Chapter Three
Fly high and keep soaring.
DeShawn
Damn, this shit is nice. I ran my hands along the artisan leather seats, bobbing my head to a vibe that was all my own. Rezi had scurried to the back of the aircraft near the luxury bathroom as soon as we boarded. The cabin was small though. Meaning, all I had to do to see her was spin around, peek behind the fancy divider, partition wall, and there she was. Nonetheless, if the semi-separation gave her some semblance of peace, then I intended to give her space.
I owned my own videography company and had done well for myself. Not many other twenty-six-year-olds I knew were able to say the same, including my current traveling companion who was arguably successful in her own right. However, even with my achievements, I couldn’t even front like this mode of transportation wasn’t leagues above my level of accomplishments. This jet was decked out from head to toe, and I was here for it.
The shiny wood found on the tables, the dividers and the slick molding along the walls were a design all their own. Pair it with the light tan leather covering that enclosed most of the other surfaces, though, and the shit was downright sexy. Made your skin feel good, too, rubbing up against it. Causing a nigga to want nothing more than to come up in life, so I could make someone feel this giddy riding in my piece someday.
The swinging door in front of me slid open, shocking me.
“Hi, what can I get you?” a woman asked. She was dressed like a flight attendant, but it still took me a minute to register what she was asking as I worked to cover up my jumpiness.
“Um, yeah.” I paused. “Can I get a Miami Vice?”
“Of course, sir,” she said. “Food will also be coming shortly.”
“Thank you,” I replied with a semi-seated bow. “And what’s your name?”
“Janet,” she answered.
“Well, thank you again, Janet.”
This time I omitted the stupid bow. She probably thought I was a bit strange ordering a Miami Vice and then bending to her. But I was a man who enjoyed a fruity cocktail, and Miami Vice’s were the only ones that tasted good and didn’t make me sound like a straight up punk.
This is bougie as hell, I thought. Shamelessly resting my hands behind my head, I settled in my chair, feeling like I was made to enjoy this.
Janet proceeded back through the door she’d come after taking Rezi’s order as well. I could see a slick, compact kitchen arrangement through the opened door as she passed and another door beyond that, which I assumed led to the cockpit the pilot was in. I hadn’t noticed the flight attendant before we took off, but there was no denying that she made this whole flight feel that much more luxurious.
“Is it just the four of us on this plane?” I asked when she returned with my drink. “Not that it matters, I’m just curious.”
“No, sir. In addition to me, the crew consists of the pilot, of course, and the chef.”
The chef? Oh, this food was about to be fire.
“Okay, thank you, Janet,” I replied, once again putting on my corporate voice.
From the looks of it, she dropped off Rezi’s champagne, before disappearing back behind the service door.
“I need to work for more rich clients,” I whispered, taking a swig of my drink. “Damn, that’s good.”
There were discreet lights and buttons throughout the plane’s layout. Some seemed to work the lights, others the motorized shades. There were also call buttons and switches to request no interruptions, which I assumed cut off the flight attendant services. Although I wondered why anyone would want to not be waited on while on a lavish private flight like this.
Taking a second gulp of my drink had me leaping out of my seat and rushing to Rezi.
“Ree, you have to try this,” I exclaimed, taking the chair across from her.
She was settled into a long lounger, connected to the wall. While the armchair I’d just slid into was similar to the ones at the front, but even better since it unraveled into a recliner bed.
Pushing the buttons, I began gliding down.
“I have my own drink, thank you,” Rezi replied as I reached the flat position.
“Oh damn, you’ve got to try this, too,” I stated, ignoring her last response.
“Here’s the chef’s gourmet special hors d’oeuvres to enjoy while in flight,” Janet stated, scaring the hell out of me once more.
Fuckthis carpet crap. It may have looked swanky and felt good under my feet given I’d discarded my shoes immediately after boarding, but I hated motherfuckers popping up out of nowhere without a sound. When I got my plane, you could bet the flooring would be vinyl.
“Well don’t mind if we do.” I gained my composure in time to grab a small cookie off the plater before she placed it on a nearby table and retreated back behind the door.
“Ree,” I stated.
“Let me guess, something else I just need to try?” she asked sarcastically, joining me by the tray of food.
