Joey

Early the next morning, after no more hockey player, billionaire, or prince sightings over dinner and a trip to buy me a new phone, I drop Gracie at the airport so she can get back to her regularly scheduled life.

She has cookies to bake, and monstrosities to frost and ship. Dickookies.

I have a plane to fly.

I head to the other side of the airport complex to hit the secondary flight line studded with hangars for private jets, freight operations, and other non-commercial air travel. My crew brought in Luna, our 727, late yesterday after she had one of her sensors replaced. I park and make my way out to her with my first officer and flight engineer right behind me.

“Morning, ma’am,” Boomer calls to me.

I nod to Boomer and return Monkey Butt’s salute. Yes, I could tell you Monkey Butt’s real name, but he’s been Monkey Butt for thirty years, and even though he’s almost old enough to be my father, I will never be able to call him anything else.

I do wish he’d quit saluting me, but I know a losing battle when I see one.

Usually. Which is why I’m aggravated with myself for letting Zeus Berger still be taking up some of my headspace.

He’s gone. He was good for a little fun, a little disappointment, and now I need to move on.

And get my brain back in my airplane.

Which is way more dependable than some half-cocked offer of a date from a guy whose ego was bruised.

Boomer, Monkey Butt, and I climb aboard Luna for our normal pre-flight checks. Today’s run is relatively early. For crew rest reasons, we won’t be able to head home until tomorrow. Late this morning and all afternoon are open for answering questions from anyone on the flight today, with my crew on standby if anyone on the flight with a couple hundred million lying around who can stand the idea of letting me outrank him in this company wants to talk to them. Not standard operating procedure, but then, this isn’t a standard flight.

It’s an incentive flight for the kids, a promo op for Weightless and the celebrities, and a chance to show off to everyone else.

But first, I get to do my favorite thing in the entire world.

I get to fly.

“Going for that perfect parabola today?” Boomer asks with a grin.

“We’re certainly not going for half-assed,” I reply. It’s our pre-flight routine, Boomer and Monkey Butt playing the funnymen to my straight-laced hard-ass.

For the first time in a long time, I wish I could be the funny man.

Funny isn’t something I’ve had time for in… Never mind.

It doesn’t matter.

We’re finishing up the pre-flight checklist when the head of my flight crew steps onto the plane behind the flight deck.

“Got some heavy cargo today.” Nyla’s dark eyes are wide and she’s breathing a little fast. I can’t tell if it’s embarrassment, interest, or something else entirely. Her navy-blue flight suit is clean and pressed, her hands steady as she passes me the manifest, so I give her a lingering look—the everything okay? question that every one of my crew knows is code for No questions if you need to not be on this flight today.

Safety first.

Always.

She gives a smart nod. “Surprised, but I got it under control, boss.” She points halfway down the manifest. “Just wasn’t prepared for that.”

I follow her finger, and are you fucking kidding me?

I must’ve made a noise, because now Nyla, Boomer, and Monkey Butt are all treating me to my own Everything okay? look.

“Medical forms?” I ask Nyla.

“Called and double-checked them myself.”

An unwelcome and poorly-timed tingle of interest flares to life between my thighs. “Make sure they’re on opposite sides of the plane.”

“Already done. And I confiscated four helium balloons from Mr. Richardson.”

“Richardson?” I scan the list and find a John Colbert Richardson.

“The Panther,” Monkey Butt says reverently.

Boomer perks up. “That Panther? We’re taking The Panther weightless?”

I smile, because Panther grew on me yesterday. “Put the balloons on board. If he makes it through the first seven parabolas, give them to the kids and let them taunt him.”

“Speaking of the kids, I had to separate one from the Berger twins. Ma’am, this is one interesting bunch of passengers.”

I scan the list again.

It certainly is.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to the post-flight briefing almost more than I’m looking forward to the flight itself.