Chapter 36

Boston. Mid-morning. Val’s team meeting.

Today’s the day. I have a hunch Val will do everything she can to get me to stay, just as Pam said she would. She wants what I can give. But I have more in store for her.

With only a handbag, I catch a Lyft to a coffee house in North End, where a few other members have already gathered in the far corner. No Val or Grady. I join them, expecting a hostile vibe. But no one treats me any differently than before. Casually, we chit-chat about recent trips and unruly irates, and sip oversized mugs of frou-frou coffee with names like Beantown Bestie Brew and Celtic Caramel Cappuccino.

Soon, Grady and Val arrive and they join us with steaming mugs of their own. Val is quiet while she nurses her brew—not a single glance my way. How did I ever buy into her act? How does anyone? Maybe because she is so smart, beautiful, and effortlessly glamorous. All the wide-eyed wanna-bes like me give her power, when all we should do, is tell her no.

“Before we begin,” Val’s voice finally rises over the gab. “We have a matter that must be discussed. One that involves our most recent inductee.”

Gazes fall onto me. But they’re curious, not accusing, not disgruntled. I glance at Grady. He gives a quirk of his lips. I get the feeling no one but him and Val know of my intent to reject their team. It’s almost easy enough to forget the real reason I’m here. I have to nip this now, or else she will pit everyone against me and manipulate me in some way.

I push my shoulders back and before I can think better of it blurt, “I have an announcement.”

Val narrows her eyes on me, startled-like. “Excuse me, I make the agenda here.”

My hands tremble in my lap.

Val’s body shifts in her seat.

I glance around at the other members. Everyone’s staring.

“I have to say this now,” I continue. “What y’all do behind lavatory doors is your own business. I don’t really care. You’re lovers, not fighters, I get it. And I don’t judge you for spicing up your life. I hope you do it for yourself, because it’s what you want.” My voice quavers and I pause. Deep breath.

Val makes a little scoff and foam from her latte blows across the table. “How amusing. But you don’t get to lecture us—”

“No,” I say to her, my voice cold and hard. “You probably don’t hear that word very often, but there it is. No.”

Adrenaline pinballs through my blood and my pulse and heart move in double time, like a surge of confidence I never knew I had. I can’t believe I’m facing off with the Val LaSalle.

Her face contorts with objection. “Who do you think you are—”

“I know who I am,” I reply quickly. “I may’ve forgotten for a while, thanks to you, but important thing is, it wasn’t lost. You can’t even admit it, can you? Your bullshit haute-culture—it’s a ruse for gaming the system. Flight Club gives you an advantage over other coworkers and it ain’t fair. Corporate would never approve—that’s why it’s secret.”

“This again?” Val snaps. “Everyone here works hard. And you know why we can’t wait around while corporate catches up with our aerial perspective.”

“That’s what you wanna believe, but is it really true? Seems to me you’ve convinced yourself it’s true by justifying a lie. How is accepting five-star ratings after sex with heavyweights any different than wealthy parents bribing college admissions to accept their kids over others?”

“Are you serious right now?” Val asks. “It’s not even the same—”

“I don’t need you to agree with me, ‘cause honestly, I don’t need your validation.” I search the other faces—the furrowed brows, dropped jaws. Haven’t any of them ever contradicted her? Bitter saliva coats my mouth and I force it down. “I told you I’m not here to judge and I mean it. I’ve come as a courtesy, to decline your invitation in person, and… to face you all when I tell you…”

“Tell us what?” Val says coldly, her jaw tight.

I lift my chin. “As of about forty minutes ago, an email went out to my manager, as well as Aether corporate headquarters. A breakdown on the specifics of Flight Club’s mission and rules.”

I wince softly. Flight attendants please be seated.

A collective gasp erupts. Then, profanity. Beneath the table, my knees knock together.

“You should know…” my voice rises over the noise, “I pleaded with Val to delete my recording, in exchange for my silence and lifelong agreement to never break FC’s first rule. She refused. I was left with no other choice. I didn’t reveal names, and I don’t ever plan to. Not even if they threaten to fire me.”

Val’s chair scrapes across the floor as she stands and points at me. “You. You have no right…”

“Are you crazy?” Grady asks me. “You’re gonna be fired, we all are. They’ll start up an investigation.”

“I know what the repercussions are,” I say over the clamor. “But Val doesn’t get to own me. I gave y’all a heads up in person—I didn’t have to do that.”

