“The United States used them for photographic reconnaissance and antisubmarine patrols. From the air, they could see a submarine rise to the surface and radio in its position. During the war, of the more than eighty thousand ships escorted by airships, not one was lost to enemy action.” He fingered the half wing and the anchor attached to it. “My grandfather was a hero. Of course, in the eighties, the military cut off funding for the use of airships. Leave it to the government to get rid of something that saved millions of lives.” Eddie leaned into his seat and got comfortable. “My opinion? Airships were like diamonds in the rough, you know?”
“Again?” Kim asked, looking up at the light indicating a passenger needed them.
“This guy needs to get a grip,” GiGi said. “We’ve not even cleared ten thousand feet!”
“At least the pig’s asleep.”
“True.”
GiGi normally served on the A-Line team, caring for the front of the aircraft and the business-class passengers, but with the pig and the prisoner, she had a feeling she’d better hang back with the B-Line and make sure nothing catastrophic happened. She’d been A-Line for so long, she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to stare at the long stretch of rows and realize how fast they had to get the food out to make sure it was still hot.
Kim flipped through a fashion magazine. “I am freezing! I’ve got to tell them to turn the air down.”
“I’ll take care of it,” GiGi lied. Why share the new thermostat? One of these days these young ones would be begging for this kind of air.
GiGi eyed the hot-looking woman on the front cover of the magazine, drenched like it was some sort of personal goal to shine with one’s own oil. Of course, puffy lips can sell about anything, she supposed. She also bet there were eight different ads for antiperspirant in the first twenty pages, because at the end of the day, in the real world, not even fat-lipped women can make sweat sexy.
Her mind wandered to Leendert and that small, admiring smile she’d sensed as she talked to the agent. She pushed away the thought of how desperate she must be for affection and decided to treat it like a perk. He did have gorgeous eyes.
“What are you thinking about?”
GiGi cut her eyes sideways at Kim, and now Sandy, who were both looking at her. She realized she was smiling. “Just enjoying how much the pilots must be sweating right now.”
Sandy said, “I was on a domestic, and one of the FOs had a total nervous breakdown about the ACI. He had, like, a panic attack or something!”
“Glad nobody’s watching us like that.” Kim flipped a page.
“Keeps them humble,” GiGi said. “And when there’s no ACI onboard, sometimes you gotta do it yourself. Lean in, listen, and learn, ladies.”
Kim closed her magazine, and Sandy winked.
“This is better than anything you’ll find in there,” GiGi said, nodding at the magazine. “Okay, this was a while back, when I flew domestics to the East Coast. Every so often, I’d end up with Captain Jerry Boderry. I swear that was his real name.” Sandy and Kim cracked up. “Let me sum up Jerry with this illustration. At the hotel, Jerry wore a Speedo to the pool.”
The girls grimaced.
“Married, five kids.”
“Oh, that’s disgusting,” Kim said.
“We flew to three major cities. In every one he had a girlfriend to hook up with when we were there, and without ever specifically mentioning them, he did plenty of alluding, like they were some sort of prize. I confronted him about it one time, and he told me if I was lucky, I might become number four.”
Kim’s jaw dropped. “He did not! What a creep!”
“So, during flight, I snuck his bag out of the closet, opened it, and pulled out his shirt from the day before. I took it to the bathroom, applied a fresh coat of fire red lipstick, and planted a nice kiss right on the collar. Then I folded it, stuck it back in the bag, and, well, the rest you can guess.”
Sandy and Kim glanced at each other.
“Ladies, they’re all the same. I know you want to think the egos are few and far between, but you give a guy this much power, fuel, and fire, and they can’t help themselves.”
“I’ve met some nice pilots,” Kim said.
“Yeah. And you’re single, right, Kim? You better start putting two and two together.”
Kim pressed her lips together, like she was holding in a barrage of disagreement.
“Honey,” GiGi said. “Trust me on this. I’ve been flying a long time. They don’t respect us. We’re just entertainment for a night.”
