Page 5 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
“Oh boy, I know that look. Out with it.”
“You know it’s not in my nature to pry into my captain’s personal life.”
“Oh my God.”
“Right. Now thatthat’sout of the way…” He cleared his throat. “That guy. The last passenger to get on. He looks, um,familiar.” When Ava said nothing, he added, “He looks like Danielle Monahan. In fact.”
“Dennis is Danielle’s twin,” Ava replied. Or would it bewasher twin? Were you still twins when one was in the grave? Not that Danielle was in a grave; there’d been precious little of her left to bury. And there was no point asking how India knew what Danielle looked like. Sooner or later, everyone in her flight crew eventually found out about Danielle and how her murder literally propelled Ava into the sky.
“Tenth anniversary of the, um.”
“Yep.”
“And you don’t like the Twin Cities under the best of circumstances, never mind now. So,” he finished, “no wonder you’re grumpy about the weather.”
“The weather sucks.”
“It’s actually kind of ni—”
“I don’t like MSP because most of the time I have to crosswind taxi. And that’safterwe navigate the OPDs.”*
“Uh-huh.”
“And there’s no need to look at me like I’m about to set you on fire. We’ve been flying together how long? You know I’m not gonna bite your head off. Most likely.”
“That’s true. In fact, you seem kind of, um, detached about the whole thing. The murder. And what happened after. Or at least like you don’t mind.”
She made an exasperated noise. “Or because I’ve had a decade to come to terms with it.”
Alas, India wasn’t having it. “New employees are skittish about it because they assume it’s an unbroachable subject.”India jerked his head to the side, indicating the jump seat. “Takes ’em a few flights to learn it doesn’t seem to bother you at all.”
“Aaaaand again: it’s been a decade, India.”
“A long time to be alone.”
“Ah-ha!” Then she realized what he was getting at. “Oh,no.” Abort, abort! This was worse than an unwanted-yet-casual chitchat aboutfeelingswith a colleague. Much, much worse. “No. No, no, no.”
“It’s just that I really think you’d love my wife’s cousin. He’s a great—”
“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” Then, wary of alarming passengers even with the cockpit door shut, she whispered, “No. No. No. No. No. No.”
“Just one double date.”
“No. No. No. No. No. Stop or I’ll hurl you out of this plane.”
“We’ve docked, so I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t kill me.”
“Who’s talking about killing you? I just want out of this conversation.” And this plane. And this city. State. The Midwest in general. And the unreasonable gym contract she’d signed on January 2. “Enough. Pretend you care about flying—”
“Idocare about flying.”
“—and let’s finish up here.”
“Finish up,” he said, and snickered. She bit back a groan; though she hadn’t lived here for years, her dialect was peppered with various Midwesternisms. Same reason she couldn’t stand to watch even one season ofFargo.Screw their quirky characters and exquisitely timed dark humor. “Then have a hotdish.”
“It’s just hotdish. It’s notahotdish. You’re not going toaschool, you’re just going to school. Same thing.”
“Oh, you betcha.”
