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"Dead serious. And I figured, who else but Ben Caldwell to sweep her off her feet—figuratively and literally."
I'm grinning now, picturing those jade eyes that probably look like a pair of emeralds up close. "Tom, you magnificent bastard, tell me everything."
He dishes out the details faster than I can process them, but one thing's clear: this gig's my golden ticket to fly the skies with America's sweetheart.
"Thanks, man," I say, already in motion. My hand's on my laptop before Tom's even hung up. I've got to move fast Opportunities like this don't circle the runway waiting for clearance.
"Anytime, buddy," Tom says and clicks off.
I crack my knuckles and dive into my contacts. Pilots, flight attendants, even the barista at the airport café who owes me big time—they're all potential leads. My charm's about to work overtime.
"Hey, Sandra, it's Ben. Yeah, still flying high. Listen, I need a favor." I channel every bit of smooth operator I've got as I spin my web, laying it on thick.
A few laughs, some shameless flattery, and promises of a round of drinks on me next time we're in the same zip code—I've got them eating out of my hand.
"Sure thing, Ben. I'll put in a word for you," they say, one after another, and I can almost feel the stars aligning.
By the time I hang up the last call, my heart's racing like a jet engine at full throttle. This isn't just any job. It's the chance to fly with Kate freaking Woodbridge. And if the sparks fly? Well, let's just say I'm ready for some turbulence.
The cursor blinks on the screen, a seductive invitation to pour my heart out. But it's not love letters I'm crafting. It's the pitch of a lifetime. My fingers fly across the keys, each tap a step closer to Kate Woodbridge and a sky filled with more than just clouds.
Dear Madeline,
I type, addressing Kate's assistant with a familiarity we don't actually share.
I'm Ben Caldwell, and flying is more than my job—it's my passion, my art. As a pilot with over a decade of experience, I've navigated the skies for celebrities, CEOs, and royalty.
I pause, chewing on my lip. Got to keep it cool, Caldwell. Don't gush like a fanboy.
Handling high-profile clients requires discretion, punctuality, and a commitment to safety—all of which are as integral to me as my pilot's license. I understand the unique demands of working with public figures, especially someone of Ms. Woodbridge's caliber.
There. Professional, but with a hint of charm. I hit 'send' before second thoughts can clip my wings.
Now comes the hard part—the waiting game. I pace my apartment, every few minutes darting back to my laptop like it's the Holy Grail and I'm Indiana Jones.
Refresh, refresh, refresh.
Email's never been this torturous.
And then—bingo! An email with the production company's logo pops up, and my heart kicks into overdrive. It's like I've just hit cruising altitude after a bumpy takeoff.
Mr. Caldwell, thank you for your interest in the position of personal pilot for Ms. Woodbridge. We would like to invite you for an interview...
Hell yes! I pump my fist in the air, a jolt of adrenaline soaring through me. This isn't just any interview. It's the gateway to the heavens.
And maybe, just maybe, to Kate's heart.
The sun hasn't even had its morning coffee yet, and here I am slipping into my navy-blue power suit like it's my second skin. A quick glance in the mirror—hair on point, tie knotted just right—and damn, I've got this. I grab my keys and stride out the door with a purpose that could put a marching band to shame.
The city is barely waking up as I hit the streets, the early hour making the roads feel like a private runway just for me. There's no traffic to wrestle with, just the hum of anticipation buzzing in my veins. I pull up to the production company's office, and it's showtime an hour ahead of schedule. Punctuality is an asset, or so they say.
I'm through the doors with time to spare, my heart thrumming a rhythm against my ribs. It's not nerves, no—it's the thrill of being one step closer to the endgame. To her. I take a deep breath, letting the cool air of the lobby fill my lungs, sharpening my focus. This isn't just any interview. It's the prologue to the rest of my life.
"Mr. Caldwell? We're ready for you." The receptionist’s voice pulls me back to the present.
"Lead the way," I reply with a grin that feels as natural as breathing.
The interview room is all sleek lines and polished surfaces, a stage set for ambition and dreams. They hit me with questions, and I serve back answers with the ease of a seasoned pro. Flying? That's my jam. High-pressure situations? I eat them for breakfast. Every query they lob my way, I return with unwavering confidence and a glint of charisma.
