Back up the aisle. At least Desiree has pushed her giant cart to the front of the main cabin. The sooner I serve OJ, the sooner I can ignore him.
He holds out a hand to stop me from passing.
I wipe all expression from my face. “I have to retrieve more orange juice from the back for you, sir. I got some earlier, but you were asleep, so I had to dump your drink out.”
“Yes. They told me.” He points to the angels across the aisle.
I glance over my shoulder to smile my thanks. They’re getting extra chocolate bars, whether they’re Premier Members or not.
“However, I wasn’t sleeping. I was resting my eyes.” It’s not an apology. Not even close. He only stopped me to defend his poor behavior.
“If you let me pass, I can get orange juice for you now.” I tack on a magnanimous smile, though it might come across as threatening, because I’m thinking,You do not want Desiree up here.
He eyes me, more suspicious than guilty, but lets me pass.
I lift my chin and take the last few steps to face Desiree, along with the entire main cabin. There I wait on the opposite side of the cart as Desiree oohs and aahs over someone’s grandbaby photos. She’s barely said fivewords to me today, but she’s just become best friends with this perfect stranger.
I just want her to hand me a box of juice so I can feed this guy’s addiction and go hide in my galley for the rest of our flight to Denver. I am not going to cry.
I may have danced on stages around the world, but this is the performance of my life. So what if I used to receive standing ovations? So what if I used to give autographs? I now get yelled at when I do my job well.
Desiree looks up. She stills. She’s not a good multitasker, but she’s really good at being in the moment. At making people feel seen. “What do you need, baby?”
“Orange juice.” My voice squeaks when I say it. I clear the knot from my throat to try again. “Orange juice.” It comes out too deep this time. Like an Elvis impersonation. But at least I know she can hear me.
Her eyes rove the first-class cabin in case I actually need a can to put in a sock, so I suppose my situation could be worse. If I can’t deal with a dehydrated juice drinker, how am I ever going to deal with terrorists?
Desiree reaches into a bin and retrieves an unopened carton. Since I’d finished off her last carton of OJ, I won’t take this one back up with me. No need to cause a revolt in the economy cabin as well.
I set my tray on top of a box of snacks so my hands are free to twist off the lid. It’s the kind of lid that breaks through an aluminum seal underneath. I tilt the juice box over the glass and squeeze, expecting the liquid to slosh directly into the cup. Unfortunately, that’s not the kind of day I’m having.
A thin orange stream fountains up at a gravity-defying angle. Before I can stop squeezing or lift the carton, the stream sprays across the front of Desiree’s new friend’s crisp white blouse.
Chapter Ten
Nathan
Asaerodynamic engineers ‘proved’ many years ago,thebumblebee cannot fly!Fortunately, thebumblebee doesn’t know that andgoes right onflying.
—MARYKAYASH
We get reflowed. I should have known to expect it, since our late departure from San Antonio would naturally lead to a delay on our flight to Green Bay. Crew Scheduling gave our flight to another crew already at the airport, meaning we’ll be working the one they’d originally been scheduled to fly to Colorado Springs.
I’m disappointed at first. I’d been looking forward to eating cheese curds and buying an authentic cheesehead hat that resembles a triangle of Swiss. But the cool thing is that we’re still getting paid for a 930-mile trip when we only have to work 63 miles. Plus it’s a beautiful time of year to be in the mountains.
Vincent flies the eighteen-minute leg from Denver to Colorado Springs. Eighteen minutes may sound easy, but you don’t get a break the way you do on longer flights. You go up, then come down, and those are the hardest parts of the job.
I just enjoy the view, and Colorado has quite a view to offer. The Garden of the Gods is a national landmark and has the kind of landscape you’d expect to see in a fantasy movie. Jagged red rocks stick out in awe-inspiringformations that are even more stunning against the backdrop of today’s blue sky.
“Are we hiking?” I ask.
Vincent doesn’t answer right away, and I remind myself he’s working.
Some trips are nightmares, with barely a ten-hour layover to eat, sleep, shower, repeat. You make more money that way, but it’s good to also have trips that feel like vacations. The three of us have overnighted here a few times together and usually go hiking when the weather is nice. Though last time I climbed Manitou Incline without them because of Desiree’s bad knee.
Back in the early 1900s, the incline started out as a tram going straight up the mountain. Once it was removed, the railroad ties left behind made the place a gym for some and a church for others. It had been both for me.
Hiking the Garden of the Gods offers a different kind of beauty from relatively flat trails. The views from the top of the incline are absolutely heavenly, but I doubt Claire would want to climb the equivalent of two Eiffel Towers. And I know the rest of our crew doesn’t.
