“Well, are you going to make your move, or aren’t you?”

She crosses her arms, flashing me that playful, sexy smirk I’ve gotten used to over the past few weeks, and immediately, I spring into action, because that’s what I’m supposed to do.  I dive into her as she laughs, catching her lips with mine, kissing her powerfully as I grip her hips with my hands and push her down onto the bed, letting my mouth travel from her lips, down to her neck as my hands start to travel upwards...

Despite all of this, it’s not where I want to be.

“Cut! That’s perfect...exactly it!”

I get off of my co-star and wipe my mouth a little bit.  “Finally.”

“Jesus.”  She huffs.  “One more take and I’d be ready to just go ahead and do the real thing.”

I laugh lightly.  She’s a cool girl, and hell, maybe if I was intoxicated I wouldn’t mind banging her for real.

But I’m not intoxicated.

I don’t do that anymore.

“Let’s take five, people.”

Thank God.  “See you in a few.”

“Sure.”  She pulls out her cell phone and immediately dials a number and starts to chat away, as if I wasn’t just straddling her a few minutes ago.  She’s not phased...she’s an actress, used to it.  

I’m still learning though, and it’s more than obvious because I’m hard as a rock inside my boxers.

Damn it.

I hightail it to my trailer and shut myself away, rubbing my face with my hands harshly, pushing myself to force the sleepy feeling away.  I refuse to be tired.  Not today, when I’m about to start my vacation in t minus five hours.  I want to be ready to walk off that airplane and hit the slopes just as the sun is going down, even if it means I’ll have to sleep in extra tomorrow morning.

I just don’t care.

It’s been too long since I’ve been near that powder, and man, I need it.  So bad.

My phone buzzes to life, just as I’m about to go into the bathroom and try to rid myself of the slight issue in my pants.  I find that it’s my best friend calling though, and since I’ll be seeing him in a few hours I decide to answer, figuring he might have an update for me.

But of course it’s nothing like that.

“So when’s your flight leaving?”

I adjust myself through my jeans, and glance down at a stack of papers one of the assistants has left on my dresser.  More stuff to look through, and sign.  I guess I’ll have my work cut out for me on the flight.  “Seven.” I say it tiredly.

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic or anything.  I mean, it’s only been three months since we’ve seen each other.”

I smirk.  I miss Trace.  The guy is right, it has been too long since visits.  But I’ve been in New York filming, while my best friend stayed behind in LA, handling the clothing line and spending time with his current flame, Samantha.  I’ve met her twice, and she seems like a great girl.  That’s one of the reasons for this trip, so I can get to know her a little bit better.  Trace hasn’t been this happy with a woman in years and I think...maybe, God willing, she’s the one for him this time around.  “I’m sorry man,” I chuckle.  “I’ve been going on five hours of sleep for the past couple of nights.  That doesn’t really mix well with a twelve hour work day.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Mr. Movie Star,” Trace snickers.  “You’re the one who wanted to opt out of music for a while.  You knew it was going to be grueling.”

I shrug.  Yes, the transition has been taking some getting used to.  Of course it’s not my first movie, but it’s my first major role.  The kind that actually generates revenue, and I love that idea...it’s what I’ve been busting my ass for, making shit movie after shit movie.  Sometimes, I feel like I’m back in my glory boy band days, since the hours are so damn hellish and the directors treat me like I’m just an amateur to the entertainment business. I’m a workaholic though, i’ve always been, and I’ll push through it.  A nice, relaxing weekend, I know, is just what the doctor ordered.  There won’t be any cameras, directors, or pushy people.  Just me, my best friends, and the mountains.

My mom is ecstatic that I’m taking a break at all.  She’s not used to seeing me do it, and I guess it’s kind of out of character.

But I’ve been going through a personal change, anyway.

“You need it so bad baby,” she told me last night on the phone.  “You sound so tired, and I know this whole thing with Jess has been wearing you down too.”

I still don’t know why I proposed.  Maybe it was because she stuck by me for years, even when I was being a complete asshole.  Even when I fell apart and had to go to rehab, she still stuck by me despite the rumors and tabloids and media frenzy that my life became.  Then I came out of it, learned to stop drinking, got myself together, and so...I figured it was time.  It was time to settle down, to work my life out and figure out how I wanted to progress through my thirties.  Kids? A wife?

She shot me down the next day.

