Chapter 1

My godmother Pam used to say a woman’s mind is like an airplane—quick, powerful, and built to soar. Pam worked inflight in the eighties and nineties, when flight attendants were called stewardesses and the gen-pop could hang at airport gates without boarding passes. As a kid, the only thing I’d come in off the water for was one of Pam’s stories—they were so adventuresome, so full of culture.

At the moment, though, my mind feels more like a swamp boat stuck in the mud than a high-flying airplane. Thanks to the surly-eyed passenger towering over me in the aircraft aisle.

If this guy glares any harder, he’ll burst a blood vessel and ruin that sleek navy suit.

The teal scarf at my neck tightens like a vise-grip. Calm and focused, I can do this.

“Please take a seat, sir,” I say.

His brow furrows deeper. “Tell your captain to open that door and get me back up to the gate. I need to find my phone. It’s life or death.”

Smartphones pop up, one by one, from the leather seats at either side of the aisle. Behind them, their owners remain poised and ready. Great. I don’t suppose they’d wait for me to freshen up my lip gloss before recording. I’d really like to look sharp when my epic fail goes viral.

“Is it really life or death, sir?” I ask politely. “This is a true medical emergency?”

“No.” He steps toward me. “I mean yes, not medical, but an emergency.”

“I’m sorry, sir…”

“Ridiculous.” The man gestures toward the window. “We haven’t pulled away. You’re being difficult.”

I can’t remember, does the crew handbook say it’s okay to tell arrogant first-class jackasses to back off?

“Safety protocol,” I tell him. “I can help you find your phone, but you need to take your seat.”

The man scoffs so loudly spittle flies from his lips, into the air.

In unison, smartphones to my left and right rise higher.

Impulsively, I brush a fingertip over my wings. Yes. Still there. Still pinned to one side of my brand new Aether Airway’s ash-gray uniform. A moment like this makes it hard to believe I beat out a convention-sized room full of other applicants. With a brand-new fleet, more modernized technology, and a customer-centric philosophy, everyone wants to fly Aether—that’s what Pam said when she called and told me to apply, pronto, before the competition got any fiercer. It was my ticket off the bayou. Just like it was for Pam with her now defunct carrier.

I thought for sure I’d waltz right out of Aether new-hire and onboard a posh wide-bodied aircraft with a fancy-shmancy European route.

Yet here I stand on a regional jet the size of a soda can packed to capacity with fifty other people, none of whom can go nowhere till this guy takes his seat.

“Sir.” I clasp my sweaty palms together. “Once the door shuts, we don’t open it again.”

Almost two full months of new-hire training instilled the importance of using passenger names, as part of the company’s customer recognition policy, but for the life of me I can’t remember this guy’s from the manifest. All I can think of is Jack Ass, and although it would feel fabulous leaving my lips right now, I really don’t think he’d let it slide.

He casts a sideways glance down the aisle toward the flight deck, then back at me. His face reddens like a pile of fresh crawdads. “If you’re inept at handling the situation, get me the goddam captain. Now!”

“Let me—” I start.

But Jack the Ass pivots for the front of the aircraft.

Oh, hell no.

Smartphones follow him. With his long legs, all it will take is two strides before he’s a security disaster and I’m deemed incompetent. If he reaches the flight deck, we’ll have to delay takeoff for who knows how long while he’s removed from the aircraft in handcuffs.

I glance at the undercover air marshal seated in the last row of first class. He gestures with a curt nod, ready to intervene at my say so.

I shake my head once. Not yet. This is my flight. My job.

Jack steps toward the flight deck.

“Are you going to do something?” Ms. Uppity Thang in the row beside me asks with a pout, glancing at her smart-watch. Her fiery red hair is the same bottle shade as my mama’s. “I have to be in Chicago for a meeting.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m taking care of it.” I approach Jack, who’s parallel with the galley in front of the flight deck door. “Sir, please. I’d hate to have to call airport police.”

Jack turns, ogles the badge clipped to the faux pocket of my blazer, and says, “Go for it, Zanne. Maybe then I can get my phone.”

He pronounces my name like the word zany. I don’t correct him. Zanne, rhymes with Anne. You jerky little man. That’s what Pam would call him, except this guy’s anything but little.

I steal a backward glance at our audience of smartphones. Every moment, every action counts. A late takeoff for my very first flight will do nothing for my probationary performance review. Not to mention the fact my timecard doesn’t even start until we’re in the air. I’m not even getting paid for this.

In a sudden sidestep, I try to move around Jack. He blocks me from the flight deck door. Other than the flight deck, it’s the worst possible place he can be. I can’t let him touch that door.

In one of the jump-seats opposite the galley sits an off-duty flight attendant—a pretty brunette traveling as a non-rev in jeans and a white blouse. Her gaze narrowed, she watches Jack.

He reaches toward the flight deck door.

“Stop!” I command.

Mid-reach, Jack turns.

