Adventures of Captainnamerika

Chapter Four

WARNING: This contains some foul language. But other than that, enjoy reading, loves!

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Frankie sat in his first-class seat, staring out the window but seeing nothing, lost in thought. His first destination was to Jakarta, Indonesia. He got interested when this country was known for its fusion of culture, conservativeness and high-class skyscrapers. He thought there were some great opportunities for jobs as well. His friend, Ed became a manager of a huge corporation after a five-minute interview. Just bring a resume, a college diploma plus great communication skills and you're good to go. But Frankie wasn't in the mood for a job right now so he decided to just check out what's good and take a vacation for starters. He thought, "You are starring in your own life, which from here on in is going to be-"

"This must be my lucky day."

Frankie turned to see a big moon face under a Funk Daddy baseball cap grinning down at him. He smiled politely. The guy, who had to be midthirties at least, stuck his Tumi briefcase into the overhead bin and then slid his perfectly squatted butt into the seat next to him.

He held out a freshly manicured hand. "Jaime Peters. And you are..."

"Michael Wilkins." Frankie said sweetly.

"Mikey, it's a pleasure."

With a nod, Frankie turned back to the window. He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Tell you what, Mikey, I'll get us a couple of cosmos and we'll get to know each other. Miss!"

Frankie was appalled. Not only Jaime Peters was ridiculously gay from head to toe even from his choice of alcohol, he was also utterly oblivious to his lack of interest. As flight 146 taxied to the runway, he launched into his unsolicited life story, the rags-to-riches tale of a boy from Wisconsin in a garage band who'd grown up to make bank in the music business and worked part-time as a model agent in the fashion industry. To accentuate a point, he'd touch Frankie's hand or leg. Stuck in his window seat, Frankie was a captive as he would've been tipped back at the dentist's. Since first class was completely full and Jaime Peters, whom he was starting to think as Jay the Gay, didn't come with laughing gas, he decided that vodka tonics would have to do.

Frankie downed half of his second one as Jay the Gay droned on. Maybe this was the first official test of his new life. If he could tell Jay the Gay to fuck off, he'd be proving to himself that things were going to be different. Maybe it's okay to have a little drama once in a while.

Frankie had a mental picture of the words fuck off. But they simply would not come out of his mouth. He was constitutionally incapable of saying something that rude. Okay, so this wasn't an official test, just something to get through until he could get to his fresh start. Frankie decided to rely on the vodka; if he got sufficiently polluted, maybe he could just tune him out.

Jay the Gay touched Frankie's hand again. "So dig it, I'm on the phone with Perez Hilton who was all over my grill just to get the ditz from Orlando Bloom and Miranda Kerr's divorce who happens to be a very close friend of mine and...."

Frankie looked around; anything was better than eye contact with Jay the Gay. Diagonally across the aisle, a woman stood to take off her creme cardigan, revealing an hourglass figure in a Chanel tee. She was at least 5"2 tall, with long brown hair and electric-blue eyes, she moved with a grace of an athlete even if she was wearing black pumps. Between the nervousness and airborne vodka tonics, Frankie looped enough to see the two of her. He closed one eye to get a better view.

Chanel Girl took it as a wink. She winked back.

Frankie smiled at her-flirtatiously, he hoped, because what the hell.