“Justin I just...I just can’t see it.  You know, us...married.  I don’t think we’re the type of couple that gets married.  We’re having fun you know?  Experiencing things together because we live extraordinary lives.  Can’t that be good enough?”

It wasn’t good enough.  It was a piss poor excuse, and I felt so...used.   

So I dumped her, moved on, and didn’t look back.  Just like Britney, just like Cameron...

They’re all the fucking same.

“So did you find somebody to bring?” Trace continues.  “Or did you and Jess make up or something?  It’s couples weekend you know.  It’ll be awkward if you come by yourself.”

I roll my eyes.  “Rachael can be my date.”

“Dude, that’s your cousin.”

“She’ll do,” I yawn, and lean down, taking a good long look at myself in the mirror.  God, I look exhausted.  “We’re not gonna fuck, and she’s a lot of fun.”

“Justin, seriously...call up a friend and bring her along.  You won’t regret it.”

“I don’t have any girls who are friends besides Rachael.  You know that.”

“Then I’ll give you one of my girls numbers and you can call her up,” Trace suggests, brightly.  He’s notorious for having more girl friends than guy friends in his repertoire.  They seem to flock to him for some reason, and when we were kids I’d always been tempted to question his sexuality.  But that one summer in Germany proved everything I needed to know about Trace.  He’s as straight as you can get, with an amazing fashion sense and a huge heart.  It’s any woman’s wet dream, and it’s what makes us different as individuals.  I figure it’s better this way.  Somebody has to be the prick, and why not me?  I’m the celebrity after all, the egotistical pop star turned actor.  People expect it, and I used to care.

Now I just let them think whatever they want.  I’m numb to it.

Never, ever, google yourself, by the way.

Trace rambles off a number, and I try to play it off as if I really give a shit.  

“That’s Linda.  Call her when you get off the set,” Trace orders me.  “Promise me.”

“Yeah, I will,” I lie.  “Listen, I gotta go, break is up and we have three scenes to shoot before they’ll let me leave.”

“All right cool.  I’ll see you soon.  Have a safe flight, buckle up and all that.  I wouldn’t want you to be thrown from your seat or something, get a concussion and miss the fun.  You should see the powder right now.  It’s nice and smooth.”

“You’re completely retarded, Trace.”

“I try.  Later.”

“Later.” I laugh and hang up, letting a heavy sigh escape me, as I shove my phone back into my pocket.

He’s the biggest pain in the ass ever, but I would be nowhere without him.  Literally.

A knock comes on my door, and then it’s opened a crack.  “Justin! You’re needed on set.”

I flash my most charming smile at the directors assistant, Kathy.  “Be right out Kath!”  I wave at her a little, and it’s enough to make her duck her head out the door and leave me alone.  I take a few more moments to collect myself, get back into my fun loving, clueless character that I’m supposed to be portraying, before heading over to the door.

But then my phone starts to buzz again.  

“Jesus.”  I yank it back out of my pocket gruffly, knowing that the longer I’m distracted, the longer it will take me to finish my work and start my vacation.  “Hello,” I grunt.

“Mr. Timberlake?”

It’s a woman’s voice that I don’t recognize and immediately, the feeling of being stalked takes over me.  “How did you get this number?”

“Oh...well, your assistant gave it to me.  My name is Fiona Carmicale.  I’m Captain Sarowski’s flight attendant, sir.”

The first thought to enter my mind is that she sounds a little like my mom, and if she were here with me, she wouldn’t hesitate to smack me for being such a jerk.  The second thought to enter my mind is that she’s decided to deal with me instead of Rachael, and I immediately begin to wonder what my cousin is up to.  “Well, she couldn’t answer your question?”

“She said since she isn’t coming on the flight, that she couldn’t tell me what you wanted for refreshments.  She said you wouldn’t mind that I called you.  I’m...I hope that I didn’t call you at a bad time.”

It’s not her fault, it’s Rachael’s and I’ll deal with her later, especially since she’s supposed to be coming on this flight with me.  “Not at all,” I say, a professional tone.  “It’s like a two hour flight right?”

“Yes, give or take sir.”

I smile and ramble off every type of junk food I can think of, from Twizzlers to Slim Jims knowing there won’t be anybody there telling me to watch my ‘sodium intake’ or ‘calorie count’.  Not that those things aren’t important to me.  They are...but I’m going to be on vacation, taking a break from the business, and I guess that means a break from my diet too.  

“And drinks? May I suggest a fine wine or spirit for takeoff, sir?”

