New York Nights
Page 100
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I bit my tongue, trying my best to hold back my true feelings about her too-damn-early timing and “perfection.”
“Is there something you want to say to me, Miss Taylor?” She tilted her head to the side. “Something other than, ‘I love working for Elite,’?”
“No.” I forced a smile. “I love working for Elite.”
“I thought so.” She looked at her watch. “Oh, wow. Now you only have thirteen minutes. See you downstairs.”
She walked away without another word and I slammed the door closed, screaming all of my frustration into a pillow.
***
Later that morning, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bagels wafted through the terminal hallways at Dallas/Ft. Worth International. Passengers stood in long lines, awaiting an early breakfast, and the blue signs that hung high above every gate shone brightly beneath the stark white lights.
I rolled my bag across the floors for the second hour in a row, still searching for random ways to kill the time since the crew lounge was full. With another hour to spare, I darted in and out of various shops, picking up things I had no intention of buying, staring at things I wished I could afford to buy.
I watched passengers as they posed for pictures in front of Dallas Cowboys memorabilia, took the Sky-Link tram around all six of the airport’s terminals, and when I couldn’t take anymore, I decided to buy something to read.
I slipped inside the Hudson Booksellers in Terminal B and headed straight for the books on the back shelf, the bestsellers. Over the past few weeks, I’d torn my way through tons of them, even trading copies with some of the passengers on the long-haul flights.
Grabbing the latest Grisham, I picked up an overpriced bag of potato chips and stood in line. As I was pulling out my wallet, my phone rang. Meredith.
“Hello?” I answered, handing the cashier a twenty.
“Well, hello there, stranger!” Her voice was unusually high-pitched. “How’s life in the skies this week?”
“Exhausting, but I did get you something from Beijing last week. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will. Is The Hawk treating you any better?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes at the thought. “She’s somehow managed to get even worse. How’s the fashion world?”
“Heartless and cutthroat as ever,” she said. “I’ll fill you in on that later, though. I’m calling because Ben came by last night looking for you. He left a small bouquet of roses and a card. Would you like me to open the card and read it to you?”
“Not really.”
“Too late. Already opened it.” She cleared her throat. “Dear Gillian, it’s been a month since we last spoke and I know that you’re upset with me for cheating, but the fact that you haven’t even tried to understand my side is a bit unfair. That said, I’m willing and ready to compromise. You can sleep with other people as well (two at most) and we just won’t talk about it. We’ll focus on us when we’re together and leave everyone else out of it when we’re apart. Love (Yes, you’re reading that part right: LOVE), Ben. PS—What time can I pick you up for makeup sex this weekend?”
“How romantic.” I couldn’t believe him. “Was that the entire card?”
“Unfortunately.” The sound of water running was in her background. “The roses are quite lovely though. I’ll keep them in my room. Anyway, have you finally had hot sex with the men in first class yet?”
“No, can’t say that I have.” I slipped out of the bookstore and headed up the steps to catch the Sky-Link tram. “I’m still getting used to traveling so often, so I haven’t had the time.”
“Bullshit, Gillian...You’re still stuck on that guy you met at the rooftop party, aren’t you?”
“What? No, no, it’s definitely not that.” I didn’t even attempt to sound convincing. “The time zones and the first class service is taking a toll on me. That’s all.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She laughed. “I’ll give you one more week to hang on to your fantasies of that guy, but since you’re going to be back in New York next week, we’re going to get you laid by someone else. ASAP.”
“You know, I am so grateful to have a friend like you who keeps my vagina’s visitors in her weekly thoughts. Thank you, so, so much.”
“You are so, so, welcome,” she said. “Oh and one last thing. Your mail is starting to get out of hand again. Winnie the Pooh Bear, Anne of Green Gables, Kennedy B., and Katniss Everdeen sent ten letters each this week. I took the liberty of stuffing the envelopes in the corner with the hundreds of others you never open, but seriously, Gillian... There has to be at least a hundred letters all over our place. When are you going to finally do something about that?”
