In Flight (Up in the Air #1)(19)

I did. He lowered his hand from my neck when we reached the door.

“I’m going to tie you to my bed and take your hymen. I can’t seem to think about anything else,” he told me quietly. “Tell me when I can see you again.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not sure. I have a twelve hour day tomorrow. We’re doing a turn to DC.”

“What about today?”

I just blinked at him. “I’m flying back to Las Vegas.”

He just nodded as though that was helpful, and left.

The other flight attendants came down in short order, starting with Brenda. She was a solid ten minutes late from our showtime. Melissa and Jake came down a few minutes after that.

We waited another ten minutes before Stephan had to phone headquarters.

“Yes, I’m just making sure that we are sharing an airport shuttle with our pilots this morning,” he murmured into his phone. “Okay, thank you.”

The disheveled looking pilots showed just as he was hanging up his phone. We had already loaded up our bags, so we piled in while the pilots got theirs loaded up.

We rushed through the airport, the entire crew hustling to avoid a delay.

Stephan had braided my hair into one sleek braid in the van, while I applied a minimal amount of makeup at red lights. There was no way I could have done it while the maniac driver was swerving around. Even after years of New York layovers, I had yet to get used to the crazy thing New Yorkers called ‘driving.’

We made it to the gate in record time, and an exasperated gate agent let us onto the jetway. She was plump, middle-aged, and harried looking.

“You guys are borderline late,” she scolded us. “If this flight is delayed, I’m putting down the flight crew as the cause.”

Stephan gave her his most charming smile. “Sweetheart, let’s not be delayed then. Send them down anytime you like. We have the A team working today. We don’t need any prep time at all.”

She smiled back, instantly relieved by his attitude. “That’s what I like to hear. Some flight crews need thirty minutes to prep.”

Stephan gave the Captain a meaningful look. “Well, that ain’t us, right Captain?” he prompted him. Some pilots took forever to prep, too.

Captain Peter nodded, smiling. “Like he said, we’re on our A game today, so send ‘em on down.”

It was a slight gamble. If we were unlucky enough to have any mechanical problems, we would have a plane full of passengers for the delay. But we were hoping for lucky today. It was that or a write-up.

“I’ll start the pre-board beverage service for you and have Jake man the door so you can take inventory in the galley. The caterers have come and gone by now. Hopefully they left us everything we need,” Stephan delved into the liquor cart as he spoke, pulling out glasses.

“Wanna take out a tray of mimosas?” I asked him. “They’re usually a hit in the morning, especially on this flight, and it saves time, since we have twenty-one up here.”

He nodded absently, digging around. He could never find anything in the galley, and I didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

I opened a drawer full of cold bottles of water, pointing. “Just put those out for them. I’ll do the rest of the mimosa prep while you do that.”

I was already popping the cork on the champagne as he strode back into the cabin.

It was going to be a hectic morning. It just had that feeling to it. I liked that, though. Staying busy was never a bad thing, as far as I was concerned.

I had a tray of mimosas waiting when he came back a few minutes later. He headed immediately back out.

I had accounted for all of the drinks we needed. I began to count the meals, and prepare the menus. I handed Stephan the menus to hand out and he handed me a list of drink orders. No glasses remained on the tray.

“I should be good after you hand out those menus,” I told him. “Do I need to take out another tray of mimosas?”

“Nope, you made the perfect amount. And you have a surprise in 2D, Buttercup.” He grinned at me as he swept back out into the cabin.

I was only half listening, making drinks as quickly as possible. Pre-board service could be tricky when we were this pressed for time.

I strode out with the first round of drink orders. I was delivering the orders back to front, because that was how Stephan had written it down. It must have been the order they’d boarded in. The gate agents sometimes liked to mix it up, though only god knew why.

I unloaded the drinks quickly. There were some loud, boisterous New Yorkers up front today. I just smiled at them. A few men almost shouted at each other as they argued about some sports team. I counted five of them together that may be a possible problem, or may just need a firm shushing if they kept it up.

They got suddenly quiet as they noticed me.

“Hey, sugar. You’re a sight for sore eyes,” the loudest one said to me finally, after they’d all stared at me rudely while I set down their drinks. I looked up and smiled at him pleasantly. Neutrally. He was maybe in his late forties, with dark hair and swarthy skin. He looked like a New Yorker down to his toes.

“Good morning,” I murmured, heading back into the galley for the next round.

I only had a few more drinks to make after that. The waters and mimosas had been enough for most of them.

I handed out the next small round, collecting already empty glasses on my tray as I passed back in. I started from the front again, collecting jackets, and making sure no one needed anything.