Skid

  “We’re waiting for the flight attendants to get the passengers situated.”

  “Well, I hope the pig is comfortable.”

  “Sir, we need you to move forward.”

  Jake had just settled into a comfortable position, listening to music, his thoughts syncing with the heavy rhythm of the bass guitar. Since he’d moved to the very back of the plane, his back against the wall of the toilet, he’d felt better. He could watch every movement on the airplane now and not wonder what was going on behind him.

  Maybe this was what it felt like to be in the mob.

  He’d watched the flight attendants move passengers forward one by one and knew his time was coming. Soon enough, the flight attendant with an aversion to warm temperatures stood over him.

  “The woman—how did she die?” It was a stupid question, but he needed to hear that she didn’t die because she was carrying something very valuable and someone murdered her.

  “She was very old. Very old.”

  “Can I stay back here?”

  “I’m afraid not. We’re moving the body back here.”

  Jake considered his options. On one hand, he didn’t want to be near a dead body, but on the other hand, he’d felt much less afraid since relocating, and a dead body couldn’t kill him. Haunt him, yes. Kill him, no.

  “I’d rather stay back here.”

  “That’s not an option, sir. Please, I need to move you forward.”

  Jake looked at the old man and young woman on the opposite side of the airplane, the couple he’d studied earlier. “They’re not moving.”

  The flight attendant followed his gaze. “That’s a special circumstance.”

  “Look, I’d feel better if I could stay here. I don’t care about being near a dead body.” He did, but he tried not to show it. He caught her looking at his hands gripping his stomach.

  “Are you still feeling sick?”

  Roll with it. “Yeah. Maybe an ulcer.” He remembered this flight attendant seemed sensitive to temperature. “Plus, it feels cooler back here.”

  She straightened. “You’re right. It does feel cool back here, doesn’t it?”

  “Much cooler.” He moved his hands around on his stomach for effect. “I’m afraid being with the other passengers might feel stuffy. Then I might get clammy, then sweaty…”

  She started fanning herself. “Okay, you can stay back here. But I’ll warn you that the daughter of the woman who died is very upset. It may not be a pretty scene.”

  “I’ll keep a low profile.”

  “I’ll take her under the arms,” Hank said, “if you’ll get her feet.”

  “Let’s be careful and go slowly,” Danny said, trying to distract himself from Hetty’s large bunion and two large corns bulging from underneath knee-highs that had fallen way short of the knee. She wore turquoise sandals like his grandmother used to, which did nothing to hide her overgrown toenails, a quarter of an inch thick. Danny squatted and reached underneath her knees. Normally, something like this would require pausing and deep breathing to prepare, but people were staring and the guy named Hank didn’t hesitate for a second. Danny’d prepared for a lot of things in his training, from engine failure to loss of cabin pressure, but not once did they simulate how to move a dead body.

  He’d read somewhere that Dutch women were the tallest in the world, and though Hetty’s back was curved, she still held on to that height, making her heavier than Danny expected. His neck veins bulged.

  As they lifted, Hetty’s head rolled and one arm flopped to the side. Someone gasped. Danny hoped it wasn’t him. He didn’t know what to look at. Her knee-length skirt? Her feet? The way her mouth opened like she was about to moan? Hank?

  Hank. He locked eyes with Danny and gave him a reassuring nod. Danny nodded back. He wasn’t sure what they’d confirmed—maybe that they were both wigging out but didn’t have the luxury of showing it.

  Suddenly Hank spoke. “Come on, Hetty. We’re moving you to some comfortable seats. We’ll take good care of you and get you back home where you belong.”

  A sense of peace rushed over Danny, like when he landed an airplane safely. He smiled at Hank, then looked at Hetty. What a life. A hundred and three years. The stories she could have told. Who had she loved? Who had she lost? He found himself holding her with as much care as he would anything of great value.

  “Right here?” Hank asked.

  “Yes.”

