Page 3 of Come Fly with Me

First Officer J. Campbell

“My name’s Jake. Actually, it’s Jacob, but everyone calls me Jake.”

“Seems like everyone calls you Hunter.”

He laughs a little, and it’s different this time, endearing and natural.

“Just a nickname.” He gives his eyes a roll and begins to explain. “When I was a kid, my dad took me hunting, but I hated every minute of it and cried. I wouldn’t even try to kill an animal. I just sat in the woods holding this big ass gun and crying. Pretty much scared anything away with all my boo-hooing.”

His story is cute, and it makes me look at him a little differently.

“You tell one flight attendant this story and suddenly I’m Hunter and not Jake. They claim it’s fitting since all I hunt now is women, which also really isn’t true. I’m just a bit of a flirt.” He winks like this is supposed to be endearing, and all it does is make me want to gag.

And there goes that small amount of credibility he was earning back.

Hunting women…what a slimeball.

I shake my head, looking away from him, I ask, “You want to get things rolling here, Jake?”

“Don’t mind if I do, Captain Patterson.” And then he picks up the receiver and announces for the flight attendants to prepare for takeoff.

He slips the coffee cups from the cardboard carrier, handing me one and placing it in the cup holder. Thank god we’re on a new plane because those old ones are so antiquated.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I grabbed pretty much everything they had to offer. It’s in the bag.” He indicates to the brown paper bag sitting in front of us. “Your coffee is black, but if you tell me how you like it, I’ll remember from here on out.” This time there’s no insinuation in his words, no teasing playful comment.

“I like my coffee with two creams and two sugars. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Well, I had to see if I could win you back over after that less than stellar first impression you got of me.”

I scrub a hand down my face and shake my head. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks coffee is going to save him and the rest of his gender.

It’s going to be one long-ass flight.

Two

Jake

Taylor and I don’t talk anymore during taxi and takeoff, except to run through the pre-flight checks and calls as we barrel down the runway. Airline protocol is pretty strict about the conversations that take place during what is probably the most dangerous part of flying, and even I’m not that much of an arrogant arse to risk fucking about.

I’m kind of glad she let me do this takeoff seeing as it’s my first in this new role. I wasn’t sure given her pissy attitude when I’d shown up a few minutes late. Was positive it wouldn’t happen after the overshare on being in the bathroom, which had more to do with being a little nervous about my new role and less to do with drinking coffee. Not that I was about to admit that to Taylor. But then she surprised me anyway by letting me run the show.

As we level out at cruising altitude, I pick up the mic to announce the seat belt sign has been turned off and all the usual stuff about staying in your seats, our flight time, expected weather, as well as introducing all the flight attendants on board. This part is so routine, it gets boring after pretty much the first time you fly, so there’s always a little in-flight competition going to see who can slip the cheekiest shit into their mic time.

I’m going to have to try and come up with some gems on this one, just to keep my new captain on her toes a little.

Our flight today is to Sydney and while most of it will be covered by the autopilot, I like the fact that we’re heading back to my hometown for my first flight as a first officer. Even better, we have a three-night break before we head back too. Three nights off means two nights of non-stop drinking and partying. Exactly what I need.

“Well,” I say, flicking on the autopilot and turning to face Taylor, “you officially just popped my cherry.”

Her eyes widen as her mouth falls open a little and I can’t help but grin.

“What?” she asks.

“My cherry,” I reply, gesturing toward the instruments. “First time doing takeoff as a first officer at Crescent Airways.”

Taylor rolls her eyes before ticking off a few checkpoints in her logbook and stowing it beside her seat. “Well, it was pretty good,” she says, not looking at me as she reaches for her coffee.

“Pretty good,” I repeat, chuckling. “Please. That was smooth as silk.”

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