Come Fly with Me: A Collection

by Whitney G.

  I shook my head. “Just my driver.”

  “Does your boss treat you somewhat better now?”

  “No.” I smiled. “He’s just very good at sex.”

  He laughed and pushed me against the wall. “Cancel the rest of my day …”

  Twenty-Four

  Preston

  A few nights later, I woke up in pain—feeling massive heart palpitations in my chest. No matter how many doses of anxiety medication I took, they came harder each night, and they always brought along memories of my brother. They were always the same. Images of Weston and me fighting in our childhood backyard. Us fighting on the school bus. Us fighting about anything and everything.

  Sighing, I rolled over and found myself face to face with a set of purple button eyes.

  What the …

  I sat up and saw Violet sleeping on the other side of my bed. This was the fifth night in a row that she’d snuck into my bed in the middle of the night, and I was still getting used to it. Kissing her forehead, I pulled a blanket over her and made my way into the kitchen.

  Opening the refrigerator, I shook my head at all the juice boxes, fruit, and mini snack meals that were there for Violet. Thanks to Tara, she now had her own nutritionist who premade weekly meals and ensured that my refrigerator and freezer were always “eighty percent toddler and twenty percent adult.”

  I grabbed an apple juice box and a bag of animal crackers, carrying them over to my sofa. I opened my laptop and looked for some work I could focus on for the next few hours, but for the first time in forever, the last thing I wanted to do was work.

  Shutting it down, I pulled out my phone. I scrolled down to Tara’s name and stared at it. Then I hit call.

  It rang once. It rang twice. And before I could hang up and tell her that the call was a mistake, she answered in her familiar, breathy voice.

  “Hello?” she said. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Tara.”

  “Are you calling me about the Grand Rose’s grand staircase remodel? I can get you those numbers in two minutes.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Oh, then, is this about my travel itinerary? I’m waiting on the Von Strums to approve two of the final meeting spaces, but I have everything set to go for the Scotland and Amsterdam sessions.”

  “I’m not calling you about that either.”

  “Oh … Then what’s this about?”

  I sighed. “I can’t sleep.”

  “I didn’t know you were capable of sleeping.”

  “Contrary to the rumors at the office, I sleep at least five hours a night.”

  “I’ve heard you’re supposed to get eight.”

  “I’ve heard that as well,” I said. “But never from anyone successful.”

  She laughed. “That’s exactly why everyone thinks you’re an awful boss.”

  “Do you still think that?”

  “Absolutely. You’re the worst boss I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m the only boss you’ve ever had.”

  “Still doesn’t change what I said.” Her laughter came over the line again, and I realized that over the past two years, we’d never talked on the phone without work being the main topic of conversation.

  “Were you thinking about your brother?” she asked.

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’m sorry for asking.”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “I was thinking about him.” I paused. “I was thinking that it’s my fault we weren’t close, but I’m honestly not sure how I could’ve fixed it. I also wish I could’ve met Violet under different circumstances.”

  She remained silent, listening.

  “I’m just not good at emotional shit, and all he wanted to talk about was his feelings when our parents died. As if talking about the way he felt would bring them back.”

  “How did they die?” she asked softly. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “They were murdered. Shot dead in their home over an empty safe.” I clenched my jaw at the memory of receiving the phone call, of the officer saying, “these things happen all the time” right after. As if he’d just given me speeding ticket. “Weston and I were never the same after that. We always handled things differently, and grief was no different.”

  “Did your brother happen to own The W Hotels, the budget hotel chain that you stalk all the time?”

  “He did.” I smiled. “He went into budget hotels, and I went into luxury. He saw something in the long term that I didn’t, and I’ve been trying to make up for that ever since.”

  “No wonder you’re trying to break into that industry with the Von Strums, then,” she said. “I’m pretty sure your brother was obsessed with your chain, too.”

  “Who wouldn’t be? I’m always number one.”

  We laughed, and I turned the volume up, so I could hear her a bit better.

  “Were you up doing work?” I asked.

  “Yes, sure.”

  “The words ‘yes, sure’ always mean you’re lying to me, Tara.”

  “Okay, well just yes. Yes.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Tell me more about what it feels like to be number one year after year.” She changed the subject. “I don’t think I’ve heard you brag about yourself as much lately.”

  “What were you doing, Tara?” I repeated. “Stop bullshitting me.”

  “I was doing what I usually do whenever it’s late at night, and I’m thinking about my boss.”

  “I’m not playing the guessing game with you.”

  “I was masturbating with my vibrator, okay?” She scoffed. “Is that okay with you?”

  I held back a laugh. “It’s more than okay.” I stood up and walked to my liquor cabinet, pouring myself two shots of whiskey. “What was your fantasy for tonight?”

  “It’s the usual.” Her voice was soft. “Nothing special.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  She remained silent, and I tossed back the first drink.