I squeeze beside him, just as the phone on the galley wall rings. I answer and stand between the flight deck and Jack, my eyes glued onto his dark brown ones.

“We’re ready to taxi,” Captain Alfonzo says on the phone. A courtesy call because she knows it’s my first flight on my own.

Jack’s nostrils flare.

“Right,” I reply, my voice quavering.

“Everything okay?” Captain Alfonzo asks.

“A first-class passenger forgot his phone at the gate. He’s demanding we open the door.”

“Well, that’s not possible, we gotta push. Another plane’s holding for this gate. I can radio up to the gate agents and have them take a look. What’s his name?”

Goes by the name of Jack Ass.

“Seat 2D.” I fumble with the printed manifest from the galley counter.

“Good enough,” the captain says. “I’ll take care of it. Meanwhile, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“He’s in his seat, right? We can’t push if he’s out of his seat.”

“Right, yes, just… give me one minute.”

I click down the receiver and suck in a deep breath of recycled cabin air. Sweat rolls down the back of my neck. What would Pam do? She’d be so calm. So relentlessly helpful.

My pulse thumps in my ears.

“Sir,” I level my tone into a nice low decibel that I hope sounds more placating than patronizing, but who can ever really tell the difference anyway? “We’re going to radio the gate to look for your phone. The captain did reiterate we can’t reopen the aircraft door. Take your seat and—”

“Tell the captain to man up, open this door, and speak to me himself.” Jack points at the door.

“Herself,” I say. “And I can’t do that.”

The non-rev’s still watching us. Geez, it must be so obvious I don’t know what I’m doing.

“Sir.” I hold out a hand toward Jack’s empty leather seat in the second row of first class.

He remains motionless.

I didn’t want to pull out the big guns, but damn this guy’s stubborn. “There happens to be an air marshal onboard. I’d hate for you to spend the night in jail.”

Jack looms over me so close I can see the purple vein bulging at his temple.

“Is that a threat?” he barks. “What, is this your first day? I spend a shit-load of money on your airline, and as soon as this plane lands in Chicago, I’ve got a million-dollar conference call to be ready for. You can bet your ass I’ll raise hell on social media—not just me, but every single one of my employees till the entire world boycotts your crummy airline. Don’t believe me? Try it. My company has over a half a million followers. Everyone and their brother will know about this—especially how the dumb little bitch at Aether Airways refused to help me.”

My whole body stiffens. I can’t move, as if my pumps have been cemented to the floor. Back home, this sort of thing would’ve never riddled me motionless. Stink-eyes and name calling never broke me before. But here, in the one place that’s supposed to lift me to new heights?

“Hey, that’s enough, buddy.” A first-class passenger in a brown suede blazer stands and points at Jack.

“You don’t have to talk to her that way,” another guy calls out. “Take a seat, bro.”

“Yeah, take a seat,” another voice says, then another.

I blink. They’re on my side?

One by one, phones begin to lower, as if part of a joint humanitarian effort protesting airline crew cruelty. It’s just the kind of permission I need to put this guy in his place and take control…

Except, I still can’t move a muscle.

Jack glances at the faces glowering at him, grumbles a few colorful words, returns to his seat and plops into it with a huff.

That’s my cue to get to the cabin phone. Confirm we’re good to taxi, so we’re not late for takeoff. But the message from brain to feet seems to have been lost en route.

“Zanne?” The brunette from the jump-seat appears in the aisle before me, her designer jeans hugging her curves like they were poured over them. “That’s your name, right?”

I stare blankly. I can hear my lungs fill with air, hear my pores seep with sweat.

“Come on,” she whispers. “You’re going to be fine.”

One step, two steps. Theeeere we go.

I join the woman in the galley and duck to the other side of the bulkhead.

“Are you okay?” She flicks back a long layer of dark hair.

All at once, the shudder I’ve been holding in releases and my body quakes head to toe.

“First irate?” she asks.

Pam always used that word when referring to angry passengers, and until now, I assumed it was an exaggeration.

Dazed, I nod. “I did horrible.”

“Hmm, well, I wouldn’t say you handled yourself with total grace.” Her voice holds a hint of humor, but not sarcasm. “Happens to the best of us though. I’m Sofia. Nice accent, by the way. I’d say… Acadian?”

Wow, she’s good. “Is it that obvious?”

Sofia nods. “It’s adorable.”

What am I supposed to be doing?

She gestures to the cabin phone, her dark brows rising.

Right. I grab it and call up to the flight deck to confirm we’re ready to taxi. The captain rattles off a lot of airline jargon I’m still getting used to, like ETD, ORD, ATC. She also updates me on the missing phone, which makes my blood race and heart sink all at the same time.

I hang up the phone and turn to Sofia.

“Sounds like good news for Crenshaw?” she asks quietly.

“Who?”

“2A? Lost-phone guy? I peeked at his name on the manifest, hope you don’t mind.”

Dread creeps up my spine. “They’re sending it to lost-and-found so it can be overnighted.”

