He was not.
Brianna looked at Denise’s fingers.
They were trembling.
“Water is fine.”
Denise looked embarrassed.
“No, ma’am. You’re entitled—”
“Water is fine.”
Denise nodded gratefully.
She brought water.
Garrett leaned closer.
“You see? Everyone wins.”
Brianna opened her leather journal.
She wrote:
Crew member hesitates when challenged by status passenger. Why?
Then:
Protect the crew.
Garrett glanced at the notebook.
“Taking notes?”
“Yes.”
“Travel blogger?”
“No.”
“Influencer?”
“No.”
“What do you do?”
Brianna closed the journal.
“A little of everything.”
He smiled.
“That's usually what people say when they don't want to admit they're between jobs.”
Brianna looked at him.
“What do you do?”
Garrett brightened immediately.
He owned a chain of private medical-imaging centers across the Southeast.
Twenty-seven locations.
Four hundred employees.
He told her annual revenue without being asked.
He mentioned an acquisition.
Then a home in Palm Beach.
Then another in Buckhead.
Tiffany leaned across the aisle.
“He never stops working.”
Garrett smiled.
“You don't build something real by clocking out at five.”
Brianna nodded.
“How do your employees like working there?”
He stared.
“What?”
“Your company.”
“Very successful.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Garrett laughed.
Tiffany laughed too.
“You're funny.”
Brianna turned back toward the window.
When the aircraft climbed above the clouds, she watched Atlanta disappear beneath a soft layer of white.
The flight was headed toward Los Angeles.
Five hours.
Plenty of time to observe.
First meal service began forty minutes later.
The appetizer arrived.
Then entrées.
Garrett requested the filet.
So did Brianna.
Denise checked her service tablet.
“One moment.”
Garrett immediately said, “There better be enough.”
Denise smiled nervously.
“We have sufficient inventory.”
Brianna watched her.
Denise looked genuinely anxious around him.
Not merely because of the champagne exchange.
Something else.
The meals arrived.
Garrett inspected his steak.
He cut into it.
Medium.
Exactly as requested.
Brianna tasted hers.
Good.
Slightly over-salted.
She wrote a note.
Garrett noticed.
“You really are reviewing everything.”
Brianna said, “Habit.”
He leaned toward the journal.
She closed it.
“Private.”
Garrett smirked.