Turbulence

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  The crowd laughed, and at once stood up from their seats to walk over for a better look. I took one last look at him and decided I needed to leave. Now.

  I pushed my way through the guests and headed toward the exit. When I was halfway there, I felt someone tapping my shoulder from behind.

  Turning around, I found myself face to face with my ex-wife—the person I hated only slightly less than my father and brother.

  “Hey, Jake,” she said, stepping closer to me. “Long time, no see...Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you remember me?”

  “I’ve been trying hard to forget.” I glanced at her badge. “Did you somehow pick up the wrong nametag or are you still fucking with people’s minds with your games?”

  “No.” She forced a smile and spoke low. “I’m Samantha now, Jake. Samantha.”

  “Bullshit.” Her real name was Riley, Riley Cartwright, and she looked as if she was frozen in time from when we’d last met. She was still wearing her blond hair cut short in a way that complemented her brown eyes, she was the epitome of what ‘untrustworthy’ in the flesh looked like. And no matter how many times I tried to rationalize what she’d done, or attempt to placate the past with one of our softer, high school memories, my hatred of her would probably never be erased.

  “How have you been after all these years?” she asked.

  “Are you referring to the years before you told everyone in Missouri I was abusing you or after? Or maybe you’re referring to the years I caught you sucking—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She clenched her jaw. “Don’t you dare...And you did abuse me, Jake. I was mentally abused by your lack of care, your constant traveling, and your failure to give me what I wanted.”

  “You got upset with me because I filed for divorce, and then you told the police I’d previously beat you in the face with a tire jack. That’s physical abuse, and it was a goddamn lie.”

  “Right well...” She smiled, fake as usual. “I think enough time has passed for you to be nice to me and get over us drifting apart.”

  “You almost cost me my fucking career, Riley,” I said. “That’s not drifting apart.”

  “Jake—”

  “You even got my brother to believe your lies...I know how you got my father to believe you, but how did you get Evan to? Did he get the same present, courtesy of your throat?”

  “Jake, I swear to God—”

  “Jake?” My father suddenly stepped between us. “Jake, is that really you?”

  “You know exactly who the fuck it is.”

  His eyes widened and he forced a smile for an intrusive camera man who snapped a quick picture. As soon as the photographer walked away, he looked at me and cleared his throat. “You look good, son.”

  “I thought you only had one son. That guy ‘Evan’ in the photos up there.”

  “Yes, well...” A look of sadness crossed his face, but he changed the subject. “I couldn’t believe it when Human Resources told me you actually signed the transfer papers. I’m quite honored and surprised that you’ve agreed to work for my airline.”

  “You shouldn’t be. You keep buying and investing in every single airline I switch to. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice, Jake.”

  “I’m sure your first wife would disagree.”

  He shifted uneasily, and his smile slightly slipped as the flashes of cameras continue to sound around the room. I tried to look him right in the eye, to finally see him as a human being, but all I could see was a heartless monster who was willing to sacrifice anything for his own dreams, no matter the cost.

  “What happened to the commemoration of Flight 1872?” I asked. “The papers said you were finally going to tell the truth.”

  “They said I would address it. They didn’t say anything about the truth.”

  “So, you’re still paying for them to print your lies?”

  “No, I did address it.” He pointed across the hangar. “It’s on the new plane if you get a chance to take a look. Nonetheless, I knew having it mentioned it in the papers would make you come here. I really need to talk to you. ASAP, Jake. ASAP.”

  I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my elbow.

  “You’ve been going out of your way to avoid us all for years,” he said. “And I bought Signature to try to put an end to that. I even agreed to your over the top salary request. I more than agreed, actually. I doubled it so you could see that I’m serious about starting over. Is that not trying? Do you know how much money that is?”

  “What’s a million to a billionaire?”

  “Would you like more, then?”

  “I don’t want shit from you. I’ll be quitting soon.”

  “That’s not true.” He looked into my eyes. “Flying means too much to you, and you signed the contract. Even if you were to manage to get out of it, I’ll just buy or invest in the next airline you move to because I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you since you left us all those years ago.”

  “See?” Riley smiled at me. “Everyone, including me, still loves you, Jake.”

  “Fuck you, Riley.”

  She gasped, acting as if she was actually shocked.

  “Jake.” My father sighed. “When I told a little lie about the flight ceremony to get you here, I didn’t mean for you to take it the wrong way.”

  “And when I said ‘Take care of my wife while I’m flying new routes’, I didn’t mean fuck her.”

  Riley’s cheeks reddened and she faked a smile for another photographer.

  “Jake, listen. “My father tried to steer the conversation, but I refused to let it go this time.

  “You have yet to even attempt to apologize for that.”

  “For the umpteenth time...” He paused, giving a half wave to someone across the room. “It was a one-time thing that we both absolutely regret. Nothing became of it, we’re both with other people now, and it was a total accident.”

  “Her pussy just fell on your dick?”

