Page 24 of Love Lessons
“I’m about to qualify for the senior discount, here. Which will it be?”
“Aisle,” she snaps.
Wordlessly, I move past her and take my seat. Can’t imagine why anyone would give up the window seat, but I’m not going to ask twice.
The seats are leather and generously apportioned. I’m used to flying in style, because the team jet is nothing to sneeze at. But this setup is over the top. Everything is wood or leather, with a big touch screen on the back of the seat in front of me and a pull-out footrest that flattens the whole seat into a bed.
“Nice ride, Drakey,” I call out. “Who wants to join the mile-high club with me? Any takers?”
“Tempting,” Castro teases. “But I’m already a member of the club.”
“No shit?” I laugh. “Heidi Jo, were you in on this?”
“She was!” Castro hoots.
“Oh God, shut your trap,” his wife complains. “That’s not meant to be general knowledge.”
“Too late!” Anton calls.
There’s a lot of good-natured teasing after that, but I notice Vera is oddly quiet. I glance at her, and she looks pale.
Oh boy. “Are you a nervous flyer? Really? I didn’t peg you for the type.”
She pulls a fashion magazine out of her carryon and begins to fan herself with it. “We all have our quirks, Ian.”
The jet pushes back and taxis to the runway. The flight attendant introduces herself and does a basic safety announcement. The color comes back into Vera’s face, which ought to be a good thing. But when the pilot says, “Prepare for takeoff,” over the intercom, Vera is suddenly bright red and breathing a little too fast. As we accelerate down the runway, she grips the armrests with two hands, like a wet cat trying to climb out of the bathtub.
The plane lifts off, and I look out the window. It’s a pretty summer day, with only a few puffy clouds. The Hudson River glimmers like a serpent on the ground beneath us. “Lookin’ good now, countess. You can unclench.”
Except the pilot chooses that moment to bank us into a turn, and a whimper escapes the woman seated next to me.
I check her face, and it’s a mask of terror. She’sreallyafraid. “Breathe,” I order. “Right now.”
She gasps, and it sounds ragged.
“Okay, slow-like.” I take her hand off the armrest and give it a squeeze. Her grip is like a vise. “Count ’em out. In for four, out for six. Ready?” I inhale slowly, tapping a thumb onto her hand for four measured counts. Then I exhale for six taps.
She screws her eyes shut and grips my hand. But at least she’s breathing with me.
Lordy. It’s going to be a long flight.
EIGHT
A Ride on the Crikey Express
VERA
You are a hot mess,my inner voice says.Way to embarrass yourself in front of Ian.
My shame is complete. But my heart is racing, the engine is loud, and everything is chaos. At least the plane is leveling out again. “Oh God. That’s better. Okay. I was sure we were all going to die. I mean, we still could,” I babble.
The big man next to me lets out a snort of laughter. “We are all going to die, countess, but not today.”
On some level, I’m aware that it makes no sense to worry about my impending deathandmy humiliation at once, because only one of those things can matter at any given time.
But logic is not the boss of me right now. For example, I’m holding Ian Crikey’s hand. I’m probably squeezing the life out of it. But he hasn’t complained. Not yet, anyway. He hasn’t called attention to my freak-out, either.
I never asked to be the girl who’s afraid to fly. And it’s been a while since I got onto a plane, so I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad this time.
