Silence. Kathryn is the first to crack, her laughter quickly turning into a sigh as she looks the other way and decides to not face my mother’s reaction. My mother, who is giving me the most disgusted look she can muster after feeling so perky.
“I did not need to know those details.” She sniffs. “Although I’m sure you’re bullshitting.”
“You won’t know, now will you?”
“If you don’t want your poor, neglected mother coming along on your shopping trip with you, then say so. Sheesh.”
Because that works so well!
I look at Kathryn with the most mild-mannered grin I can muster. She’s trying her damndest to not roll her eyes behind her sunglasses again. What? Not in the mood to flirt all kinky like in front of my mother? Wouldn’t be the first time... not like she doesn’t know what goes on between Kathryn and me. For fuck’s sake, Kathryn is the one who tells her all about it when she feels like complaining about me. Then they commiserate about what a bastard I am. Except my mother would never actually call me a bastard. She worked too hard to make sure I was legitimate by the time I was born.
You think I don’t know about that? Ha! It’s all my father talks about sometimes when he wants to whine about her. Apparently they’re having a downturn at the moment. If I am to believe that my mother really went strip club hopping with her old gal pal two nights ago. Probably out searching for a new young stud to take home. I don’t want to know the details.
The captain saves my ass by emerging from his office and gesturing to us. “Ready to hit the skies? Gwendolyn will take care of you for boarding.”
Ah, yes, Gwendolyn, the young redhead emerging from the office, trying her best to smooth out her uniform that the captain probably mussed up. I notice these things. “This way sir and ma’am.” Yeah, she’s walking funny. Good for her.
The three of us get up and saunter toward the door leading to the tarmac. The heat of the day hits me the moment we exit the door. My mother is fanning herself, talking about how her hot flashes are plenty for her and she doesn’t need desert heat. In truth, I’ll be happy to return to our milder climate as well. Last I checked my phone, it’s raining in my neighborhood.
“I’ll be right back.” Kathryn walks ahead at a brisk pace, catching up to Gwendolyn the stewardess. I’m pretty impressed, because I feel too crappy to jog that much right now. I’m content to hang out back here with my mom, if you can believe it.
By the time she comes back, she’s got her teeth on her bottom lip and regarding me with a sweet look. Or at least I think so. Difficult to tell with her wearing those sunglasses.
“Anything wrong?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s terrible. The plane has been stalled for a few minutes. I think you and I need to talk to the captain about it.”
I exchange looks with my mother. “What’s this?” she asks. “We need to be out of here in twenty minutes. I wanted a martini ready for me by the time I got on there... Ian, you know how I am if I’m not liquored up for a flight.”
“Wait here with the stewardess, Mother, I’ll go see what this is about.”
I walk with Kathryn to the plane. The captain is futzing with something in the cockpit. Another man is with him. Either a navigator or a copilot. I don’t know. I don’t usually care about these sorts of things. I pay to be taken safely and efficiently from Point A to Point B. Although I think Kathryn is paying for this flight...
“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping into the cabin and not seeing anything out of the ordinary. “Are you up to something, Katie?”
She closes the door behind us. “What do you think? I’m about to spend five hours in the air with my mother-in-law, probably grilling me about my uterus as she downs five margaritas in a row. Save me.”
“Yeah, I knew you’re full of shit about the whole problems thing.” I look out a window. My mother is having a very animated conversation with poor Gwendolyn. “We’ve got like, what... ten minutes, tops, before she storms in here?”
“That’s being liberal.”
Kathryn throws her arms around my shoulders and draws me into a heavy kiss. I like where this is going. “Why, Mrs. Mathers, are you trying to join the mile-high club... without actually a mile high?”
“I take what I can get. If you had gotten your mother a different plane, we could’ve mile-highed all we wanted.”
“Hey, I’m taking you BDSM furniture shopping when we get home. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Please don’t tell me you were serious about that.”