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“The airline lost it.”
He shakes his head at me. “I never check my bag. They always lose it.”
I almost tell him what happened, but then just smile instead. “Good tip. I’ll remember it for next time.”
“Yes, you will, because that skirt is going to give you some trouble where we’re going,” he says.
My pulse races a little. “What kind of trouble? What are we doing?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to say. Just … some trouble. You’ll be okay though.”
“Thank you, that’s very reassuring.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, clearly not picking up on my sarcasm.
He holds out one hand to help me get on, which, it turns out, is necessary because this skirt is already causing me trouble making this high step up. Mr. Sterling is right behind me, and I’m pretty sure my butt must be in his face. My cheeks flame at the thought of him so close to my behind.
Oh God, can I please go home now?
I settle myself into my seat and put on a headset, trying to act like I ride on helicopters all the time. Somehow, I feel embarrassed that this is my first time and it has to be with someone who probably fires up a chopper every time he wants to go to the corner store to buy a pack of gum. The truth is, I find flying a little nerve-wracking in the first place. But at least airplanes are big and they feel solid, whereas helicopters seem like all window, which won’t protect you at all in a crash scenario. An airplane gives you the impression you’ll have a chance. Chopper? Not so much.
But I don’t have time to think about my impending doom because he is getting on. I do my best to scooch over to the right side of my seat so as to stay as far away from him as possible (which, as it turns out, is only about three inches, tops).
He puts on his headset, then, out of the corner of my eye, I see him wince. “Good God, what is that smell?”
Keeping my eyes trained on the seat back in front of me, I say, “Baby vomit.”
“Perfect.”
“Try having it in your hair.”
“Hard pass. It’s bad enough from here.”
A smile builds inside me at the thought of him having to deal with this stench too. I hide it of course, but I cannot wait to tell the gang at work about it. Ohh, we’re going to have such a laugh.
My surly seat mate turns his head to face the window, and I can’t help but notice he’s got his fingers under his nose. Good. I hope he gets a crick in his neck. Grabbing my phone out of my handbag, I shoot Allie a text.
In helicopter sitting next to the devil himself. Still covered in baby vomit with a sprinkling of B.O.
Allie
What?! You’re joking, right?
Wish I were. This is very real. Can I come home now? I’m done.
Allie
You can do this. Think positive. This is an opportunity. You’ve got Sterling all to yourself. Use this time to get him to warm up to you.
Do I have to? He’s scary and awful and I hate him. He’s seriously so much worse than we thought. I overheard him on the phone telling someone to have his girlfriend followed and to get records of her phone calls.
Allie
NO!!!! Really???
Yup. Who does that? Psychos, that’s who. And talk about an ego - he told the entire group he’s in a committed relationship so not to bother trying to ‘get with him.’
Allie
