Chapter 1
two years later . . .
“Nigga, you full of shit. Had Aunt Sonya not got involved, your ass wouldn’t have gotten that damn job.” Cooper laughed loudly. “You would still be at ExxonMobil, miserable as fuck.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, man. I gotta go. I got a flight to get to.”
“Where yo’ cocky ass headed?”
I chuckled. “Los Angeles, then all the way back to Miami. I can’t wait to see who’s gonna be on this flight though. Cardi B was on the last one. She funny as fuck.”
“Yeah, I went to her concert here in Houston. She fine as fuck, too.”
“Hell yeah. A’ight, dude. I’m literally about to hop out my ride.”
“A’ight. Be safe, man.”
“Always.”
I parked in my spot at the airport and quickly made my way inside the terminal.
I’d been employed with Premier Wings for a year now, and a nigga was happy as hell.
When the position for an airline steward became available, I was all over that shit.
I loved being around people, meeting who I could meet, especially women.
I had my eye on one of my dad’s employees for the longest, but Kinisha wasn’t falling for my bullshit. She was into this nerdy ass nigga that owned his own computer tech company. They were now married, and she was pregnant with their second kid.
I’d matured some since then. I mean, I was still fucking around.
I just wasn’t selling dreams of having a future with anybody.
I fucked around with women who were on the same vibe as me.
I was almost thirty-five years old and still hadn’t met a woman that I thought enough of to want anything more with.
I supposed that was intentional though. It was like I could sniff out women that were just fine with fucking without attachments. Their pheromones were strong, like they’d bathed in the most potent perfume.
When I badged into the private area, I smiled slightly.
I could have gotten to this area without walking all through the public terminal through our private entrance, but I made it my business to see what I could see.
Women were always appreciative of that. They loved seeing a dark chocolate man in uniform.
The looks and attention that action garnered me was always appreciated.
The moment the door shut, I walked away toward my gate.
Celebrities and rich people flocked to this airline.
It was almost like having a private jet.
Only people of their status would ever be on a flight with them.
It was who this airline catered to . . .
the rich and elite. Some of them were afforded their own private cabins on the flight, and I served them like they were royalty.
I could bullshit anybody, making them think they were more than they actually were.
That was how I knew I belonged in customer relations. I just didn’t want a low-paying job.
Premier Wings paid well. It wasn’t like I needed it, but they weren’t finna have me working for pennies either.
I’d long ago received my money from my parents’ labor.
I was a millionaire. I didn’t have to do a fucking thing, but they’d also instilled getting an education and having a good work ethic in me, even though I pretended not to listen.
They were good parents, despite my mama nearly ruining me by spoiling me so much. I could do no wrong in her eyes for the longest, and that mindset nearly cost her marriage to my dad. That nigga was fed up with both of us.
When I glanced to my right, I noticed Kevin Hart and his family.
I supposed they were going on vacation. Last week, I had the pleasure of meeting a couple of veteran actresses.
Lynn Whitfield still looked good as hell, and she was seventy years old.
I also met Alfre Woodard. I swore I wanted to yell, Bless her!
That movie lived rent-free in my mind. Holiday Heart wasn’t a comedy, but that didn’t stop me from laughing.
When I got to my gate, I nodded at the lady at the computer and continued to the plane.
The flight didn’t leave for another couple of hours, but I liked to get here early to see who would be flying with us and set their cabins to their likings.
They had something like a rider, listing their preferences.
Once I set my carry-on in my compartment, I went straight to the manifest to see who would be gracing us with their presence.
I know you fucking lying. SOLA’s fine ass was gon’ be on this flight.
She had a plus one, so I could only pray it wasn’t a man.
There was a more detailed manifest on file with the airline, but it wasn’t necessary for me to know who the plus one was, unless they were a member. Apparently, this person wasn’t.
When I scanned her preferences, I saw that she loved Snickers and fucking hot chips. She didn’t specify what kind of hot chips, so I retrieved a big bag of Hot Cheetos, along with a couple of Snickers. She was still young, so she would be okay.
