8. Jet
Chapter 8
Jet
Ava sucks in a sharp breath as a call button illuminates across the aisle, accompanied by a soft ding .
“Just a call bell,” she murmurs, pressing her back into her seat.
Her fingers drum up and down on the armrests of her first-class seat beside me, stealing my attention away from the report I’m reading on my phone that Hayden’s sent through.
“Are you going to talk to yourself the whole flight?”
She glares at me. But the force fades immediately, and she looks away, her eyes darting after the flight attendant who’s walking past with a package in her hands.
“What’s she carrying?”
“An infant life jacket,” I say, resuming my reading.
“Why does she need that? That’s for water, isn’t it?”
“It’s for if we ditch.”
“Ditch? ”
“Land on water,” I confirm.
These new figures Hayden has sent through are concerning to say the least. Callaghan better be ready to make a deal because there’s no way I can leave him alone until he does. I’ll follow him when he goes to take a dump if that’s what it takes.
“Planes don’t land on water. They crash.”
I look up into Ava’s rounded eyes.
“Correct.”
I rub a hand around my jaw as I signal the flight attendant. She comes over with a silver tray and I take two champagne flutes off, placing them onto the small table between the seats.
“So nice to have you onboard again, Mr. Grant.” She gives me a sexy smile before she moves away.
I know the rumors that circulate Atlantic Airways. That I fuck my flight attendants, then gift them luxury holidays to keep it out of the press. But I’m smarter than to shit on my own doorstep. And recently I’ve been too busy trying to save their jobs to have time to give my dick any action.
Ava rummages around in her purse and produces a bottle of pills. Her hands shake as she tips two out into her palm. She picks up one to place it back inside, then changes her mind and throws both into her mouth, knocking them back with half of her champagne.
“What are those?”
“Nothing.”
“Ava?”
She ignores me, so I reach down and swipe the bottle from her hand before she drops it inside her purse.
“Jet! Those are mine.”
Her cheeks flush as she tries to grab the bottle back from me. I hold them out of her reach as I read the label.
“Sleeping tablets?”
“They’re herbal. I’ve used them before, it’s fine.”
She drains the rest of her champagne.
“Did you take more before those two?” She ignores me and I snap, “How many have you taken in total?”
“Enough that you won’t have to worry about making conversation with me until New York.” She snorts.
“Ava,” I growl.
Her eyes flick to mine. “Four.” She shrugs.
“Jesus Christ.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And you’re mixing them with alcohol when we’re about to take off.”
As if to prove my point, the flight manager announces over the PA system for all ground personnel to leave the aircraft before the final door is closed.
The flight attendant retrieves Ava’s empty glass and reaches for my untouched one.
“Not thirsty, Mr. Grant?”
“Sorry, no.”
Ava grabs it and downs it, before handing it over with a wobbly smile. “Thanks. ”
The flight attendant raises an eyebrow, grabs both the flutes, and walks away. Ava tips her head back, exhaling loudly.
“It’s fine, Jet. The pills are herbal.”
“So is cannabis. Are you going to whip a joint out next and smoke that?”
“Maybe… I can share it with you, loosen you up a bit.”
Her gaze darts around the cabin, her chest rising and falling in quickening breaths.
“Then where would the flags get flown?” I grumble, placing the pill bottle down onto the table.
She turns to me, her eyes raking over my stony expression. Then she laughs, clapping her hand over her mouth.
The aircraft jerks as it’s pushed back from its parking stand.
Ava’s laugh stops and she grips both the armrests again.
“Have you ever been on a plane before?”
“Yes. Plenty of times.” She’s staring out of the window at the pushback coordinator walking alongside the plane and talking to the pilots through his headset. Once we’re fully pushed back and lined up on the taxiway the pushback vehicle detaches from the front of the plane, and we begin to move forward.
I scroll through the document Hayden sent as we taxi to the runway and wait in line for take-off. A muttering breaks my train of thought. Ava’s eyes are screwed shut and she’s pressing her thumbs to the tip of each of her fingers one by one, counting from one to five over and over.
I abandon Hayden’s email and slide my phone into my pocket.
“I didn’t know you were scared of flying.”
“Because I never told you.”
“Don’t you think you should have?”
“Why? You can’t do anything.” She takes a deep breath, then blows it out slowly.
“We have courses for nervous flyers. You could have taken one.”
“Oh yeah, while Callaghan waits for us, you mean?” She peels an eye open and gives me a pointed look. “Exactly… Anyway, I’m fine. The pills are starting to kick in. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m not.”
“Nice. Thanks,” she scoffs.
We turn onto the runway and full power is applied to the engines. Ava’s eyes fly open, and she makes a high-pitched whining sound. She stares out of the window as we tear down the runway.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” She closes her eyes again, then they pop open like she doesn’t know whether to look or not. Her knuckles turn a ghostly white on the armrests.
“Can I do anything?”
“Shut up, Jet,” she snaps.
I ease back into my seat as we lift off the ground. My stomach lurches with the pull. I love the feeling. There’s nothing like it, knowing you’re about to climb through the clouds until you’re literally on top of the world.
“Oh god.” Ava grabs my hand, clutching it so hard her nails bite into my flesh.