“Yeppp,” I sung, grabbing a small cone filled with mac and cheese and stuffing it in my mouth, before shooting Rezi a giddy smile.
This platter had everything from brownies to hash browns. A full array of decadent treats to indulge your every taste bud.
“You’re a child,” Rezi claimed before picking up a caramel bite and popping it into her mouth.
My attention was immediately pulled to her burgundy-shaded lips, which were begging to be kissed. Resisting any urges, I recovered before she noticed I was gawking. For the first time all day, I saw the hint of a smile beneath her sensual lips. I wasn’t sure if the smirk was because of my acting like a kid in a candy store, or because of the food, but either way the view made me grateful.
“Let’s just eat and not talk, alright,” she stated, picking up a piece of garlic bread.
“Works for me,” I replied, mirroring her selection.
I cherished seeing her body relax in my presence as we grew quiet, stuffing our faces with all the delicious food in front of us. Although I would have liked bigger portions, I enjoyed the options as well as the excuse to stay in the back of the cabin with Rezi.
The flight was smooth as we flew, which surprised me given I’d constantly assumed smaller plans were more susceptible to turbulence, causing a rougher ride. We were high above the clouds though, cruising with a mixture of RB, hip hop, and pop music playing through the speakers. My plan to get Rezi on this trip had worked out perfectly. Beyond tricking her into close proximity, though, I had no idea how to begin the conversations we needed to have. Discussions that were a year overdue.
I’d hoped the moment would just arise, but if the time wasn’t now, then when could it be? After all, she would never take me back if she didn’t first forgive me.
“Rezi?” I said for the first time in an hour, my tongue feeling strange in my mouth. Sticking it out, I grabbed it with two fingers, going cross eyed to inspect it.
“Does your tongue feel weird?” I asked, getting distracted from whatever I intended to say.
“I’m sorry, what’d you … do?” she asked. She was bent over in her seat, looking at the ground.
“I said your tongue … and hands!” I yelped. My brain struggled to make full sentences as I stared at my hands, which grew heavy under the weight of my eyes. Dropping them to my lap, I remained fixated on them, attempting to raise them several times. “Damn, bro, when did I get so many fingers?”
“Fingers?” Rezi questioned. “Hell, look at my toes. I got fourteen!” Her voice was high-pitched, ringing through my head.
Rezi threw off her sandals, holding one foot up in the air as she sank into the lounger.
“Like count ’em,” she added.
Her feet looked fine. But what the fuck is wrong with my hands?
My head fell to one side as I watched Rezi squirm in her seat. Throwing both feet in the air, she attempted to touch them but kept missing.
She looked hilarious. What started as a chuckle turned into a roaring laugh pouring out of me uncontrollably. I was unable to stop. Rezi joined in my amusement while still hitting her toes and striking the air where she claimed her additional ones were.
It felt like we laughed for hours until suddenly, her eyes grew big, as her feet dropped to the seat below. “DeShawn, what’s happening?”
“Hell if I know,” I replied. “I haven’t felt this loopy since …”
Ah crap. I hadn’t been this baked since I attended one of MJ’s infamous cannabis parties and discovered all the food and drink I’d ingested was infused with marijuana.
“Fuckkk me,” I grumbled, pressing the service button.
Barely managing to put together the words, I asked the flight attendant what was in the food. As expected, all the food had been laced with weed, but not just any marijuana. We’d been served a special strand of cannabis along with a small amount of shrooms. The mixture was a specialty of our host in Colombia, known for expanding the mind and causing hallucinations.
“I’ll inform Mr. Murillo of the error as soon as we land,” Janet yelped, scurrying away.
Unbeknownst to her, Rezi and I had no idea what was in our meal prior to consuming it. Evidently, Murillo’s aversion to high flights were infamous, and something guests often enjoyed. The shit was illegal as fuck though. Meaning someone had seriously screwed up by not informing us beforehand.
“Mathias Murillo-o?” Rezi laughed slowly stating each syllable. “Our client is the infamous business-export guru, Mathias Murillo-o?”
“Yeah.”
“I like his name.” She laughed repeating it several more times.
I should have known some shit like this was possible given I’d met Mr. Murillo through my friend MJ. Malcom was a visionary who loved pushing the limits of what was possible. Often, in my opinion, skewing the boundaries of legality.