Chatter and profanity increase in volume. Bodies shift, hands grab for phones. I admit, maybe it wasn’t such a smart move on my part to wait till everyone’s jacked up on caffeine. I wipe my forehead, evaluate my surroundings. At least we’re not drawing attention yet.

Across the table, Val glares down at me. “How dare you, Zanne Silver?”

“Don’t worry,” I say, “unlike you, I deleted the collateral I had on you. I never should’ve filmed it to begin with.”

Val’s slender frame rises and falls with her breath. “After everything I did for you?”

I get to my feet because now all that confidence has turned to fire. “Whatever, Val. You want us to believe you’ve invited us into something special, mentored us, lifted us to the top alongside you and all, but it’s a lie. Remember what you told me in the beginning? FC is an expression for taking charge of your destiny, so small-minded people don’t stand in your way? Well, this is me taking charge of my destiny. So get the hell out of my way.”

Her hands pushed to her hips, Val leans over the table toward me like she’ll implode at any second.

I also lean closer. “You’re more entitled than the VIPs we bitch about. Narcissistic, manipulating. You rely on your looks to lure people in, then your cunning to convince them you deserve to profit off their success. I was so naive—I wanted to believe you, because you pretended to be like me. That’s what you do, pretend to be like us, give us what we need, so we’ll sink to your level. At the end of the day, though, you don’t have anyone—all you have is a meaningless collection of adventures, and no one worthwhile to share them with.”

Breathless, my head spins. I steady myself against the table and inhale with every last ounce of energy. Faces gawk at me. Voices and murmurs and profanity become a soupy mixture of noise.

But it don’t reach me, not no more. Val won’t never control me again.

As if shedding my skin, my body shivers. A warm serenity settles over me. This is what empowerment feels like. This is freedom. Hate me though they may, one day they’ll see that when I was confronted with a crossroads—a choice that would later define my self-worth—I chose what was right for me, not for them.

I owe Val no allegiance, nor any of the rest of them.

Without another word, I let them go on with their arguing and I strut right for the door.

Justified.

* * *

My leg won’t stop shaking over the linoleum tile floor of Mei-Ling’s Washington DC corporate office. Any minute she’ll enter through her frosted glass door, and I’ll have to look her in the face and swallow every last ounce of pride.

It’s not like I didn’t know she’d want to see me. Her reply to my Flight Club tell-all email came an hour after I arrived home from Boston. Took me twenty minutes to get the nerve to open it. It was short, to the point. Just an appointment time and date. Suspense has been suffocating me ever since, like thick tendrils wrapped around my jugular, pressing in with a slow, torturous death grip. But if I lose everything else, at least I’ll know I took the high road, clipped wings and all.

Swish. The door opens.

Mei-Ling enters in a navy pantsuit and lime green satin blouse—colors I’d never pair together, but looks adorably fashionable on her. She takes her seat behind her desk without meeting my eyes up.

I squeeze my knees together to keep my legs from trembling.

“So,” she says, making eye contact for the first time. She folds her hands over her desk and leans into her elbows. “Flight Club.”

“Before you say anything…” I clasp my hands together. “I want to apologize. I owe you that much. I’m really, truly sorry.”

Mei-Ling’s expression doesn’t change. Her soft brown eyes are dull. “What are you sorry for? Making me look bad to my superiors? Compromising my trust? Or is it for lying right to my face.”

I want to look away, avoid her stone-cold glower of disappointment, but it’s a copout. She deserves better. Dang, this sucks hard.

“All of it,” I say, raspy-like. “I wish I had some pithy excuse. I made a horrible mistake and compromised my ethics.”

Mei-Ling must see sincerity on my face because the tight line of her lips softens a smidge. “This is going all the way to the top, you do understand that? Corporate’s already auditing every crew score over 60.” Her lips purse. “You really had sex with some of these men while on duty?”

And here comes the accountability. Ouch. What neighbors and classmates back home could never ask, settling instead for dirty looks to insinuate the worst. It’s just sex, people! That’s what I always wanted to say. Everybody does it, and if they don’t, they wish they were.

“Yes,” I confess. “I’m not ashamed of the sex. It was my choice. But I am ashamed of the effect it had on my ratings, and for breaking the rules. Things got confusing fast.”

“Obviously not every rating you have is also someone you had sex with, correct?”

“It wasn’t like that at all. I never asked for ratings… well, maybe I did, but it was never an outright exchange. It all sort of fell into place on its own.” I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip.