  “What’s the usual, Tara?”

  She cleared her throat, still not saying anything, and I was certain I heard the light buzzing of her vibrator in the background.

  “Do I need to repeat the question?”

  “No … It usually starts with us arguing and then we end up having sex on your desk.”

  “I need you to describe it better than that,” I said. “Am I bending you over the desk or fucking you on top of it?”

  She sucked in a breath. “On top of it.”

  “You know that doesn’t have to remain a fantasy, right?”

  “Right …” Her vibrator sounded a little bit louder.

  “We’ll have to make a few changes, though.” I tossed back the second shot.

  “Changes like what?”

  “Well, first I’ll need you to sit on my face for at least an hour, so I can taste everything I love about your pussy again, so I can make sure you’ll follow the rest of my instructions for the remainder of the day.”

  Her breathing became slightly heavier over the line.

  “After that, I’ll bend you over my chair and fill you with my cock until you’re on the verge of coming for me. And when I’m sure you’re close to the edge—when I’m sure your pussy is seconds away from an orgasm, I’ll flip you over and fuck you on top of the desk until you beg me to let you come.” I paused. “Only if that’s what you want …”

  Her breaths sounded even louder than before, and I could hear her softly murmuring.

  “Is that what you want?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. We’ll do it the second you get back from Europe.”

  “Um hmmm….” She let out a soft moan. “Okay.”

  I waited until her breathing became normal again. “I think we should talk on the phone without work more often.” I smiled.

  “I would like that.”

  “I also think that you shouldn’t come to work for the rest of this week.”

&
nbsp; “What?”

  “You heard me,” I said. “Your trip starts in two days, and if I see you this morning, I won’t let you out of my office.”

  “You don’t want me to come in and at least show you my mock presentations?”

  “You’ve never needed to practice those,” I said. “Yours were always perfect.”

  “Thanks for finally letting me know that once I’m quitting.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I didn’t say thank you.”

  “You were about to.”

  She laughed. “So, since I’m off today, does that mean you won’t send me any emails?”

  “Absolutely not. It just means you don’t have to answer them as fast.”

  “Noted. Well, I’m going to take a shower. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Talk to you later.” I ended the call and sat on my sofa. For some strange reason, I was tempted to call her right back, to find something random to discuss for a few more hours.

  As I was contemplating it, her name crossed my screen via text message.

  Tara: Are you still planning to start your day at 4:30 a.m.?

  Me: Yes.

  Tara: Mind if I call you while you’re riding around looking at all your hotels? [water emoji] [water emoji] [water emoji]

  Me: Not at all. [umbrella emoji] [umbrella emoji] [umbrella emoji]

  I laughed and set my phone down.

  As I was setting aside my shot glasses, I heard the sound of pattering feet in my hallway.

  Dragging a blanket and clutching her teddy bear, Violet climbed right next to me on the sofa. She picked up my juice box and shook it—frowning once she realized it was empty.

  “These are me and Bear’s juices.” She narrowed her little eyes at me. “Not yours.”

  I smiled, holding back a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She lay down on the cushions and placed Bear next to me. Then she told me to go to sleep, too.

  “Goodnight, Uncle Preston,” she said.

  “Goodnight, Violet.”

  Twenty-Five

  Tara

  “Can you hear me?” Ava’s voice crackled over our Skype connection. “Hello? Hello?”

  “I can hear you.” I plugged in my headphones and looked outside the plane’s windows.

  “You never called me back after the gala,” she said, her face appearing on my laptop screen. “What did your boss say when you left him there alone? And please tell me you haven’t shown up to work this week at all.”

  “Not exactly,” I admitted. “We kind of um—”

  “You kind of um, what?”

  “We had sex in the bathroom, and then again in his car, and we’ve had sex in his office a few times since.” I paused. “Are you judging me?”

  “No, I’m grabbing the popcorn.” She laughed. “I haven’t been laid in a while, so I need you to back up and give me every explicit detail. After you give me all that, then I’ll judge you.”

  I smiled and slid under my blanket, replaying every moment me and Preston shared over the past few days—even the new late-night phone calls that were devoid of any work. I felt myself blushing with every word, secretly looking forward to seeing him again at the end of my trip.

  “Wow.” Ava fanned herself. “I think I need to go and change my panties when I get off the phone.”

  I laughed.

  “Feel free to enjoy all the sex with him you want, but do me one favor,” she said, looking right at me. “Don’t let the sex distract you from the fact that he’s still a terrible boss, made you agree to a six-week quitting term instead of two, and honestly still thinks that he’s done as much for you as you have for him over the past two years.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  “And don’t you dare get attached to his little girl either.”

  “She’s his niece.”

  “You know what I mean.” She shook her head. “I know how you are when it comes to sexy single guys with kids.”