“Depends. When are you going to stop bringing guys home and waking up all of our neighbors with your over the top sex?”
She immediately ended the call, her loud laughter coming right before the beep.
“Now heading to Terminal A. Gates 1-21.” A soft voice came over the speakers as I boarded the tram. “Please hold on and step away from the doors.”
The doors glided shut and the tram lunged forward against the tracks, forcing all aboard to grip the handrails a little tighter, to look up at the gate map and pinpoint how many more stops we’d need to make until we could get on the ground again.
Outside the windows, several airplanes stood still in preparation for a turn on the runway, and ground controllers waved their bright sticks in the air to assist pilots with parking at the gates. Across from me, two lovers held hands and laughed as they complained about airport security, and next to me, a woman shouted into her cell phone about “rude ass gate agents.”
“Now stopping at Terminal C. Gates A21-39.” The tram stopped and I let go of the handrail so I could move to the other side, but as the doors opened, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The man who was now boarding, the man who’d earned the starring role in all of my latest wet dreams, was turning the head of every woman who looked his way. He was staring at his cell phone, completely oblivious to the blushing cheeks and whispers from the onlookers, and I took several steps backwards, moving back to where I’d been.
Confused, I kept my eyes on him, realizing that he looked even sexier now than I remembered. His full lips were pressed into a firm, angry line, and as he tapped his phone’s screen, I couldn’t help but think about how those same fingers had caressed me, how he’d slipped them inside of me.
There was only one problem with how he appeared right now, though. He was a pilot. An actual pilot.
Dressed in a navy blue uniform, his four gold captain’s stripes stood stiff and bright on his broad shoulders. His blazer was perfectly tailored to his build, not completely hiding the chiseled abs he possessed underneath. And as his free hand gripped a handrail, his hat fell forward, obscuring his beautiful blue eyes.
I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of this, refusing to accept that this wasn’t some sort of mind trick. The more I thought about it though, the more it seemed to add up: He was never home in his condo, didn’t invest too much time into making his space feel too personal outside of those aerial photography pictures, and our first conversation on the rooftop party about the planes made so much more sense now. I just didn’t want it to.
“Is there something you want to say to me, Miss Taylor?” She tilted her head to the side. “Something other than, ‘I love working for Elite,’?”
“No.” I forced a smile. “I love working for Elite.”
“I thought so.” She looked at her watch. “Oh, wow. Now you only have thirteen minutes. See you downstairs.”
She walked away without another word and I slammed the door closed, screaming all of my frustration into a pillow.
***
Later that morning, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bagels wafted through the terminal hallways at Dallas/Ft. Worth International. Passengers stood in long lines, awaiting an early breakfast, and the blue signs that hung high above every gate shone brightly beneath the stark white lights.
I rolled my bag across the floors for the second hour in a row, still searching for random ways to kill the time since the crew lounge was full. With another hour to spare, I darted in and out of various shops, picking up things I had no intention of buying, staring at things I wished I could afford to buy.
I watched passengers as they posed for pictures in front of Dallas Cowboys memorabilia, took the Sky-Link tram around all six of the airport’s terminals, and when I couldn’t take anymore, I decided to buy something to read.
I slipped inside the Hudson Booksellers in Terminal B and headed straight for the books on the back shelf, the bestsellers. Over the past few weeks, I’d torn my way through tons of them, even trading copies with some of the passengers on the long-haul flights.
Grabbing the latest Grisham, I picked up an overpriced bag of potato chips and stood in line. As I was pulling out my wallet, my phone rang. Meredith.
“Hello?” I answered, handing the cashier a twenty.
“Well, hello there, stranger!” Her voice was unusually high-pitched. “How’s life in the skies this week?”
“Exhausting, but I did get you something from Beijing last week. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will. Is The Hawk treating you any better?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes at the thought. “She’s somehow managed to get even worse. How’s the fashion world?”
“Heartless and cutthroat as ever,” she said. “I’ll fill you in on that later, though. I’m calling because Ben came by last night looking for you. He left a small bouquet of roses and a card. Would you like me to open the card and read it to you?”
