Page 129 of Pucking Around

“Yeah—” He turns to look at me, dark brows lowered in annoyance at being interrupted. “Yeah—hold on, Chuck. No—hold on, Chuck. Can I help you?” he says at me.

“My travel companion and I got separated,” I explain. “Would you be willing to switch seats with her?”

He glances around. “Is she in first class?”

“No.”

“Then no, pal—Yeah, Chuck, I’m still here—” He chatters into his phone as I feel my anxiety mounting.

“I’ll pay you $500 to move,” I say, interrupting his call again.

“Hold on, Chuck,” he growls. “Dude, what’s your problem?” he says at me.

“I said I’ll pay you to switch seats with her,” I repeat. “$500 cash.”

He scoffs. “Look, guy, I make $500 an hour. It’s a short flight. Finger your girl in the bathroom if you’re that hard up.”

My shoulders tense. I don’t like him talking about Rachel that way. If he was a player, he would have just earned himself a punch to the jaw. But this isn’t hockey. I have to speak the language he understands.

The flight attendant asks him for the second time to hang up his call. I’m running out of time. Any moment they’ll say we’re pushing back.

“I’ll give you $1,000 to move,” I offer, talking over him for a third time.

“Jesus—no, asshole,” he snaps. “Keep harassing me, and I’ll have you booted from this flight.”

Swallowing my growl of frustration, I snatch up my bag from under the seat. “Then move.”

“What?”

“Let me out.Move.”

“Look, I gotta call you when I land, Chuck. The guy next to me is being a total dick.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and stands.

“Sir, you need to sit down. We’re about to push back,” calls the flight attendant.

“Tell that to this guy,” he says, jabbing a thumb in my direction.

“Sirs, youbothneed to sit down,” she repeats.

But I’m not listening. I slip past the asshole and move down the aisle into coach, my eyes scanning the seats looking for Rachel.

The flight attendant follows behind me. “Sir, you have to return to your seat—”

I spot Rachel. She’s looking down at her phone, probably texting her pushy red-headed friend.

“Sir, I said you need to sit—sir!”

I approach Rachel’s row and she spots me, eyes going wide. “Mars, what are you doing?”

There’s a young man sitting next to her. He’s wearing a backwards baseball hat and a Buffalo Sabres t-shirt. His eyes go just as wide as Rachel’s as he sees me approach. “Whoa—holy shit,” he cries, grinning like a fool. “Mars Kinnunen? For real?”

Rachel groans.

“Hello,” I say at her seat mate. “Would you like to sit in first class?”

“Mars, this is ridiculous,” Rachel cries at the same time that the kid just glances between us and says, “Uhhh…”

“Sir, please take your seat,” the flight attendant says again. “Now. Or you’ll be removed from the flight.”

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