He couldn’t see the daggers of resentment the woman shot the dog, who was behaving exactly as one might expect, pawing the ground, panting, glancing around at her new surroundings with happy, doggie expectation.
The man greeted us with a big smile. “That’s right,” he said, pointing at Bennett, “we’ve got guests on this leg. Millie, say hello.”
Judging from the look on Bennett’s face, he thought the woman’s name was Millie, but as became apparent a split second later, the guy had been talking to his dog. Millie frisked forward, her gorgeous coat practically sparkling in the light, and placed a long white paw on Bennett’s lap.
Grinning at the pooch’s friendly demeanor, Bennett took the paw in his hand and said, “Hello, Millie.”
The man introduced himself as Matthew, and the woman who’d boarded with him watched this little interplay with what could only be described as hot, molten loathing.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Matthew asked in a proud papa voice. Before Bennett could answer, Matthew turned to me, almost shyly. “Hello.” He introduced himself and his dog, and seemed surprised when his companion elbowed into the small space between us.
“I’m Pinky.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and her name didn’t match her face. She had the brand of sass I’d expect to see in a dive bar: beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, hurling insults at the young guys playing pool all the while hoping one might ask her to join them.
She had a weathered, puffy look about her, and I got the impression that she was biting the insides of her cheeks. Her anger wasn’t directed at me but at the poor dog, whose eyes were considerably more friendly than Pinky’s. “We’re the last to board because she”—Pinky flung her hand in Millie’s direction—“needed to make a stop, if you know what I mean.”
Not knowing what else to say, I shrugged. “Better out there than in here.”
Matthew smiled. “See, that’s the kind of attitude I like,” he said to Pinky before moving deeper into the cabin and tossing another comment over his shoulder. “I think maybe you made a mistake joining us. Get with the program, Pinkster, or you’ll never make it in this group.”
She mouthed, “Pinkster?” and tightened her lips, but didn’t say a word. I swore her cheek biting intensified.
Evelyn took a position at the front of the cabin and clapped her hands to get our attention. “Now that everyone is aboard, I’d like to go over a few guidelines before we take—”
She stopped mid-sentence as a man appeared behind her. Dressed in a navy-blue jacket with matching slacks and the sort of buttons and pockets you’d find on a uniform, he carried a duffel bag over one shoulder and took in the limited surroundings. I guessed him to be about forty-five years old, handsome, with a full head of dark hair and a dazzling smile that he used to his full advantage. “I am sorry to interrupt,” he said in a deep Italian-accented voice as he extended his hand to Evelyn. “I am Rudolfo.” I didn’t think it possible, but his smile widened. “You may call me Rudy.”
Evelyn was a full head shorter than our newest arrival, but that didn’t stop her from adopting an authoritative voice. “You must have the wrong airplane,” she said, gripping his upper-arm sleeve with one hand as she tried politely to navigate him back out the door. “This flight is full.”
He didn’t budge. “You misunderstand. I am here for service.”
“Excuse me?” Evelyn said with a skeptical lilt. “Service for what?”
Her efforts to escort him out hadn’t done much good, and he stepped into the widest part of the cabin, where we could all see him and hear every word of the conversation. “I have been contracted to accompany you. To assist.”