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I clung to him. “I’m scared,” I admitted.
“Tell me about the girl you were with.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“Don’t focus on the turbulence. Tell me about your friend.”
“Sandy is my best friend. We go way back.” Another jolt stopped me from saying more.
“What does she do?”
“She’s a photographer,” I got out between bumps.
He tightened his hold around my shoulder. “What kind?”
“Underwear mostly.”
He laughed at that—a pretty common reaction. “Now that’s a job I might like.” With guys, that was another common reaction.
The next big drop made me cringe. “This isn’t working.”
He brought out another bottle of scotch. “Maybe this will help.”
I nodded, and we quickly repeated our cap teamwork. I downed this drink even faster than the first.
The turbulence became worse, a lot worse. I clung to him like his arm was a life preserver. “How many of those do you have?”
“Two more.”
I clutched him tighter. “One for each of us?”
“You need it more than I do.”
After the fourth bottle, the jostling of the plane seemed to settle down. At first I couldn’t tell if it was the liquor or if the air was actually getting calmer.
“We’ll fly higher than the airlines and have a smoother time of it in a little while,” he told me.
His prediction came true as we eventually cleared the clouds, and the ride smoothed out.
The scotch was having a definite effect on my eyelids. “I think I need to lie down.”
* * *
“Time to buckle up,”someone said.
My ears popped, and I pried an eye open. Slowly it came to me. I was lying on the plane’s couch.
The warm body spooned behind me was Josh, his arm around my mid-section. A blanket lay over us.
The pressure in my ears increased again. We were descending.
“Time to buckle up back there,” one of the pilots repeated from the cockpit.
I didn’t want to, but I pulled loose from Josh’s grasp. “Time to wake up.”
He rose groggily and rubbed his eyes. “How do you feel?”
I found my seatbelt. “Better.” I stretched and smiled to myself.