We’d met when he was speaking at his alma mater, Morehouse College. I was just a seventeen-year-old kid visiting my cousin who went there, while trying to decide what to do with my life, and suffice to say MJ’s speech changed everything. Led me to film school, international studies, dual languages, and the rest was history.
Despite our past, though, he was a grade A asshole for not giving me a heads-up. Especially knowing I was bringing my girl on this trip. Well, ex girl, but he didn’t know that shit.
Nearly stumbling when we hit slight turbulence, I balanced myself, regaining some semblance of reality.
Shit, I’m out of it. And way too fuzzy to be reprimanding anyone until I chilled the fuck out.
Searching for Rezi seconds later, I found her lying on the middle of the cabin floor, curled up as though she were hiding in plain sight.
“Ree,” I said, picking her up. “You’re going to be okay.”
I turned my wrist back and forth, before shaking my hand to get rid of the vision of multiple extra fingers. I had no time to give into my buzz. Right now, I needed to make sure Rezi’s paranoia was kept to a minimum, since I remembered, from the one and only time we’d taken edibles together, that her body didn’t handle them well.
Knowing what was coursing through my system allowed me to fight against it, while knowledge was quickly sending Ree on a tailspin of fear. Her eyes continually darted across the plane from one section to the next, growing larger with each new object. Even when we received some non-infused food packed with pine nuts, lemon, and peppercorns, the effect still didn’t appear to lessen for her.
Finally, after troubleshooting a few ideas, I put on her favorite comedy on the television located toward the front of the cabin. I was relieved to see it calmed her. Although, she’d occasionally squint at the screen, outwardly hallucinating figments that weren’t there, and laugh a little too hard at even the serious parts of the movie, her demeanor was extremely more relaxed.
I’d placed a blanket around her since she kept trying to hide from nothing earlier by shutting her eyes. She would freak out whenever she opened them, shutting them tightly again and repeat the gesture constantly. But the final combination of the film and cover surrounding her appeared to help. Even as the movie ended, she remained eased.
“Damn, Shawn,” she said, sticking her foot outside of the blanket and resting it on my lap. “I know I’m high, but this toe thing is still so freaky.”
It’d been over a couple hours since she first counted fourteen toes, but I guess the shrooms effect lingered even more than the cannabis.
Rezi wiggled her toes. “Sometimes there’s only five and sometimes there’s seven.”
“Well, the fact that you realize there should only be five sounds like progress,” I replied, trying to ignore the way her foot was rubbing against my pants. The friction bringing my dick to attention.
“Oh my God!” she gasped. “I wonder if there’s more of Flagpole, too.”
What the fuck?Flagpole was the name she’d given my dick when we were still together, and I absolutely hated it.
“Hold on a sec,” I screeched, leaping up from our seats.
“What? You were never shy.” Her baby voice comment was directed at my crotch as she slid out of her seat, grasping my belt buckle with one hand and zipper with the other.
“Rezi, you’re high as shit.” I removed her hands from my pants, pulling her to her feet in one swift motion. “We’re not doing anything with you in this state.”
After releasing her wrists, I rubbed my fingers down my face to try and calm the desire building inside of me. It’d been over a year since I’d tasted her, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fully ready to cross that line again. I considered myself a stand-up man, though, and taking her in a situation like this was against my ethics.
“Whoops,” she exclaimed, releasing the button on my jeans and pulling them to the ground.
She’d moved quick as hell in the seconds I’d let her go.
“What the fuck?” I barked aloud. “When did you get so forceful?”
“You’re going to tell me he doesn’t want it?” she teased, looking at my hard-on through my boxers.
Her hands caressed my member through the thin fabric, and I knew I was a fuckin’ goner. Each inch of me awakened under her grasp, my dick jumping in her palms.
I wanted her more than I wanted to breathe right now.
She bent down in her fitted black skirt and loose, white button-down blouse, making a tempting situation irrepressible. Her hair was thrown into a messy yet tamed bun that was pleading to be fully set free. Just as those full lips of hers were asking to be sucked.
Every part of me yearned to stop protesting and give in. Fuck morals. Fuck being drugged. All I craved was to fuck her senseless.