Skid

  “Who?”

  The agent stepped between GiGi and Leendert. “I’ll handle this. Don’t engage him. That’s only going to make things worse because it’s what he wants.”

  “I’m not comfortable with this. What if he turns violent?”

  “He’s handcuffed. And he’s not violent. He took off with some diamonds from an old lady.”

  A diamond thief with heartbreaking eyes? GiGi’s knees felt weaker than usual.

  “Is he going to make some kind of scene?” she asked. “Because we have a federal inspector onboard looking to find any kind of problem.”

  Leendert jolted forward, engaging GiGi. “Please. I want to move. Please, I bet of you. To the front.”

  “It’s beg and you’re not going anywhere,” Agent Tasler said, pushing him back into his seat. She turned to GiGi. “Okay, maybe if you could cover up her toes?”

  “We’re out of blankets.”

  “Here, take my blazer.”

  “Okay, sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

  GiGi took the blazer and draped it over Hetty’s toes. Ulcer Guy looked up and took off his earphones.

  “Everything’s fine, sir,” she told him. “The man across the aisle just requested she be fully covered.”

  The flight attendant bell rang. GiGi sighed and walked up the aisle. No surprise, it was Hank.

  “What can I get for you?”

  He pointed to his breakfast tray. “It’s just a little cold. May I have it warmed up?”

  Milk and Cookies was back. “Can I ask you something?”

  He gave her his full attention. “Of course.”

  “Were you raised with a nanny?”

  “A nanny?”

  “Or rich? Are you one of those rich people who flies in coach and dresses like you’re not rich even though you are?”

  Hank laughed. “I’m not rich. I was raised in a large family, have six brothers and sisters. We worked in the family business.”

  “Catering?”

  “Clowning. I was the mime.”

  Maybe he was making up for lost time. She took his tray. “I’ll get you a new breakfast.”

  “You are so kind. Thank you.”

  She turned, then stopped. Maybe Hank could calm Leendert down. Do one of those prayer things, smile and tell him it’s going to be okay. But nobody knew they had a prisoner onboard, and they should probably keep it that way.

  If things got out of control, she could give Milk and Cookies a try. For now, though, things seemed to be somewhat quiet, if Leendert could get his paranoia under control.

  Then a noise so peculiar it caused a loud, collective gasp blasted through the entire cabin like a rush of wind.

  GiGi covered her mouth, trying to hold in a scream.

  Chapter 19

  Danny scribbled another bullet point in the notebook he held.

  “Can we think of anything else?” he asked. “We’ve got to be thorough.” He’d pointed out the need to write down every behavior they’d witnessed from the ACI so far. If this man was under the influence of alcohol or some other substance, he was far more likely to write up a bad report, or at least an inconsistent one. That could put all of their jobs in jeopardy.

  Danny gripped the pen. “Come on, let’s think. Anything else? Nobody smelled anything on him? noticed him pouring anything into a beverage?”

  “Let’s not rush to judgment,” James said.

  Danny glared at him. “I don’t know, James. That seems to be your specialty.”

  “Don’t get defensive,” James said, holding his hands up. “You’re the one who confessed to living with your girlfriend. This guy hasn’t confessed to anything.”

  “Actions say a lot about a person,” the captain said in her quiet voice. “Actions speak louder than verbs.”

  A few choice nouns plus a couple of inappropriate adjectives clung to the tip of Danny’s tongue. He didn’t know what verbs had to do with it, but he was horrible at English, so whatever the captain was trying to say was going right over his head. As usual.

  Suddenly, over the intercom the flight attendants used to contact the cockpit, they heard screams. Danny lunged out of the jump seat, dropping his notebook. He leaned toward the speaker with the captain and James.

  “Was that screaming?” he asked.

  Again they heard it, patchy and intermittent.

  “It sounds like screaming!” James said.

