Our phones buzzed in sync.
Boarding call, minus 25 minutes.
That’s enough time to reset, refresh, and slide into flight attendant mode like slipping into armor. “Ready?” I asked. “I was born ready, babe,” Rose replied, fixing her lipstick in the reflection of her phone.
We stood, pulling ourselves together. Okay, here we go. Lip gloss, check. Crew badge, check. Smile that doesn’t quite touch the eyes, check. At the gate, the energy was already shifting.
Our flight hasn’t started boarding yet, but people are already in line. I don’t know why people rush to get into the plane when they’re going to be there for the next eight hours.
“Sam,” a voice called out behind me. “Hold up a second.”
I turned to see Marla, one of the senior flightattendants on the roster. Red bob, heels that had seen three decades of transatlantic crossings, and eyebrows that could silence a grown man. She was flipping through a clipboard as if it were a weapon.
“Maya called out sick. You’ve been reassigned to First Class for this flight,” she said, not looking up.
“First?” I repeat, waiting for her to clarify.
“Yes, first. You look surprised.”
Of course, I look surprised. Iamsurprised. I didn’t plan for this. I haven’t worked first class in over two months. “I just—I haven’t been scheduled in a while, so I didn’t think?—.”
“Well, now you are. Congrats, honey. You’ll be handing out Dom and Whiskey instead of Diet Coke.” I glanced at Rose, who gave me a half-smirk. “Look at you, Miss Champagne Cart.”
“Don’t act like you’re not jealous,” I shot back jokingly, though my stomach flipped a little.
Yes, first class can be intimidating, and while I’d worked it before, it has its own rhythm. It’s more luxurious, there’s more service, more scrutiny. It’s filled with people of status, and they are the kind of passengers who don’t just board flights. They expect to be catered to like gods in leather seats. They are the kind of people I ran away from.
“You’ll be up front with me,” Marla added, finally glancing up. “Don’t let them talk circles around you. They smell fear.”
“Copy that,” I said, adjusting my blazer. “No fear.Just foie gras and forced charm.” Rose gave my arm a quick squeeze as she passed.
“Text me if someone famous boards.” I rolled my eyes, but a small laugh escaped.
As I walked down the jet bridge toward the aircraft, I felt that shift again, that little click that happens every time the real world falls away and you're about to step into the sky.The jet bridge door hissed open, and the first wave of First-Class passengers stepped onto the aircraft like they owned the sky. I greeted them with practiced ease. A smile, a nod, and brief eye contact.
Most were absorbed in their phones or already annoyed by seat assignments. This is routine for them, as it is for me. They are all used to this.
Thenheboarded.
Seat 1A
Tall, tailored, and annoyingly calm. The kind of calm that isn’t practice.
You inherit that shit.
Charcoal coat, white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar, no tie.
He has that look people try to recreate in fashion campaigns. Effortless and expensive. But there is something else too, something unguarded around his eyes that didn’t match the rest of him. He offered me a polite smile as he stepped into the cabin, one hand casually tucked into his pocket, the other gripping a carry-on that seemed brand-new but scuffed just enough to look used.
“Good evening,” a man said as he stepped into the cabin. I looked up from the galley cart.
“Hi, welcome aboard.”
I always try to make people feel comfortable, maybe a little joke here and there. Something to lighten the mood, but also something to make sure they aren’t assholes to me for eight hours.
“Looks like you are in my section today,” I said with a smile.
“Lucky me.” I gave a polite nod, motioning toward his seat. “Can I take your coat?”