“What happened to Jerry Boderry?” Sandy asked.
“Well, rumor has it he pays three thousand dollars a month in child support and gained too much weight for a Speedo.”
The captain signaled they’d cleared ten thousand feet. GiGi unfastened her seat belt. “All right, ladies. Let’s get these people fed and put to bed. And Kim, go tell the freak in 20E that we have two hundred and three other passengers onboard, okay?”
“I think I should punch it again,” Hank said, staring up at the light. “Maybe it didn’t work.”
“They can’t get up now,” Lucy said, eying him. “They have to wait until it’s safe. What did you need?”
“There’s not a barf bag in my pocket.”
Lucy leaned away. “Are you going to barf?”
“No. But every passenger should have one.”
“You can have mine.”
“That’s okay. I want my own.”
“I fly a lot, and flight attendants, they don’t really like high-maintenance passengers.”
“I think this airline is different. Didn’t you hear them before we took off? ‘If there’s anything we can do to make your flight more comfortable, please let us know. We look forward to serving you.’” Hank smiled. “I like that motto. If everyone could just treat one another like that, you know?”
Lucy studied him. He was dead serious. “Hank, they don’t really mean that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They just say that to sound pleasant.”
Hank smiled. “Well, I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt.”
“Hank, you’re really one of a kind.”
“Why?”
“Today there’s so much doubt and too little benefit. I mean, there’s, like, no negative energy around you.”
“Not true. I’ve got static electricity making my slacks cling.”
“I’m serious. How do you do that?”
“God.”
“I’m tracking with everything you’re saying,” Lucy smiled. She was, until he mentioned God. She could trust the universe, which held everything in a delicate balance. Somehow, someway, there was something good for her in this life, something blessed waiting for her. Mother Nature had been giving her signs for weeks.
“God has good things for you, Lucy, if you trust Him.”
“I don’t believe in God. I’m an atheist.”
The first distressed look she’d seen on Hank popped onto his face.
“But I do believe there is an energy we all share that flows throughout the earth, connecting us as human beings. It’s powerful. I think it’s the force that keeps the good in us, helps us find happiness.”
Hank looked down at his hands. “Oh.”
“What?”
“It’s just, I don’t believe in atheists.”
“You don’t believe in atheists?”
“God says that everyone is given a measure of faith.”
“Sir?”
They both looked up to find one of the flight attendants standing above them.
“I think you accidentally pushed your flight attendant Call button. Right? So let’s turn this off, and we’ll be by with drinks momentarily.”
“Actually,” Hank said as she turned to walk away, “I need a bag.”
“A bag?”
“The blue one. I don’t have one.” He pointed to the pocket, then smiled. “I would hate to not be prepared.”
“Yes. We would hate that too.” She turned, and Hank jotted down a note.
“What are you writing over there?” Lucy asked.
“Top-secret stuff.” He smiled, turning his pad over.
“So,” Lucy said, crossing her arms, “I suppose you want to talk about God, convince me He’s real?”
“Not really. I want to talk about why you keep looking over your shoulder to the back of the plane.”
GiGi flew down the aisle toward the Call button light. She did not have time for this. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She didn’t have the patience for it. She glanced at Leendert, who grinned at her. She didn’t return the favor.
“Oh no,” she sighed. The light belonged to the guy who couldn’t stop clutching his stomach. This was not a good sign. “Sir, are you okay?”
His eyes widened. “Why?”
“Your Call button.”
“I know, but why do you assume I’m not okay?”
“You’re sweating. Is your stomach still bothering you?”
The guy next to him said, “I have EMT training.”
“I was hoping I could change seats. Just something with a little more room.”
“I’ve adjusted the temperature. You should feel it soon. I already feel better myself. As far as seats, there are a couple near the back.”
“Great.”
