Behind the Scenes

by Elisa Preston

  Sophie once managed to uphold a relationship with an amazing guy she had met at one of their events. Her take on the situation always centered on Virginia being afraid of commitment. They had just had the familiar conversation the night before; it usually contained the same words, just rearranged to form different sentences.

  “For the thousandth time,” Virginia had lamented, “how can I be afraid of commitment when my entire livelihood relies on people following through on their commitments? I think if I had a strong fear of such a thing, I’d be in a different business, one where commitment didn’t matter. For example, retail, in a store with a generous return policy.”

  “Gin,” Sophie had said, using her affectionate nickname for Virginia that only she was allowed to use, “maybe you just haven’t found the one who really makes you want to be less busy.”

  “I don’t want to be less busy. I like busy. I like knowing what each day holds,” she had said.

  “You put out a thousand fires a day. You don’t know what each day holds. One day never predicts the next. That’s, like, Event Planning 101.”

  “I’ve been in this business long enough that I like the fires. Now shush,” she had said before they had turned their attention back to the chick flick they had been watching.

  Back to her present moment on the airplane that still wasn’t moving, Virginia sat back in her seat and took a deep breath, laughing lightly to herself and thinking, I’ll have to tell Sophie about this one.

  Virginia again went back and forth between her crossword puzzle and looking out the window, hoping the scenery was about to change. Her leg had gone back to bouncing like it had at the ticket counter. The seat to her left remained staying empty even after the cabin doors closed, so she had a clear line of sight to what would eventually be the clouds. Right now it was separate teams of airport crew members working on their own respective task lists non-threatening. At least they wouldn’t be too hot, she thought.

  It’s all about perspective.

  What she really cared about at this moment? The fact that the cabin doors had finally closed. That tidbit made her comfortable enough that she could go back to figuring out her holidays-themed puzzle.

  Caught up in doing her crossword, and trying to figure out a five-letter word for ‘remain’ whose last letter also fit the answer for a 2000 Ridley Scott film, Virginia barely noticed that forty minutes later the plane had not moved off the runway. It had moved down the runway, the air was still circulating throughout the aircraft, and the lights were on, so the power hadn’t gone out. The buzz of murmurs was just starting when the speaker overhead crackled.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize but it looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a little while. It is a maintenance issue, as well as an air traffic control issue. We can leave the power on for now, so we will be serving some snacks and light beverages. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience but we’ll update you as we can.”

  End crackle.

  Great. Just great.

   Chapter 2 

  “Ugh!”

  Virginia let out a huffy grunt and yanked her phone from her bag so she could let Sophie know that she might beat Virginia to New York after all. She pounded out the text message, then with another huff tossed her phone back into her bag.

  She looked around, noticing she was not the only unhappy camper. Or flyer, as the case may be. Except for the scruffy guy to her right, who seemed completely nonplussed by all the action going on around him, Virginia saw and heard people hammering out text messages, making frustrated phone calls, and even questioning the flight attendants who were beginning to deliver refreshments and annoyingly calm smiles. Their expressions read like a forced sympathy card.

  She could have gone back to her crossword puzzle. She could have texted more with Sophie or her mom. She could have even read some of her notes for the presentation she and Sophie would give the following day. All of that seemed incredibly anxiety-inducing as compared to striking up a conversation with a live human. As an event planner, dealing with people and talking to people is what fed her. She often thrived off of others’ energy. Since Mr. Scruffy currently appeared zen-like, maybe she could feed off of that and experience peace.

  She tapped her neighbor’s arm.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Yes?” he answered without looking up. His voice was deep, unsure of what she might ask but sure of himself at the same time.

  “Might I ask—why did you laugh earlier when I was talking to that man?”

  Now he looked up, and his blue eyes screamed at her from underneath his baseball cap. The instant they connected with hers, she both recognized them and hoped they’d never go away.

  She, not being a woman given to instant romantic fantasies, she cleared her throat and asked again. “Why did you laugh? You’ve kept to yourself this entire time, which has now been more than an hour.” She looked at her watch to confirm. “Except for that one moment. What gives?”

  He was quiet for a beat, but he didn’t break his gaze with her. His head was slightly dipped and he held a smirk in place, just slight enough that you had to look for it to see it. They were in close enough quarters that she could see it, no contest. And she liked it. Very much.

  When he spoke, it was gentle and playful. For the second time in twelve seconds, Virginia’s world seemed to zone in to just him. Him and his mid-baritone voice, the ruffled brown hair poking out of the sides of his baseball cap, and his perfectly proportioned face.

  “Because,” her neighbor said. “What that guy said was funny in a pathetic way. What you said was funny in a brilliant way.”

  “Hm,” she said, considering his words. “Brilliant. I like that.” She paused, acting as though she was sizing up his compliment to her. Then, the professional that she was, she held out her hand and introduced herself.

  His smile had a splash of laughter, and he set down his book to shake her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Virginia. I’m Levi.”

