Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

18. You're Off Your Game

A/N: Are you ready to hear from Lady Alice herself!?

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April 1966 - One Month Later
New York - Los Angeles

Alice

"Behind you."

Teagan put a hand lightly on my lower back so that I didn't accidentally step back and crash into her, which would upset both the martini in my hand and the espresso in hers.

"Where'd you run off to last night?" she asked in a low voice, reaching for a freshly-baked biscuit to place on the side of the saucer. New York City was our crew's most often-requested assignment. We usually splashed out all night and barely made it aboard the flight the following day.

I speared an olive and placed it in the martini glass. "I just wandered around."

"That sounds... fun," she replied, making a face. "Well, you missed a good time."

"Where'd you end up going?"

"That little jazz place in the Village-- not Blue Note; what's the other one?"

"Village Vanguard?"

"That's it!" Teagan said triumphantly. "Rachel was absolutely sloshed and went off with one of the musicians after the set. He was dreamy, though, so one can hardly blame her."

"She's seeing someone in London!" I protested and Teagan laughed.

"You're practically old-fashioned when it comes to your view of fidelity, Dutch. Surprised you've made it this far, truly."

She paused and peered around the cloth curtain that separated us from the first class cabin. "What's that sound?"

I paused to listen, then sighed at the tell-tale rattling. Ice clinking on crystal, the pitch just annoying enough that it would get my attention. I parted the curtain slightly, and, just as I expected, the passenger in 4D held out his empty drink glass in the aisle.

"Be back in a mo," I murmured to Teagan just before I plastered a pleasant smile on my face.

Clink, clink, clink

"Mr. Hudson," I said as I got closer. I leaned over and winked conspiratorially. "We've talked about this."

"We've also talked about you calling me Rock."

I stood, putting a hand on my hip. "Would you like me to get sacked, Mr. Hudson? Then who would you clink your ice for?"

"You're looking tired, Miss de Morillon."

"You do know the way to a woman's heart, Mr. Hudson," I grinned. "Now, let's see about getting you another cocktail, though if you rattle your ice at me again, I'll throw all the bourbon out the window."

Back in the galley, I peered into a tiny mirror mounted by the coffee station. Despite the makeup and all the moxie I could muster, I did look tired. I'd been avoiding London like the plague, mainly because my flat felt so empty that it was suffocating. So I took whatever route BUA was willing to give me, and, truthfully, I was about to drop.

Lucy walked in with a baby bottle that no doubt needed warming. "Mr. Waters is asking for you."

"He always is," I replied, picking up the martini and swishing through the curtain. Mr. Waters was an older fellow, one of those old Hollywood types who argued loudly with strangers and always had a cigar in hand. Without fail, he always tried to convince me to join him for dinner after the flight.

"Thank you, Alice, darling," he said as I placed the drink on his tray. "I'll see you at Perino's tonight?"

"Unfortunately, I'm meeting my fellow," I said politely. We both knew it was a lie. "Another time, perhaps."