Page 8 of Playboy Pilot

It was definitely not easy to relax after that. Knowing that Carter was on board, that my life was in his hands for the next eight hours, made me anxious, to say the least. Although it wasn’t the type of anxiousness I have waiting in the chair for the dentist to come in. It was more like that anxious feeling I get when I hear the clank of the lock bolt into place after I’m seated on a roller coaster. It would either be the ride of my life, or I’d wind up splattered on the ground.

A few hours later, another announcement came overhead. Carter’s voice was low and raspy as he spoke. “This is Captain Clynes here. We’re just about across the Caribbean Sea right now. I’m going to go ahead and dim the cabin lights and hopefully you’ll be able to catch some shut eye.” A minute later, the lights turned off and the cabin became dark, except for a few reading lights illuminated above some of the seats. Deciding to try to get some sleep, I reclined my seat all the way back, pulling the blanket up to my chin, and shut my eyes. Low music started to play after that. At first, I wasn’t sure where it was even coming from. Until I recognized the song being played—Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. And the singer—it wasn’t John Lennon crooning about Lucy—it was Carter singing over the cabin PA system.

He really was nutty. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop smiling for the entire song.

I WAS MOMENTARILY confused when my eyes opened the next morning. At least I thought it was morning. It took me a minute to figure out I was still on a plane. Was I really going to Brazil, or had last night all been a dream? The seat next to me was no longer empty, too. A flight attendant was drinking coffee and reading a paper. I pressed the button to upright my seat and smiled at the woman next to me. It wasn’t the same attendant who had shown me her sparkly ring and dished about Carter.

“Morning. Hope you don’t mind me sitting here. We take turns on our breaks and it’s much more comfortable to sit in one of these big cushy seats than in that fold up jump seat.”

“I would imagine.” I hesitated before I asked the question I was thinking, figuring she might think I was a little crazy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Where are we heading to?”

Her manicured brows rose. “Rio de Janeiro. Is that not where you’re supposed to be heading?”

“No. It is. I just made a last minute change in plans last night and for a second, I thought I had dreamt I was heading to Brazil.”

“Nope. We should arrive in about an hour. It’s good you got some sleep.”

I nodded. As long as she already thought I was a little off, I might as well jump in with both feet. “Did…the pilot sing Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds last night to the cabin?”

She chuckled. “Sure did. Sings it on every night flight. Not sure why.”

“That’s a little strange.”

“That’s Captain Clynes for you. A little crazy, but a whole lot gorgeous and fun.”

“The other flight attended alluded to him being fun.”

“I’m sure there are a lot of flight attendants who would tell you how much fun he is.”

“But not you?”

She shook her head slowly. “Men like that aren’t usually my thing.”

Feeling deflated, I had to agree. “Mine either, I suppose.”

Something in her face changed, and she inched closer. “You know what is my thing?”

“What?”

“Petite little blondes with big blue eyes and pouty lips. We have a full two- day layover in Rio, if you want some company.”

What in the lord’s name? Was everyone crazy on this plane? Maybe the oxygen was too thin flying around at thirty-five thousand feet all the time. “Umm…thanks. But, I don’t…ummm…just no thank you.”

She smiled politely and folded up her paper. “Shame. But enjoy your trip anyway. I have to serve breakfast in steerage before we land.”

When our plane finally touched down on the tarmac, I stalled while the rest of first class disembarked, waiting for the cockpit door to open. I’m not even sure why I did it, or what I would have done if it had opened, yet I felt compelled to see Carter at least one last time. Wasn’t he at least curious if I was on the plane?

That answer became abundantly clear ten minutes later. Pretty much the entire plane was already off, and I was still sitting in my seat like an idiot stealing fleeting glances at a cockpit door that never opened. “What the hell is wrong with me?” I grumbled to myself. I’d met a random man in the airport lounge, whose first words to me were an invitation to go home with him, he then made my blouse see-through and talked about my boobs. So, of course, I did the only logical thing any woman in my place would have done—bought a three thousand dollar first-class ticket to follow him to Brazil. My actions pretty much went with the current fucked-up state of my life. This was supposed to be a trip about finding my own answers (and maybe finding some great shoes along the way), not about being a notch in the bedpost of Captain Freelove, no matter how fuckably handsome he was.

Standing, I picked up my Louis Vuitton Venus bag, smoothed down my crumpled top, and took a deep breath.

Later, Captain Clynes.

IT TOOK MORE THAN an hour to find my luggage and wait on the taxi line. The heat outside was oppressive even though it was supposed to be winter in Brazil, and I felt beads of sweat beginning to form on my back. I needed a cool shower, gigantic cup of iced coffee (vanilla or hazelnut might be nice), and possibly a ninety-minute massage at a hotel spa. When it was finally my turn at the front of the line, I couldn’t wait to slip inside the air-conditioned taxi while the driver packed my bags into the trunk then joined me.