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“He’s too drunk,” Demi pointed out. “That’d be rape.”
“I wasn’t being literal,” Farrah said wryly.
“Should we call a paramedic?” Leona asked, eyeing him. “That’s the protocol for this level of inebriation on the ground.”
I rolled my eyes. “No. I’ll handle the fucker.”
With an annoyed sigh I headed toward him. “Flight’s over,” I told him, voice stern. “You need to get your drunk ass off this plane.”
At that he staggered to his feet.
“We still need to talk,” he pronounced slowly.
“If you can’t get yourself off this plane unassisted, we’re calling a paramedic for you,” I told him coldly.
Yes, I had done this to him. Didn’t mean I’d help him.
He nodded jerkily and started to move past me.
I stiffened as he squeezed by me in the aisle.
He put his drunk face into my hair and inhaled.
My hands clenched into fists, but he moved away before I could do anything productive, like, say, punch him in the face.
I grabbed his things out of the overhead bin. At least he hadn’t brought much. One small carryon that didn’t weigh a thing.
“We divided up your bags,” Leona called out to me. “You get that, and we’ve got your stuff covered.”
The girls were starting to file off the plane directly behind Dante the Drunk.
I was the last out of the jet way. Dante was already parked in a chair by the time I caught up to the rest of them.
“What should we do with him?” the captain asked me. As the lead flight attendant, he was my responsibility.
I rolled Dante’s bag over to him, perching it beside him. He was staring at me, but I never even glanced at him directly.
I turned back to my expectant crew. “We leave him. He’s a big boy. He can fend for himself.”
I got some strange looks, but everyone was ready to be done for the day, so no one argued.
“You won this round!” Dante called to my retreating back. “But I’ll find you again!”
I was at the back of our crew, and I didn’t break stride as I held up my hand, waving goodbye to him with one expressive finger.
CHAPTER
THREE
“He’s more myself than I am.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
~Emily Brontë
PAST
The first time we ever really talked to each other was right outside of the vice principal’s office in fourth grade.
