“I understand.”
She waited.
When he did not move, her smile disappeared.
“Then get up.”
The junior flight attendant standing near the galley heard it.
She looked toward them.
Then immediately looked away.
The Black man noticed.
That mattered.
He had been noticing everything since entering the terminal.
The woman leaned closer.
“Are you part of the repositioning staff?”
“No.”
“A contractor?”
“No.”
“Then why are you on this flight?”
He closed the folder.
“Same reason everyone else is.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You were invited?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
He studied her for several seconds.
Then answered truthfully.
“The company.”
The woman glanced down at his black suit.
Something about his calmness irritated her.
“I've been flying with this company for eleven years.”
He said nothing.
“My husband has invested more money into this operation than most of the people running it.”
Still nothing.
The woman lowered her voice.
“So I’m trying to save you embarrassment.”
“That’s considerate.”
The answer was so neutral she could not determine whether he was mocking her.
Her mouth tightened.
“I want this seat.”
“It isn't yours.”
The junior flight attendant approached now.
“Ma’am, can I help?”
The woman did not look at her.
“Yes. Move him.”
The attendant went pale.
The Black man watched.
Interesting.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“Ma’am,” the attendant said cautiously, “the passenger is assigned to Three-A.”
“I don’t care what the card says.”
“I understand, but—”
The woman turned.
“I said move him.”
The attendant’s eyes dropped.
A man two rows back stopped pretending to read his newspaper.
Across the aisle, one of the investors looked toward the confrontation, recognized the blonde woman, and immediately returned his attention to his phone.
That mattered too.
Recognition.
Then retreat.
The Black man opened the folder again.
The woman stared at him.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I’m sitting in the seat printed on my card.”
Her face hardened.
The flight attendant whispered:
“There are several other window seats available if—”
The woman snapped toward her.
“Did I ask you for another seat?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then stop offering one.”
The Black man finally turned fully.
“She's trying to solve a problem that doesn't exist.”
The woman’s eyes flashed.
“I wasn't speaking to you.”
“You were speaking about me.”
“I was speaking to the employee.”
The attendant’s shoulders tightened.
The Black man noticed the wording.