It’s been so long since we’ve had guests on here, I feel like I’m seeing it through their eyes. The cabin floods with crew as they lay store-bought pizzas on porcelain plates and starched white tablecloths. The garlic butter’s been arranged into rose shapes and placed beside us like precious caviar.
‘I’m so glad it’s my turn to choose the menu on the outbound from Italy,’ says Trey, unrolling his napkin with childlike glee. ‘Genuine Italian pizza and cannoli for dessert.’
‘I don’t know…’ Isa grinds pepper on hers. ‘It’s my turn from New York to home so we’re having birria tacos from Birrialandia.’
‘That’s sacrilegious! You can’t have tacoson the wayto Miami.’
She juts her chin out.‘Mírame.’
Nyla’s taking in everything. Jules is picking at her food like it’s moving.
‘Not big into junk food, huh?’ I say. Figures. Her body probably means everything to her. I bet she hasn’t touched carbs in a decade. I’m not complaining or anything, the girl keeps her shittight.
‘I don’t have an appetite on?—’
The plane judders. It’s not severe – the cutlery barely shifts an inch – but it’s enough for Jules to lock up. She looks like the captain’s announced an engine’s blown. I don’t like it, and not just because I don’t know how to talk to her when she’s not being combative.
‘It’s probably just a jet stream boundary,’ I explain in the hope that understanding air travel will take the fear out of it. ‘A jet stream’s like a river of air, and when you enter it?—’
‘Thank you, Wikipedia.’
Ok, not hot about Aviation 101. Let’s try something else.
‘I have a question.’ I take a big bite of dunked crust and temper my voice so JC can’t hear. Not that it’s possible over Trey regaling the girls about his (limited) soccer triumphs. ‘Why’s cuffing Tomsoimportant to you? You ally with me and do the lion’s share of the work. You hate flying, but travel across the world to races. You bust your ass to work with companies close to him and his team. All to date one dude for, what, six months – if your last relationships are anything to go by. And a pretty average dude too.’
That rouses her. ‘Average? He’s a three-time World Champion.’
‘You can’t fuck a trophy, Jules. Especially not the F1 one. It’s shaped like a vase.’
‘Aren’t you meant to be his friend?’ Her tone suggests she knows very well we’re not, and that makes my stomach lurch.
Let’s leave the contract’s legality to the side. If she realises I’ve been lying and voids it, our alliance will be instantly terminated. No more secret meetings, no more social mediaadvice, no more press briefings… nothing. We haven’t even had the chance to shop for a new wardrobe, and she’s made me self-conscious about my ‘Billie Eilish’ clothes.
I watch her closely as she returns to her food. She doesn’t look like a woman on the brink of cancelling a contract; she looks like a woman trying to swallow without throwing up. I’m going to ignore what she said and hope it was a throwaway comment.
‘Look, it’s not for the frequent flyer miles,’ I say. ‘You’re not a gold digger – you would’ve stuck with Reisner, and if that didn’t work out, Rogers is on Nike’s books now. You’d be solid until the next millennium. Hey, it worked great for my mom.
‘Is it that you like giving men a makeover? But the different sports thing seems oddly specific.’
She nibbles on a slice of crisp sausage. ‘I’m just a greedy, superficial influencer.’
I wouldn’t care if that were true – she’s doing a stellar job. Her Instagram’s so pleasing to look at. Everything’s pretty and harmonious. But she’s not ‘just’ anything. There’s strategy behind every single thing she does.
‘I don’t buy it. You’re way too smart. Is it a status thing?’
‘I already told you.’
‘Do you evenlikethese guys? They’re all very different, and the way you pick them seems systematic so my guess is no.’
‘Very good, Sherlock, you got me.’ Her eyes flare so I wonder if she’s being sarcastic, but I can’t be sure. The British and their mysterious sense of humour.
‘So you use them,’ I say slowly.
‘I don’tuseanyone,’ she retorts too sharply. Excellent, I touched a bruise.
‘It’s unethical, no?’
‘It’s not unethical. They all know upfront who I am and what I’m doing… mostly.’
