Grown(44)

The plane levels off, finding some smooth air, but Korey doesn’t let go of my leg.

A black flight attendant stops by, beaming.

“Sir, care for another beverage?” she asks with a taut smile.

Korey opens one eye. “Yeah. And one for her too.”

The flight attendant glances at me, frowning at the hand on my thigh. I read her gold nameplate: Nicole.

“Um, sure, can I see some ID, ma’am?”

Korey rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist.

“Just get me my drink.”

There’s a brief pause as the plane tightens. You can almost hear the metal contract.

Nicole’s eyes narrow before she walks away and mumbles something to another attendant. They peer over their shoulders, glaring at us. The cabin grows sticky and humid.

Korey continues to drink, listening to music on his iPhone. I stare out the window, the sky an oil painting, the sea below calling me home.

“So yo, I’ve been thinking,” Korey whispers, vodka on his breath. “We ain’t gonna start you with a solo career.”

The plane shakes. Or at least I think it does.

I blink. “What?”

“You need to be in a girl group first. We already got Amber. We need two more.”

“Two more girls?”

“Yeah. So when we get to New York, you should invite your friend Gabriela to come by the studio.”

Something thumps and claws against the side of the plane. “Gab?”

“Yeah,” he says, gripping his armrest with a gulp, waiting for the plane to fall apart midair. “You said she can sing, right?”

I don’t remember telling him that. “Um. Yeah.”

He slips a phone out of his hoodie. “Here. Text her. Tell her to roll through tomorrow.”

I palm the phone, thoughts churning. “I . . . I don’t think she would be . . . she’s hard to work with. You’d get mad, and I wouldn’t want you to be upset.”

Annoyed, he relents. “Aight. What about your sister?”

In an instant, I’m a deboned filet of fish, sliding down my seat.

“Shea,” I croak out.

“Yeah. Can she sing?”

“No,” I answer quick, heart racing.

“Well, let me text her and see.”

“Y-y-you have her number?”

He smirks. “I got all the numbers in your phone.”

My mouth dries. The thought of him in Shea’s phone, the way he was in mine . . . I’m out the window, on the wing, ready to jump. But I can’t. Because if I jump, there will be no one to protect Gab, Shea, Mom, Daddy, or the Littles from this monster.

He’s a monster—the thought sharpens, drenched in resolve.

“Leave her alone,” I mutter.

The plane rumbles. Harder now. Korey’s drink almost slides off his tray.

“Huh?” he says, glancing upward as if expecting the oxygen masks to drop.

I turn to him. “I said leave her alone.”

Korey’s face transforms slow, from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde. My stomach drops, the feeling of a falling roller coaster as the plane tilts. He lunges and I reel back, hitting my head on the window with a yelp.

“Miss, are you OK?”

Nicole appears at our side. Korey straightens, remembering we’re in public.

“Hm? Oh, nah, she’s fine,” he says with a light chuckle. “All this turbulence got her shook.”

Nicole stares at him then at me, unconvinced.

“Miss, do you need to use the ladies’ room?”

Korey cocks his head to the side, and I fear for Nicole.

“I said she’s fine.”

“Sir, I’m asking her a question.”

The plane tips upward, pressure building against my ear-drum. Nicole steadies herself, surfing the ride.

Korey realizes his intimidation tactics are no longer working and goes straight for charm.

“Oh, I see what it is. You’ve been reading them blogs about me, right?” He chuckles, standing. “Don’t trip, sweetheart. I’m not the monster they paint me to be. I’m a gentleman. I got her, aight? She’s cool.”

Nicole raises a vicious eyebrow. “Sir, if you don’t take your hand off my shoulder and sit down, I’ll have the captain make an emergency landing and the police waiting for you at the gate.”

Commotion stirs in the cabin behind us. “Hey, Boss, what’s going on up here?” Tony shouts. “Do you know who he is?”

Soon, everyone talks over one another. The flight attendants yell about federal regulations. Tony barks about his boss’s needs. Korey vents about how the world is trying to attack him.

The wings seesaw. Korey falls into his seat and I press into the window, widening the distance between us. He leans into me, his mouth on my neck.

“If you embarrass me on this fucking plane, you gonna wish you were fucking dead,” he whispers.

Outside, the brewing storm is a beautiful chaotic show.

“Miss!” Nicole, now shouting. “Do you need help?”

“I’m . . . I’m . . .”

“See? She says she’s fine! Why you harassing her?”

“Miss, are you fine? Do you need help?”

“What are you doing?” The white flight attendant scolds Nicole before whipping around to Tony. “Hey! Sir, I said back off. You need to return to your seat!”