Then opened the leather notebook.
Under Protect the crew, she added:
Premium-customer complaint influence may be bypassing fair employee review. Audit immediately.
Garrett looked at the notebook.
“Writing about me?”
Brianna said, “Maybe.”
He laughed.
“Make sure you spell the name right.”
For the next hour, his behavior continued.
He closed Brianna’s window shade because glare touched his screen.
She reopened it.
He closed it again.
She reopened it again.
He looked at her.
“You really want to do this?”
Brianna said, “It’s my window.”
“You’re not using it.”
“I was looking through it.”
“At clouds?”
“Yes.”
Garrett smiled.
“You don't want to make this a problem.”
Brianna looked directly at him.
“It’s already a problem.”
Tiffany leaned over.
“Garrett, leave her alone.”
For a moment, Brianna thought Tiffany might actually intervene.
Then she added:
“She’s obviously trying to get a reaction.”
Garrett laughed.
Brianna returned to the window.
Two hours into the flight, she changed clothes.
The cardigan and travel trousers had served their purpose at the airport.
She was scheduled to attend a foundation dinner after landing.
Inside her carry-on was the turquoise-teal one-shoulder designer dress her stylist had packed.
She changed in the first-class lavatory.
When she returned, several passengers looked up.
The understated traveler from 3A now looked unmistakably wealthy.
Garrett noticed too.
His expression shifted.
Tiffany looked at the dress.
“Oh.”
Brianna sat.
Garrett asked:
“Where did you get that?”
Brianna looked at him.
“Get what?”
“The dress.”
“A store.”
He smiled.
“Cute.”
Tiffany whispered something across the aisle.
Garrett laughed.
Brianna did not ask.
She opened her laptop.
The quarterly earnings file loaded.
Skylark’s corporate logo appeared briefly before the encrypted dashboard opened.
Garrett saw it.
He leaned toward the screen.
“Skylark?”
Brianna shifted the laptop away.
“Private.”
He laughed.
“What are you doing, playing CEO?”
Brianna kept typing.
Garrett continued.
“You work for them?”
No answer.
“Consultant?”
No answer.
“Accounting?”
Brianna said, “Something like that.”
Tiffany aimed her phone.
“Maybe she's doing one of those pretend-rich travel videos.”
Brianna looked toward the camera.
“Please don’t film me.”
Tiffany smiled.
“Then don't look.”
Brianna returned to the laptop.
She was reviewing a report on fuel hedging when Garrett reached across and shoved the screen slightly.
“Hey.”
Brianna caught it.
“Do not touch my computer.”
Garrett leaned back.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His smile disappeared.