Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Darryl
I sat at my kitchen table, nursing a mug of black coffee, when my phone buzzed against the wood.
It was Nancy, my mom, calling again. A month had slipped by since that weird mall run-in with Ashley, and I’d settled back into my routine: fly, sleep, repeat.
I should’ve known Mom wouldn’t let it stay quiet.
I picked up, already dreading it. “Hey, Mom,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“Darryl!” she said, her tone loud and chipper. “Glad I caught you. I’ve got something good for you.”
“Let me guess,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Another date?”
“You’re too quick,” she said, laughing like it was a game. “I was talking to my friend Janet at the bridge yesterday. Her daughter, Emily, is single. She’s a teacher, real nice, and I told Janet you two would hit it off.”
“No,” I said, cutting in sharply. “Not doing it.”
“Come on,” she said, barreling right over me. “Emily’s perfect. She’s smart, loves kids, and even bakes. Janet says she’s got a little dog too. You need someone like her.”
“I don’t need anyone,” I said, my voice rising. “I’m fine, Mom. Drop it.”
“Darryl,” she said, switching to that soft, guilt-laced tone. “I just want you settled. You’re in your thirties, flying all over the country, and you come home to nothing. One date. That’s all I’m asking.”
“No,” I said, louder now, the frustration boiling up. “I’ve got a long flight today, and I don’t need this nagging me. I’m not interested.”
“You’re so pigheaded,” she said, sighing heavy. “Fine, I’ll let it go. For now. But think about it, alright?”
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, just to get her off the line. “Gotta go. Later.”
I hung up, slamming the phone down harder than I meant, the coffee sloshing in my mug.
She’d been relentless lately, every call a fresh push about some girl she’d dug up.
I downed the rest of the coffee, grabbed my flight bag, and headed out, the irritation still buzzing under my skin.
Today was a haul, Chicago to Los Angeles, six hours in the air, and I wanted my head clear, not cluttered with Mom’s schemes.
At the airport, I hit the crew lounge, snagging the manifest from the counter. Mike, my co-pilot, was already there, flipping through it. “Morning,” he said, glancing up. “L.A. today. Long one. Weather’s shaky out west, heads-up.”
“Perfect,” I said, scanning the pages. “Long as we take off clean, I’ll deal.”
I checked the cabin crew list and saw Ashley’s name.
We’d flown together a handful of times since that mall thing, and she’d been solid, even tossed me a grin now and then.
I wasn’t feeling grins today. I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed to the gate, where she was already onboard, fussing with the galley supplies, her uniform neat as always.
She looked up as I walked in, hitting me with a big, bright smile.
“Hey, Captain,” she said, her voice perky. “Ready for the coast?”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing past her to the cockpit. “Let’s get it over with.”
Her smile slipped a bit, but I kept going, dropping my bag and settling into the pilot’s seat. Mike slid in beside me, starting the pre-flight rundown. “You’re a ray of sunshine,” he said, smirking. “Bad start?”
“Mom’s at it again,” I said, flipping switches. “Trying to set me up. I’m over it.”
“Brutal,” he said, laughing. “She’s got a mission, huh?”
“Too much of one,” I said, eyes on the panel. “Let’s keep this tight. I’m not in the mood for hiccups.”
We ran through the checks, and the passengers boarded quickly, filling the cabin with chatter.
Ashley’s voice came over the intercom, doing the safety bit, all cheery and sharp.
I ignored it, focusing on the gauges with Mike.
We pushed back on schedule, taxied out, and lifted off, the plane climbing smoothly into the cloudy sky.
Six hours to L.A., and I planned to stay locked in, no distractions.
A couple of hours in, I unbuckled and stepped out, nodding at Mike. “Take it. I need a break.”
“You got it,” he said, hands on the yoke. I walked back, stretching my legs, and Ashley was in the galley, stacking cups with a little too much force. She glanced up, her lips pursed tight. “You’re in a funk,” she said, crossing her arms. “What’s your deal?”
