Falling(27)

Jo tried not to look down at the young couple holding their own child who was roughly the same age as the woman’s. “Ma’am, I’m sorry you find this upsetting. Unfortunately, policy dictates—”

“I don’t care what the policy is.”

“Well, I’m afraid the FAA does. This is for your baby’s safety.”

“I will decide what is safe for my baby,” the woman said, leaning in to examine Jo’s name bar. “Jo what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What is your last name, Jo? I will be writing in.”

Jo shifted her weight. “Just to make sure I understand, ma’am. You’re going to write the airline to inform them that this crew not only knows FAA and company policy but also enforces it?” She paused. “Watkins. W-A-T-K-I-N-S. Would you like my supervisor’s email too? I can write this all down for you if it helps. I really want to make sure this information gets to the right people.”

The woman curled her lip. “How dare you think—”

“Ah, shut up, lady,” the man in the window seat next to the young couple said. “She’s just doing her job.”

“Don’t you tell me to—”

“Your kid is still shitting his pants. He doesn’t even know where his nose is.”

“My child—”

“Ma’am,” Big Daddy said, sliding himself between the woman and the row. “Your darling baby boy is back there wondering why his mother is yelling at people. Please go back to your seat and inform him of the great news—Coastal will be giving you a bunch of free miles for this truly harrowing personal trauma you and no one else has had to endure.”

“I will have—”

“At-a,” Daddy said, holding up his palm. “One more word and authorities are meeting the aircraft.”

“But—”

“Karen, I swear to god,” he said.

“My name is Janice.”

Daddy wrinkled his nose. “But is it?”

Narrowing her eyes, she stormed off in a huff, the husband looking rightfully fearful as she sat back down.

“Don’t worry,” Big Daddy said just loud enough for the rows within earshot to hear, “I’m not rewarding that behavior. The only thing she’s getting is a dysfunctional teenager. Jo, the plane is FAA compliant in the back,” he said with a salute.

“Perfect. Thank you,” Jo said before leaning in, lowering her voice. “Anyone raise suspicions?”

“Maybe one guy,” Daddy said, barely even a whisper. “Aisle seat, aircraft right, two rows behind me. Buzz cut.”

Jo nonchalantly shifted her weight to see around Big Daddy. She quickly flicked a look at the man.

“The tall guy?”

“Tall?” Daddy said. “When he went into the bathroom he had to duck.”

“What’s suspicious about him?”

Big Daddy shook his head. “It’s just a hunch. Kellie and I actually commented on his weird vibe before any of this started.”

Jo nodded. “We’ll keep our eye on him. Send Kellie up. I’ll check the manifest so she can Google him and see what comes up.”

Daddy headed to the back while Jo finished the final few rows, which went smoothly. She was just releasing the last set when Kellie came up behind her.

“I didn’t know you had Rick Ryan in first,” Kellie said, eyes trained on the front of the plane.

Looking over her shoulder, Jo saw the kid who had been sitting at the window in row two leaning up against the lav, scrolling on his phone. He wasn’t really a kid. Probably somewhere in his midtwenties. But the beanie, hoodie, and tattoos gave off an odd arrested development. Jo assumed he was considered hip and fashionable by those who knew what hip and fashionable were.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Jo said.

“He’s got like ten million Instagram followers,” Kellie said.

“Why?”

Kellie shrugged.

“But what’s he famous for? What does he do?”

“I actually have no idea. He just is?”

Seeing the two watching, he waved them over.

“Don’t you dare ask for an autograph,” Jo whispered to Kellie as they walked up. “Mr. Ryan, did you need something?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You want to explain this?” He held up his phone and the women squinted at the bright light in the dim cabin. It was a selfie of himself wearing the oxygen mask. Kellie leaned forward to read the specifics. Twelve hundred likes, two hundred and forty-three comments. He had posted the picture only six minutes ago.

“Shit,” Kellie muttered under her breath.

“Explain what?” Jo asked. “Sorry, kids, I’m lost.”

“I posted this on Instagram. Said what was happening. And now everyone’s like, Dude, that’s not real.”

Jo stared. “What’s not real?”

“This FAR stuff,” he said. “People are saying it’s bogus. Like, airline people.”

Jo’s stomach dropped. She glanced at Kellie, who didn’t appear to have anything to say.

“Mr. Ryan,” said Jo, not entirely certain of what she would say next. Suddenly a chime sounded through the cabin; a call button, row ten.