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Erin nodded. She was younger than Darla, and had only been a flight attendant with the service for a week. After this, she’d probably consider another career. Luckily for her, she still had that option. “Yeah. Thank God it’s almost over. If I get asked for a lap dance one more time . . . ”
Erin was a triple threat—young, exotic-looking, pretty. All the men leered at her. Tate, especially, seemed unable to keep his hands off her. Not that Darla had it much better. She’d thought now that she was in her forties, men would’ve grown up around her and learned how to behave. This latest flight had proven her wrong.
“Well, doesn’t look like any of these guys will be asking for anything,anytimesoon.”
“I dread having to wake them up when we land.”
“No thanks, I’ll let you handle that,” Darla said quickly, to which they both laughed. She tucked a strand of hair that had loosened from her low ponytail behind her ear. “Did you make plans for Venice?”
“No. Who me? I don’t gamble. I don’t shop. I probably couldn’t even afford a gondola ride. And I probably can’t afford anything else in that city,” she said with a shrug. “Not even a decent dinner, on our salary. I’m just going to go back to my flat outside the city and wait for my next assignment.”
Darla sighed. The difference between the haves and have-nots was never more evident than when she’d started working the jets. She was definitely the latter—and it was especially obvious and painful whenever they visited the most popular playgrounds of the rich and famous. Even a snack from a street vendor was enough to blow her budget.
“You’re going back home to the States, right?” Erin continued.
“Yeah. Haven’t been back there in a year. Maybe before I go, you and I can meet up for coffee?”
“It’s a date,” Erin said with a wink as the pilot came on the loudspeaker, announcing that they should take their seats and prepare for landing.
They exchanged thankful looks and then hurried to take their seats. Slipping into the spare jump-seat, Darla fastened her seatbelt and closed her eyes, pretending she was about to embark on a great adventure. After all, that was what had interested her in becoming a flight attendant in the first place—the chance to travel and see exotic locales.
If she’d known she’d have to deal with the Franklin Tates of the world, though, she probably would’ve chosen a different line of work. She hadn’t known she’d have to cater to the rich and obnoxious. All breeding, no manners.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. The plane touched down at the airport in Venice, and Darla looked out upon the palm trees and opulent old buildings, sighing. This place was beautiful, with warm sea breezes and plenty of sunshine, and yet it had always seemed cold to her. It was so far from Omaha, her heart squeezed in her chest.Soon.
As the plane taxied among the other private jets, toward the appropriate gate, Darla loosened her seatbelt and stood, smoothing her skirt. The landing bump of the jet on the tarmac had woken some of the sleeping men, who were now stretching and looking out the windows, bleary-eyed.
She walked past slowly, as one of the men, in a cowboy hat, said, “Hey, darlin’, you coming out with us tonight?”
“I wish I could,” she said with an appeasing smile, thinking,No way in hell.She was already bruised enough by their company. What she wanted right now was some peace and quiet. Maybe a long, hot bath in whatever hotel she was being put up in. “I’m packing. Going home to the States.”
“Maybe you’ll be on the same flight as me, huh?”
I hope not.She grabbed an empty bottle of Jack and some other trash from the seat next to him and added, “We’ll be there in a moment. Are you heading home straightaway, or are you hoping to go to the casino with Mr. Tate?”
He smirked. “You know I can’t pass a casino without going in. Gonna win big.”
“I’m sure,” she murmured under her breath as she continued down the aisle. She noticed Franklin Tate, still in the same spot, perhaps slumped a little more.
Partied a little too hard, hmm?She thought, shaking his arm as she headed for the trash. “Time to wake up, Mr. Tate. We’ve landed. Home sweet home.”
She tossed away the trash as the plane slowed to a stop. She went to the door and prepared the exit for disembarkation. As she twisted the lever to open the door and fresh air flooded in, she took a deep breath.
A couple of the men in the party were apparently just as eager to leave the plane as she was. They thundered down the aisle, briefcases and bags in hands, sunglasses on, mumbling their thanks to her. “Have a good day,” she called after them.
Erin joined her, murmuring, “Good riddance.”
She grinned at her friend and then looked around the plane. Just a little longer, and she’d be free. The cleaners could take care of the biggest messes. They just needed to take care of the people, and then she could be on her way. One step closer to Omaha.
So she was annoyed to find that, after complaining incessantly earlier that he couldn’t wait to touch down in Venice so he could blow his winnings in the casino before heading home to his island villa, Franklin Tate was still fast asleep, in his seat.
She marched down the aisle and nudged him again. “We’re here, Mr. Tate,” she said, summoning pleasantness.
No response.
She nudged him harder, but this time, his body lurched forward, folding in half.
“Mr. Tate?” she asked, now worried, grabbing him by the lapels of his expensive coat and shoving him back. She hadn’t noticed before, but he was slightly paler than normal.
