Chapter 24

I text Val:

Brendan Saks? Srsly? No thanks.

Now she’s gone too far. Flight Club at my own discretion is one thing, but her telling me who and when?

Internet superstar and YouTube comedian, Saks is also the topic of more media scandals than the Royal Family.

Another text from Val: Chess, remember. Queen moves.

What? Is she calling herself a queen now? Fury shoots through my veins, making my pulse race. I slip my phone in my picket, just as it rings.

“What?” I snap.

“Listen to me,” Val’s voice is low with mellow control on the other end, “without a heavyweight five-star on this flight, you’re in risk of another term warning. Your first one was just removed. Do you think that would’ve ever happened if I hadn’t personally called your manager and told her I wanted you on my team? Saks will bring in exactly the point spread you need to propel you to Rising Star—that is the only way you’ll keep from getting another term warning.”

“I pick my own prospects.”

“Not today you don’t,” Val’s tone hardens. “Aether’s strict with no-show and tardy policies and you will lose your status.”

“Good,” I say numbly. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“No, no, no, no… you don’t get to back down now. We have an agreement. You’re part of a well thought out plan. All I have to do is contact Amanda to corroborate the recording I have of you and share it with management. Now, please cooperate. You’re soon to be part of the highest paid crew team in the world. We all make sacrifices to ensure we keep it. Your turn. 3B. Do we understand each other?”

I’m so livid I can hardly respond. My jaw clenched tight, I manage to spit out, “Fine.”

* * *

The aircraft from Maui to Portland is the smallest of the Hawaiian route wide-body aircrafts—no upper deck, and only one small central lounge in economy. The first-class cabin is smaller as well, with only sixteen flatbed seats. Right before takeoff, I make it a point to greet Mr. Brendan Saks at his window seat in 3B. Somehow I have to convince him to leave me a five-star rating. Val will never know the difference. I mean, it is possible to be unforgettable without being sexy, isn’t it? Courtesy, diplomacy, professionalism, kindness… aren’t those enough?

“Aloha,” I say to Saks. An older woman sits beside him. I know from the manifest they’re traveling together, but she looks his senior. “Can I offer you both a menu for tonight’s service?”

Big smile. Twinkling eyes. Turn on that southern charm, Silver.

Saks’ signature dark curls frame his face. His complexion has a nice tropical glow to it. What he lacks in chin scruff, he makes up for with a scraggly dark unibrow that has me jonesing for a pair of tweezers and hot wax. At least his green eyes are nice—striking, and seductive—and I’d even go so far as to consider him sorta handsome…

“Yeah, listen,” Saks says, holding up a hand, “we don’t want none of that three-course shit, ‘kay? Ma and me wanna be left alone to sleep. Make sure you tell everyone to leave us alone. I got a big show to do tomorrow and I can’t be up all night. When you see these flaps up around our seats, shove off, got it?”

And then he opens that big brazen mouth of his and I remember the rumors. He’s the guy people love to hate. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt ‘cause if anyone knows how wrong rumors can be, it’s me.

“Uh, sure, Mr. Saks. Does that mean you won’t be dining with us?”

“Did I say that?” He stares blankly at me. “I said I didn’t want the fancy shit. You got the all-in-one deal, right? So’s I can chow and get right to sleep?”

“Certainly.” I force a polite smile. All the diplomacy in the world wouldn’t strike a balance to his jackassery. “Would you care for the lamb shanks, or the chicken cordon bleu?”

I keep my voice light.

“Shanks for both of us,” Saks says. “Red wine, and I don’t never wanna have to ask for a refill? Got it? Take care of me like you mean it. I want these glasses filled every time you pass by. And don’t be fuckin’ around in the back neither. When I say every time you pass by, I mean you should be passing by here every fifteen minutes till these flaps go up. Got it? Make sense? I don’t need to write it down for you, do I?”

My shoulders bristle. “No, sir, I’ve got it.”

“Good. You’re a smart one, right? I don’t got time for no ditzy women over here. Not unless they’re gonna suck on my dick once the flaps go up, know what I’m sayin’? Tell me you’re a smart girl.”

Cringe. I fight the urge to shudder. This cannot be happening. My job, or this guy? Does Val even know what a complete asshat he is?

“I think I can manage, Mr. Saks.” I force a smile.

“You think, or you know?” he says, scratching his chin, his gaze sizing me up. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

Ew.

Just play along. He has millions of fans with the same vulgar humor. Maybe if I reverse the roles a little, be the one controlling the situation. Like Mama used to say, flirt and fluster till he don’t know what hit him.

On impulse—or maybe pathetic desperation—I lean down, my lips near his cheek, my breath to his ear. “Oh, I know, Mr. Saks, and don’t you worry that curly head of yours. I’ve got you covered.”

I rise, let my gaze sizzle over his a second more, and move to the next row. From my peripheral, I can see Brendan Saks’ head angling back for another glance my way. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting anything like that.

* * *

Val was right. A far as prospects go, there aren’t any others onboard—not who hold as heavy a weight as Saks. But even flirting with him feels filthy.

I revert back to my original plan of giving above-and-beyond inflight service. That, with a little harmless flirting to make him think I’m a fan, might be enough. I just need to ask him to rate me. Not only do I make sure his glass of wine never gets below half-full, I make a point to award him with little winks and cutesy smiles whenever he happens to gaze up at me. We’re talking the very basics of Flirtation 101, and it’s all I have in me.

By the time dining ends, Saks is already staring at me at random from across the cabin. Piercing green eyes fixated with intrigue. Maybe I’m pouring it on too thick.

Ah—there he goes again. Staring so hard my skin flinches. I pretend not to notice him.