Mei-Ling studies me. “I have to say, Zanne, I was very surprised by all of it. Your personal life is none of my business, and what you do on your own time is not for me to supervise. But I had high hopes for you. It saddens me that you felt your best option to get ahead was by seducing passengers. It weakens the integrity of your position.”

I’ve never been sure what the proper response is when my virtue is in question, so I stick with my typical awkward floor-glance.

“Aether receives thousands of applications every month,” Mei-Ling continues. “You were hand-selected out of a room full of applicants to move ahead with a second interview. Did you ever stop to think what set you apart from all those other people?”

I shake my head.

“You’re an attractive young lady, but that’s not what gets the job done, or what Aether looks for in a world-class crew. There are plenty of attractive applicants, believe me.”

I squirm in my seat. I guess I was so excited to get the job I never really thought about why they picked me.

“I’ll assume your silence is ignorance,” Mei-Ling says. “You know, it’s not always easy to pinpoint that special something certain people have—the X-factor that makes them likable—but I identified it right away after I interviewed you. You had heart. I’ll never forget what you told me during our session. You said, ‘I want to be a part of what makes the world a wonderful place.’ That’s the kind of attitude Aether wants in every employee. You were larger than life with those high hopes for yourself. But what charmed me most was your belief that the world outside was good, with limitless possibilities. And you weren’t too callused to wear that belief on your sleeve for all to see. Not everyone thinks that way, Zanne. So many are too centered on themselves and what the world owes them. You showed us just the opposite.”

My sinuses burn with tears pushing behind my eyes. I bow my head. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“I thought you should know,” Mei-Ling says flatly. “Because I don’t see that spark anymore. You should find it again, while you still can.”

I nod, and the tears spill over. She’s right.

Mei-Ling hands me a tissue from her desk. I take it and dab at my eyes.

“Your email explained your purpose in exposing the club was to set a level scoring field again for other cabin crew.” Mei-Ling turns her attention to her computer screen. “Since you don’t have a union, you do reserve the right to have a fellow attendant present as witness before we go on.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I just wanna come clean with you.”

“Then I’ll need to know the names of all Aether crew members involved with Flight Club.” Mei-Ling’s fingers remain poised over her keyboard. “Does this have anything to do with declining LaSalle’s recruit?”

“What about my job?” I ask. “Can you tell me upfront, do I get to keep my job? I’ll take whatever punishment necessary. I love Aether. I may’ve taken advantage of Flight Club at first, but I realized it’s not who I want to be. I’m actually really good at what I do—running a safe flight, taking care of passengers, and I’ve been studying the Policy Pages like crazy since the dog incident.”

Mei-Ling frowns. “I know you love your job. When I first read your email, I assumed you’d been hacked, or this was some kind of joke. I thought, not Zanne Silver, she’s the sweetest thing, and she just loves it here.”

My head falls back on my shoulders. I stare at the fluorescent bulbs behind the plastic fixtures in the ceiling. Consequences bite the big one.

Returning my focus on my manager, I say, “Thank you for believing in me all this time. The worst part of all this is disappointing you.”

“Then tell me the names of the others, and I’ll do my best to salvage what’s left of your job.” Mei-Ling’s tone rings sincere, and sympathetic.

I know she means it, but I can’t bring myself to answer. This was about me, not them. I don’t want to hurt anyone else Val already screwed with.

“Look, Zanne, if you don’t tell me, we’ll still find out. You have a chance now to make it easy for us, and we’ll weed out the offenders so everyone can get back to the business of earning legitimate scores.”

“Maybe that’s the problem to begin with,” I say. “People care too much about scores, and not enough about authentic service and gratitude. Why else would anyone wanna cheat the system?”

Mei-Ling just stares, something like pity on her face.

“I guess I dug my own grave,” I finally add. “My job means everything to me, but I made a promise to myself not to give names. I keep my promises. Whether or not those who’re guilty want to confess, that’s on them. I did my part. No one owns me anymore.”

“Then it saddens me to say my hands are tied.” Mei-Ling’s lips move back into that tight line. “From this day forward, you’re suspended from duty without pay. Leave your wings and badge with me.”

A lump in my throat, I pull my crew ID and uniform wings from my bag and set them on her desk. I guess that’s that. I start for the door.

“We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions,” Mei-Ling says. “But in all honesty, Zanne, your future with Aether doesn’t look good.”

I open the door and give her a nod. “I know. And I’ll be okay either way.”