The man followed GiGi to the back, passing the cranky old bat who kept complaining about the pig, not that GiGi was fond of the hoofed animal. The woman’s ancient mother slept soundly next to her, so GiGi hoped the woman would stay quiet.
“Is this okay?” GiGi asked, pointing to the very last seat on the aisle.
“Perfect.”
“Just let me know if you need anything, especially if it gets too hot for you.”
“Really, I’m fine. I’m not hot, and I’m not sick.”
“Uh-huh. Look, don’t play the tough guy, okay? I once flew with a planeload of firefighters coming back from a convention. We hit some turbulence, and well, let’s just say those boys were no match for a pocket of air. I’m feeling hot again, so I’ll go check the temp, okay?”
The man nodded, and GiGi went up front to turn down the thermostat and check on the A-Line.
“Everything’s nice and quiet,” Gloria said. “I can’t believe you’re working B-Line.”
“Me either, but I’ll survive. I gotta check on our emotionally disturbed pax.” GiGi glanced toward the family with small kids and the man who kept insisting his briefcase might be stolen from the overhead bin, then went to see the pig lady.
“How are you two doing?” GiGi couldn’t quite muster up the right expression—it hung somewhere between a courtesy smile and complete disgust as she eyed the pig, fast asleep but huffing and puffing like it’d just come off a treadmill. The woman stroked the pig like it had fur, but it didn’t—just random, wiry white hairs sticking up like her uncle Ned’s. Its pink skin resembled what her legs might look like if she didn’t moisturize with pharmaceutical-grade lotion she’d blackmailed out of her dermatologist.
The woman looked at her pig. “He’s napping pretty hard. Usually he closes his eyes but doesn’t really sleep. He’s out cold, though.” She sounded slightly nervous. “Are we going to hit turbulence?”
GiGi tried her calm voice, the one she used with FAs who had a hard time getting a grip for one reason or another. “Ma’am, you are perfectly safe. The airplane has been checked out by top mechanics, the pilots have years of experience, and thousands of people travel across the Atlantic every day. I promise, we’ll get you there safely.”
“But what about the turbulence?”
“Ma’am, turbulence is just part of flying. It’s nothing to be alarmed about.”
“I’m not alarmed,” Pig Lady said, stroking Chucky a little faster, “but I would like to be prepared.”
Nothing could prepare anyone for turbulence, which was why most airline injuries were a result of turbulence. The pilots always said it looked like a smooth ride ahead, but in actuality, it was like guessing where an age spot might pop up.
She supposed it was as unpredictable as life itself.
But that wouldn’t help Ms. Piggy. “We have very sophisticated computers that predict this sort of thing. Just pay attention to the seat-belt light and you’ll be fine.”
“Um, okay. Maybe I could get some water?”
“Sure. Just a second.”
GiGi made her way to the back to the galley where Kim was ready with the drink cart. “I need a water.”
“Everything okay?” she asked as she poured.
GiGi took the cup and gulped it. “As long as that pig and that old lady stay asleep, I think we’ll be fine. Is it hot in here?”
“I’m freezing, actually.”
GiGi rolled her eyes and vowed to keep the thermostat a carefully guarded secret.
Kim said, “Did you know that Boeing just installed a cabin-controlled thermostat?”
Chapter 13
Danny opened one eye and checked his watch. He’d barely slept, but that wasn’t unusual for the first break. The great thing about being the relief pilot was actually flying the airplane on the way home. That meant, however, that he had to take the first break on the way there, which was the hardest to sleep during. Dinner service, alive and active, meant lots of noise and activity, with people getting up and down for bathroom breaks, reading, and laughing at the inflight movies. The other drag was that by the time he returned to the cockpit at the end of his break, the meal they’d saved for him would be just warm enough to tease him into thinking it might taste good.
He still had a few minutes, so he kept his eyes closed and tried to relax. He chuckled as he listened to the A-Line discuss the thermostat. One of the ladies said, “Finally, the temperature feels normal. Don’t let GiGi near that thing, and if she turns it down, turn it back.”