  “Captain!” A woman’s voice crackled through the radio. “Captain! It’s…it’s…”

  “Hello?” The captain listened hard. “Over? Over?”

  “This is Sandy. Captain!” She sounded out of breath, panicked.

  “What’s going on back there?”

  Danny rushed to the peephole. He could see people moving around, but couldn’t identify the problem.

  “Please, stay in your seats!” they heard the flight attendant say. “Everyone, stay in your seats!”

  The captain switched on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. “Sandy? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, yes, I can hear you.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “It’s the…the…” More screams in the background.

  “What?”

  “The pig. It’s awake. And …um…”

  “Yes? What?”

  “Hungry.”

  GiGi gestured forcefully, abrasively, and with no room for misunderstanding. But she kept her voice calm as she stood in front of Anna Sue, whose wide eyes were shiny with tears.

  “I don’t know what has gotten into him. I’ve never seen him act this way.” Anna Sue’s knuckles were bloodless white as she gripped the headrest of her seat. A passenger nearby started to stand.

  “Sir, sit down. Sit. Thank you.” GiGi refocused on Anna Sue and tried to ignore the horrific grunting and squealing sounds carrying through the cabin. She couldn’t see Chucky anymore. He’d disappeared into a galley. She heard a crashing noise, more snorting, and then a bloodcurdling squeal, enough to make any vegetarian go weak in the knees. “What is wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. Usually he wakes up in a good mood.” Anna Sue put her hands to her cheeks, glancing back and forth, up and down the aisle. “If he’s hungry, he usually just nuzzles me with his…his…his snout. He usually eats once an hour, but he slept so long. He’s just… He’s… He hasn’t eaten in…hours.”

  GiGi tried to determine which would be the bigger problem: a pig on the loose or a hysterical woman. An irritated pig roaming up and down the aisles was going to bring some lawsuits, but she wouldn’t personally be sued. However, there was no telling what a hysterical, emotionally challenged woman might do.

  Kim hurried toward them, half her ponytail falling down and her lipstick smudged up the side of her cheek. “I don’t know… Should we… Does it bite? I’m wondering if we should—”

  GiGi made herself sound calm, the way her third therapist used to talk. “Has Sandy contacted the cockpit?” The word cockpit hit a high octave, but overall she thought her words were measured and pacifying.

  “Yes. She told them. I don’t know what they’re… Maybe they’re contacting the company. I don’t know. Maybe we should—”

  “Kim, look at me. Keep the passengers calm. Let’s not worry about what to do about the pig right this moment. We need to make sure the pig is calm. Can you get Milk and Cookies?”

  “He does like chocolate chip,” Anna Sue said.

  GiGi tried a smile. “Why don’t you sit here while we figure out what to do?”

  “I’ve just never seen him so mad.”

  “Do you have any medication you might want to take, something you carry for emergencies?”

  “No. Nothing works on me. The doctors have tried everything, which is why I have Chucky.” Tears dripped down her cheeks just as GiGi started to ask if she had any medication for the pig. “I’ve got to have him before we land. I have to! Are we landing? I feel the airplane moving.”

  Yes, the airplane’s moving, lady. At five hundred mi
les an hour. Hank appeared by GiGi’s side. “How can I help?” A sharp-as-a-knife but familiar shriek pierced the already-noisy cabin.

  “Mrs. Kilpatrick,” Hank said with a longsuffering expression.

  “See what you can do with her. Do that calm thing. That look.”

  “What look?”

  “You know, the thing you did earlier. That thing you did with your eyes.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  GiGi gently shoved him on. “Just go. Do your thing.”

  She looked toward the front of the plane where the pig roamed. She heard screams and noticed people throwing their breakfast food into the aisles. “Okay…okay, this is good. People are offering up their breakfasts. Maybe that will slow Chucky down.”

  Anna Sue leaned into the aisle to see better. “Oh, um…he doesn’t like tortillas.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve tried corn tortillas too. He won’t eat them.”