I swallow hard.  “I um...I don’t drink.”

“My apologies, sir.  Perhaps a selection of soft drinks?”

“Sprite, bottled water, and caffeine free diet coke,” I say it quickly.  “I like that powdered Kool Aid that you pour in water too.”

“Of course sir,” she says with a small laugh.  “The Captain has also asked me to remind you to please be at the tarmac no later than six fifteen tonight, for a prompt seven o’clock take off.”

“Great. I’ll be there.  Thanks.”

I hang up, and take a deep breath, preparing myself for another round of filming.  I’m praying it will pass quickly, and painlessly.  I realize more and more as I stand here, how badly I need to get away from all of this.  It’s starting to effect me in a bad way again, makes me overtired, and depressed...and that can lead to bad things, like a relapse.  No, I need this break.  I need to kick up my feet and sit in front of a roaring fire, tell jokes with my friends, and put work and Hollywood...stress, to the back of my mind for the weekend.  
*********
“When.  When are you coming back?”

“Two days.”  I lean down and kiss her forehead, forcing my smile for her.  “One.  Two.” I tap her nose and she giggles.  “You’re going to behave while I’m gone right? Listen to everything Cassidy says without fighting?”

She sighs.

“Mack.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Okay.” I smile, and gently rub the arm that the IV is running into.  “Want me to fluffify you?”r32;
“Uh huh.” She grins, exposing the gap her two front teeth left behind when they fell out a couple of weeks back.  

“Sit yourself up...there...”  I reach behind her and fluff the three pillows behind her back the way she likes, making sure to flip them over so the cool side will be touching her face.  “Hows that?”

She leans back, and sighs.  “Better, mommy.”

“Good.”  I reach out and stroke her face, forcing myself to keep a composed expression for her.

Inside I’m dying of course.

But I always am.

She just...looks sicker and sicker, every day, and without that payment, without that money...she’s just going to get worse.

I feel so helpless sometimes.  So trapped.  She’s only seven, doesn’t deserve to be going through any of this.  I’d gladly trade places, sell my soul to the devil to be able to give my daughter the healthy body she needs.  But that’s so damn impossible, so I’ve resorted to the next best thing...working a high risk job, for the compensation money.

I mean, it’s not terribly dangerous.  I guess it’s the responsibility that comes with flying on these leer jets, that makes it a high risk.  It’s just me and the Captain, and if something happens to him, I’m the one in charge.  I’m the one responsible for the passengers on board, and these people aren’t just everyday passengers.  I’ve flown with some of the richest people in the world to various ports of call.  I serve them drinks, get them their dinner, and cater to their every desire, round trip, with the hope that I’ll get a decent tip at the end.  It pays well, very well, and if my daughter was healthy, I could give her a great life.

But she’s not, and her medical bills are so high, I struggle with every check I get, just to get half of them paid.

Now she needs a major, lifesaving surgery, in just three weeks, and if I don’t come up with ten thousand dollars...they tell me they’ll have to delay it, try to find me a sponsor or something...

But my daughter can’t wait, and so I’m praying...hoping to God that this run will get me enough to start making things happen.  Even if I only get two thousand, at least it’s something.  I can start a fundraiser on that.  This guy I’m flying...Justin Timberlake, I’ve heard from colleagues that he’s decent most of the time, likes to tip his help, unless you catch him on a bad day, and I’m praying I don’t.  

He seemed all right on the phone.

I hope that’s the case, because this is so damn important.

“It’s time, Fi.”

I look over my shoulder and smile for my sister.  “I’ll be right there.”

She nods, and silently ducks out of the room.

“Okay kitty cat.” I sigh.  “I have to go to work, but I’ll call you when I land.  I promise.”

She looks down at her stuffed bear, and I can tell she’s trying to be strong for me, but it’s hard...and I would never hold it against her.  “It won’t be forever, baby.  Just until I can buy you the special things you need, okay?”r32;
“Okay.”

She chokes it out, and I lean in and hold her close to me, letting her cry against me a bit, before forcing myself to let go of her.  “Be a good girl, promise me?”

“I promise.”

I kiss my finger tips and put them to her forehead.  “All my love baby.”

“Bye mommy.”

It’s only when I get out into the hall, the door safely closed behind me, that I allow myself to break down, let my tears out, because it’s the only chance I’ll have to do it for the next two days.  

“You’ll get there, Fi.” Cassidy comes up beside me and rubs my shoulder.  “You will.”

