Free First Class Killing by Lynne Heitman

ask?”
    “I got pissed off, and then he got pissed that I was pissed, and we had a big fight and hung up and never called each other back. This is the first time I’ve seen him since.”
    I felt the aircraft turn. We were in the pause between taxiing and blasting down the runway. The captain hit the gas, the aircraft surged, and the g-forces pushed us forward against our harnesses. I didn’t much like flying backward. The two of us sat quietly as the aircraft lifted off and settled into a steady climb.
    “I have the solution,” he said finally.
    “What?”
    “Apologize.”
    “No way. I didn’t do anything. I mean, I did, but…” That all came out much too fast, and I started feeling how I probably sounded—like a ten-year-old. “I know I need to, but I can’t right now. It will turn into a big thing. Everything is a big deal between us these past few years. It takes so much time and energy and—”
    “And he’s not worth it.”
    “I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is I can’t deal with it right now.”
    “Then when?”
    “It’s on my list.” I said it quietly. Maybe I really didn’t want him to hear it.
    He shook his head. “You’re an idiot. Truthfully, Alexandra, I’m not trying to be mean, but who else do you have in your life? I know I’m wonderful, and Reenie is, too, and we love you, but shouldn’t you have some connection to some member of your family? It’s cold out there without them. Take it from someone who knows.”
    The aircraft was banking left, making a grand, sweeping turn west. It would be time to go to work soon.
    “What,” he asked, “did you end up doing for Christmas, anyway?”
    “I ate a frozen pizza and half a pint of ice cream and went to the movies by myself.”
    “I rest my case.”

Chapter

9
    T RISTAN WAS IN THE GALLEY, WORKING FROM the seating chart to prepare the drinks. I stared over his shoulder, bounced on the balls of my feet until my calves ached, and did nothing useful. “Do you have any celery? Jamie likes celery in his tomato juice.”
    “He didn’t ask for it, but I’ll check.” He found a stalk, dropped it in, and placed the glass in the last empty spot on the tray. I stared at the drinks for half a second, then picked up Jamie’s and left the rest. “I’ll be back for those. Let me do this first.”
    I tried a couple of smiles, all of which felt forced and painful. I picked the one that felt the least cheesy. When I pulled up next to Jamie’s seat wearing my forced and frozen smile, he didn’t even raise his head.
    “Jamie.”
    He glanced up and didn’t quite register who it was leaning over him to deliver his drink. He reached for it with a polite smile that turned to stunned surprise.
    He blinked at me, then looked up toward the galley, as if it would help his understanding to see precisely where I had just come from.
    “What are you doing here? What are you wearing?”
    Then I watched his eyes as they made the slow and deliberate sweep from my face to my uniform to my name tag and back. The look that crossed his face in the moment of comprehension was pure reaction, a translation, stark and true, of the thoughts running through his brain. He recovered, but not in time. I hadn’t seen my brother in ten months. The first thought he had when he saw me in my uniform was disappointment.
    “Hi, Jamie.” I crossed my arms as though I could hide my entire body behind the two bare lengths of skin and bone. Awkward was not even close to what I was feeling. He was strapped to his seat, bound by FAA rules to stay that way, so we couldn’t greet each other as we might have before the great estrangement—with a hug. I didn’t feel comfortable leaning down to kiss him, and shaking hands would have been beyond weird. So we did nothing, and the space between us might as well have been the space between Mercury and Pluto.
    My smile was gone, but he offered an uncertain one that grew bigger when an idea came to him. “Wait. Is this one of