  “Nice to meet you, Levi,” she said, her words crescendo-ing as she realized whom she had just met. “Wait. Levi? Levi, Adams? As in, the international celebrity chef solely responsible for the best non-profit food distribution program in the nation?”

  A female passenger five rows up looked back at them so quickly that even Virginia was startled and knew to cover her own tracks. “I mean, he’s great, but he’s certainly not my favorite. That Italian girl, she always has the best recipes.” The play-off went well enough that the interested passenger turned around.

  “Sorry about that,” Virginia whispered. “I just didn’t expect you, I mean a celebrity. I mean. You know. This is quite a surprise.”

  She was staccato, he remained confident. A natural blush rose from her neck to her ears, and she stopped just short of fanning herself again.

  He smiled, clearly endeared by her genuine uncertainty of what to say. Virginia’s rare sheepishness reared its head, as she wondered if she had shown herself to be such a doof that he wouldn’t want to keep talking.

  “It’s happened before, it’s quite alright Virginia.”

  She liked the way he said her name. He had a neutral accent, one that was not an obvious marker of where he was from, which was Canada, which she knew because she had at one time been obsessed with his show, Downhome Made New. And now here he was, sitting next to her, live and in person, on a semi-crowded plane for an indefinite amount of time. At least she had worn her cute little black dress, every woman’s closet staple.

  She couldn’t very well pull out her phone now, or he’d know how middle-school fan-girl she wanted to be and tell all her friends who was currently sitting to her right. She wanted to tell them and show them with about a thousand selfies.

  Instead, she tried to collect her thoughts and think of what she could say to a man who had been her biggest screen-crush for the better half of her adulthood. She had long since memorized his complementary light skin and deep blue eyes, the well-built muscular fram
e that she knew he worked on every day, and the crisp wardrobe—Levi Adams was never caught in anything less than a shirt-and-tie, a trait that endeared her far more than she had ever admitted to anyone.

  “So,” she said, drawing out the word, putting away what she had committed to memory via a screen and instead focusing on the live human in front of her. Levi kept his gaze steady on her, seeming—again—unaffected at the situation. “So, where are you headed?” she finally asked.

  “New York City, just like you,” he said, obviously amused but being kind about it. He had continued to keep his book down and his gaze steadily on her. Didn’t he understand how that was absolutely undoing her from the inside out? He had placed his right hand under his chin and seemed ready to talk—and listen—for hours.

  Duh, Virginia. “I mean, is that actually where you’re going or is it a thru-way for you? And how did you get to come through our sleepy little airport, what with our two terminals each with only four gates?” Finally, she had said something that sounded more like herself.

  Breathe, Virginia. Breathe.

  “I’m staying there. It’s where I work and live. And my original flight from Los Angeles to New York City had to make an emergency landing here in Rochester.”

  “Why didn’t you just take the train from here? Or rent a car, both of which would have given you some private space and saved you the hassle of talking to a well-meaning but fumbling seatmate who almost gave you away to a plane full of soon-to-be irate passengers?” she asked, sweeping her hand toward the rest of the aircraft.

  His quick, slim smile came out again. “I wouldn’t exactly call this a hassle,” he said. “I wanted to fly because I love flying. Delays like this, though, make me want to be my own pilot.”

  “My grandfather was a pilot,” she said.

  “Yeah?” He turned his body toward her as she spoke.

  “He was,” she said, nodding. “He flew during the Gulf War at the tail-end of his service. Then he flew his own plane for thirty years until he passed away.”

  “That’s crazy. Did you ever get to fly with him?”

  “Tons. It always made my mom nervous, of course, but Grampa Sam was always incredibly careful, especially with his only granddaughter,” Virginia said, looking at Levi but remembering with fondness all the times she and her grandparents’ dog Rusty had flown with her grandfather.

  Levi smiled again. Her heart skipped a beat again.

  Hold onto your hat, Virginia. You have work to do. You have work. to. do.

  “What about you,” he asked. “Why did you fly instead of taking the train or renting a car?”

  “Well first of all, I don’t drive in the city. I tried it once and it was not for me,” she said while slicing the air with her hand. “Also, I had the miles for myself and my business partner, who was supposed to be with me but ended up taking a later flight. She will probably beat me there at this point.”

  Their easy smiles spoke of an immediate friendship, no matter the flutters that had been set free on her insides. She could talk to him like a normal person.

  Couldn’t she?

  Sure she could.

  Keeping in mind that he’s not just a celebrity but a person, with the same human tendencies as herself? Sure.

  Keeping in mind that his idea for a new way to approach hunger changed the game for millions of children in America? Sure. No biggie.

  And keeping in mind that his boyish round face was the only round thing about him, and that his tight physique and easy confidence made him so incredibly handsome that Sophie’s grandmother had once referred to him as “the finest-looking hunk this side of the Mississippi, and every other side of the Mississippi, too!” Sure.

  Yes, Virginia could talk to Levi like she talked to her clients, regardless of the fact that he was looking at her with this soft, intent-on-learning-about-you expression that made her insides fold like Gumby.

