Page 62 of Jesse

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you that,” Miles whispers. “Ms. Dumas wants it to remain a surprise.”

On the tray there’s some kind of fizzy drink in a champagne flute, a tall glass of ice water, a miniature bowl of blueberries, and three teeny-tiny cinnamon rolls. I feel like Barbie and Ken will be joining me any minute now. I pick one up and hold it between my fingertips. “What the fuck is this?”

“A mini-roll,” Miles says, as if these things actually exist. “They have exactly thirty-five calories and one net carb in them.”

I drop it back on the plate. “I’m gonna need three of these in super-size, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m kidding,” I say. “Wait. No. I’m not. If you’ve got grown-up cinnamon rolls I really would like a few.”

“Very good, sir.”

“And what’s this?” I ask, pointing to the champagne glass.

“Sparkling orange juice sir. Non-alcoholic.”

“OK.” I sigh. “Where’s Emma?” I’m pretty sure she didn’t ditch me since we’re still in the air. But you never know with this chick. She is one insane surprise after another. For all I know she took the parachute exit two hours ago and left me here just to prove she can walk out any time she wants.

“Working in the middle cabin, sir. She said for you to take your time and meet her out there when you’re ready.”

“Cool,” I say, picking up all three mini-rolls and popping them in my mouth. “Mmm, these aren’t bad.”

“Would you like a dozen more?” And did I just detect a smile on Miles’ smug face? “Or would you like me to bake you man-sized rolls?”

I point my finger at him. “You’re cool, you know that.”

“I do, sir.”

“Sure, I’ll take a dozen of the little fuckers if you’ve got them ready.”

“I always make a full batch,” Miles says. “She always eats them all.” Then he winks at me and leaves. I catch a glimpse of Emma in the middle cabin before he closes the pocket door, but then she disappears.

Damn. The whole blow-job thing comes back to me. Who knew sweet, pig-tailed little Emma Dumas had that skill lurking deep inside her?

But shit. She did it again. No fucking.

I chuckle a little. But this time I got my reward and she got nothing.

Point goes to me.

I think.

Maybe not. I don’t know.

I drink the entire glass of water, then the fizzy juice, then dump the entire bowl of blueberries into my mouth and chew as I stand up, button my jeans and buckle my belt.

I have no shirt.

But fuck it. I feel a little better. I didn’t sleep at all after Emma left me last night. I had to get Zach to Photoshop me a fake drug test report, then plan my revenge.

Which is not really working out the way I imagined.

But I was tired. She did drug me. No sleep, no food except one and a half ice cream cones. And I was angry.

I’m on my game now, son. On. My. Game.

I pull the pocket door open, ready to make my grand re-entrance into Emma’s boring little life, walk through, and lean against the cabin with my arms folded in that way that pumps up my already spectacular biceps. I even flex my pecs when she glances up at me through a pair of adorable nerd-girl glasses.