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But this wasn’t your regular stewardess outfit, with a dowdy cardigan and knee length skirt. Instead, it was seriously cute. Even sexy, come to think of it. The navy dress was form fitting in all the right places, with a modest décolletage that showed off my ample bust. There was an adorable matching pillbox hat, and a blue scarf with red dots to tie around my neck. The whole look was retro and jaunty and I fell in love with it immediately.
My interviewer, Helena, materialized out of nowhere, scrutinizing me in the dress. No hello, no how are you’s. Instead, she addressed her words to the seamstress.
“Perfect,” came her clipped voice. “The men will love it.”
The men?
What did that mean?
But I guess it was possible. There are certainly more male billionaires in the world than female.
And with that, I was done. Ushered into a large hangar, my breath caught. Because holy moly, the G6 was nothing like the planes we’d practiced on during stewardess school. It was sleek and aerodynamic, gleaming in the giant warehouse space.
And inside, things got even better. There was no narrow galley kitchen or cramped economy seats upholstered in polyester weave. Instead, the kitchen was full-size, complete with an oven and microwave. And there were no economy seats on this flight period. Instead, six plush chairs stood inside the cabin, upholstered in spotless white leather, creamy and inviting. If it were me, I’d be afraid to sit in them, sure I’d spill something somehow.
But that’s my job.
I’m an elite air hostess.
I don’t spill things anymore.
Not champagne, not nuts, and definitely not on the customer.
So I looked around, trying to calm my heart. But it was hard because the plane was just so luxurious. A flat screen TV rose from the floor, a bouquet of fresh flowers adding to the air of luxury. And if my eyes weren’t mistaken, there was closed door leading to a bedroom in back, complete with en suite fixtures.
Wow. Holy smokes. This was way beyond my wildest dreams. Slightly trembling, I made my way back to the front of the cabin. Ah ha, this was more like it. The staff restroom behind the cockpit was small and utilitarian, but even that was nicer than average. I thanked my lucky stars. What did I do to deserve this job? This was going to be cakewalk. All I had to do was wait on some rich people on a nice plane, rather than dealing with the masses on an aging commercial aircraft.
But there was no time to waste. Time is money in this industry, so I sprang to work, getting the warm nuts and champagne together. This was a job worth keeping, and I wanted to make a good impression my first day.
My eyes studied the manifest as the almonds warmed. Hmm, a man named Damien Dawson was our only passenger on today’s flight. My head shook with disbelief. Some people were so rich that they took solo flights, uncaring of the cost. Incredible.
And suddenly, voices sounded below, deep and melodious. Oh no, Mr. Dawson was here. But it was okay, everything was ready. The nuts were ready in their ramekin, the bubbly poured. My belly rumbled a little with nerves, but I slapped a professional smile onto my lips. Appearances mean everything when you’re flying elite.
And suddenly, he appeared. My breath caught because all the air exited the small plane, my lungs squeezed for oxygen. Unbelievably, Damien Dawson was better looking that George Clooney. Tall. Huge. With a head of perfect black hair and crystal blue eyes. The kind of eyes that could make a girl forget how to use real words, which unfortunately, was happening to me now.
But something made it out of my throat, even if I sounded like a strangled frog.
“Welcome aboard,” came my words. “Welcome, Mr. Dawson. I’m Joanie. I’ll be your flight attendant today.”
The man didn’t appear to hear. Well, he did, but only with the slightest nod my way. No matter. I’d been warned that our clientele consisted of the powerful businessmen, and they were busy guys. Mr. Dawson was probably busy thinking of his next acquisition, or his next takeover and not some meek, shy flight attendant.
No problem. They were handling billions of dollars, whereas my greatest worry was if the nuts were the right temperature. There was no need to be offended if they ignored me.
After all, a job is a job.
As the billionaire fastened his seatbelt, I stepped forwards carrying the almonds and a glass of champagne. The man declined them both with a wave of his hand and a strange gleam in those blue eyes.
“Can I get you a newspaper then?” I asked sweetly, smiling my best smile.
“No,” came that terse word.
Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.
“Okay,” I replied graciously. “I’ll check back in as soon as we get to cruising altitude.”
And soon, we were off. The bird rose into the sky smoothly, sleekly, like it was propelled by a gust of wind and not jet fuel. Wow, money really made a difference. This G6 was amazing.
But once we leveled off, I stood and made my way to the kitchen. Curiously, the service light was already on. The king was calling.
