“HOLY FUCK, KITTY!” Neev shrieked once we were past the check-in desk and the attendant had informed us we had lounge access. “YOU UPGRADED OUR TICKETS TO FIRST CLASS?”
Feeling the hit of Dramamine in my blood, and aware that my brain wasn’t in enough working order for this screamfest, I protested, “Neev, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have that kind of cash.”
“You must have,” Raisin crowed. “You’re the best sister ever!!!!”
As the two of them gossiped about how awesome I was—a compliment that didn’t require flight upgrades because I rocked 24/7—I pondered how the hell we had those first-class tickets when that wasn’t what I’d booked.
My bank account was close to hitting negative figures… I didn’t have the air miles, the funds,orthe credit score for this purchase.
Now, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if the airline gods had decided to spontaneously upgrade us, then this was one of the best things to ever happen to me, but…
Me: The likelihood of getting a free upgrade to first class?
I tipped my watch to face me when I saw Lara had replied.
Lara: Nil. Unless you’re a frequent flyer or have a rewards program.
Me: So, tell me why we’re flying first class?
Lara:
Lara: You hit the plane lottery, bitch!
Me: I’m too doped up to be smug, but yeah, that’s how my day’s going lol. You?
Lara: I’m stuck in traffic.
Having long since abandoned nursing, Lara drove for a swanky firm that chauffeured celebs around Vermont.
Me: Aren’t you always?
Lara: Pretty much lol.
Lara: Lemme know when you make it to the land of golden beaches and shrimp ceviche?
Me: Will do. Tell the others?
Lara: That you’re a lucky bitch? Sure thing.
“What’s wrong?” Neev strode along the premium security line like she belonged there.
Only, we didn’t.
Our tushes should have been firmly planted in basic bitch economy.
And if Ididhave the cash for an upgrade, I wouldn’t have wasted it on these flights, but tickets for the New York Stars’ playoffs series.
So, what the fuck was even happening here?!
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said uneasily, wishing that Dramamine wasn’t dulling my senses. Wispy thoughts of Trojan horses—or did I mean gift horses?—and red flags were interrupted by Raisin’s:
“You know she hates flying, Neev. Don’t remind her.”
“Thanks for the reminder!”
“Well, you can’t hate flying in first class. We need to get you drunk in the lounge. OMG, I can’t believe how much you rock, Kitty. This totally makes up for that shitty Christmas present you bought me?—”
“Geeeeee. Thanks.”
