Page 30 of Catching the Coach
Was there a question?
Judd
Who is she?
The flight attendant comes over the speaker preparing us for take-off and asks all devices be switched off for take-off.
Me
Looks like I’m taking off, talk later bro.
I switch my phone off and pull the book Lucy mentioned the other night out of my carry-on. I went out and bought it the next day and I have to admit, I like it more than I thought I would. I feel my aisle mate looking at me again. Ignoring it, I flip my book open to where my bookmark is. The engines start to gear up and I can feel us slowly start to taxi the runway. The woman next to me sucks in a breath, I turn my head slightly to look at her. She has her eyes closed and she’s gone pale.
Great.
I close my book and clear my throat.
“Don’t like flying?” I ask.
“Nnot particularly,” she stutters out. The plane accelerates and her hand slams down onto my arm in a vice grip.
Her nails dig into my skin. I place my other hand over hers, trying to comfort her and ease her grip at the same time. “I used to hate flying too, but I have to do it a lot for my job, so I had to find a way to get over that quickly,” I say, trying to make conversation with her and get her mind off take-off.
“How, what did you do to get over it?” she asks, her eyes are still closed, but her grip eases a little.
“Well,” I say, holding up my book, “I read most of the time. If I can get into the story before the plane even starts taxiing, I don’t even notice we’re taking off. Music helps too.”
She cracks her eyes open and looks at me, then at my book. “I wouldn’t picture you as someone who reads those types of books.”
“It’s my first one actually. I normally read thrillers or mysteries,” I admit.
“Well, it’s a great first choice,” she says, relaxing back into her seat more.
“You’ve read it?” I ask, surprised.
The plane finally reaches its speed and lifts off into the air. The woman sucks in a breath, but doesn’t appear nearly as frightened as she was earlier. She releases her breath and turns to answer me.
“Yeah, I’ve read all of Amelia Morgan’s books, she’s the Queen,” she states.
I chuckle. “So I’ve heard. My uh, friend said the same thing the other day, which is why I picked this up. I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”
The plane levels out and everything settles. The woman lets go of my arm and tucks her hand back into her lap. The fastened seat belt light clicks off and the flight attendants start making their way down the aisle with refreshments.
She clears her throat and gives me a shy smile. “Well your friend has great taste. I’m Layla by the way.” She holds her hand out.
I take her hand and give it a small shake. “Kessler. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Thank you by the way. For being so kind. I hope I didn’t hurt your arm.” She nods at my arm.
I wave her off. “No thanks necessary. You’re good.”
The flight attendant reaches our seats and we both get water and some snacks. We spend the rest of the flight chatting. I learn she’s a marketing executive for the Toronto Turnips Hockey Team. I disclose to her that I play ball for the Silverbacks. She snaps her fingers.
“That’s why you look so familiar.”
I grimace. “Yeah, sorry. I try not to draw attention to myself.”
She holds her hand up. “Please, don’t apologize. I get it.” She looks around the plane then back at me. “But why are you flying commercial? Doesn’t the team have a charter plane? Didn’t you guys have a game today?”
