Chapter 4 #2
Atticus is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice has lost that teasing edge. “My dad used to make me perform for his industry friends. Starting when I was four. Drag me out at parties, put a guitar in my hands, make me sing for a room full of drunk executives.”
I look at him, really look at him for maybe the first time. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” He meets my gaze steadily. “Using your kid as a prop? Making them perform for your benefit? Sounds pretty similar to me.”
“You had a choice.”
“Did I? Four years old and my dad’s telling me this is how I earn my place in the family?” He laughs, bitter and sharp. “At least your mom was scared. Mine just wanted to show off his latest acquisition.”
“His acquisition?”
“That’s what he called us. Me and my siblings. His acquisitions. Like we were stocks in his portfolio.”
The plane shudders again, but this time I barely notice. “That’s fucked up.”
“That’s dynasty money.” He echoes my earlier words back at me. “Everyone’s part of the machine.”
“Is that why you’re doing this?” I gesture between us. “The fake dating thing? To piss off daddy?”
“Maybe.” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend time with the most interesting woman in Hollywood.”
“Now I know you’re full of shit.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not interesting. I’m a disaster with good cheekbones and a talent for self-destruction.”
“See?” He leans forward again. “That right there. That honesty. That’s interesting.”
“That’s pathetic.”
“That’s human.”
The plane drops again, violent enough that my stomach ends up somewhere around my throat. This time I actually scream, short and sharp, before I can stop myself.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck—”
“Hey.” Atticus’s voice cuts through my panic. “Look at me.”
“We’re going to die.”
“We’re not going to die.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Phoenix.” He says my name like it matters. “Look at me.”
I force my eyes to his face. He’s completely calm, maybe even amused, and I want to punch him in his stupidly perfect face.
“Turbulence has never brought down a commercial aircraft,” he says. “Not once in the entire history of aviation.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“Not for this.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I looked it up.” He pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. “I heard you telling Mason you hate flying so I thought I’d look up some stats.”
“You… researched turbulence? Why? Because you thought my irrational fear might respond well to random statistics?”
“For my own peace of mind.” But there’s something in his expression that suggests otherwise.
“Look. Severe turbulence, the kind that actually causes injuries? Happens to about fifty flights per year. Out of millions. And even then, the plane doesn’t crash.
People just get hurt because they weren’t wearing seatbelts. ”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“You’re wearing your seatbelt.”
I look down. I am, pulled so tight it’s probably cutting off circulation.
“See? You’re safe.”
“I don’t feel safe.”
“What would make you feel safe?”
Mason holding my hand again. The thought comes unbidden and I shove it away.
“Landing.”
“Well, that’s going to happen eventually either way.”
“Jesus, seriously?”
“Sorry, bad joke.”
The plane drops again, harder than before, and this time Atticus’s eyes go wide. His hands shoot out, gripping his armrests, and for the first time since we took off, he looks actually afraid.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “That was… different.”
A hysterical laugh bubbles up my throat. “Not so calm now, are you?”
“That felt like—”
The captain’s voice crackles over the intercom, cutting him off.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’re experiencing some unexpected severe turbulence. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened securely. Flight attendants, please take your seats immediately.”
The plane lurches sideways. Someone screams—not me this time, maybe the flight attendant.
“Additionally,” the captain continues, and there’s something in his voice that makes my blood run cold, “as a precautionary measure, please locate the oxygen masks in the compartment beneath your seats. In the unlikely event they’re needed, place the mask over your nose and mouth and breathe normally. ”
“Unlikely event?” My voice cracks. “What unlikely event?”
Atticus doesn’t answer. He’s staring at the locked cabin like he can see through it to whatever’s happening in the cockpit.
The plane drops again. Not a bounce or a lurch but a full drop, like someone cut the strings holding us up. My ass leaves the seat entirely, held down only by the seatbelt, and the scream that tears out of me is pure animal terror.
“What the fuck is happening?” Mason’s awake, eyes wide and confused, automatically reaching for me before catching himself. “Phoenix?”
“We’re crashing.” The words come out high and thin. “We’re actually crashing.”
“We’re not crashing,” Atticus says, but his knuckles are white on the armrests.
“You said turbulence never brought down a plane!”
“I know—”
The plane lurches violently to the left. The flight attendant definitely screams this time, and something crashes in the galley.
I turn to glare at Atticus, fury mixing with terror in a cocktail that makes me feel insane. “If this plane goes down, I want you to know something.”
“Phoenix—”
“The last words you ever hear.” I bare my teeth at him in what definitely isn’t a smile. “The very last thing before the curtain goes down for the last fucking time.”
“We’re not going to—“
“I. Told. You. So.”
The plane drops again and the lights go out.