet you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, mimicking his stance.
“I’m Ander Jorgensen.” All the bravado she’d managed to build fled as that last name passed his lips. She narrowed her eyes at him. Much too young to be the new CEO. The elder Mr. Jorgensen’s offspring would have to be in his late fifties at this point. Maybe a family member? Nepotism at its finest, no doubt. “Is it too hard a question to answer?” The man had the audacity to just stand there and blink at her as if he were the most innocent lamb on the planet. He’d known she worked for the airline, but he’d said nothing.
The air shifted and every head in the room turned toward Ander. If she guessed the mood correctly, they were as surprised as she at his cheeky tone and baiting words. She hadn’t tapped him for a playful kind of guy, so what was his game here? Embarrassment? Intimidation? Or just plain meanness? Well, she’d put an end to that. She stood taller and relaxed her arms so she didn’t appear defensive.
“I’m not sure it’s a question that can be answered with social media.” She made a point of turning back to the room and dismissing the man the best she could. She’d deal with him later. “I’m at the end of my time. Thank you for the opportunity to present to you today.”
She didn’t wait to be released before gathering her materials. With little care to the equipment, she unplugged her laptop and stuffed it and the cords into her bag. Humiliation ate at her. She just wasn’t sure why. She looked back over her shoulder, the next presenter stepping forward and lights dimming again. Ander was still by the door, looking mischievous as hell as he watched her. There was challenge in his stare. Was he making fun of her?
How on earth was he related to the caring, kind senior Mr. Jorgensen? He had been a genuine leader who’d inspired people to do their best. This man…this Ander Jorgensen couldn’t be more than mid-thirties, if that. A grandson? Great-nephew? Squaring her shoulders, Emma steeled her courage. From growing up under the influence of her stepmother, Patty, to living and working in the Deep South, she’d learned a long time ago not to let anyone intimidate her. She walked straight for the door…and him, her scowl growing as his mocking gaze stayed trained on her, with no tells as to what he was thinking behind that stony facade.
