Truth, Lies, and Second Dates - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,1
would you wait until now to bring that up?”
She laughed, bent, kissed a stubbled cheek. “For a chance to see that look on your face. Hey. You’re great, Blake. This was, too, y’know? But I never go back for seconds.”
“Fourteenths.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right. But I want to keep liking you, if not fucking you. So: you don’t pretend you’re going to miss me, and I won’t pretend you can’t fill my spot in your sex suite with one text.”
He grinned, and she almost wavered. Of the many things she liked about Blake, his smile was in the top five. “Fair enough.”
She had everything together—overnight bag, purse, the Godiva sack (they’d devoured the chocolate-dipped fruit, but there were some truffles left)—and slipped into her shoes. “Might not see you again. But if we do, it’d be great to keep it friendly, okay?”
“You’re wrong,” Blake replied.
Wait. What? She was halfway to the door, then stopped and turned. “Wait. What?”
“I will miss you when you’re gone,” he said solemnly, still sitting in a puddle of sheets.
“Awww.” She came back, kissed him again, the last kiss. “But not for long, I bet.”
She left. A remarkably painless breakup. If that’s what it even was. Though she’d fudged a little. The woman she’d told him about wasn’t a girlfriend. For one thing, they’d never dated. For another, she was long dead.
One
THE LIST
Pre-flight
Don’t mock Ghost Baby
Hot chocolate
“Hey, Ghost Baby.”
“Dammit, Cap Capp!”
Nuts. Need a new list already. Ava tried to pretend the thought of coming up with a new list so early in the day made her sad. “C’mon, Graham,” she said as he fell into step beside her. “It all worked out fine. Nobody died. Nobody was even inconvenienced.”
“Oh, like it was my fault that idiot thought babies needed to be stowed with laptops,” G.B. (known by Graham Benjin until last August, now forever known as Ghost Baby) retorted.
“You’re doing that thing where you respond to a point I didn’t make. And maybe don’t refer to our customers as idiots? Also, lighten up. It was her first flight.” Ava chuckled into her hot chocolate. “Why wouldn’t she think a small snug dark cave above her seat was the perfect place to stow her dozing infant?”
G.B. muttered something under his breath, hands stuffed in his pockets to the wrist. He was a tall, dark-skinned man in wonderful shape who bore more than a passing resemblance to the actor Terry Crews (except with hair). He got jittery and snappish before every flight, which was tolerated as he magically transformed into an efficient and unflappable crew chief once he boarded. (Except when he thought the flight was haunted by a baby ghost. But even then, it had to be said, he kept his cool.)
“You’re just upset because it took you so long to find the poor thing.” This was tactful in the extreme, because when G.B. couldn’t immediately find the baby, he had wondered aloud if he was hearing a ghost and pondered the pros and cons of an in-flight de-haunting.
(“Not an exorcism?” Ava had asked, amused.
“In flight? Ridiculous. Too many variables and we’re fresh out of Bibles.”)
“There are so many things that upset me about that flight. I don’t have the time and you don’t have the patience for me to go into any of it.”
“Sounds about right,” she agreed. “I assume we’re doing a Sorkin walk-and-talk to pre-flight because you’re running my flight crew?”
“Yeah. A bunch of us lost the coin toss.”
“You’re full of shit. I’m a great captain and you love flying with me.”
“First, low bar. Second, love is an exaggeration. Third…” G.B. had slowed, then opened the door to the crew room for her. “Why are you in such a good mood? Is this my cue to make inappropriate guesses about your sex life?”
“Better not.”
“Aw, c’mon, roomie. Spill.”
“I let you camp on my couch for two weeks and that was months ago!” she protested. “That doesn’t mean we’re roommates.”
“And after the Easter thing last year.”
“Well.”
“And we’ve shared hotel rooms too many times to count.”
“Three, G.B. We’ve shared rooms three times, and the fact that you can’t count that high is deeply troubling to me as your captain and your…”
He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“… occasional roommate.” She sighed, giving in.
“Ha! Also, after you.”
She swept inside and tossed her now-empty cup of hot chocolate into the garbage. “Morning.”
A chorus of “Good morning!” and “Hi, Captain Capp!” greeted her. Her senior first officer, India James, was printing off the flight plan and waved. “Weather looks good, Cap.”