  “I’m not getting attached to Violet.” I rolled over and put away the teddy bear clothes I’d purchased in Scotland. “Trust me. How’s Fashion Week in Paris?”

  “I thought you’d never ask!” She gushed about designers and runway shows for over an hour, and just as she was about to tell me about how awful her new boss was, he called her phone.

  “It’s my boss.” She rolled her eyes. “Gotta go.”

  “Talk to you later.” I closed my laptop and moved to the plane’s living room—running my finger against the intricately carved “P” in all the wood furnishings. I picked up my notes for the next meeting and plopped onto the sofa.

  “Good evening, Miss Lauren.” A flight attendant I’d never traveled with before walked into the cabin. “Would you like dinner this evening?”

  “Yes. Can I have some of the gluten-free pasta and the coastal salad? If not, can I see the updated gluten-free menu for today?”

  “The what?”

  “The gluten-free menu,” I said. “If it’s still the same as it was last time, I’ll just have the regular course dinner.”

  She looked at me in confusion. “Um. I’ll have to see what we have.”

  Seconds later, she returned with a plain salad and a bowl of sliced apples. “I’m sorry, Miss Lauren. We don’t have any of what you mentioned onboard. My coworker says we’ve never had that on any of our flights, but this is our first time flying with Parker International, so I’ll make sure we have it next time.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent,” she said. “We do have a basket of chocolate with your name on it, but Mr. Parker’s note says to give it to you in a few days.” She smiled and walked away, leaving me confused.

  Before I could follow her and show her exactly where the menus and the gluten-free dinners were, my town car driver stepped in front of me.

  “Did you eat all the gluten-free meals, Will?” I smiled. “You could’ve at least shared them with me.”

  “Not at all, Miss Lauren,” he said, looking slightly terrified. “It’s my fault they’re not onboard today, and I’m sorry.”

  “How is it your fault? It’s probably just a catering mix-up.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Mr. Parker always orders food from Other Words Catering Kitchen before any flight you take. My job is to pick it up an hour before takeoff and load it, but since we were running behind schedule, I didn’t have time to make the handoff with the caterer.”

  I stilled. There were only five Other Words Catering Kitchen locations in the country, and none of them were anywhere near New York.”

  “He has it flown in from the West Coast?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “Every time?”

  “Every single time.” He nodded, and I leaned back.

  “Please don’t tell him about my mistake,” he said. “He’d be very upset if he knew.”

  “I won’t.” I rubbed my forehead, completely stunned.

  “I did make sure that all of the top shop owners are aware that you’ll be in town, just like Mr. Parker always does, and they’ll shut down the store for you the second you arrive.”

  “I never knew Mr. Parker called beforehand.” I shook my head. It never crossed my mind that the stores were almost always empty when I shopped abroad.

  I’m not done listing all the things I’ve done for you.

  Preston’s words from our argument played in my mind, and I cleared my throat. “Can I ask you something, Will?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why does Mr. Parker always give his executive employees those random chocolate baskets? I’m not complaining, but is that a catering thing as well?”

  “He doesn’t give all of his executive employees anything.” He smiled. “He only does that for you.”

  “As a peace offering?”

  “No,” he said, tilting his head to the side. Then as if he was embarrassed to say the words, he lowered his voice. “I remember him telling me that it helps with your stress
during a certain um … time of the month.”

  My jaw dropped, and I paled. I’d always been far too stressed in general to notice the timing, thinking that the monthly chocolate was another standard “amenity treat” for C-level executives, since the chocolates were hardly ever the same.

  “Will?” I looked at him.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you tell me some of the other little things Mr. Parker does for his executive assistants?”

  “Besides firing them or making them quit?” He laughed. “I have no idea.”

  “No, I mean, what are the things he usually gives to the person in this position? Like, private transportation to business meetings and work, but what else?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Mr. Parker usually flew his EA via first class on a commercial flight since he never knew if they would quit in the middle of the trip.” He shrugged. “You’re the first to fly on his private plane. And you know, now that I think about it, his EAs never received their own office, let alone a corner one. They usually got a bigger desk in a room they shared with the senior interns. Oh, and it took years of me working for him before he started giving me any perks.” He laughed.

  “So, it’s safe to assume that my monthly condo discount and passes to Broadway shows and such isn’t the norm?”

  “Not at all, Miss Lauren.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to me, showing me an email from Preston. One that was dated over a year ago. “You never saw this, by the way. Let me know when you’re done reading it. It may take a while.” He winked at me and walked away.

  * * *

  Subject: Miss Tara Lauren (Please Confirm You’ve Read This)

  Dear Support Staff,

  I’m sending you this message since you all have daily, direct, or consistent access to my latest assistant, Tara Lauren.

  As you know, as of now, she’s lasted longer than any executive assistant I’ve ever had, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  Her job is stressful enough, so I’m including a list of all the things that need to be done on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis to ensure that she never gets stressed about anything else….