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I was getting pretty goddamn sick of him calling me pretty boy. “Wait, Fred, are you telling me your Chinese hooker was a pretty boy?”
“What?” he asked, scowling.
“I mean, it’s fine if that’s what you’re in to,” I said, not letting him continue. “But I don’t really want to hear the story if that’s the case.”
“No, you dipshit,” he said. “I was calling you pretty boy.”
“Well, stop,” I said firmly. “That’s just fucking weird, man.”
Fred narrowed his eyes and stared straight ahead for a moment. Then he burst out laughing. “Okay, fair enough,” he said. “No more ‘pretty boy’.”
“Good,” I said.
"So anyway, this Chinese hooker, who was most definitely a woman,” Fred continued, almost as if I hadn’t interrupted him at all. “Let's just say, a Chinese hooker in Taiwan is a recipe for disaster, especially when you've been on a drinking binge for a week. I almost don't want to elaborate, but boy, you know I'm going to. You don't hardly know me at all, and I bet you already know that much."
I smiled and nodded to show that I was listening, but my mind was as far away from this conversation as it could get. We were already halfway through our flight, and I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the little blonde flight attendant.
When I had first seen her in the Pilots’ Lounge, I had known immediately that she was the kind of chick I would want to bang. When I found her on my flight, that temptation had become far more real. I wasn't even sure if she had given me her name, for Christ's sake. I didn't think she had, and I didn't think Fred had, either, but I also didn't really give a damn.
It wasn't like I was interested in her for her life story. I wasn't even sure why I had asked for her opinion on flying, except that I hadn't wanted her to walk away from me quite yet. Sure, her answer, and the passion I could sense behind it, was more interesting than I had anticipated, but that didn't mean I legitimately wanted to get to know her. I didn't want that. I just wanted her.
I wasn't any more interested in dating her than I was in dating any other woman on the planet. I wanted to fuck her, and I wanted it badly. That wasn't typically something I really had to give much thought to, seeing as Fred's over the top assessment of my prowess with women had been pretty on point.
Usually, when it came to women, I just had to flash a smile at the one I wanted, and she practically fell into my bed. It wasn't something I gave much thought to. It was just the way things were. There was something about this chick, though, that made me think it might not be quite that easy. I had no clue where that idea was coming from, only that something told me it was correct. If I was going to get this chick into my bed, it was going to require a different kind of approach. That, I was certain of. What I wasn't so sure about was if it was worth the effort it might require.
“Hey, Boy, you listening to me?” Fred asked.
“Tales of the hooker from hell, right? Weird uses for chop sticks, face like a hammered wok, and banging that ass like a gong? Don’t worry, Fred, I’m right here with ya.”
You racist asshole.
“I’m sure I could tell you some stories that would turn your blood cold,” I said.
I couldn't, in fact, at least not when it came to things like prostitutes. A prostitute was something I had never needed and never once considered looking into. I wasn't interested in trying to swap my life story with Fred Stevens. I just wanted him to be sure enough that I was paying attention to him for h
im to be content. I'd never been a huge fan of flying with an overly chatty pilot, and this yahoo was no exception. I just wanted him off my back so that we could land this plane safely, and so that I was free to think the situation with the little blonde over.
“Once again, pretty boy—”
“Call me ‘pretty boy’ one more time, Fred, and I’m about break some serious FAA regulations by throwing you off this fucking plane.” My fists clenched as my patience finally ran all the way out.
“Fine, fine, whatever you say. The point I was trying to make, before you so rudely interrupted me, was that you don’t seem like you have to pay for it. Which is why I highly doubt that you’ve got a whole lot of hooker stories of your very own. But hey? What the hell do I know? Different strokes for different folks, am I right?”
“I believe you are, Fred,” I said, shaking my head. I was astounded by how stereotypically male this guy was. “I believe I would have to agree with you there.”
“Good. I certainly do value being agreed with, Drew. That’s something you should know about me if we’re going to be flying together. Now, I gotta piss like a Russian racehorse. Why don’t you go ahead and ring the intercom so I can see to it?”
I nodded, doing as he asked without comment. This, at least, was nothing out of the ordinary. It was one of the rules of flying that no pilot was supposed to be in the cockpit on his own. Any time one of us needed to do anything that took us outside of it, we were required to call in one of the flight attendants, just for safety’s sake. They all knew the protocol and were primed to expect that sort of a call. Only a few moments passed before there was a knock at our cockpit door. I glanced up at the screen that let us see who was on the other side of the door and smiled a little. It was the blonde flight attendant, the one I’d been interested in checking out a little bit further. I grabbed Fred’s arm as he stood, finally ready with a question of my own.
"What's that one's name?" I asked nonchalantly, indicating the grainy image of the hot little blonde. "I don't want to seem like too big of an asshole, you know?"
“Well, I can’t help you with that part, but the girl’s name is Jess. Pretty little thing, ain’t she? Little too quiet for my taste, but still a pretty little thing.”
He coughed loudly and cleared his throat, doing these things practically in Jess' face as he opened the door and slid past her. It was, frankly, disgusting, and I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd said something to him about it, or at least made a face. Instead, she only smiled at him, all business, and sat in the seat Fred had been occupying as he loudly shut the door.
“Sorry about that,” I said conversationally, never taking my eyes off of the night sky to look at her as I spoke.
“Sorry about what? I can’t see that you’ve done anything you shouldn’t have.”
