proud.
And then there was that fake pregnancy blackmail—
Oh hell no. Now I remember exactly who this woman is. She’s the blackmailer. It was literally the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. She took plaster casts of her sister’s growing baby belly every couple of weeks and then stuck them under her shirt and posted pictures online, tagging me in every single one. Until my lawyer got involved. The jock itch incident happened right around that time too. Thus ending my puck-bunny days for good.
“How’ve you been? What’re you up to? You look great! What are you doing in Seattle? Wait, I already asked that last question!”
There is no way I’m going to be able to sit next to her for five hours and stay sober.
When the woman who’s supposed to be beside me finally boards the plane, my extra enthusiastic companion takes control of the seat situation. She hugs my arm and presses her cheek against my shoulder, her extra wide smile matching her extra wide eyes. I think she’s going for innocent, but she really just looks bent.
“Hiiiii!” she says to the middle-aged woman. “So I hope you don’t mind, but my boyfriend booked our seats, and he couldn’t get ones beside each other. We’re celebrating our one-year anniversary, and it’s the first time we’ve flown first class.” She crinkles her nose. It makes her look odd. She’s also disturbingly convincing in her lie. “Would you mind trading seats with me so we can be together?” She bats her lashes.
I try to make eye contact with the woman, but she’s too focused on the blackmailer to notice my panicked expression. “Aw. Aren’t you two sweet? Of course I can trade seats with you.”
“Thank youuuuu! I’m seat 3C.”
The lady moves to the row behind us. Awesome. Now I have no escape.
Sissy—whose name I finally remembered—doesn’t stop talking all through takeoff. Once we’re in the air, I order scotch on the rocks and make it a double. I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to survive this.
About a half hour after takeoff, she leans in, her mouth at my ear and her hand on my leg. She’s way too close to my junk to be appropriate. I try to move her hand, but she digs her nails in. “I need to use the bathroom. Wanna meet me in there?”
“Uh, I hardly fit in there on my own, let alone with another person.”
“Maybe I should ask for blankets instead.” She gives me an exaggerated wink.
I drop my voice to a whisper. “You do remember how you pretended to be pregnant and said it was mine. All over social media.”
She throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Oh my God! Rook, you are sooooo funny! That was just a joke!”
This chick is legit out there. “You posted about it for two months.”
“Well, you stopped answering my messages, and for like a month I thought I might actually be pregnant.”
“We used a condom.”
“Yeah, but there’s this drink my sister had, and I tried it too.” She waves her hand around. “Anyway. It didn’t work for me like it did for her, which is too bad because I think we’d make pretty babies together.” She nuzzles my biceps again. “We could try again if you’re staying in Seattle for a while.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Because you’re certifiable. “I’m in a relationship,” I lie.
“Oh.” She stops hugging my arm. “Really? I haven’t seen you with anyone, and I follow all your social media accounts. I had to set up all new ones after you blocked me.” She seems annoyed by this.
“It’s pretty new.”
“We’re in another time zone, so it technically wouldn’t be cheating, right? Or you could just come in a cup for me if you think it’s a big deal. They can last a couple of days, as long as they don’t dry out.”
I spend the next several hours fighting off her advances. As far as flights go, this is the worst. I’d take turbulence and a crying infant over Sissy. The torture is prolonged when the pilot says we have to circle the airfield for another hour before landing.
Sissy rushes along beside me when we finally get off the plane. She’s still trying to persuade me that being in another time zone would make cheating okay. She follows me all the way to the gate and then wraps herself around me like an octopus.
Eventually security steps in, and she’s forced to let go of me. The whole situation reinforces my