After two more glasses of red wine, his mother turns her body toward the window and reclines. It’s a good time to ask Saks if he’d mind rating me. I remove his and his mother’s empty glasses and dirty linens, and an icy sensation pricks my spine.

He’s watching me. Motionless, but alert, his jaw rigid. Like a snake waiting to strike.

And I can’t do it. My nerves are lost. Quickly, I step away, put away the dishes, and darken the cabin. I plop into the galley jump-seat. I have to work this out another way. Geneses was on to something—if I can convince Val the deed is done and he forgot to rate me, well, she has no way to prove it otherwise. I can try to work one of her flights and catch her in action, do a little recording of my own…

“Hey, Zanne, right?” Brendan Saks. The asshat himself peeks his dark curly head inside the galley.

I slip my phone into my pocket and get to my feet, just as he steps all the way in.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, glances around. “This where you guys hang out after everyone’s asleep?”

“Among other things.” Why is he here?

He rocks back on his Birkenstocks.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he asks, but it’s cocky and he already knows I do.

“I know you’re a big deal on the Internet, but I can’t say I’ve ever watched your channel.”

“That’s too bad. Thought you were doing all that flirting for some kinda story—Instagram, or Snapchat or something. I was gonna tell ya—maybe we can work something out, ya know what I’m saying?”

“Not really. What’d you have in mind?” This might just work after all.

“You tell me, Red.” His unibrow furrows over his bright green eyes.

Um, why do I feel like I’m in over my head right now? Just stay real sweet and cordial like. “I don’t want any pictures if that’s what you’re implying. But… if you wouldn’t mind rating me on the app, a five-star review can do wonders for my career. Especially from a big-name celeb like you.”

Okay, I’m loading up the butter now.

“A review? Yeah, I can do that. What are you gonna do for me?” He peers hungrily into me.

Barf. No really. If this is how low I’m willing to go, I may as well quit right now. Screw him. Screw Val. Screw Flight Club.

And to think a month ago, I’d have scratched my itch, collected my rating, and not even thought twice if it meant I were that much closer to what I wanted.

“Well, Mr. Saks, I can fluff your pillow, make you a drink—”

“You know what I want.” His green-eyed gaze burns into me.

I force a swallow. If I don’t give him what he wants, his rating can ruin me too. There ain’t no solution here. “No… no I don—"

“The grand tour!” He throws his hands up like I’m a complete fool for not figuring out.

“Of the aircraft?”

He shrugs and all a sudden he looks like a little boy. “Shit, yeah. I love airplanes!”

My shoulders slacken a bit and I let out a relieved sigh.

“Don’t you guys have secret bunks and hidden passages to the cargo hold for, you know, hanky panky?” He chuckles all goofy like. “Heard a buttload of mile high club stories over the years. What about you, Red? Ever taken a passenger for a spin?”

“As if.” I tease.

“Always wanted to do a segment on vixens of the air. Sex at thirty thousand feet’s a fun topic, am I right? Don’t worry, I won’t mention your name or airline, or any specifics. You do not wanna get wrapped up in a scandal, mark my words. Tabloid vultures will eat you alive.”

I check the flight path on my phone. My rest period’s coming up, but I’m willing to give it up if he’s willing to rate me.

“Wanna start with the lounge?” I ask. “I can’t take you down in cargo for liabilities, and we don’t have crew bunks on this size aircraft, but I can show you everything else, and if you behave, I can get you your very own pair of wings.” I wink real flirty.

Saks cocks a grin, nodding his head. I lead him through the aircraft, putting on full tour guide airs, and using all my nervous energy to crack little jokes in between.

* * *

It isn’t until a couple of hours later, when I’m boarding my next shift flight to Reagan, that my phone dings with a notification:

New rating with Aether. Thank you for your service.

Four stars. Below it, a review:

Take it from me, this is one flight attendant who knows her airplanes. Only reason she doesn’t get five stars, is because people in the service industry shouldn’t get cocky. Kudos, Aether. Brendan Saks, of Fool Me Once.

Figures even his review is a trip. I don’t know whether to laugh or snarl. But I’ll take the four stars for all its worth.

Right after the crew briefing, I bolt for the lounge lavatory and hit the shower stall for another dry shower before pre-boarding.

A message from Mei-Ling arrives in my work inbox. Dun, dun, dun.

It’s not good news, but it could’ve been worse. Ten points deducted from my overall score. That makes Brendan Saks’ review awash. But maybe… that’s better. I still did what Val asked without seducing him. It gives me hope, that I can maintain my job, my score, and get the collateral I need on Val.

I’m assigned economy cabin and the simplicity of coach is like going from making homemade étouffée to making a box of macaroni and cheese. Once the main service begins, a familiar name comes up in the back galley.

“LaSalle’s team is Top Nobility, that’s why,” one attendant says.

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious?” the other asks. “How she went from Future Star to Rising Star to team leader so fast? Have you seen her reviews? There’s like nothing negative at all.”

“Right? Insane luck. Have you met her?”

“No. Have you heard about her latest lines? Tahiti, New Zealand, Hong Kong.”

“What’re the bonuses like for Top Nobility team leader, do you know?”

“Like an extra three grand a month. Who couldn’t use that?”

“She’ll fight tooth and nail to keep that spot. I would.”

“I’m lucky to get five stars once a month, and I almost have to beg for them. Sometimes I even outright ask inflight and show them the Crew Review page on their phone. Shit, I’d fill it out for them if they’d let me.”

“LaSalle must be trading blow jobs for stars or something.”

They snicker together.

On that note, I slip out as silent as I came in.