admitted it.
Chapter Six
“Attention: flight number fourteen-sixty-two, originally departing for John F. Kennedy at four twenty-three, has been delayed. New departure time is six eighteen. We’re very sorry about the delay. Again, flight number…”
“I get it, damn it; my flight is delayed. Shut. Up ,” I said loudly, ignoring the disapproving looks from fellow plane waiters. The voice on the loud speaker had been announcing the delay of my flight for the past ten minutes and it was annoying. Add in the fact that I got to the airport early, around eleven, and you got a very grumpy Ryen. Usually I had opposite luck, and got stuck in security checks, complete with full body X-ray scans. Not today though, especially not when I was this excited.
In the week since mine and Elle’s spa day, I’d gone shopping, for clothes this time, gotten the time off from my not-so-happy boss, packed, gotten my eyebrows done, and put a re-route on my mail; Elle had offered to go through it for me, which I was grateful. I’d paid the bills on my condo for three months, and, luckily, since I owned the condo, I didn’t have to worry about rent. I also didn’t have to worry about boarding any pets, or any animals going belly up while I was gone. Since I’d long since given away the kitten that … well … the kitten that he had gotten me, I was pet and, mostly, responsibility free. Good thing, too. I’d never have wanted to make Elle go through the trouble of dealing with so much of my baggage.
It had taken three suitcases, a carry-on duffel bag, and my purse to take all the things I needed to have in the big city. It would have been four, but Elle reminded me that she kept the place pretty stocked regarding soap, shampoo, even an iron, blow dryer, and hair straightener. Other than clothes and shoes, the only other contents were some makeup. Whoever got the droll job of checking my bags for explosives was going to be in for a bored shift. Or, well, maybe an exciting one when they got to the bag with my lingerie. What can I say? I like lacy things, they make me feel pretty.
“Attention: flight number fourteen-sixty-two, originally departing for…”
“God Bless it! I get it!” Scooping up my purse and carry-on, I shoved my Kindle roughly back inside and stomped away from the uncomfortable fake leather seats. If I had to hear that voice tell me the exact same thing again I was going to lose my mind. Seriously, how many times is it necessary to repeat yourself? I mean, most people are smart enough to read the big screens with the times on it, right?
“What flight number did they say was delayed?” I heard a woman ask her traveling partner and I shook my head. Okay, so I guess not everyone was smart enough to read the signs.
Desperate to escape the artificial woman’s voice, I made my way into the bar lounge. Pausing only for a moment at the “platinum passengers only” sign, I continued on and perched on one of the stools at the bar and waited impatiently for the bartender to come down my direction. He seemed deep in thought with a man at the end of the bar, and I rapped my nails loudly on the wood countertop. Looking up, he caught my eye, held a hand up signaling he’d be over in a moment, and said something to the man he was talking to, making him laugh.
MMM, that laugh , I thought idly, slightly intrigued. Of course, I refused to look at him - that would defeat the purpose. Nope, I’d sit here and sigh loudly in hopes that the neglectful barman got his act in gear. It had been over five minutes and he still hadn’t even come over to tell me he wasn’t coming over just yet, and it was making me more than frustrated. I understand being busy, but the bar wasn’t. Therefore, it stood to reason that I shouldn’t have to be kept waiting for forever so the hottie with the husky laugh could socialize.
Giving up, I pulled my e-reader back out from my bag and swiped it to life, hoping for a good distraction.
Chapter Six
“Attention: flight number fourteen-sixty-two, originally departing for John F. Kennedy at four twenty-three, has been delayed. New departure time is six eighteen. We’re very sorry about the delay. Again, flight number…”
“I get it, damn it; my flight is delayed. Shut. Up ,” I said loudly, ignoring the disapproving looks from fellow plane waiters. The voice on the loud speaker had been announcing the delay of my flight for the past ten minutes and it was annoying. Add in the fact that I got to the airport early, around eleven, and you got a very grumpy Ryen. Usually I had opposite luck, and got stuck in security checks, complete with full body X-ray scans. Not today though, especially not when I was this excited.
In the week since mine and Elle’s spa day, I’d gone shopping, for clothes this time, gotten the time off from my not-so-happy boss, packed, gotten my eyebrows done, and put a re-route on my mail; Elle had offered to go through it for me, which I was grateful. I’d paid the bills on my condo for three months, and, luckily, since I owned the condo, I didn’t have to worry about rent. I also didn’t have to worry about boarding any pets, or any animals going belly up while I was gone. Since I’d long since given away the kitten that … well … the kitten that he had gotten me, I was pet and, mostly, responsibility free. Good thing, too. I’d never have wanted to make Elle go through the trouble of dealing with so much of my baggage.
It had taken three suitcases, a carry-on duffel bag, and my purse to take all the things I needed to have in the big city. It would have been four, but Elle reminded me that she kept the place pretty stocked regarding soap, shampoo, even an iron, blow dryer, and hair straightener. Other than clothes and shoes, the only other contents were some makeup. Whoever got the droll job of checking my bags for explosives was going to be in for a bored shift. Or, well, maybe an exciting one when they got to the bag with my lingerie. What can I say? I like lacy things, they make me feel pretty.
“Attention: flight number fourteen-sixty-two, originally departing for…”
“God Bless it! I get it!” Scooping up my purse and carry-on, I shoved my Kindle roughly back inside and stomped away from the uncomfortable fake leather seats. If I had to hear that voice tell me the exact same thing again I was going to lose my mind. Seriously, how many times is it necessary to repeat yourself? I mean, most people are smart enough to read the big screens with the times on it, right?
“What flight number did they say was delayed?” I heard a woman ask her traveling partner and I shook my head. Okay, so I guess not everyone was smart enough to read the signs.
Desperate to escape the artificial woman’s voice, I made my way into the bar lounge. Pausing only for a moment at the “platinum passengers only” sign, I continued on and perched on one of the stools at the bar and waited impatiently for the bartender to come down my direction. He seemed deep in thought with a man at the end of the bar, and I rapped my nails loudly on the wood countertop. Looking up, he caught my eye, held a hand up signaling he’d be over in a moment, and said something to the man he was talking to, making him laugh.
MMM, that laugh , I thought idly, slightly intrigued. Of course, I refused to look at him - that would defeat the purpose. Nope, I’d sit here and sigh loudly in hopes that the neglectful barman got his act in gear. It had been over five minutes and he still hadn’t even come over to tell me he wasn’t coming over just yet, and it was making me more than frustrated. I understand being busy, but the bar wasn’t. Therefore, it stood to reason that I shouldn’t have to be kept waiting for forever so the hottie with the husky laugh could socialize.
Giving up, I pulled my e-reader back out from my bag and swiped it to life, hoping for a good distraction.
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