I’m doing what I’ve been training for. I’m an actual flight attendant now.
The loudspeaker buzzes. “We’re next in line for takeoff. Flight attendants, secure the cabin for departure.” Nathan. He sounds so professional when he’s not making jokes at my expense.
The interphone chimes, signaling an incoming call.
I twist to grab the receiver on the wall. “Hello?”
“Hi.” I can hear the smile in Nathan’s tone. Is he calling just to talk?That’s not professional. Shouldn’t he focus on flying the plane? Taxi, take-off, and landing are the most technical part of a pilot’s job, and we’re not allowed to call them during those phases unless it’s an emergency.
I cringe all the way to my toes. I don’t want my first trip to get awkward.
“Is the cabin secure?” Nathan prompts.
Oh yeah. Standard procedure. Once again, I’m worrying about nothing. “Cabin secure.”
“See you in California.”
I hang up with a smile of both relief and satisfaction.
I did it. I survived training. I moved to a crash pad. And I’m currently working a new career. After retiring from dance early, I’d been so lost. Now I’m finally going somewhere.
My first flight feels like coming home.
Chapter Six
Nathan
Theairupthere intheclouds isvery pure andfine, bracing anddelicious. Andwhyshouldn’t itbe?
—it is the same the angels breathe.
—MARKTWAIN
Claire’s cute “hello” over the interphone is replaced with direction from air traffic control through my headset, and I settle into the familiar flight routine.
Eventually we rise above the clouds to find a streak of orange in the east chasing after the morning stars in the west. Tonight I’ll be watching as a similar display lights up the horizon over the Pacific, allowing the stars to reemerge.
I could watch the sunset from the beach, the cliff, the pool, or the restaurant. They all offer great views. I’m more concerned about where Claire would want to watch from and if she’d want to watch with me. I’ll invite the whole crew to dinner to guarantee it. Nothing unnatural about that, I reassure myself. I’m almost convinced.
“Should we go to dinner tonight? Make sure our new flight attendant gets a great view of the sunset?” Vincent suggests it first. He’s a mind reader.
Mental note to censor my thoughts around him. “You looking for an excuse to have filet mignon for dinner?”
“Who needs an excuse for that?”
I grin and watch him level off. He’s flying this first leg, but he’ll let autopilot do most of the work until it’s time to land.
“I thoughtyoumight want an excuse to get to know Claire better.”
See? Mind reader. “She’s already dating someone.”
He twists to face me but reels back at the same time. “So that’s why you grunted over the phone last night.”
“I didn’t grunt.” Did I?
“Like a caveman.”
Another Freudian grunt on my part makes his argument for him.