  It was an awkward angle, but Hank managed to squeeze between the seats and carry her through, one knee on the seat while the other leg hopped backward. They gently laid her across the seats. Hank folded her arms across her chest, gently brushed her hair out of her eyes, and then handed Danny a blanket. Together, they draped it over her. The only thing it didn’t cover were the tips of her sandals and those old toes. Danny marveled at where those feet could have traveled in a hundred and three years.

  “Can you reach a seat belt? We need to belt her in.”

  Hank looked confused.

  “Everyone has to belted in,” Danny explained. The last thing they needed was to hit turbulence and have her unexpectedly fly through the air. Hank snapped a belt loosely around her waist.

  “Thank you.” Danny shook Hank’s hand.

  Mrs. Kilpatrick blotted her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, and sat in the seat across the aisle. Hank, hands clasped in front of him, started to return to his seat.

  “Young man,” Mrs. Kilpatrick said.

  Hank turned. “Yes?”

  “My mother would have approved of you.” Her tone was not light or friendly, but in her eyes Danny sensed an earnestness. “She was very religious. I suppose that’s why she lived so long.” Her gaze fell to her mother’s covered body, then wound its way up to the small crowd that had gathered to watch. Then it moved to the man sitting in the very last row by the toilet. “Who is he?”

  Danny turned. He hadn’t even noticed him. The passenger’s head barely showed above the seats. Instead of looking at them, he watched the television screen on the seatback in front of him.

  GiGi spoke up. “He’s the one not feeling well. It’s cooler back here, so I told him he could stay. The last thing we need is for a passenger to get sick on us.”

  That was true. Danny turned to Mrs. Kilpatrick, who held her face in her hands. “Okay. Mrs. Kilpatrick, let us know if there is anything we can do for you.”

  “Just get me on the ground.”

  “That we can do.”

  Danny looked at Hank. “Thanks again for your help.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Danny gestured for GiGi to follow him. When they were out of earshot of Mrs. Kilpatrick, he said, “Okay. I want you to record everything on a piece of paper exactly how it happened. I’ll do the same. Hopefully her emotions will settle down and she’ll concentrate on getting her mother buried rather than suing us. But just in case.”

  “Danny, she’s going to sue. Bank on it.”

  Danny shook his head. Frankly, Mrs. Kilpatrick was the least of his problems. Now he had to return to the cockpit.

  Chapter 16

  Ms. Meredith, is there anything else we can help you with?”

  “Definitely. I cannot live without the Successories Attitude poster. That’s pretty much my life’s guiding light, you know? Attitude can make all the difference in the world.”

  “Yes ma’am. And would you like that framed?”

  “Yes. Framed.”

  “All right. I have the Successories Attitude poster, the Pop-Up Hot Dog Cooker, the Upside Down Tomato Garden, the Aerating Lawn Sandals, and the iSqueez Foot and Calf Massager. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Ohhhh, I’m really eying The Lost Art of Towel Origami book.”

  “That’s a popular one.”

  “And it’s got step-by-step instructions?”

  “Along with detailed, full-color pictures.”

  “Wow. Nice.”

  “Shall I add it?”

  “Sure.”
>
  “All right, ma’am. Your total is—”

  “Hold on.” Lucy turned to the man sitting on her left, who was directing a full-blown stare in her direction. “Can I help you?”

  “Can I help you?” he retorted.

  “With what?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No, what?”

  He shook his head. “It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone actually, um…”

  “What?”

  “Shop. On an airplane. With that magazine.” He pointed to the SkyMall catalog laid open on her drink tray. “And I fly nearly once a week.”

  “They happen to have very cool things in here.”

  “I’ve also never seen anyone use the airplane phone.”

  “Okay, look, I think you need to just”—suddenly Hank returned; Lucy reeled the words back in and tried a calmer voice—“look at it from a different perspective.”