“Nothing,” I said, grabbing a water from the cart. “Just doing my job.”
“You didn’t even say hi,” she said, her tone playful but edged. “I gave you my best smile, and you walked by like I’m a ghost.”
“I’m busy,” I said, twisting the cap off. “Don’t make it a thing.”
“Too late,” she said, sticking her tongue out just a bit. “You’re being a jerk, and I’m not letting it slide.”
I stopped, looking at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes narrowed, and she looked cute, all worked up and sassy. It almost cracked my mood, but I kept it in check. “Alright,” I said, sipping the water. “Hi. Better?”
“Barely,” she said, turning back to the cups with a huff. “You’re lucky I don’t trip you in the aisle.”
“Yeah,” I said, heading back up front. “Real lucky.”
She let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, and I caught myself grinning as I sat down. She was cute when she got mad, all pouty and dramatic. Mike glanced over. “She’s steamed now,” he said, chuckling. “You’re in for it.”
“She’ll survive,” I said, checking the fuel. “She’s tough.”
The flight stretched on, and four hours in, ATC broke through. “Flight 412, L.A.’s got a storm moving in. Winds are picking up fast. You’re still cleared, but it’s getting ugly.”
“Copy,” I said, adjusting our heading. “We’ll push it.”
An hour later, the tower came back, voice tense. “Flight 412, L.A.’s closed. The storm’s too big. Divert to Portland. Ground’s set for you.”
“Got it,” I said, relaying to Mike. “Portland, it is.”
We swung south, dropping into Portland through choppy air, the rain hammering the plane as we landed. The passengers grumbled as we taxied in, and I hit the intercom. “Folks, we’re stuck in Portland due to weather in L.A. We’ll keep you posted. Crew, secure everything.”
Ashley poked her head into the cockpit after we powered down. “Layover?” she said, her voice still carrying that cute, annoyed edge.
“Yep,” I said, unbuckling. “Storm’s not budging.”
“Awesome,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re still a grouch, huh?”
“Pretty much,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Live with it.”
She stuck her tongue out again, and I shook my head, hiding a laugh.
That little fit of hers was growing on me, all scrunched-up and feisty.
We got the passengers off, guiding them to the gate, and the airline booked us into a hotel nearby.
The lobby was a mess, with soaked travelers and whining kids, but we snagged our keys fast. Ashley was at the desk beside me, chatting up the clerk, her tone back to bubbly.
“Room 312,” she said, waving her keycard. “You?”
“315,” I said, shoving mine in my pocket. “Close enough.”
“Not close enough to hear you muttering,” she said, smirking. “I’m crashing hard. Try not to scare the staff.”
“Funny,” I said, heading for the elevator. “Rest up.”
She tagged along, still smirking, and we rode up, the elevator humming quietly. On the third floor, she stepped out, turning back. “You could smile, you know,” she said, tilting her head. “Might fix my whole night.”
“Not tonight,” I said, but I gave her a small grin. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Close enough,” she said, spinning toward her room. “Night, Captain.”
“Night,” I said, watching her bounce off.
That pouty spark stuck with me as I unlocked my door, tossing my bag on the bed.
The room was basic, beige, and bland, rain pelting the window.
I grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, cracking it open and dropping into the chair.
My phone buzzed, Mom’s name lighting up again.
I ignored it, sipping slowly. No dates, no nonsense, just the job.
Ashley’s little tantrum was cute, though, cutting through the day. I’d handle her tomorrow.
Next morning, the storm had passed, and we met in the lobby, her sipping coffee from a paper cup. “Morning,” she said, grinning big. “Sleep off the funk?”
“Some,” I said, grabbing my coffee. “You still ticked?”
“Nah,” she said, bumping my arm. “You’re too easy to mess with.”
“Lucky me,” I said, sipping. “Let’s get this bird back up.”
We headed to the airport, her yapping about the hotel’s lumpy bed, me nodding along. She was a handful, but that energy of hers made the layover less of a drag. I wasn’t in the mood for much, but she kept it light, storm or not.