Captain Charming (Tales of 1001 Flights)

by Alice May Ball

  Actually, I might have been the doing doing the firing. I absolutely hate it when people are on their phones on a flight. I don’t care if you’re doing it because that’s where you music is, or if you’re playing a game, just… enjoy the fact that a flight’s one of the last places in the world where you can truly disconnect from everyone, because you’re tens of thousands of feet in the air.

  Not everyone shares my view on this.

  “I’m going to change, now,” Serena says, making it sound more than a little like an invitation.

  “Good luck with that,” I say, letting her linger just a second longer. Then I quip, “I’m already in my uniform, pussycat.”

  Serena walks off, dragging her rolling suitcase and shaking her head.

  “Come on, Alexa, give a man a call,” I growl, checking my phone again.

  And there it is. A buzz, at first. Then my ringtone. Not a message, either — she’s calling me.

  I immediately lift the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

  “Jagger,” Alexa’s sexy little voice begins. “Hey, I’m sorry about being busy… I’ve been swamped. No bueno, I can tell you that.”

  “Ha, it’s fine. We all get busy sometimes,” I respond.

  “Are you busy tonight?” she asks. “We could meet up. I’ve got a little time off for that.”

  I groan a little too loud. “I’m flying today, actually. About to take off in an hour. Private client. Tell you what, though, I’ll call you when I land, how’s that?”

  “Tell you what,” Alexa counters, sounding exactly as much of a princess as she did last night. “We’ll see.”

  “Naw, not another ‘we’ll see’, you’re better than that,” I put up a playful protest.

  She drops the call, and I find myself flinching. What happened to the banter, girl? Talk about playing hard to get.

  Goddamn, I can’t remember the last time I stared into a phone, trying to figure out whether I’m offended or not.

  Maybe what I need to do when I see Alexa next is to fuck some respect into her.

  That’ll teach her.

  FIVE

  HERE’S A SMILE on my face as I replay the call with Jagger in my head. “We’ll see,” I told him, but I can already see ahead of time — we’re definitely going to meet, and we’re definitely going to hook up again.

  God, how can I say this? He was wonderful. The best sex of my life, bar none, and I can tell he’s got way more to him. If he’s willing to play this straight, and not try to get feelings involved… then we both are going to be very satisfied people.

  So the smile on my face is bright enough to mask my disappointment with job-hunting. Still no real leads, just rejections, a few half-hearted promises to call me for an interview and an offensive amount of no responses.

  But it doesn’t matter! My body feels like I’ve gone through a workout that SoulCycle could not possibly have come up with. I’m sore in all the right ways. And all those right places.

  Even the way he was ready to fuck me again, just minutes after he came, impresses me. I’m too used to guys who plop back down to bed after they come, fading into sleep instantly.

  “Really, now,” I smile to myself, passing my reflection in the polished surface of the fridge. And, I have to admit, I’m a tiny bit impressed. And surprised at my having enough determination to have gotten out of there before he had time to make good on that promise.

  Another bath will do me a lot of good. After a cup of coffee courtesy of Helen’s amazing espresso machine, of course.

  I wonder if she’d even notice if it was gone. To the best of my knowledge, she doesn’t even drink coffee. She’s got her hippie dippie side, that’s for sure, and she’s all about Tibetan teas or whatnot.

  My phone rings, and with a groan I realize I had tempted this call by thinking about the caller: Helen’s on the line.

  “Alexa!” she begins. Always so perky. She’s probably spent her whole day crushing her boyfriend’s balls, and now she figures it’s time to crush my lady balls. “I’ve missed you. I can’t believe you didn’t call or text me once all weekend!”

  “I did, actually,” I remind her. “About the dry cleaning.”

  “Well, yes, you did do that. Thanks a lot for that again. I’m grateful. Maybe you could keep doing this when we’re back!”

  Nope, I’d much rather not. “Sure thing,” I respond with sugary sweetness instead. “If it’s a paid position, why not?”

  Helen laughs harshly. “Oh dear. I guess that answers my next question. About whether you’ve found a job yet, or gotten a place to stay.”

  “It’s barely been a month, Helen,” I say, warily. “I just got back from sending my resume around. Hopefully someone’ll bite in the next few days.”

  “Hopefully, hopefully,” my stepsister echoes. “It’s just that…”

  There’s a calculated pause there. Uh oh.

  “Just that?” I prompt her.

