“Aw, you’re sweet. I’m not being sarcastic, by the way—that’s really nice.” I don’t share that exact sentiment just now, but it’s still sweet. “As it happens, I’m on board for most of it, too. But … we don’t know each other very well. Are you sure you want—it’s just, long-distance relationships are tricky.” Careful. Don’t get ahead of yourself. “Not—not that we’re in one. I meant in general. Y’know, statistically speaking, long-distance relationships are tricky. I’m sure there’s a study somewhere that’s gonna back me up.”
He grinned and shook his head. “I cannot understand why you’re single.”
“Well, I’m grumpy, I like having my own way, I used to gobble down sleeping pills like Tic Tacs, I hate my home state, I use humor and sarcasm to hide, and the miasma of death follows me around.”
“Nonsense.”
“Yeah, that last one was just dumb. You have to put up with way more death miasma than I do.”
He laughed. “You’re charming, intelligent, lovely to look at and listen to—”
“Aw.”
“—and you have an exciting and demanding job that only 0.002 percent of the population are qualified for.”
“You looked up what percentage of the population are pilots?”
“Of course,” he said, because … well … it was Tom. So: of course. “Further, you make self-deprecating jokes about being unintelligent or unkind, when neither of those things are true. Your flight crew holds you in high esteem. My niece, who does not take well to strangers, adores you. So does my bud, Abe.”
“Ooooh, are you trying that? Bud? Is it because I called you his bud and Abe didn’t burst out laughing or throw up?”
“Trial run,” he admitted. “My point: I feel extremely fortunate to have met you. I wish to see you again—and again and again and again—in a socioromantic capacity.”
“All right, I’ve got questions about what constitutes ‘socioromantic’ which we’ll circle back to later. But you’re okay with this, even though we’re both weirdos who live fifteen hundred miles apart?”
“You’re a pilot. Who better to be in a long-distance relationship with?”
“You have won me over with your practical outlook and gold medal make-out skills. Let’s do it—let’s see if we can something-something socio-something. I’m not seeing a downside at the moment. Not a bad omen in sight.”
Tom started to say something when the room instantly went dark. “Whoa.”
Too late, she remembered the room was set up so that if the key card wasn’t in the slot by the light switch, the lights would go off after a couple of minutes.
“We’re not reading into that,” she said in the dark.
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s meaningless.”
“Laughably so.”
“All right. Just making sure we’re on the same page.” She gripped his arms and fell back onto the bed, pulling him with her. “And on the same bed. I meant what I said earlier. I never fuck on the first whatever-this-is. But I love kissing and I love your mouth and your hands and how you smell like clean cotton, so let’s do terrific above-the-waist things to each other for a while and then get ice cream.”
“I think you might be a genius.”
“That’s how low you’ve set the bar now? Hey! Ahhhhh!”
As it happened, in addition to being a Gold Star kisser, Tom Baker was also a devastating tickler.
Thirty-Eight
Terminal C Logan International Airport
THE LIST
Sign suspension paperwork
Return texts
New vibrator
“Sherry!”
“No. Oh, no. Not you. Not again.” But she was smiling. “Seek professional help, Ava, and I say that as a pseudofriend.”
“Back atcha. Gimmee.”
Sherry sighed, feigned reluctance for a few seconds, then grinned and unfolded her cane with a snap of her wrist.
“That always looks cool. You’re like Hela in Ragnarok.”
Sherry, fake sighing, held it out as Ava put her sunglasses on. “Once again you’ve drawn me into one of your dark schemes.”
“Oh, please. Like anyone has ever drawn you anywhere you didn’t want to go. Tell it like it is: we’re copranksters who occasionally team up when all the astrological signs align.” She let Sherry take her elbow and began tap-tap-tapping her way to gate C34. “There’s no way you can pin this on me. Well, not entirely. This prank literally doesn’t work unless you’re in. And you’re always in.”
Meanwhile, various passengers were staring at Ava’s uniform and the white cane and looking degrees of shocked, worried, flabbergasted, freaked, amazed, dumbfounded.
“Wait, she’s—”
“Is that a—”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah, but … she’s a flight attendant. Right? I mean, it’s still weird, but at least she’s not flying the—”
Sherry giggled. “You’re a cruel fuck, Captain Capp.”
“Again: back atcha. Three gates to go.”
“This is literally the blind leading the blind. Except for the part where you have twenty-twenty vision. Did I just hear two people smack into each other because they were so busy staring at you?”
“Us. They’re staring at us.” She raised her voice. “I’m so excited about my first flight!” Tap-tap-tap. “The simulator was great but nothing compares to the real thing.”
“Hell. Straight to hell for you, no waiting.”
“Us, Sherry. We’ll burn together.”
“Again with this, you sick idiots?” Before she could turn, G.B. gave her a light smack on the back of her head. For a large man, he moved like a cat in socks. “What is wrong with you? That’s not rhetorical, by the way. I’m genuinely wondering what the hell your damage is. And Sherry! Complicit again! I’m disgusted by both of you, but you, Sherry … Ava’s hopeless, but you’re better than this.”
“She’s really not.”
“I’m really not,” Sherry agreed.
“I can barely look at you.”
“I feel the same way,” Sherry deadpanned.
“Oh my God, this is hell.” He moaned.
“Pretty sure we’re all going to hell,” Ava observed, handing back Sherry’s cane and taking off her sunglasses to the relieved sighs of various onlookers.
“Yeah, you’ve got a point.” He focused on Sherry. “Are you getting off in Minnesota or going all the way to L.A.?”
“The latter.”
“Want to get a drink after we land? I’ve got nothing on at LAX until 0500 tomorrow.”
“Are you going to pay this time?”
“This time and next time.”
Sherry shrugged. “Sure.”
“Yes!”
“He just did an actual fist pump, Sherry. In front of God and everybody. I’m appalled. Jeez, G.B. Play it cool.” The way she wasn’t with Tom. Hopefully G.B. wouldn’t pick up on the hypocrisy.