“Show me.”
Amara looked at her phone.
She could have opened the executive access credential.
Could have ended the exchange in five seconds.
Instead she looked at him.
“Who are you expecting?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“It becomes my concern when you block me from my aircraft.”
Collins laughed again.
Louder this time.
“My aircraft?”
Several people near the terminal looked over.
Amara noticed.
So did Collins.
The audience seemed to improve his posture.
He spread his stance wider.
“Listen, ma’am. I’m going to say this once. This isn’t a photo area, and it isn’t some luxury attraction where you can walk up for social media.”
Amara's expression cooled.
“You think I’m here for photographs.”
“I think you need to leave.”
She stepped slightly to the side.
Collins mirrored her.
Amara moved the other direction.
He blocked again.
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
“Don't what?”
“Try to get around me.”
A young flight attendant descended two steps from the aircraft.
“Is everything okay?”
Collins called back without turning.
“I've got it.”
Amara looked at the attendant.
The woman looked uncertain.
Amara knew her too.
Nina Patel.
Twenty-nine.
Three years with Sterling Aviation Services.
Excellent evaluations.
Amara had approved a new inflight training budget containing Nina's name in a leadership-development group only six weeks earlier.
Nina did not recognize her.
That was not surprising.
Amara did not appear often in internal videos.
She preferred executives who worked rather than performed ownership.
Collins leaned closer.
“You need to turn around.”
Amara looked at his name tag.
“Derek Collins.”
His expression changed slightly.
“How do you know my name?”
“It’s written on your chest.”
A mechanic behind them laughed.
Collins looked back.
The mechanic immediately returned attention to his tools.
Amara almost smiled.
Collins did not.
“Enough.”
He pointed toward the terminal.
“Go.”
Amara's eyes sharpened.
“You don't give me orders.”
“On this ramp, I do.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have authority to enforce access rules.”
She gestured toward the aircraft.
“You do not have authority to invent ownership of the entire airfield because you put on a black polo this morning.”
His jaw tightened.
The flight attendant came farther down the stairs.
“Derek, maybe I should check the manifest.”
Collins held up one hand without looking at her.
“I said I’ve got it.”
Amara saw Nina's face.
Not agreement.
Discomfort.
That mattered.
Another employee had stepped out of the terminal now.
Then another.
Small moments attracted witnesses quickly when the tone turned sharp.
Amara checked the time.
Seven minutes late had become nine.
She said:
“Move.”
Collins stared.
“You want to try that again?”
“No.”
Amara stepped forward.
“I said move.”
The mechanic stopped working entirely.
Nina descended another stair.
Collins moved directly in front of Amara.
They were less than two feet apart now.
He was taller.
He wanted that to matter.
Amara looked up without stepping backward.
Collins said quietly:
“You think because you're dressed expensive I’m supposed to assume you belong here?”
Amara's expression changed.
There.
Something more honest had finally appeared.
“What do you assume?”
He looked over her outfit.