“Not really.”
“Too late. Already opened it.” She cleared her throat. “Dear Gillian, it’s been a month since we last spoke and I know that you’re upset with me for cheating, but the fact that you haven’t even tried to understand my side is a bit unfair. That said, I’m willing and ready to compromise. You can sleep with other people as well (two at most) and we just won’t talk about it. We’ll focus on us when we’re together and leave everyone else out of it when we’re apart. Love (Yes, you’re reading that part right: LOVE), Ben. PS—What time can I pick you up for makeup sex this weekend?”
“How romantic.” I couldn’t believe him. “Was that the entire card?”
“Unfortunately.” The sound of water running was in her background. “The roses are quite lovely though. I’ll keep them in my room. Anyway, have you finally had hot sex with the men in first class yet?”
“No, can’t say that I have.” I slipped out of the bookstore and headed up the steps to catch the Sky-Link tram. “I’m still getting used to traveling so often, so I haven’t had the time.”
“Bullshit, Gillian...You’re still stuck on that guy you met at the rooftop party, aren’t you?”
“What? No, no, it’s definitely not that.” I didn’t even attempt to sound convincing. “The time zones and the first class service is taking a toll on me. That’s all.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She laughed. “I’ll give you one more week to hang on to your fantasies of that guy, but since you’re going to be back in New York next week, we’re going to get you laid by someone else. ASAP.”
“You know, I am so grateful to have a friend like you who keeps my vagina’s visitors in her weekly thoughts. Thank you, so, so much.”
“You are so, so, welcome,” she said. “Oh and one last thing. Your mail is starting to get out of hand again. Winnie the Pooh Bear, Anne of Green Gables, Kennedy B., and Katniss Everdeen sent ten letters each this week. I took the liberty of stuffing the envelopes in the corner with the hundreds of others you never open, but seriously, Gillian... There has to be at least a hundred letters all over our place. When are you going to finally do something about that?”
“Depends. When are you going to stop bringing guys home and waking up all of our neighbors with your over the top sex?”
She immediately ended the call, her loud laughter coming right before the beep.
“Now heading to Terminal A. Gates 1-21.” A soft voice came over the speakers as I boarded the tram. “Please hold on and step away from the doors.”
The doors glided shut and the tram lunged forward against the tracks, forcing all aboard to grip the handrails a little tighter, to look up at the gate map and pinpoint how many more stops we’d need to make until we could get on the ground again.
Outside the windows, several airplanes stood still in preparation for a turn on the runway, and ground controllers waved their bright sticks in the air to assist pilots with parking at the gates. Across from me, two lovers held hands and laughed as they complained about airport security, and next to me, a woman shouted into her cell phone about “rude ass gate agents.”
“Now stopping at Terminal C. Gates A21-39.” The tram stopped and I let go of the handrail so I could move to the other side, but as the doors opened, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The man who was now boarding, the man who’d earned the starring role in all of my latest wet dreams, was turning the head of every woman who looked his way. He was staring at his cell phone, completely oblivious to the blushing cheeks and whispers from the onlookers, and I took several steps backwards, moving back to where I’d been.
Confused, I kept my eyes on him, realizing that he looked even sexier now than I remembered. His full lips were pressed into a firm, angry line, and as he tapped his phone’s screen, I couldn’t help but think about how those same fingers had caressed me, how he’d slipped them inside of me.
There was only one problem with how he appeared right now, though. He was a pilot. An actual pilot.
Dressed in a navy blue uniform, his four gold captain’s stripes stood stiff and bright on his broad shoulders. His blazer was perfectly tailored to his build, not completely hiding the chiseled abs he possessed underneath. And as his free hand gripped a handrail, his hat fell forward, obscuring his beautiful blue eyes.
I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of this, refusing to accept that this wasn’t some sort of mind trick. The more I thought about it though, the more it seemed to add up: He was never home in his condo, didn’t invest too much time into making his space feel too personal outside of those aerial photography pictures, and our first conversation on the rooftop party about the planes made so much more sense now. I just didn’t want it to.
