1. Jet
Chapter 1
Jet
“Too close.” I drum my fingers against the cool glass of the meeting room table.
My CFO, Hayden, a man who rarely looks flustered, tugs at his tie.
He’s rattled, which means we aren’t only too close, we’re too fucking close.
“How long?” I ask, my gut twisting.
“Two, three months, max.” He reaches for his glass of water with a trembling hand, draining it quickly before it clatters against the table. “Things have been bad before, Jet, but—”
“It’s not over yet.” I run my tongue over my teeth as I stare past his head, through the glass wall at the staff working away, oblivious to our crisis meeting.
“It’s thirty percent of the fleet.”
I bristle, cracking my neck. I’ve done the fucking math.
“Thirty-one,” I mutter. “Thirty-one percent. ”
Hayden’s eyes, red-rimmed from the late nights we’ve pulled this week, meet mine. Despite all the figures we’ve crunched, we keep coming back to the same number.
Thirty-one percent.
It’s enough to fold the entire operation. What use is an airline if its planes can’t fly?
“We made some savings with the fuel hedging, but…”
Hayden refills his glass instead of completing his sentence. He knows that deal means shit if we don’t have planes to put the fuel in.
“I’ll speak to Rich.” Tension tightens my jaw. Going from LA to London seems wrong when my staff need me here.
“Logan Rich?”
“His biofuel engines have already been approved for the aircraft’s type rating. If we can get them refitted when they’re in for maintenance, we might be able to run a full operation.”
His eyes brighten for the first time in days. “I’ll speak to the contracts department. Biofuel will mean a lower cost per seat. If we can run at a lower rate, then…” He’s already typing on his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys.
“Good.” I stand, buttoning my jacket. “I’ll get Annabelle to clear my schedule for a few days. I shouldn’t be long in London.”
I walk through the open-plan office, tipping my chin in terse greeting to the heads that turn my way .
My PA, Annabelle, is frowning at her computer as I approach.
“Mr. Grant?” She looks up with an eager smile.
“I need you to clear my meetings for the next three days. And get me on the next flight to London.”
With that, I walk into my office, barely glancing at the skyline of downtown LA through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s a view I’ve seen every day since I took over from Atlantic Airways’ previous CEO for US operations five years ago.
“The board meeting too?”
“Especially that.” I turn to Annabelle as she scurries in behind me, gripping a tablet tightly in one hand while tapping the screen to make notes. “Reschedule everything for when I’m back.”
“Consider it done.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “Shall I book you in at the Savoy?”
I walk to my desk and pick up the phone. “That won’t be necessary… That’s all, Annabelle.”
Nodding, she hurries from the room, closing the door on her way out. She’s timid, but her work is good. I hope she lasts longer than the last one.
I check my watch as the call connects. It’s mid-afternoon in London.
“Son?” My father’s warm voice filters down the line.
“Dad.” I sink into my chair and spin to face the window.
“Everything okay? I wasn’t expecting to speak to you until tomorrow’s meeting. ”
I stare at the bright blue sky. Another hot day in California. It matches the rising heat in my blood as I lie to my father with sickening ease. The UK fleet doesn’t have the same aircraft as the US. He has no idea.
“Everything’s fine. I’m coming over to speak with Logan Rich about his company’s biofuel engines. Can I stay at the house? Then I can fill you in on things here.”
“Of course you can.” The lilt in his voice is unassuming, trusting. We haven’t seen one another face-to-face for weeks. I’m overdue a visit.
And this conversation definitely warrants for that.
“I won’t be interrupting anything?”
“Hold on.” My father’s voice muffles as he moves away from the phone, likely speaking to someone else, before returning back to the line. “Just checking.”
“Checking?”
“That the playgirl bunnies I have around between your visits can manage without me.”
“And can they?” I stretch my fingers out on the arm of my chair in an attempt to loosen the ache caused by hours of typing out figures.
“They said they’ll manage.” He chuckles.
“That’s a relief,” I reply dryly. The thought of my father with anyone, let alone someone half his age is ludicrous, yet it’s not the first time I’ve heard the joke.
“I’ll tell Margaret to expect you in case I’m not in when you arrive. ”
Ah, the new housekeeper. He keeps them longer than I keep my PAs. But it’s a shame Bella retired. I liked her and her no-nonsense approach to running my father’s house.
“Okay, fine,” I clip, spinning back to my desk and clicking into a report on my computer I need to go over.
“Bye, Son.”
I end the call and lift my head as Annabelle peers around the door.
“You’re on the 78 at three p.m.”
I nod, and she returns to her desk.
I’ve got five hours to find a solution before I board that flight.
Otherwise, I need to pray to god I’ll find it in London.