“What if it’s not in time?” I sob.  “Cass...they can’t wait.  If I don’t have that money...they’ll give the heart to somebody else.”

She sighs.  “I’m working on some fund raising stuff.”

“Selling magazines out side of Whole Foods is great, but it’s not enough.  I hate to be so blunt but...fuck, Cass...this is about Mackenzie.  I can’t...I can’t just let her die.”

“Nobody is saying that you’re at fault, and don’t be so damn negative.  She may pull through this without the transplant.”

“You know that’s not true.”

She’s silent, because she knows I’m right.

“It’s this damn military insurance,” she finally says.  “It’s horrible.  Vets get shit.”

“I know, and that means I need a God damn miracle.” I rub my face with my hands.  “Maybe I’ll get lucky and the rich guy I’m flying tonight will start choking and I’ll save his life.  Then he’ll give me an even bigger tip,” I chuckle.

“Who is it tonight?”

“Justin Timberlake.”

“Jesus,” Cassidy sighs.  “You have the best damn job.  That guy is just...fuckable, completely fuckable.  I heard he gets naked in that new movie he’s making.  I’m sold, even if he isn’t the best actor.  Did you know he’s still single? I read is US Magazine that he’s still stuck on Jessica Biel.  He’s all emo and ripe for the picking, scorned by his lover...that’s so hot.  It’s a good thing I’m not going on that flight.  I’d be horny the whole time.”

“Cass!”

“Well it’s the truth.  That man turns me on, I’m sorry, I can’t lie.”

“I’ll see if I can swindle an autograph for you,” I smile, and lean my head back against the wall.  “I’m not really concerned about how good looking he is, or who he’s dating.  I have my eyes on his bank account, as sick as that is.”

“If you didn’t have a good reason for it, I’d probably say something,” she chuckles.  “Fi, everybody knows you’re trying.  If Michael were alive I’m sure...”

“But he’s not.” I give her a tight smile.  

She nods.  She knows I don’t talk about it.

“I better go,” I whisper.  “Just...take care of her, and you know you can call me.  I’ll can take it on the Captains phone during the flight, if you really need me.”

“Have a safe flight,” she tells me, after we hug tightly for a few moments.  “Maybe...try to have some fun with it, you know? Not everyone gets to spend their time with celebrities and other interesting people.”

I shrug.  “They’re just people.”

“You’re so cut out for secret service.  Nothing phases you.”

“I’m still waiting on that application to come back,” I chuckle.  “Bye Cass.”

“See you Monday night.”

I walk away, and don’t look back.  If I do, I know I’ll be tempted to go back to my daughter, for one last kiss, and that just won’t do.  I still have to get to the store, fill my shopping list, and get to the airport in just under two hours.  I should have been out of here earlier, but...it’s hard, leaving my daughter.  Most of my weekends go like this.  I fly, stay in a hotel for the weekend, and fly home Monday night.  When my husband was alive, I didn’t do this at all.  I stayed at home with our daughter, while he continued to pursue his career in the military.

Then, two years ago, the unthinkable happened.

Michael was in Iraq, on a community recovery project.  He and his team would go in and try to help the people rebuild what was left of their war torn village.  He took a lot of pride in his work too, and made decent money to bring back home to us.  

They ran over a road side bomb their second day in, and...they only found...pieces of him.  It was hard to explain it all to Mack, she was only six, but I tried to let her know what happened in the most gentle way possible.  Now, she just thinks her daddy went up to heaven, and I try to help her remember him the best way I can through pictures and home videos.  It’s so hard, looking at them, and watching him.  I miss him so much, but that strong part of me, the part trained to numb myself to the pain and horrors of the real world, blocks out most of my emotions.

It’s how I got myself through in the very beginning, when I was first learning how to move on without my husband.  Then, Mack got sick, and my life turned into this crazy, chaotic mess.  None of us ever expected things would turn out like this.  Mack was always the healthiest, most energetic kid.  It was a routine physical that made her doctor run some tests, and it was discovered that a rare bacteria had started to grow in and around her heart.  At first he said it could be cured with medicine, and then surgery...

But it turned out to be much, much worse.

I spent all of our savings, including the money the military gave us for Michael’s death, on surgeries and medicine.  Now they tell me the only other option left is to get her a heart transplant, and her name has been on the list for a good year.  Now, she’s at the top of it, and they tell me a heart could come for her any day now, and when it does, we have to have that down payment ready...or they’ll give it to another patient.  There’s at least four of them here in the hospital, and as much as I’d like them all to live...I know, my daughter is the most important one to me.