  “No, but if you’d let me explain—”

  “There is no justification.” I hated that I saw my own blue eyes in his, that if anyone else stood close enough they could see it, too. “If you’re interested in explaining it to someone willing to listen, I would write Webster’s and make a claim on your accomplishment before its’ too late. There’s already a term for ‘motherfucker’ but I think the world is in desperate need of knowing that there’s a such thing as a father-fucker.”

  The two of them glared at me.

  “Nothing else to say?” I asked.

  “You don’t have the whole story, Jake.” Riley hissed between her teeth.

  “I have the only chapter I need. The scene where I came home early and caught you sucking his dick in my bathroom. Unless you were giving out blow jobs as party favors to everyone else, I’m not sure how I could’ve gotten the narrative wrong all these years.”

  “You were never there, Jake.” Riley nearly lost it. “You were never home.”

  “I was home that day.” I stepped back.

  “Jake, please don’t leave.” My father looked genuine, but I couldn’t help but feel that he was playing another one if his mental magic tricks. “I think your mother—”

  “Don’t you dare bring her up. Ever.” I felt an ache in my chest. “And fuck you. Both of you.” I took another step back. “But I am quite serious about that Webster’s submission form. You should hurry up before someone else takes credit.”

  I stormed off toward the exit, ready to drink this night away. Something told me to keep going, to not bother looking back, but I couldn’t help it. I glanced over at its sleek white frame, at the light blue and crème emblem on its tail. And just as I was about to turn away and continue heading for the exit, my eyes caught something. Something disturbing and utterly callous.

  On the right side of the tail, high enough for all to see was a faded image of my mother’s face in a light sepia tone. Her life span and a few words were written
underneath:

  I’ll always remember you, Irene.

  Love, Nate.

  Rest Peacefully,

  Sarah Irene Pearson

  1949-1999

  “It was such a shame wasn’t it?” An older woman next to me lowered her voice. “Losing his wife in the very first plane he built...I’m sure it still devastates him.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t.” I turned around and scanned the room for my father, catching him mid-laugh. I stared at him with fury running through my veins, waiting for his eyes to meet mine.

  He posed for a few more photos with his new, much younger wife at his side and turned around, his eyes meeting mine. He raised his eyebrow, as if he was surprised I was still in attendance. Then he winked at me, mouthing, “Is that good enough?” before turning his attention to someone else.

  I clenched my fists, seconds away from walking over and breaking his jaw.

  Before I could make that happen, I spotted Gillian standing across the room.

  Laughing, she was wearing a short, emerald green dress that left little to the imagination. The dressed stopped at her thighs and clung tightly to her hips, showing off her perfect breasts.

  I started to walk over to her, but stopped when I realized she was dancing with someone in a navy blue suit. Someone who was rubbing his hands against her back and whispering something into her ear.

  Confused, I watched for several more minutes, assuming that it was some friend of hers, a casual dance with an acquaintance. But as she tossed her head back in laughter, I saw exactly who she was dancing with and all the blood left my face.

  GATE B18

  GILLIAN

  New York (JFK)

  “You’re hurting me...” I smiled uneasily as Evan Pearson, the CEO’s son dipped me low and told another inappropriate joke. He was holding onto me a little too tightly, and I was hoping Meredith would see my “Please come save me from this asshole” text soon.

  I’d thought that if I simply laughed at a few of his lines that he would walk away, but my reactions only seemed to encourage him further. To make matters worse, he was drunk. Yet, anytime a photographer stopped and asked for a photo, he would somehow manage to look sober for all of three seconds for the shot. Then he would return to harassing me.

  “Did we date once before, Gillian?” he asked, finally letting go and reading my name tag.

  “No,” I said. “We’ve never dated.”

  “Are you sure? I never forget a face, and...” He looked down at my breasts, smiling. “You look really familiar.”

  “I interviewed you, your father, and your wife a very long time ago when I was a journalist.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s it.”

  “That’s definitely it. Speaking of which, how is your wife?” I slowly pulled my wrist away from his grasp. “Her name is Sharon, right?”

  “Yes.” He laughed. “She left me, but Shhhh! Don’t print that. No one knows yet.”

  “My roommate is over there waiting for me.” I started to step back. “I need to—”

  “Wait.” He grabbed my wrist again, much harder this time, his fingers pressing deep into my skin. “Were you shitting me about the interviewing me when you were a journalist thing?”

  I shook my head. I remembered that awkward encounter all too well. A full day interview where he and his father, unsurprisingly, fed me rehearsed answers about Elite. After blowing off the interview three times in a row, they gave me answers I could’ve found on Wikipedia and turned a simple profile project into an absolute nightmare.

  “Did you ask us how this amazing airline was really built?” He grabbed a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray and tossed it back. “Did you ask us how we really started this, by chance?”

  “With all due respect, everyone already knows the answer to that.” It was embedded in the history books as the ultimate Cinderella story.