I couldn’t eat that hot shit anymore. My stomach would turn inside out after eating a handful of them.
I knew it was time to hang that shit up years ago.
After getting her blanket, pillow, and a heating pad, I situated them perfectly on her recliner.
I would bring her drink preferences last. I moved on to the next guest, some billionaire.
Hopefully, they wouldn’t be on no bullshit.
People often thought money gave them a pass to be jackasses.
I could be one of those people at times.
What I liked about working here, though, was that people assumed I needed this job.
They didn’t realize I was just as connected as they were.
I knew a few celebrities simply because of my parents, aunt, and cousins.
Shane was a professional football player on his way to retirement, Sharee was a video vixen and model, and her husband was a rapper.
Not to mention, Aunt Sonya started as a video vixen and had since been in TV shows, movies, been the face of Christian Louboutin and Cover Girl.
She loved those damned Red Bottoms back in the day.
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee and rapper, Noah, was one of her best friends. She was that girl for a long time.
Them being in the industry connected me to all sorts of celebrities from music moguls to actors and athletes.
They all loved Aunt Sonya. The women looked up to her, and the men loved her for obvious reasons.
I remember when I was little, she would call her body the eighth wonder of the world.
I would chuckle every time I heard her say that.
Sometimes, I had to enlighten people, letting them know who my mother was.
The killing thing was that she’d represented a couple of people I’d had to put up on game.
They were one step from a jail cell sometimes and had the audacity to look down their noses at me.
I took pride in letting them know differently.
The crazy part was that I had more money and assets than a lot of them did.
I’d come here in a Maybach that Uncle Corey helped me to get.
He was a billionaire. The nigga owned a couple of car dealerships, bringing the first high-end luxury dealership to Beaumont.
He was brave as fuck for that. Those niggas in Beaumont were getting rowdy.
Every day there seemed to be a report about a shooting or someone getting killed. Most times, it started as a robbery.
When I left for TSU, I never moved back.
Houston was my home now. For a minute, I thought my parents were going to move as well.
They both had offices in Houston as well.
Their firms were practically nationwide now.
Knowing that they both came from nothing made me proud.
My dad had been on the wrong side of the law at one time, and sometimes I thought he still was, him and Uncle Shawn. Especially Uncle Shawn.
Once I finished preparing everyone’s cabins, it was time for them to start boarding.
I looked around, making sure everything was in order, then took my position at the front to welcome everyone aboard.
A couple of people boarded, and I greeted them like I knew them.
I didn’t have the slightest clue who they were.
Then I saw her. SOLA was thick as fuck, and it seemed that was more apparent in person. When her eyes met mine, she smiled.
“Welcome aboard Premier Wings Elite Air Services, Aircraft One-Twelve.”
Her smile widened, and she said, “Thank you . . . Graham,” she said, reading my name on my badge.
I nodded, and said, “Allow me to show you to your private cabin.”
The lady with her nudged her, causing her to look back at her.
I got that shit all the time. Women who were celebrities were no different than the everyday woman.
They admired a good-looking man, no matter his status.
Now, his status definitely mattered if things were to go any further than admiration.
When we got to her cabin, I stood outside of it and held my hand out like an usher.
“Welcome again. I’ll be back to check on you once we’re in the air.
If you need anything before then, just press your call button, right here,” I said, pointing to the button on the wall.
“There’s another on the armrest of your chair.
“Thank you,” she said as her eyes scanned me from head to toe.
She wasn’t shy, that was for sure. She could fuck around with me if she wanted to. I’d have her on all these inches when we got to LA. I worked specifically for this aircraft. Wherever it went was where I went. Homebase was Houston. So, as long as she was flying on PW-112, she would see me.
I nodded and made my way back to the front, only to see Aunt Sonya and Sharee boarding. I slightly rolled my eyes, because I knew they were going to do extra shit and have me working this entire flight. When they saw me, they smiled. Aunt Sonya said, “Hey, Graham. How’s everything, baby?”