I can’t lose her too.  Not after Michael.

I push it all to the back of my mind as I get into my car though.  I have to.  In this line of work, your smile and personality are the things that get you far, get you great tips, and get you recommended to other private pilots...bigger clients.  I’ve been with Captain Sarowski for about a year now.  We work well together.  He likes me because his clients feel calm when they’re around me, and I take good care of them.  I have that way with people.  I can make them feel comforted, completely secure, even though we’re thousands of miles off the ground.  It’s why I made sergeant in the Marine Corps.  I had this way with my troops.  I could get them through the night, through a mission, without any major freak outs.  I’m good with intense, impossible situations, know how to work my way around danger, know how to keep warm in the bitter cold, know how to keep cool in temperatures that soar well above a hundred degrees.

They wanted me to be special Ops, and I almost did it, I know I would have been great at it.

But I got pregnant, and had to discharge.  Not that I regret it, because I don’t.  I don’t regret anything about my life.

I just wish things had turned out differently.

I get to the supermarket within a half hour, and quickly blow through it, gathering things like Twizzlers, Slim Jims, Pixie Sticks, powdered Kool-Aid, soda, and water.  I laugh a little.  I feel like I’m shopping for Kenz, but the reality is, this guy is thirty, and he still pigs out like a kid.  It’s cute, gives me good vibes about this flight and the kind of person he is.  Two grand shouldn’t be a problem, and if I play my cards right, maybe I can boost another grand out of him.  

I gather a few more things, chocolate, beef jerky, and a few canned items, enough to last for three days, and I could stretch it into four if I had to.  It’s my thing, always.  Every flight, I pack an emergency kit, filled with canned food, water, first aid items, and other things.  It’s weird, I know...and maybe I’m paranoid or something, but being in the military for all those years taught me it was better to be safe than sorry.  The people I fly with, pay for the best, after all, and I’m prepared to give it to them.

I pay for the groceries and race towards the airport.  The most important thing about this job is promptness.  I have to be at the plane before the client, or it makes us look bad, and I know that.  Good thing rich people are always fashionably late, and even though I told Justin to arrive at fifteen after six, I did it knowing he wouldn’t make it until ten of seven.  It’s a safe play.

“Fiona.”  Captain Sarowski smiles at me when I finally arrive, and pecks me on the cheek.  “I’m glad you could make it for this one.”

“Me too,” I sigh.  

“Groceries?”

“Oh, you bet.”

He helps me get them out of my trunk, before I hand my keys the attendant, and he drives my car off to park it for me.  “So what do we have?”

“I’ve flown him a few times,” he tells me, as we walk up the steps that lead into the jet.  “He’s a nice guy.  You shouldn’t have any problems.”

I nod.  “How about the tips?”

He stares at me.  He knows why I’d ask, because he knows my situation, how bad it is, how desperate.  “Decent, Fiona.”

I nod.

“I’ll go start us up.  He should be here soon.  They radioed and told me he was going through security about ten minutes ago.”

“Yes, sir.”

He leaves me, and I straighten out my blouse, pull my little compact out of my pocket and put the final touches on my make up, and straighten out my hair clip, before I hear the little transportation cart surging toward us.  I shove the thing back in my pocket, stand straight and tall, and force my brilliant, unwavering smile on for the multi millionaire pulling up to the jet.  It’s his jet too.  That’s what these people do, buy their own planes, and hire people to fly them.  I can’t even imagine how much it costs, and that just means he has more money that I’ve ever seen in my life.  Just a tiny bit of it, I know, would save my daughters life, and it makes me want to resent him, but I can’t.  

It’s not his fault that Kenz is sick.

The little cart parks right next to the steps, and I see him get out, and look up towards me.  I wave a little, and he nods, as somebody hands him a duffle bag and laptop case, which he takes with a small smile.  He looks absolutely exhausted, and I feel my heart sink a little.  Tired clients make for less talk, which makes for smaller tips.

It figures.

The airport hands begin to load his other luggage underneath the plane, and he starts up the steps, duffle in one hand and his laptop case slung over his shoulder.  “Good evening, sir.” I smile for him when he reaches me, and hold my hand out to take his duffel bag from him, which he gives to me without hesitation.  “I hope everything has been to your satisfaction so far.  I’m Fiona, and I’ll be overseeing the flight.”
r32;“Lidia isn’t doing this run?”  He cocks his head to the side, like he hasn’t heard a word I just said.

