Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
I didn’t do it up like a lot of the other content creators on those platforms. My pictures were real. There were no filters or anything else on them. Some of them are downright terrible, but they were the truth. No fakeness to them. I wanted people to see reality. For so long, I had to live a lie. My family was all about people’s perceptions of them. Appearances were all that mattered to them. I think people want authenticity. I know I do.
“Champagne?” the flight attendant asks, interrupting me from my thoughts.
“Yes, please.” I take the glass from her hand. “Thank you, Julie.” I catch her name on her name tag.
Ryan snags a glass for himself too. I couldn’t believe my luck when I got upgraded. I might have a nest egg and even a few endorsements coming in from people that want me to show off their stuff online, but I want to be careful. I want to make sure that I have enough to visit as many places as possible.
“Why are you heading to Paris?” Ryan asks me.
“I’ve wanted to go for a long time,” I admit.
Paris in my mind is the City of Love, even though I’ll be alone there. I wanted to save it and share it with someone, but that someone hasn’t come along.
The flight takes off, and Julie keeps topping off my champagne. I don’t normally drink much, so I can feel myself getting a little buzz.
“What hotel are you staying at?” Ryan peppers me with what feels like his millionth question.
“La Réserve Paris,” I blurt out without thinking. They have actually paid for my stay.
“Me too.” Ryan smiles. “We should get drinks or dinner after we land and get settled in.” Julie fills my glass of champagne again. I want to tell him no thank you, but I don’t know how to do it without being rude.
Instead, I take another sip of my champagne and ponder how to get out of this. Too bad my mind is a bit too fuzzy to do much. My first-class upgrade might not have been as great as I thought.
Chapter
Three
FINN
“Her name’s Georgia, and she’s staying at the La Réserve Paris. Her seatmate is Ryan. He says he’s staying there too.” I shoot off the email.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down. We’re expecting some turbulence.” A flight attendant gestures toward my seat.
“I can tell.” I point to my gut. “Not feeling so hot.”
A slight grimace flickers over her face before the practiced professional smile returns. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure, I’ll take a water.” The flight attendant leaves, and I strain to hear the conversation between Georgia and Ryan. He’s busy telling her about his exciting job as a textiles buyer who is visiting some art studios for pattern designs while she fights to keep her eyes open.
“What’re your plans? Except for a couple dinners, I’m open.”
“I’m playing it by ear,” she hedges. Because she isn’t interested or she has a body to take down?
“Sure. Sure. Let me give you my number so it’s easier to stay in touch.” He pulls out his phone. “I’ve got the tap feature which you know you can’t do with the other phones. I like how you can swipe down and access all the controls. See here. I’ve got my whole house automated. One tap and I can turn on the lights. Got some video cameras set up. One even in the bedroom.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“I think I might be sick.” She pops up from the chair and rushes by me into the bathroom that just emptied.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the flight attendant hurries over.
“It’s fine. Don’t feel sick anymore but”—I lower my voice—“seems this woman’s seatmate might be feeling his liquor a little too much.”
The flight attendant’s eyes flick toward Ryan. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
“If someone needs to trade, I’m open,” I offer.
“We’ll take care of her. There’s a bathroom toward the economy class cabins if you’d like.” She really wants me to sit down.
“Thanks.” Planes suck for all sorts of reasons, but the biggest one is that there’s no freedom of movement. I return to my seat and keep an eye out for Georgia. She exits the bathroom, but before she can return to her pod, the flight attendant appears at her side. The two have a short conversation. Georgia shakes her head, probably turning down the offer of being moved. Whatever is said doesn’t result in a seat trade.
I press the call button, and a moment later, the flight attendant hurries down to my side. “Sir, she did not want to move. She put the divider up and is going to sleep. Thank you again for your offer.”
She’s irritated with me, which means I’m going to stick in her memory bank, so I decide not to press my luck with more questions. “Great. I’ll take that bottle of water.”