He had to admit that was a genius move by the captain. Cabin temperature on internationals always became a battle, which was half the reason he carried a sweater with him and pulled it over his uniform when he went on break.
The other half of the reason was to blend in. Most of the time, the business-class passengers had no interest in striking up conversations with anyone, but occasionally, there would be one person who’d wanted to be a pilot his entire life and decided Danny’s break was a good time to ask a few questions.
Thankfully, nobody bothered him, but he still only managed a light catnap. He wondered what was going on in the cockpit—whether James had made a fool of himself, whether the ACI had gotten rid of his hiccups, and what, exactly, was the captain doing? She was a curious soul.
He rose and took a bathroom break, pulled off his sweater, then decided to check on Anna Sue and Chucky.
“How are you two doing?” Danny said, squatting by her seat. He looked at Chucky. “He seems perfectly comfortable.”
Anna Sue nodded, a faint smile indicating more worry than anything. “He normally doesn’t sleep this much.”
“Well, flying can do that to people and, um, pigs. Are you…doing okay?” He wasn’t sure if this was a safe or even legal question for an “emotionally challenged” woman.
A grin broke through her anxious expression. “Yes, I really am. I have to remind myself sometimes, you know? Everything is fine, I’m feeling fine, so no need to worry, right?” She stroked Chucky.
Danny patted her arm. “Right. Let us know if we can do anything for you, okay?”
“I will. Thank you so much. You’ve been so kind.” She lowered her voice. “And I think the rest of the passengers have accepted Chucky. I haven’t heard anybody complain.”
Danny nodded, rose, and found GiGi in the back of the airplane. “Why are you back here?”
“Well, Danny, we have a pig, a prisoner, a woman who hates pigs, a passenger who has requested a barf bag, and another one who probably needs one but won’t admit it. I thought it better that I station myself here, just in case, you know, something gets weird.”
She looked at him like it was all his fault.
“Well, it is a full moon.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Everything okay? Is the prisoner minding his manners?”
“Not as much as the pig. But we’ll handle him.”
“What about the passenger who wanted the barf bag?”
“He’s fine. He’s just high maintenance.”
“All right. Well, hang in there. Only eight more hours to go.”
That, finally, drew a smile from GiGi. “So what’s going on in the cocky-pit? Nothing fun with an ACI, I’m sure.”
“An ACI with hiccups.”
“I guess you have your hands full too.” She leaned in. “And Captain Brewster-Yarley? What a wack job, huh?”
“Well, she’s easier to handle than James.”
GiGi indicated she couldn’t agree more.
“Okay, I better get up there. Let me know if people start howling and growing fangs.”
GiGi laughed and Danny smiled as he walked to the front of the aircraft. A little kindness went a long way, except in a long-term engagement, in which case it obviously meant nothing.
Gloria moved the drink cart to block someone storming into the cockpit as Danny gave the secret knock.
“Welcome back, Bubba,” the captain said.
“Um, thanks. How’s it going up here?”
“Great,” James said flatly.
Danny buckled into the jump seat across from Smilt and tried a friendly smile. Smilt nodded as he tapped his pencil against his clipboard, his gaze wandering around the cockpit like he hadn’t been sitting there for two hours.
The captain sighed, loudly. It was almost a moan, enough to make everyone turn, but not quite enough to assure one that inquiry was needed.
“I remember the old days, you know,” she said, staring out at the clouds as they passed through the top of a thunderhead. “They used to let kids come up here, sit in our laps, and look out the front. You know they used to serve sodas up here in glasses? Real glass, like the windshield. Nothing but a thin sheet of glass separating us and a five-hundred-mile-per-hour wind. Still gives me shivers when I think about it. Anyway, I miss that kind of service. Of course, we have it better than those before us. It wasn’t so long ago that the pilots got the leftovers, if there were any. Times have changed.” She sighed again.