  “Oh, I am.” The man grinned. “Right now I’m thanking God for my wife. I thought her shopping trips to Target were bad, but she’s got nothing on you.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Lucy’s attention was drawn back to the friendly voice on the other end of the phone. “Yes, um, just charge it to my card. Thanks.” She hung up the phone.

  Hank’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even know they had phones on airplanes!”

  “Yeah. See? Right here on the other side of the remote control for the television.”

  “It’s like being at home.” He smiled.

  “Yes,” said the man to her left, “except it’ll cost you your year’s bonus to make a phone call, and you’ve only got six channels to choose from on this television.”

  “That’s one more than I have at home.”

  The man raised an eyebrow at Hank’s comment, then went back to reading his newspaper.

  “So, what did you do back there?” Lucy asked Hank.

  “I had to help move the woman who died.”

  “Ick!”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “How’s her daughter?”

  “Sad.” Hank noticed the magazine. “So what are you doing?”

  “Shopping.” She pointed to the page. “Look at this. I didn’t buy it, but it’s cool. It can water fourteen plants while you’re away. And this lantern stays lit for ten days.”

  “Do you camp?”

  “No.”

  “Why do you need a lantern?”

  “You know, um, in case Armageddon happens.”

  He laughed. “Sure.”

  The man next to her leaned in. “I suppose the calf and foot massager will come in handy during Armageddon too? And I don’t know about you, but in my book, everybody experiencing the end of days needs to know how to fold a towel so it looks like a rooster.”

  Lucy swallowed, trying to hold back a surge of emotion. She didn’t need this guy’s lip. He made her feel insecure. Sure, she liked to shop, and her shopping habit increased during emotional duress. She supposed it was the equivalent of a smoking habit, but to be fair, it wouldn’t cause cancer.

  Hank turned to the man, smiled, and said, “And I guess that Rolex tells time in some extraordinary way?”

  The smug look slid right off his face, and he brushed his hands against his silk shirt. He tapped at his shiny watch. “It takes a year to build these.”

  “Hmm. Good use of time,” Hank said.

  The man snapped open his newspaper and went back to reading. Lucy turned to Hank, wide eyed and giggling. “That was funny. But unexpected. I didn’t think you would say…I mean, that you would, you know…”

  “Stand up for a newfound friend?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You remind me a lot of my sister Cassie.”

  “Oh?”

  “She likes to shop. My father always told her she was trying to fill a void in her life.”

  Lucy looked away. That thought had crossed her mind as well.

  Hank laughed. “I think she just likes clothes.”

  Lucy laughed too. “Well, I don’t suppose I really needed all that stuff. I don’t even eat hot dogs. Real hot dogs, anyway. I eat tofu hot dogs. But I do like to make creations out of towels. I went on a cruise once, and every day the cleaning lady made a different animal for me. It was terrific.”

  Lucy realized that, for just a moment, she’d completely forgotten about whether or not Jeff was onboard. It felt good. The more she’d tried not to think about him, the more she did. It was a relief to forget about it.

  The quiet of the cabin settled her. Conversations lulled. Reading lights went off. A couple people snored. She was beginning to feel tired herself. She’d vowed to get some sleep on the plane so she wouldn’t be too exhausted for her trip.

  But first, she needed a bathroom break. She rose and Hank stood, letting her through like the gentleman he was. She noticed new passengers had filled in the gaps where no one had been sitting before the woman died. The cabin looked crowded. She set her sights on the bathrooms located in the middle of the plane and started toward them.

  Then something caught her eye.

  Through the darkened cabin, she immediately spotted him. His platinum, spiky hair glowed, looking almost green. He didn’t notice her, though, being to busy gazing into the overly made-up eyes of the woman she’d seen when they boarded the flight.

  In what could only be described as a knee-jerk reaction, Lucy’s feet left the carpet and she dove headfirst over Hank’s lap and back into her seat, crawling over him like an unruly toddler, careful to keep her head below the seats.

  As she knocked into her other row-mate, he rolled his eyes. “What is it now? The duty-free cart is coming by?”