  “He’s a pig. Shouldn’t he just scarf down the entire thing, wrapper and all?”

  “I might’ve, you know, spoiled him over the years.”

  “So you’re telling me he’s not going to eat what everyone is throwing into the aisle?”

  “Oh, no. No. He loves eggs. They just can’t be touching the tortilla or be served with, um, bacon.”

  GiGi pinched the bridge of her nose.

  Sandy rushed toward her. “I’ve contacted the captain.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “They’re discussing it.”

  “Did you explain the pig is actually roaming around the cabin? Rooting? Did you use the word ‘rooting’?”

  “I explained it the best I could. They’re trying to come up with a—”

  “Forget it. I’ll handle it.” GiGi returned to the back of the plane and grabbed the intercom. “All right, everyone. We need your full attention. Please, stay calm and listen to my instructions.”

  She noticed Hank near Mrs. Kilpatrick. He gave her a reassuring nod. But more than that, he gave her a good idea: call the pig by name. It had worked with a dead woman. Maybe it’d work with a pig. It would’ve helped if the pig didn’t share a name with a mass-murdering doll, but she had to work with it.

  The pig squealed, causing another round of screams. Hank fanned Mrs. Kilpatrick. Ulcer apparently had the volume turned up on his earphones, because he was completely engaged in whatever show he was watching and had no idea what was going on.

  “Hey.”

  GiGi turned.

  Agent Tasler stood with her feet spread and her hands clasped behind her back. “Can I assist you?”

  “I don’t know. Do you have special training in pig wrangling?”

  “No need to be sarcastic.”

  “I’m not being sarcastic. In case you haven’t noticed, we have an actual porcinus brutus onboard, and it needs to be wrangled back into its seat. If you come up with any ideas, let me know. In the meantime, go ahead and take your seat.” GiGi turned on the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, I need your complete and full attention. Obviously, we have a very strange situation onboard. I can assure you that nobody is in danger. The pig is a service animal and is highly trained.”

  “Highly” was a bit of a stretch. “His name is Chucky, and he likes chocolate-chip cookies.”

  She paused, hoping to hear a few chuckles. Nothing came her way.

  “He also likes scrambled eggs, but isn’t fond of tortillas. All of you with toddlers can relate, right? So, here’s what were going to do. For those of you who’ve so generously offered the pig your breakfast by placing it in the aisle, if you’ll please pick that up, unwrap it, and then put the eggs only in the aisle, that would really help. In the meantime, we know you’re hungry, so Sandy, Kim, and the rest of the crew will hand out all-you-can-eat cocktail peanuts.” She took a deep breath and hoped this would work. “Thank you for your cooperation in this matter, and thank you for flying Atlantica.”

  Then she heard, “Leendert! Leendert?”

  Shiny lip gloss and four coats of mascara later, Lucy sat ready to prove she’d also superficially moved on. Except now the man supposed to be helping her prove this was being called away yet again.

  Not only that, she was certain Jeff hadn’t spotted her yet. He was too busy tending to his girlfriend. Lucy checked herself in her compact mirror one more time. She looked too tired. Why hadn’t she brought her skin brightening cream onboard? Oh yeah. It was over three ounces. Traveling with it never occurred to her when she bought the twenty-ounce tub.

  The pig raced by again. She’d thrown her breakfast burrito into the aisle, but there was no way she was going to unwrap it for a pig. Sighing, she decided to add some blush. She wanted to glow like she’d found happiness.

  She’d tried four dozen blushes through the years, but she’d never managed to find that color that made her look like she glowed from within. She had to settle for looking like life was a vacation. Or at least like she’d just come from a vacation.

  “He could be a while.”

  Lucy glanced at the man next to her. He smiled.

  “He’ll be back,” she said.

  “Maybe.”

  “Why do you care?”

  He shrugged. “You just look anxious. And not about the pig.”

  “I’ve been sitting here trying to capture some positive energy, but all I feel is disappointment, fear, and bitterness.”

