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Chapter One
There are over thirty people in front of me. Not a single one of them is looking my way. Even though I'm giving them literal life saving information, even though theyshouldhave the courtesy to pretend to care, they never do.
If you stop and think about it, flying is a miracle. It should be impossible but it isn’t. And yet people don’t even care to know the basic information that might help them survive in the event of a crash.
"And the exits," I continue, gesturing for nobody but me and the other flight attendants, "are here and here."
I shoot a cheeky grin at my colleague, Sally, the only other attendant on this flight my age, and roll my eyes. I slip the life vest over my head, point to the little light, hold out the ends of the straps with the buckle, then pretend to blow into the attached whistle. Sally raises her eyebrows, issuing a challenge, one I can’t resist. I pretend to make out with the end of the whistle, unseen by the passengers with their headphones and their phones, and their reading tablets. Although Sally’s guffaws from the back of the plane draw some attention.
Sally and I haven’t been on many flights together but whenever we have we’ve gotten along like a house on fire. She has a filthy sense of humor and loves to flirt with handsome male passengers. I could never be so bold. I’d love to get to know her better. Traveling constantly has always been my dream, but making friends––god forbid having a relationship––is pretty impossible with such a hectic life.
You've only been doing this job for six months,I remind myself.Dad always said dedicate yourself to your job first. The rest will follow.
Smiling wide, I begin the motions to show how to use the oxygen masks.Friendships are nice, but my dream is to see the world.
Though... seeing it WITH someone wouldn't be so terrible...
"Filia," a scratchy male voice says in my ear from behind me in the tiny galley. It's Drew, my least favorite co-worker. He's got bad breath, which I can forgive, and a hatred for dogs, which I cannot. I once saw him try to haul a poor woman's chihuahua away from her, insisting her carrier was too big for her seat. He was wrong, and ever since I stepped in to correct him, he's never treated me nicely.
"What is it?" I ask, turning enough to see him and give myself space to separate us.
His squinty eyes narrow further. "There's a guy in First Class who wants a third glass of wine."
"A third? But we haven't even taken off yet."
"Yeah. I know," he says curtly.
We stare at each other. His eyebrows inch upward. "You want me to tell him he can't have anymore."
"Thank you!" Drew gushes, managing to look relieved and smug. Dammit. It sucks because he didn't even trick me––he's just forced me into doing what he wants or directly telling him noand I'm screwed if I try that. Drew will spend the rest of the flight bullying me.
My only option is sucking it up and handling the situation. Taking a deep breath, I walk around Drew, who's sneering now. He watches me the whole time I squeeze through the aisle towards First Class. Drew follows me at a distance; when I brush the curtain aside that splits the plane, he leans through, watching eagerly.
I don't have to search for the customer. He's a pink-faced man wearing a striped blue polo, his body straining around his chair into the aisle. He's got an empty plastic wine glass in hand. When he spots me, he hoists it up and gestures with it towards me.
This is going to suck.I'm sure of it. This man hasentitledwritten all over his shiny face. Why is he sweating so much? The plane is cool, and he's not doing anything but sitting. Steeling myself, I stroll towards him with the biggest smile I can manage. "Sir," I begin.
"Good. Here, make it the red one." He pokes the glass into my belly.
My instinct is to snatch the glass away. Instead, I inch backwards to escape his touch. "Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't have anymore wine on this flight."
He squints. "Of course I can."
"The limit per customer is three." I smile so big it hurts my cheeks. "I can get you a nice soda water, or--"
"You're going to get me my damn wine or I'm going to make your life hell," he growls.
I take a step back, trying to keep my distance from him. My heart is pounding in my chest. This situation could quickly escalate, and I'm not sure I'm equipped to handle it. I glance over at Drew, who's still leaning through the curtain, watching this all unfold. I want to scream at him to come help me, but that would only make things worse. Instead, I take a deep breath and try to remain calm.
"Sir, I understand that you would like another glass of wine, but I cannot serve you any more alcohol on this flight." I put as much authority into my voice as I can, hoping it will be enough to make him back down.
He snorts. "Who do you think you are, telling me what I can and can't have? I paid good money for this flight, and I want what I want." He unbuckled his seat belt and stands.
My cheeks flushing with anger. This man is a nightmare. I don't know what else to do.
A hand closes on my shoulder, startling me. There's another man here. He's so big I can't see Drew spying through the curtain. Like, this guy ismassive.And if his tight dove-gray shirt is telling the truth, he's muscle-big. Not a hint of softness on him. Especially not in his face, which is glaring at the customer who is berating me. "She said no more drinks," he growls, all gravel and deep earth. My heart flutters.
"And who the hell are you?" my unruly customer demands.