  “No.” He shook his head, his speech slurred. “Everyone just thinks they do. Come home with me and I’ll give you the exclusive...You have to swallow, though, I’m clean, so no condoms.” He looked me right in my eyes, giving me a familiar look that reminded me of someone else. “I just hate confirming the lies year after year at these parties...I’m getting very tired. Very old and tired...”

  I was slightly curious as to what he meant by ‘confirming the lies,’ but minutes ago he’d claimed that he invented Starbucks coffee machines so I knew this was just the liquor talking.

  I started thinking of another excuse to get the hell away from him, but a blonde stepped between us and took his hand—whispering into his ear.

  “He’s here?” he asked her, his eyes wide. “He actually came?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Where?”

  She didn’t answer. She just walked away.

  Without saying another word to me, he turned away and followed her into the crowd.

  Relieved, I headed to the other side of the hangar, in desperate need of some space. I pushed my way through the guests and past the packed restrooms. Noticing a “Silent Auction” sign hanging above a door, I stepped inside a room full of glass cases and mirrored walls.

  The curator immediately handed me a blue sheet of bidding paper and smiled. Then, as if she knew I wasn’t in here to bid on anything, she rolled her eyes and whispered, “You came here to check on your makeup, didn’t you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m just trying to get some space.”

  “Sure.” She pursed her lips and snatched the blue paper from my hands. “You can ‘get some space’ on the far side of the room for twenty minutes. Then you need to get out.”

  “Thank you.” I stepped away and stared at my reflection.

  Even though there were small bags under my eyes, Meredith had done wonders with my makeup. The second I told her my flight was diverted and there was a gala tonight, she’d insisted on dressing me from head to toe.

  Although I still wasn’t sure about the revealing green dress she’d made me wear, the bronze glittering eye shadow and bright pink lipstick were nothing short of amazing.

  I dug through my clutch for the lipstick and suddenly heard the sound of glass shattering onto the floor.

  “What the hell? You can’t just barge in here, sir!” The curator gasped. “Sir, you have to get out. Now.”

  My head snapped up and I saw a red-faced Jake through the mirror’s glass. His eyes met mine in the reflection.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He bellowed.

  I looked back at him, completely confused. The few guests that were in the room headed for the door, murmuring their shock.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Gillian?” He repeated, even louder this time.

  “Excuse me?” I spun around.

  “I didn’t stutter.” He gritted his teeth and walked over to me. “Why the hell were you talking to Evan Pearson?”

  Shaking her head, the curator picked up her brochures and left the room, leaving the two us alone.

  I wasn’t sure why he was glaring at me right now but my blood was beginning to boil at his rude ass intrusion. “I’ll talk to you when you calm down,” I said. “Whenever you realize who you’re talking to.”

  “I’m talking to you.” He hissed. “And I’m talking about Evan Pearson, someone I need you to never, ever talk to again.” He stepped closer, pressing me against the wall. “But since you’ve already done it, I need you to tell me why the fuck you were talking to him, and I need you to explain it right now.”

  “I wasn’t talking to him. He approached me when I got here, insisted on getting a dance, and telling me stupid jokes.”

  “You expect me to believe that shit?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

  “I don’t care what you believe.” I felt my face turning red. “And I don’t have to explain anything to you. Do you really think you can tell me who I can and can’t talk to?”

  “When it comes to certain people, yes.”

  “Well, I hate to bre
ak it to you, Jake,” I said, feeling angrier than I’d ever felt before. “But you don’t own me.”

  “I’m aware.” His forehead touched mine and he slid a hand under my dress and between my thighs, tapping my bare pussy with his fingertips. “But I’m pretty sure, for however long our arrangement lasts, that I do own this.”

  My breathing slowed as he pressed his thumb directly against my clit, but I didn’t back down.

  “Our arrangement only covers sex with other people, not conversations with other people.”

  “Is that so?” He moved his hand away, leaving my pussy throbbing. “Do we need to add a common sense clause about not letting other people put their hands on you and you fucking laughing about it?”

  “He’s the CEO’s son, Jake. The press was watching his every move. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Before or after he tried to fuck you?” He damn near shouted. “Do what you do to me so easily, walk away.”

  “That’s your specialty, not mine.” I felt the sudden urge to slap him. “He was drunk and I was simply being nice in entertaining him.”

  “You can be nice to anyone but him. As of this moment, he no longer exists to you, so don’t say as much as one word to him again.”

  “When I see him on my way out, I’ll be sure to say goodbye. I might even say, Nice seeing you again.”

  “Then consider this arrangement over.”

  “Because I talked to Evan Pearson?” I was on the verge of losing it. “Because you feel like he’s some type of threat?”

  “Because he’s my goddamn brother.” He said it so loudly that the woman who’d just walked into the gallery stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Exactly.” His attention was still on me. “So, tell me right now, Gillian, is staying the hell away from my brother while you’re fucking me going to be that much of a problem for you?”

  “No.” I stared him right in the eyes. “Because I won’t be fucking you anymore. I don’t need this.” I pushed my way past him and left, not even caring that the woman who’d walked in on us was Miss Connors.