  Even so, Virginia dug deep and focused on his quiet confidence, the zen-like energy he was exuding that she wanted so badly to catch. And since she was about to be the event planner for New York City’s biggest event of the year—she just knew it would be hers—she could definitely talk to a handsome celebrity.

  Friendly chit-chat ensued, even if sometimes it seemed like the line between just-met friends and just-met blind date blurred in and out of focus. Virginia tried very hard—with moderate success—to stick to topics that would be neutral and not seem like she was prying. At New Horizons, asking four thousand questions was natural, though it usually came over the course of an entire relationship with a client as she made sure her brides’ and organizations’ expectations were met if not exceeded. She tried to reign it in with Levi, though he seemed quite comfortable answering anything she asked him.

  Do you like living in the city? I love it, he said, and then he listed a dozen reasons why.

  Do you miss your sister and parents? Every day, especially special occasions I can’t make it home for.

  How many nieces and nephews do you have? None, but I love my friends’ dogs.

  In between her questions they filled in the chatter, back and forth, story after story, social comment after social comment. It was easy and comfortable, like they’d known each other for more than the couple of hours they had been talking. It was only when Levi began going into detail about his current work project—expanding his food distribution organization to islands in the Pacific—that Virginia remembered she was talking to a celebrity. Her insides went all gooey and a little berserk again; she had to tune him out for a few minutes while she calmed herself down.

  Virginia, you are a professional. You have dealt with two celebrities in the past. You planned one of their weddings and one of their fiftieth birthday parties. Those went well. Don’t lose it now just because you used to have a crush on this guy. You haven’t even followed his work as of late. You’ve been too busy building your business, the whole reason for this trip. He is just another person, sitting on an airplane, talking to you like any decent seat-neighbor on a significantly-delayed flight would do.

  After taking a series of subtle deep breaths, Virginia was back in the game. She went back to verbally responding to Levi as they spoke further of their families, travels, favorite restaurants in New York, and Most Embarrassing Workplace stories. They stopped only when a crackle sounded once again above their heads.

  “Hello again, flight 951 passengers. I am sorry to say that we are stuck here for quite a while longer.”

  A loud, collective groan filled the aircraft like a stink bomb wave. A few choice words were spoken loudly enough for everyone to hear. Both responses were ignored by the flight attendants, though a few immature passengers whooped in agreement.

  The voice came back. “I know, this is not what any of us wanted. We will keep the aircraft on, circulating the air. We will provide additional snacks and drinks at the airline’s expense, and please let us know if you need anything else. We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience and will update when possible. Thank you.”

  Click-crackle-click.

  Virginia looked at Levi just as he snuck a peek at her. She didn’t move—and neither did he—as they both seemed to realize that they would have to either keep the conversation going or retreat to their little corners of the plane for who knew how many hours more.

  Virginia made it abundantly clear to herself that no matter how charming, good-looking, kind, and compatible this man presented himself to be, she was not in a position to make any kind of romantic moves. She repeated “Not the right time” to herself, over and over, as Sophie’s words from the night before fluttered through her heart.

  Someday, Gin. Someday you’re going to meet someone who will make you want to work less and love more. Someday.

   Chapter 3 

  Seven hours.

  In case one was wondering how long it took for two people to make an indelible mark on each other’s lives.

  The first two hours had been fun. Virginia knew she had never see
n blue eyes like his, and the intent look in his eyes seemed to say, I’ve never been here before. Please, tell me more.

  Yet, for as many times as his words, or the look in his eyes, or the light way he touched her arm, made her stomach flutter and her heart dance, she repeated ten times over Not now, Virginia. Not now.

  Virginia had her work. She was certain that she and Sophie would land the Jackson’s Christmas Gala. It wasn’t haughty confidence, either. She had recently watched the winning pitches—everything was recorded with this company so that anything they wanted could be used on social media and for marketing—and she knew, just knew, that New Horizons was exactly what the Jackson’s executive board was looking for. Virginia and Sophie had prepared for this presentation, the job, with every event they had managed over the previous twelve years. Virginia was confident that she and Sophie could not only do this, but knock it out of the park.

  She had been visiting New York City since she was a little girl. Her favorite aunt and uncle lived in Brooklyn, and every summer and winter she had the pleasure of learning more and more about what had come to be her favorite place of all her travels. Pieces of her heart were scattered throughout the city: in the stark-and-subtle changing of the seasons evident throughout Central Park come September and October; in Greenwich Village where she had found her favorite pizza restaurant when she was fifteen; in a little theatre in Brooklyn that held just fifty people but had put on the best five-man production of Annie she had ever experienced; and in Manhattan, where anybody could be anyone and anything they wanted any day of the year. She saw and felt the tangible beauty of the city. She and Sophie knew that the biggest thing they would bring to the table was a love for the city, its people, and its uniqueness that oftentimes seemed lost on its regular inhabitants.

  So, yes, she had her work. She did not have time or energy to involve herself romantically. Even if her gentleman courter was a world-famous compassionate entrepreneur who not only knew his way around the kitchen but also a conversation.