I clear my throat. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
She shakes her head side to side, tears filling her eyes. “It’s not okay, it’s not—”
We climb through the clouds and the plane bumps.
“Jet!” She throws her arms around my neck, catching me off guard, and buries her face into my neck.
I pat her back awkwardly. “I’m here. You’re fine.”
“Talk to me. Tell me something to distract me.”
I think for a second. “My record is eight hundred skips in a row.”
She sniffs. “You’re so weird for finding that fun.”
“I never said I find it fun.”
“Then why do it?”
Her arms tighten around my neck as the plane shakes with light turbulence.
“It clears my mind. And sweating helps me when I’m stressed.”
I pause mid-pat on her back as she trembles, clutching my collar. I switch to rubbing gently up and down her spine. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” she breathes out shakily. “Keep doing it.”
I lift my chin a little, resting it on top of her hair. The copper strands smell like the caramel and waterlily I noticed in her room.
“Why are you called Jet?” Her lips dust my neck as she speaks .
“My father likes planes.”
She chuckles against my skin. “I thought it might be that.”
“Original, huh?”
“My father liked them too.”
Liked.
“When did you lose him?”
She stiffens in my arms. “Ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Losing a parent is hard.” My chest squeezes in empathy.
“I’m sorry about your mother. Your dad talks about her so much. She sounds like an amazing woman.”
“She was.” I dip my nose into her hair and inhale. “She really was. What’s yours like? I’ve not heard you mention her.”
The seat belt sign chimes off, indicating we can move around the cabin. Ava stays glued to me, her breathing slowing.
“She lives in LA. She’s an actress. She moved there after Dad died.”
My arm tightens around her, and I draw her closer.
“You chose to stay with your grandfather?”
“It was for the best. Mum wasn’t coping well with her grief.” Her voice wavers, loosening like she’s getting drowsy.
Jesus. The image of a young Ava losing her father and then her mother in a short space of time makes me take a deep breath.
“You’ll know her. Zena Hamilton.” Pride fills her voice as she inches herself away from me .
I’ve no idea who she’s talking about. She blinks, looking around the cabin with glassy eyes.
“How long do we have?”
“Another seven hours and forty-two minutes.”
“Oh.” Her lips part as she wipes a hand over her forehead. “I think the tablets are working. I feel calmer.” She gives me a woozy grin. “Like I just got off the teacups at the fair.”
I grab the bottle of water beside my seat and hold it out to her. “Drink this. And no more alcohol.”
She giggles. “No glass?”
I unscrew the lid and hold it out to her again. “I’ll make an exception. Now drink.”
Her glazed eyes try to focus on mine as she drinks until she’s finished the bottle.
“Good girl.”
I take it from her as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand.
“You feeling okay?”
She gives me a goofy grin. “I feel gooood. Relaxed.” She sways a little in her seat like she’s dancing to an invisible tune. “I told you, Jet. Herbal pills… they’re the way to go. I’ve never taken them with champagne before. It works.”
“Uh-huh.”
She sinks back into her seat with a deep sigh. When I’m satisfied she isn’t going to move anytime soon, I get my laptop out and open it up. I’m five minutes into making notes in the document when she starts giggling beside me .
“Flags…” She snorts. “Can you really skip eight hundred times in a row?”
“Yes.”
I feel the heat of her gaze on the side of my face where she’s turned toward me in her seat.
“I’m setting Liv up with David. I think they’ll really hit it off.”
I drop my hand away from my laptop and turn toward her. “David?”
“I wasn’t flirting with him,” she whispers theatrically, looking increasingly out of it as her brows fly up her forehead. “I don’t want to have sex with him.”
“I see.”
“But Liv will. She’ll want to climb him like a tree.”
I turn my attention back to my work. “Okay.”
“Do you know what guys ask me the most?”
I sigh and turn to face her again.
“They ask if my hair down there matches my head.”
My gaze falls to the apex of her thighs.
“It kind of does when I have some. But it’s bare at the moment. Completely naked. Sometimes, I have a strip there, you know, in the middle. Right here.” She draws a line over the seam of her leggings.
I swallow as her pale pink fingernail slides up and down over herself.
“A landing strip…. Oh my god, like planes, get it?”
She laughs loudly, attracting the attention of the flight attendant.
“Everything okay, Mr. Grant. Does your companion need anything? ”
“She’s fine,” I grumble as Ava hums to herself, twirling her fingers in the air.
“Okay,” the flight attendant says, not sounding convinced.
Ava leans over and grabs the flight attendant’s wrist, her voice serious. “I’ve never orgasmed from penetrative sex. Have you? Please tell me it’s possible.”
Jesus Christ.
“Maybe another water,” I say, extracting her hand and holding it in mine so she doesn’t grab the flight attendant again.
“Of course, Mr. Grant.”
Ava looks at me with a dopey expression, her eyes hooded. “I love grapefruit juice.”
“I know.”
She rests her head against my shoulder.
“You don’t like it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“But you drank mine.” She yawns, nuzzling into my bicep.
“I did.”
“You had my lipstick on your mouth. Berry flavored…” she murmurs, before falling into a loud snore and dribbling on my shirt.
My arm is dead by the time we start our descent into JFK.