“Yes.” She shook her head as I handed her the paper. “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Weston.”

“My pleasure.”

GATE C43

GILLIAN

PENGUIN PUBLISHING’S UPCOMING RELEASE, TURBULENCE, ENJOYS DIZZINGLY HIGH PRE-ORDER SALES, EBOOK & PRINT

—USA Today

SOON TO BE RELEASED TURBULENCE REVEALS THE FALLACIES IN ELITE AIRWAYS’ NONFRATERNIZATION CLAUSE, REVEALS SEX IN-FLIGHT

—Flying Quarterly

PILOTS DECRY THE LOGISTICS OF “IN-FLIGHT SEX” IN UPCOMING NOVEL, TURBULENCE

—CNN

TWO PILOTS ADMIT TO HAVING SEX IN-FLIGHT AT LEAST ONCE DURING CAREERS, SAY ‘TURBULENCE’ COULD BE ACCURATE

—MSNBC

TURBULENCE, AN EROTIC ROMANCE, REACHES SOARING ALTITUDE ON BESTSELLERS’ CHART FIRST WEEK OF RELEASE

—The Wall Street Journal

AUTHOR OF TURBULENCE, TAYLOR G., TO APPEAR ON THE TODAY SHOW TO DISCUSS SCANDALOUS NOVEL

—Today.com

TURBULENCE LANDS AT #1 ON THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLERS’ LIST SECOND WEEK OF RELEASE

—The New York Times

DAUGHTER OF FAMED NEUROSURGEON(S) RELEASES STEAMY, EROTIC NOVEL BASED ON HER OWN EXPERIENCES AT ELITE AIRWAYS

—Boston Globe

TURBULENCE SPENDS SEVENTH CONSECUTIVE WEEK ON NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLERS’ LIST

—The New York Times

OFFICIAL ELITE AIRWAYS PRESS RELEASE

*Regarding the fiction that is currently being propagated as fact via a former employee*

Our esteemed airline did indeed employ Gillian Taylor as a gate agent, a reserve flight attendant, and as a full time flight attendant over a well-documented period.

During her short term career with us, Miss Taylor amassed a total of five minor employee infractions—one of which was a termination which was eventually overturned due to an error in the Human Resources Department.

However, her fictional account of being able to so easily sustain such a relationship within the confines of our airline’s strict non-fraternization policy is simply untrue, and is packaged solely for her publisher’s entertainment.

Furthermore, although we are genuinely happy for “Taylor G.’s” newfound career and success, we would be even happier if the reading public accepted her “truth” for the mere fiction that it really is.

###

GATE C44

JAKE

Dallas (DAL)—> Barcelona (BCN)—> Chicago (ORD)

Rome (FCO)—> New York (JFK)

The news media was like a flock of thirsty seagulls. Desperate and deprived, they waited at their desks every morning for something worth devouring and they fought over it until there was something new.

Unfortunately, Turbulence was still running its course through the news cycle, and “Taylor G.” was everywhere I looked. The airport bookshops were stuffing that book on every possible shelf, late night talk show hosts had started a “How Many Days Until Pilot’s Identity Is Revealed” contest, and even passengers on my planes were still carrying their freshly bought copies, asking, “Hey...Since you work for Elite, do you know who she was talking about?” with annoying curiosity.

I’d flown every international trip I could manage—running my body off pure anger. I changed my phone number, got a new email address, and made sure that Jeff now knew that anyone whose name started with a ‘T’ or a ‘G’ was on my “I Don’t Fuck with You” list. Along with the rest of my family.

I made new casual sex contacts abroad, but I could never seal the deal with any of them. “Dinner” always ended with just dinner. “Drinks” never escalated to anything more than a drunken evening alone. My promises of “more” always remained broken, and an unwelcome feeling of guilt lodged in my chest whenever I even attempted to call someone new.

It didn’t stop me from trying, though.

My date tonight was with a woman I’d met after landing at JFK this morning. She’d purposely brushed by me in the terminal and she didn’t waste any time letting me know what was on her mind.

“How long are you in town for, Captain?” she asked.

“Until tomorrow.”

“So, that means you’re free tonight for some company?”

“I don’t do company.”

“Do you do fucking?”

“I do.” That was what brought me to the Marriott Le Grande, at a small café outside of Bergman’s. Since her room was being serviced, she’d suggested that we have lunch.

I was glad she wasn’t the talkative type. She didn’t even pretend like she wanted to have a conversation.

“They should be done with my room in twenty minutes,” she said, putting her phone away.

“Good.” I took a short sip of coffee and looked out the window, hoping tonight would finally be the day I would end my sexless cycle.

As the waiter offered us more bagels, I heard the sound of a familiar light and raspy voice behind me.

Gillian.

I turned around in my seat and looked around the room, trying to place where she was, but then I saw that she wasn’t really here. She was on the television, on the news.

Dressed in a fitted beige dress and red heels, she was sitting across from one of the most popular morning anchors in America. Katie Seleck, a pretty blonde woman with a penchant for being completely over the top.

Without thinking, I stood up and moved closer to the screen.

“Can you turn that up a bit, please?” I asked the barista.

“Sure thing.” He smiled and lifted the remote.