I roll my eyes.Am I the only one in this town that doesn’t give a shit about this little statue?
“Yeah, Maggie dragged me with her,” I say, reaching down into my bag and pulling out the giveaway. “You want this?”
She laughs. “Nah, I already have one coming. Funny enough, I spent all day today chasing my grandson around the indoor play café, and all he could talk about was wanting a Bougie Bobblehead. He has no idea we’re taking him to the game in a few weeks with all his friends, and Mr. Boucher offered to bring signed ones for them all. You keep that one.”
I scoff and shake my head at the thought of the publicity he’s probably getting for making a cameo at a kid’s birthday party as I shove the box back in my bag.
Why will no one take this damn thing from me?
“Look at this.” She holds her phone out to me, a photo of her and her grandson on display, both of them wearing Riders jerseys with #68 on them. “Isn’t he the cutest?”
I can’t help the grin that creeps up my face. Despite the number on their jerseys, the photo is adorable. “Definitely the cutest. How old?”
“He turns seven in a couple of weeks. We’ll be on the road again for his actual birthday, so that’s why I arranged the surprise for him. You know how it is, missing things, so my husband and I have always tried to make my crazy schedule work.” Pride fills her smile, a rarity for her since she’s usually dealing with keeping the flight crew, and occasionally rowdy players, in line. “You ready to head totropicalColumbus, Ohio?”
“Yeah,” I snort. “Nothing like going from one cold Midwestern town to another. We need more games in Miami.”
She lets out a laugh. “No argument here. I’m gonna go grab the manifest and check on the catering,” she says over her shoulder as she heads off.
I pull my iPad back up to focus on my flight plans.I try anyway.I slouch forward, and my thoughts drift off as if they’ve already taken off down the runway. I love my life, love my job.
There’s nothing better than being a pilot and flying all over the world, meeting cool people, and doing something I love. But seeing a glimpse into Theresa’s personal life has me wondering. A heaviness sits on my chest as I pick at my cuticles—could I actually have what she has? Is there someone out there for me? Someone to laugh with, travel with, have adventures with. Someone who knows what it’s like to climb their way up what seems like an impossible ladder in life. Someone who is ready to settle down and start a family.
As much as I’m on the go, I’ve always wanted that. I love kids, and the desire to have my own has always been strong. My lips thin. It’s challenging with my job, but there are ways to make it work. But even if I could figure that out, there’s still the nagging issue of finding someone to have a babywith. I’ve considered donors and adoption and all the things one does. I’ve started the adoption paperwork more times than I can count, but despite my outward demeanor at times, there’s still a part of me that wants to do it with a man by my side. My stomach twistsat the thought of a man who probably doesn’t exist outside my thoughts. And yet, I long for him.
“Who are you?”
I peer over my shoulder, spotting a middle-aged man in a pilot uniform staring me down as if I’ve somehow stumbled my way in here after getting lost at the mall. A bitter taste forms on my tongue like I just bit into the pith of the lime in my gin. I can only assume he’s asking who I am because no one else is in a pilot uniform, and I happen to have tits.
This is off to a great start.Thanks for leaving me, Benny.
But, of course, I am a professional, so I put on my fake as hell smile as I stand to greet him. “Hi, I’m Kennedy, first officer on this flight.”
He sneers. “No. The paperwork says K. Kramer. I was told I’d be flying with Kenny today.”
“Yep! I’m Kenni. Short for Kennedy. Nice to meet?—”
“Didn’t think you’d be a woman,” he interrupts, ignoring the hand I’m extending to him.
I grit my teeth, pushing my shoulders back.Dear God, please give me the strength not to strangle this idiot and get fired.
“Ainsworth. Captain Chaddwick Ainsworth, but you can call me Chadd. With two d’s,” he says, finally shaking my hand as his eyes drag up and down my frame and I do my best to not vomit through my smile.
I officially hate this guy.
I return to my seat and wipe my hand on my pants to wash the douche’s sweat off my palm.
Stay calm. Stay focused on the pre-flight brief. Don’t let this one pompous ass defeat you.
I remain cordial as we review the fuel plans, takeoff data, and the weather one last time before heading out to the jet. My feet are heavier than usual, doing my walk around the aircraft, looking for anything that may be off, my steps slowand measured.All good.I nod, a small smile on my face. I like checklists. I like order. That’s another reason this profession is so great. Consistency. Excellence. Achievement. Of course, there is always something new that gets thrown in the mix during a flight, but the repetitiveness is like a heartbeat—one that hits at different rhythms but always keeps beating. Flying is a lifeline when I need it. It’s consistency and chaos mixed together, and, for some reason, that combination gets me fired up for every flight.
I barely step onto the jet when his voice cuts through the flight deck like it owns the very air in the plane.
“I loaded your flight plan into the box since you took the scenic tour on the walkaround. Started the pre-flight without you as well—I’d rather not waste time double-checking your work.”
This fucking guy.The air is thick, my hand shaking as I take my seat, tugging at my uniform a little too hard.
“Okay, sweetheart, let’s start the checklists.” He doesn’t turn to face me; he just starts looking things over on his own.This is my worst nightmare. “Do you need me to explain those to you?”