“That’s a relief,” Sofia says. “He’s a VIP in the top tier of our frequent-flier program. You should really try to smooth things over. Ratings, you know.”

I groan. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to exchange words with him again till it was, Bye, thanks for flying with us today.” My voice falters on the last word. Sinuses blaze behind my eyes. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry. Not now. I fan my face to keep tears from falling. What if I don’t belong here? “Everyone saw me freeze up. I let him walk all over me.”

“Hey, you can do this,” Sofia whispers. “You stayed calm out there. That shows you care about your job, or else you wouldn’t have let him speak to you that way. He’s just a man. Take a deep breath.”

I inhale, nod. “You never believe the rumors—how passengers can be so brutal. I’ve dealt with plenty of jerks before… but…” I peek around the galley corner. “I’ve never met anyone so entitled before.”

Crenshaw, AKA Jack Ass, pokes away at his laptop, his shoulders tensed, jaw, rigid. Other first-class passengers occupy themselves with devices and magazines of their own, but the economy passengers seated just behind the second bulkhead crane their necks, still trying to see what all the fuss is.

Sofia’s right. Crenshaw’s just a man, and this is the job of my dreams. Despite the fact I feel like dirt, I still have a job to do. Get it together, Silver.

With a hard swallow, I smooth out my uniform, tighten the bun at the nape of my neck and step down the aisle to Mr. Crenshaw.

“The gate agent found your phone, sir.” I force every ounce of resolve I can into my voice. “They’ll be overnighting it to the address on your frequent flier account.”

“A lot of good that does me in O’Hare,” he retorts without eye contact.

Not even a thank you. Sweet. “Maybe you can Skype.”

Without waiting for his response, I head back to the bulkhead, grab the cabin phone that doubles as an intercom, and clear my throat. With any luck, I can still get us off the ground on time.

I do love this part…

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Zanne Silver and on behalf of Captain Alfonzo and First Officer Davies we’d like to welcome you aboard Aether Airways, Flight 3561, with nonstop service to Chicago O’Hare. We will be taxiing over the next few minutes, so please make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened, tray backs in the upright position, and that you remain seated.” I pause for emphasis. “In just a moment, we’ll be showing a short safety video on the screens in front of you. Please pay attention to the important information that will help make this a smooth flight.”

My sensibilities coming back to me, I lift my chin and explain our brand new state-of-the-art regional jet is the largest model of its series from Aether’s youngest luxury fleet. Two lavatories, extra leg room, and easy access power ports, as well as a complimentary beverage and snack service once we reach cruising altitude.

Who would’ve ever thought this little nobody from the swamps is now the emcee for an entire aircraft?

“At this time,” I continue, glancing at Sofia, “all your devices need to be turned to airplane mode, and large devices stowed for takeoff.”

Sofia gives me a thumbs up.

It’s good she’s here.

Otherwise, who knows how long I’d have stood shell-shocked in the aisle like a kindergartner who just peed her pants.

Ding!

Before I can hang up the cabin phone, my cell phone sounds off inside my pencil skirt pocket—the phone that’s supposed to be on silent mode. Nice. Last week, I set the notification alert, but I never expected to receive one this soon. A ding like that can only mean one thing: a new rating via the Aether Airways passenger rating app.

Oh, God.

I hang up the phone and my shoulders cave into a full body cringe. Only one person here would’ve bothered to rate me so soon.

The captain comes on over the intercom to introduce herself and give a weather report. I cross check and verify the cabin door strap, then drop into the other jump-seat beside Sofia.

“You look like a ghost,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’re a nervous flyer?”

“Just got my first Crew Review rating. I know it’s from Crenshaw.”

“No, already? What’s it say?”

“I haven’t read it yet. Not while on duty, right?”

Sofia shrugs. “Aren’t you curious? I mean, I won’t say anything if you won’t. But…” she pauses, “before you read it, you should know that VIP passengers in the Titan Club hold a lot of weight.”

I stare at her. “That’s supposed to buffer the blow?”

“Just remember, guys like him are nothing more than turbulence in the flight path—comes up unexpectedly, but quickly forgotten afterward.”

In a roar of engines, the plane accelerates over the runway. The floor rumbles beneath my pumps. I pull out my phone and lay it in my lap with an un-ladylike little snort. The screen illuminates with a banner:

New Rating with Aether Airways. Thank you for your service.

“I’m terrified.” I stare at the notification.

Sofia checks our surroundings, as if rogue ears could somehow be eavesdropping in our little nook behind the bulkhead. “It’s only one rating.”

“I’m still on probation—a bad rating could cost me my job.”

Sofia grimaces. “Well… maybe it’s not that bad, huh? People can be surprisingly altruistic.”

In her world, maybe. Wiping my palms over my skirt, I remove a fresh layer of sweat, just before placing a finger to the screen and swiping the notification banner.

My heart swells in my throat because I get one chance of making something of myself, and this job is it.