  “Well, Ben and I are coming back in a couple of weeks. We just had our flight brought forward. And it’s not really up to me, it’s just Ben, you see. He’s been telling me that he’s not very comfortable about you staying with us when we’re back. I mean, the apartment’s big and all, but you know how it is. Only one bedroom. I don’t know… Ben can be a kind of a pushy jerk. You know?”

  “Right,” I can’t get the hollow tone out of my voice. As if it’s Ben. Ben can’t even get a word in when they’re talking. He exists entirely for the purpose of giving her back rubs and agreeing to everything she says. If Ben ever forgets to sound chirpy at Helen’s next ridiculous demand, Ben will be on his way into history.

  “Uh,” I’m still trying to pull my voice bak up to normal. “I’m… I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Darling, me too! But you know how it is. You know how it is.”

  The way she keeps repeating that phrase makes me want to drive my head right into a wall. At this rate, I might even carefully measure which wall might be the most valuable so I can cause the most damage.

  “Okay, well, if that’s how it is,” I say, emphasizing her phrase, “I’ll be gone by the time you guys are back. No worries at all.”

  “Oh, thank you so much, Alexa!” Helen says. The edge of malice that lurked behind her apparently sympathetic words seems to have receded, now that she’s gotten what she wanted.

  But I don’t say my farewells for the call — I just hang up. I feel so blah all of a sudden. I’m weary from having to put up with Helen’s incessant need to position herself as better than me. I get it, I get it, you’re successful, you’ve got money, Dad probably loves you more than he loves me, but… seriously, could you at least have not brought your flight forward?

  And, really, do I have to hold my tongue while you wave your superiority like a flag, at the same time as you’re kicking me out on the street?

  I was seriously hoping I’d be able to pace my job hunt. Pacing, of course, meaning that I was hoping to enjoy at least another month’s worth of bubble baths. Just a few weeks comfort before I had to nervously go picking through all my stuff. Packing up and shipping out.

  At least she didn’t mention Stefan. Getting out of that relationship necessitated me finding a new place to stay, and the coincidental timing in Helen leaving for Thailand meant I was able to make use of that. If the breakup had happened any other time, I would’ve been majorly screwed.

  Well, I guess I’ve got no other choice than to go back to the job hunt.

  I find that this reflective moment has taken me to stand in front of the Helen’s sparkling liquor cabinet, stocked full of her favorite spirits. “Maybe I should invite Sonya over,” I muse. “She could help me make my choices.”

  That sounds way better.

  “Deets,” my best friend says, as soon as I greet her at the door of my apartment.

  Scratch that. Helen’s apartment.

  My apartment for two weeks more, and then it’s back to being Helen’s apartment.

  “Deets,” Sonya repeats, thrusting
a bottle of wine into my hands.

  I look at the label. “You’re such a cheapskate, Sonya.”

  “What? This was the second cheapest one at the store, excuse you,” Sonya retorts. She’s been here often enough to know the way to the lounge.

  “No wonder journalism is dying,” I crack. “Anyway, you’re in luck. It’s ladies’ night at Casa Helen.”

  Sonya arches an eyebrow, and I direct her gaze to the liquor cabinet.

  “Oh, now you’re speaking my language,” Sonya says, practically somersaulting her way to the drinks.

  We busy ourselves over the bottles and try to figure out what to drink. Sonya decides she’ll play bartender for us — as long as I’m the one wiping up afterwards — and goes into the whole long story of a mixologist she interviewed, and then promptly had sex with just minutes after the interview concluded.

  “You are a naughty girl,” I smile at her, impressed.

  “Excuse you,” Sonya repeats. “You haven’t said a single word about your alleged total hottie from the party the other night. Does my nose for a story sniff a scandalous secret?”

  “Scandalous?” I ask.

  “Is he married? Hope not. That’s always stupid, and as much as I’m rooting for you to get, you know, rooted… I don’t want you being a home-breaker. Got it, sister?”

  I snort. Not exactly my most feminine move. “No. You know I’ve got ethics and a code, Sonya. Plus he’s not married. He’s a pilot.”

  “You must have had a lot to drink before I got here. ‘Pilot’ is not the opposite of ‘married.’ I think you meant ‘single’, babe,” Sonya says.

  “A single pilot. I guess.” I giggle. “To the best of my knowledge. He seems like the kind of guy who’s not into the constraints and limits of romantic entanglements, if you know what I mean?”

  She nods slowly, “Fuck buddy material.”

  “Ugh,” I groan before laughing. “I told him it was going to be a one-off… but something took over me. I gave him my number. And he’s been calling.”

  “Mm,” she stops with a bottle in each hand and peers up at me, “I wonder what kind of a ‘something’ that might have been.”

