Turbulence - (18+)

11.

GATE B8 SHAY

Portland (PDX )-> Dallas (DAL)-> London (HTW)

The alarm clock in my hotel room sounded at exactly 6:00 a.m., and it took everything in me not to cry and wish that this was some type of joke. With every muscle in my body still aching, and my feet so numb and sore that I could barely feel them anymore, I would've killed for a few more hours of rest. Or at least another assignment...

Being assigned to work the first class cabin at Elite was the ultimate prison sentence, and unless there was some type of divine intervention soon, I was certain I wasn't going to last too much longer.

For four weeks, I'd completed all the over the top wine and cheese services, the five course meals, and the 'check on the first class passengers every twenty minutes' rule as I flew from Portland to Ft. Lauderdale, Seattle to Los Angeles, Atlanta to Beijing, Beijing to New York. Not to mention the numerous stopover and layover cities in between.

I'd rushed through the terminals in the newest set of mandated heels-a full inch higher than before, and forced myself to smile as I encountered the rudest of passengers. Adjusting to the constant time zone changes, I was shocked that I'd managed to keep my frustration under wraps, especially since I'd been paired to work with the one supervisor everyone told me was the worst.

"The Hawk." Miss Connors.

Obsessed with perfection, she scrutinized my every move, monitored my every breath. According to her, the bobby pins in my hair were always "too aligned to the left," my beverage pouring skills "resembled those of a blind waitress," and I was not "worthy" of sharing her line that featured so many "trips of luxury."

She was always around. Always. And no matter how many times I tried to do things "The Elite Way," she would insist that I was doing things "the wrong way."

My only reprieve from her came when we checked into our separate hotel rooms. While most of the crew hung out at the hotel bar or left to explore the city, I stayed in my room and collected as many hours of sleep as possible. And no matter how many nights I vowed to dream about something other than Justin, my mind always overruled my intentions.

Images of his kissing and fucking me intruded on my most innocent thoughts, and I still dreamed of the way his lips owned mine. I tried to move on, to take Meredith's advice and "try someone else," but no other man quite compared. The attraction was only half as intense, the sexiness of the conversations never came close.

After my alarm sounded for a full five minutes, I rolled across the mattress and turned it off. Then I grabbed the room phone and dialed zero. "You've reached the front desk at the Dallas Airport Marriott!" a woman answered on the first ring. "How may I help you this morning?"

"Could I have a few more coffee pods?"

"Absolutely!" She was too cheery for this time of day. "Decaf or regular?"

"Regular."

"I'll have someone send it right on up!"

I wrapped myself into one of the hotel's robes and sat in the corner chair, preparing to slowly wake up and spend the few hours before my next flight watching mindless television, but my older brother's name suddenly came across my phone's screen.

I hesitated before answering, not sure whether I should talk to him this early or not.

Brian wasn't as bad as my sisters or my parents, but he never stood up for me either. He would laugh at their put-downs, but offer me a sympathetic smile right after. He'd fill me in on his life-with no air of arrogance at all, but he would never even try to act as if I was working toward something good in my own life.