  “Bathrooms are full,” Lucy panted. “Not supposed to form a line. Don’t you listen to the flight attendants’ instructions?”

  He went back to reading.

  “I would’ve moved,” Hank said as she maneuvered herself into a sitting position.

  “He’s back there!” Lucy said in the whispering equivalent of a yell. She sounded like milk being steamed at Starbucks.

  “Who?”

  “Jeff.” She clutched Hank’s arm, no longer able to feel any positive energy around her. “I guess he got moved forward with the rest of the passengers in the back.” She covered her mouth. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he is on this flight with another woman!”

  “Okay, okay,” Hank said, holding her arm. “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

  “I don’t know.” She sucked in a deep breath that pulled her nostrils closed. “He will not enter my aura. He is barred from my—”

  “Lucy,” Hank said, “you’re hyperventilating.”

  “No, no. I’m deep breathing. I’m restoring the natural balance of oxygen to my…” She did feel a little lightheaded. Before she knew it, Hank had punched the Call button. “Oh, Hank, no, that’s not necessary, I’m just…” The cabin spun. Thankfully she wore her seat belt.

  A flight attendant appeared, the friendlier one.

  “My friend here is feeling a little lightheaded,” Hank said. “Nothing bad, but I think she could use a wet washrag, maybe some water?”

  “I can wet some paper towels.”

  “That’s fine. Whatever you have.”

  “All right. I’ll be back.”

  Lucy’s hands trembled, and her body shook. She had not expected this reaction. Anger, yes. Complete meltdown, not out of the question. Passing out? That meant some sort of ion was out of balance.

  It baffled her. She’d maintained a very healthy perspective on it all for at least three weeks.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Hank said.

  “I just need a little water, that’s all.”

  “No, I mean in life. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to get through this.”

  Lucy looked at him, tears coming to her eyes. “You think so?”

  “You’re a strong person. I can tell.”

  Lucy laid her hand on his forearm. “Thank you.”


  The flight attendant returned, handing over sopping paper towels and a small glass of water. “This is stressful on everybody. Don’t feel bad,” she said.

  “I’m already feeling better,” Lucy replied, glad to have the excuse of a dead body onboard.

  “My name is Kim if you need anything else. I’ll come check on you in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Okay, thank you. I really am feeling much better.” She sipped the water and blotted her forehead. She focused. Recentered. Drew from within herself everything she needed.

  “Are you feeling better?” Hank asked.

  “Yes. I need you to pose as my boyfriend.”

  The first sign that Danny might be murdered in the cockpit occurred when the captain asked James to take his break. It wasn’t time or his turn and, with the ACI onboard, was certainly against protocol.

  Since returning to the cockpit, it had been mostly quiet, thanks to James’s leaving, except for a few comments made by the ACI, most of them pertaining to how bored one must get staring at clouds and dark sky for twelve hours. Danny guessed he was trying to set them up, get them to confess to reading a book or magazine in the cockpit. He was an odd duck for sure, but nothing compared to the woman sitting next to Danny.

  The silence was undone by a strange noise behind them. They turned to find the ACI fast asleep, his head fallen backward, his mouth wide open. With each breath, his snoring gained momentum.

  “He’s asleep!” Danny whispered. “Wow. With that kind of snoring, maybe he’s got sleep apnea or something. That’s a little scary. I’d hate to see him behind a wheel in five-o’clock traffic.”

  That didn’t stimulate any conversation or even cause a chuckle. Several agonizing minutes later, though, the captain began to speak.

  “You know, Bubba, sometimes life is like a good tailwind. It can get you there fast, but at the end of the day, you still must land the plane, and if your landing gear gets stuck, you’re probably going to crash anyway.”

  Danny nodded to be polite, because he had no idea what she was talking about, though he suspected it wasn’t the actual plane. He wondered if this was code for “I’m going to have you flying pond hoppers for NAIA college basketball teams for the rest of your life.”