  “You know what I mean.” I’m trying to hold back the giggles.

  “When you say it ‘came over you,’ can you explain a little more?”

  “Sonya!”

  “Well, gosh,” Sonya says, her jaw dropping. “And it sounds positively… like he wants into your pants again.”

  “I know he wants that, Sonya,” I tell her.

  “But you’re guessing he wants to carve a little niche in your heart, too,” Sonya insightfully notices.

  I shrug, waiting for Sonya to finish producing her first cocktail for the both of us.

  She’s stirring rapidly, and I’m guessing she’s actually pretty good at this. “He’s the one who’s leaving me confused. For someone who’s all cocky and gorgeous, he’s giving me mixed signals.”

  “Hot and cold? Alexa, you know those kinds of guys are just there to play you,” my best friend warns.

  “I don’t think so. Not quite. He came off to me at first as the guy who’s so hot he can fuck anyone he wants, doesn’t ever need to chase a girl. So self-assured he can make a game out of every sexual encounter… and I’m sure he’s got many. He’s so gifted, Sonya. Like… my legs are still trembling, and I haven’t seen him since that night.”

  “You’re kidding,” Sonya says. Her eyes shine as she repeats, “‘gifted.’”

  “You get my point.”

  “Yes, I really believe that I do. Okay, go on!”

  I sigh. “What is it he wants? Booty calls when his late-night flights land, after hauling some Silicon Valley CEO? I’m not sure I’m that sort of girl. I like thrills and spills, not so much… waiting around for a guy to take me to bed, no matter how good.”

  “And he’s very good,” Sonya reaffirms.

  “He really is.” I’m quiet for a moment. Thinking about it. “I didn’t pick any of his calls up — until I buckled, and called him back. Thought that was smart. Made me look a little less… you know, available.”

  “You’re way too pretty to have to resort to tricks like that, Alexa,” Sonya tuts. “But for real, how did that go?”

  “I was going to invite him over tonight, but he’s flying. So he’s supposed to call me when he lands. Didn’t really give me a timeframe on that. To be honest, I don’t know when he’s back here, just that he’ll call after his flight.”

  Sonya smiles. “Aw, that kinda sounds sweet. Like a romantic appointment.”

  “Earth to Sonya. We humans call that a date,” I laugh.

  “Damn, it’s been a while since I’ve let anyone close, then,” Sonya laughs in return. “So… what’s your verdict on this pilot hunk guy?”

  My honest answer doesn’t require words. Just a shrug. “It doesn’t mean anything, you know? Doesn’t have to, either. He knows that, I know that, all we have to do is respect that. I’ve got nothing better to do, so I’m going to let him impress me.”

  “Good call,” Sonya grins.

  I can hear a voice in my head go suuuuuuure, unconvinced by my rationalization of the whole situation.

  But hey, it’s the best I can do right now.

  So I close my eyes, down my drink, and spend the rest of the evening complaining about Helen to Sonya.

  By the time Sonya wobbles off to the door, I’m well and truly tipsy. I feel like I’m floating, like everything in the apartment can, for once, come to me instead.

  “Screw you, Helen,” I slur. “You’re such an uptight bitch.”

  Then I burst out laughing, stumbling around and going to the bathroom.

  I sober up enough as I splash water in my face, and then I stand up straight, looking in the mirror.

  My phone is ringing in the background but I cannot honestly deal with another Helen call, so I fix my makeup instead.

  Call ends. Thank goodness.

  But then my phone rings again.

  “Did she kill Ben?” I ask my mirror image. “I am not going to fly halfway across the world to help dispose a body.”

  The ringing goes on long enough that I decide to get it, sighing as I do.

  “Helen,” I greet tersely. “What’s up?”

  “I knew your name wasn’t Alexa,” a man’s voice responds, amused. It takes me a second to realize it’s Jagger.

  “Shit,” I burst out laughing, going on a little longer than usual because of my tipsy state. “Oh God, I would die if my name was Helen. This is Alexa, who’s speaking, please?”

  “Jagger McCann,” he answers, playing along by stiffly enunciating every syllable of his formal-sounding name. Crisp. Military crisp.

  “Is that Captain Jagger McCann? I have you penciled in for a phone call with me, correct,” I answer, practicing my best Stuck Up Receptionist voice.

  “This is he,” he answers.

  “Very well. Speak!”

  Jagger laughs. “So… I’ve just landed. I’m halfway across the country, just clearing that up. Else I’d be growling in your ear with my lips, not with my phone.”