  “Welcome to life.”

  “You know what? Why don’t you just go back to whatever it was you were doing?”

  “I was listening to your boyfriend talk to his girlfriend.”

  Lucy peeked over the back of her seat. “They’re five rows back. How can you hear them?”

  “Your boyfriend has a loud voice.”

  That was true. Jeff didn’t have volume control. At a party, restaurant, bowling alley, or airport, his voice beat out everything.

  “He was talking about you.”

  Lucy scoffed. “How do you know?”

  “In the last five minutes, he’s said the word ‘ex’ eight times.”

  Lucy wrapped her arms around herself. Her stomach roiled with a sick feeling of inadequacy. She was just an ex? No name?

  The man leaned toward her. “Look, I’m a lawyer. I’ve got a Rolex and seven-hundred-dollar shoes. I can make a very good impression when I want to.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I help you out, and you go to dinner with me in Amsterdam.”

  Lucy swallowed. He had to be in his midforties. Not bad-looking—red hair, tan skin, and an Ed Harris smile. And he did dress nicely. Was that a silk shirt? But hadn’t he mentioned a wife?

  Lucy traced the edge of her hairline with one finger. What was she doing? Trading one man who was supposed to pose as her boyfriend with another man offering to do the same? Was that cheating?

  She mentally paged through The Secret, trying to remember anything that addressed this situation.

  “You could stand up, pretend to need something out of the overhead. I could help you,” he said.

  “We’re supposed to stay seated.”

  “Then we’ll wait until the time is right.” He grinned like he wanted something.

  “Maybe I’ll just wait for Hank.”

  The man laughed. “You think that guy’s going to impress your ex? I mean, no offense, he’s nice enough, but he’s small, skinny, and in case you haven’t noticed, a little geeky.”

  “Fresh faced.”

  “Okay. Whatever. It’s your life.” He went back to reading his newspaper. “I’m just saying, that chick your ex is with is hot, and he’s not going to care or notice unless you one-up him. It’s how life works, which is why I wear a Rolex.”

  “But don’t fly first class?”

  “They were booked for this flight.”

  “What did he say about me? You said you could hear him.”

  The man tucked his chin, chuckled a little, and said nothing.

  “What?”
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  He glanced at her. “You are desperate, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t need his approval.”

  “Right.”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “No. He’s a jerk for leaving a beautiful woman like you.”

  Lucy paused, waiting for that weak moment of being swayed by flattery to wash over and leave. “I thought you said that chick was hot.”

  “But not classy like you are.” He looked her up and down. “Not everyone can pull off polka dots.”

  Lucy stared forward. It was now or never. She couldn’t let four coats of mascara go to waste.

  Danny could not endure this any longer. “The ACI’s out there. There’s no telling what he’s writing down.”

  “I need more time to think,” said the captain.

  She’d been thinking for five minutes. At the same time, James gabbed about how he used to rope calves and ride bulls on his grandfather’s farm when he was ten years old and felt sure he could get the pig too.

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, I think we need to take some kind of action now. This situation is getting out of control and quickly.”

  “Bubba, people make most of their mistakes in life because they open their flaps too soon. They want to jump and act on instinct. Instinct is critical, there’s no doubt about that, but oftentimes, if we stop and think about what we’re doing, we’ll understand better how to handle a situation.”

  Danny didn’t say it, but he was pretty certain this was one of those moments when you wanted to go with your gut and then tell stories about it later. He tapped his feet against the carpet and watched the captain, who sat in her seat, clasped her hands together, and thought.

  Twice Danny interrupted her, volunteering to go out and at least be a presence in the cabin. Twice she put a stern finger up, indicating she was not finished thinking.

  Then, finally, she said, “I’m going out there.”

  “I’m telling you, I can lasso that pig,” James said.

  “I’m not worried about the pig right now.”

  “You’re not?” Danny asked.