I don’t take it to heart, not from a spoiled ass like him.  Nice guy or not, I can tell his type right off the bat.  Rolling in money for most of his life, he’s used to being spoiled and pampered, sucking up to people that can get him far or give him a better reputation and not giving a crap about the rest.  “No...she’s in Portugal with another client.  They handed the run off to me.  I hope...that’s okay with you, sir.”

He shrugs.  “I guess it’s fine,” he says, before walking onto the plane.

Just wonderful.  I close my eyes, force myself to get it together, because I don’t have a choice.

Justin is shaking the captains hand and joking with him as I enter the plane, and I simply go about my business as they continue to make small talk.  I stow Justin’s duffel near the spot he’s put his laptop bag, knowing he’ll want to go inside of it during the plane ride.  Then, I fix a tray of snacks for him, laying out the candy and junk food in an appetizing way, along with a bucket of ice and a small cooler filled with his drinks of choice, stowing them in the holder next to his seat.  I get out a pillow and a blanket, folding them neatly for him, and also provide him with a TV and movie guide for the satellite television installed on the plane.

Ready to go.

“I know you’re used to Lidia, but she’s been doing European runs lately,” Capatain Sorowski says as he guides Justin over to his designated spot.  “Forgive me for not properly introducing you.  This is Fiona Carmicale, one of the best, if not, the best flight attendant I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.  You can rest assure, that everything you need will be taken care of, Justin.  I hope you have a wonderful flight with us.”

“Thanks, Joe.” He smirks slightly, and eyes me again, giving me the once over, like he’s trying to figure out if he can trust me.

This guy has issues, it’s obvious, but still, I smile.

A tip is the most important thing, not what he’s all about, and the more ass kissing I do, the bigger it will be.  That I can guarantee.

“Buckle down in ten minutes, Fiona,” the captain smiles for me one more time, and then retreats to the cockpit, which I make sure to lock behind him.

“Would you like anything else before takeoff?” I offer, as Justin gets settled into his seat.  I see him begin to reach for a can of Sprite, but I step in before he can, open it, and pour it into a glass for him.

“You don’t miss a beat, do you,” he smirks.

“I try not to, sir.”

He nods.  “I think I’ll be okay, for now.”

Great, I think, because I’d like to shove some food in my face before we take off.  I go to my pack, stowed near the cockpit entrance and pull out a box of Kenz’s favorite animal crackers, downing a few, before I take my seat.  

“You gonna spend any time in Vail?” He asks me.

I perk up, right away.  “Well, I’m staying the weekend.  I’ll be on the flight back.  I figured I would go window shopping or something.”

“You don’t play on the powder?”

I laugh.  “I’m not big into snow sports, no sir.”

“That’s a shame,” he sighs.  “It’s fun.”

“I’d like to keep all of my bones in tact, if possible,” I chuckle.  “But I hope you have a good time.”

He shrugs.  “My boy is gonna nag me to death.  I was supposed to bring somebody along, you know...it’s couples weekend.” He says, rolling his eyes.  “My cousin ditched at the last minute.  I could kill her.  Say, you wouldn’t want to pretend to be my date would you?”

He says it with a smile, but I know he’s just kidding.  Still, Cassidy would shit.  I smile, thinking about her, about what she would say right now.  I can only imagine.  “Somehow I think that might cross the professional boundary, sir.  But I’m flattered.”

“True,” he nods.  “You know, you’re pretty cool.  I’m not so pissed about Lidia anymore, even though she’s like a second mother to me.”

I guess I should take that as a compliment.  “Thank you, sir.”

He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes.  “Would you let me know when I can use my iPod, Ferra?”

He got my name wrong, and my smile quickly fades.  It’s my biggest pet peeve...ever.  “It’s Fiona.”

His eyes open, and he looks at me strangely.  “Oh...well, fine, Fiona.  If you can just let me know, unless that’s too much of an issue for you?”

He’s annoyed.  I can tell, and I should know better.  My tip, has just been cut in half.  Damn it.  Michael always told me I was too headstrong.  “I’ll certainly let you know, sir.  Of course.”

“Great.”

His eyes close again.

I take in a breath, and rub my face with my hands.

It’s going to be a long flight.