Page 2 of Summer People
I’m not the one who made the misogynistic comment. I’m not sure why he’s acting like I did.
“I say we all just stay on the plane. You can’t make us get off,” the sexist guy adds.
A low chorus of cheers breaks out, and I sink back into my seat and brace myself. It’s more likely that the flight attendant will throw the champagne at me than let me drink it.
I let out the breath I’m holding when he turns, champagne flute in hand, and explains as calmly (patronizingly) as he can why we cannot, in fact, refuse to get off the plane.
I’m already grabbing my bag from beneath the seat and standing. “How long until we can leave?” I ask, pulling out my phone and checking the time.
My father arranged for a helicopter to meet me in Boston. He’ll be really annoyed if I miss it. It’s the only part of my new life that I let him have input in, and if I screw it up, he’ll only want to meddle in other ways.
He’s less than pleased that I’m leaving LA and doesn’t think I should be running like this. Maybe if I told him the whole truth, he’d understand. But if I told him everything, I don’t think I could handle the fallout. Not right now at least.
Later. Once I’ve become the new me.
The flight attendant sighs. “The earliest they can be here is twelve.”
“Midnight?” someone behind me snaps.
I nod. Right. Definitely need another plan. It’s already nine p.m., and with the time difference and flight time, I was already cutting it close.
While the rest of the first-class passengers argue, I slip past the angry man still holding the champagne flute. Head lowered, I don’t stop until I’m standing across the desk from the gate agent. Turning on the charm, I rest an arm on the Formica between us and lean forward.
Before I can speak, her eyes light up. “Aren’t you?—”
“Shh.” I put my finger over my lips. “Let’s not draw a crowd.”
The woman nods. “Of course. How can I help you, Ms. Sweet?”
At least my fame is good for one thing. “I need to book a first-class ticket on a direct flight to Boston, and I need to land by six a.m. so I have time to catch my connection.”
Nodding like a bobblehead, she gets to work, her fingers flying over the keys of her computer. Her head tilts once, then again, this time her nose scrunching too. “Not possible.”
My stomach sinks. “I’m sorry, what?”
She still has that smile on her face. The woman is giving me bad news, yet she looks as cheerful as she did when she first recognized me. “It seems our entire network has gone down.”
“Your entirewhat?” Teeth gritted, I lean over the counter so I can see her screen. That doesn’t sound like a maintenance issue.
I blink at the computer, then at her. I can’t make any sense of what I’m seeing.
The smile she’s still wearing is starting to look strained. “I can get you on another airline?—”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
She takes a breath and readjusts her smile, this time with much more effort. “But there are no first-class seats available that will get you there direct.”
Closing my eyes, I accept that I’m going to have to give in a little. “Fine. Then I’ll connect. What time will I land in Boston?”
“Oh, no. I mean there are no first-class seats available on any flights that get you to Boston tonight.”
I nod. It’s more like a bouncing of my head as I accept the inevitable. I won’t act like a princess. I’m no longer that person. Coach is perfectly fine. All I want is to get to the island to start my new life. It doesn’t matter how it happens.Everything will be fine.“Okay. Just put me wherever you can fit me.”
“Oh, we thought we’d have the whole row. Hunny, you’re going to have to take the baby. We have company.”
With a steadying breath, I survey the last row, where a couple is seated, one by the window and one at the aisle, along with their crying baby.
A glance in every direction tells me that this is the only open seat, as the gate agent told me repeatedly as she booked the flight.
