I visited with them in the flight deck for a while. They still joked nonstop and went to great efforts to charm me, but I sensed an undercurrent of tension in the two men.
This was what upset me most about the collapse of the airline. It wasn't so much my future that I feared for. I liked my job, and I was grateful for the opportunities it had given me, but I was a survivor. Even without James, I would find another way to get by. But the people who had put all of their hopes into the airline for four and a half years, the ones who would be most affected by it, that's what got me. Businessmen played with their monopoly money while the rest of us rolled with the punches. It made me angry. Of course, there was nothing to do for any of it, so it was a futile kind of anger.
I had a long talk with Stephan on the flight about the expected voluntary furlough. I had made a quick but tough decision about it. I broached the subject with trepidation, but as usual, Stephan only responded with his unconditional support.
He just cupped my shoulders in his big gentle hands, giving me his best smile. "I think that makes perfect sense, Bianca. You were dreading telling me, weren't you?"
I nodded.
He kissed my forehead. "You should know better," he scolded softly.
He was right. God, I loved him. How did I get so lucky?
I was tired and exhausted by the time we got to New York, my mind running me ragged with all of the imminent changes in my life. Just when I made one huge change, didn't it just figure that it would all have to start changing?
I wasn't sure what the plan was when we walked as a crew out to the pickup spot. James, or rather, Cold Mr. Cavendish, hadn't said. I figured if he sent a car, I'd take it, if not, I'd go to the hotel with the crew.
He had sent a car. In fact, he'd sent himself, I realized as he met me at the door, taking my bag and my arm without a word. His face was a beautiful mask, his eyes a little blank.
James nodded stiffly at Stephan. Stephan had to stay with the crew for the hotel check-in, so he kissed me on the forehead and said goodbye.
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to anyone else since James was leading me away as soon as he had Stephan's assumed blessing.
He handed my bags off to Clark, handing me into the car swiftly. My security detail filed into the car mere moments after James and I were settled. They'd been my silent shadow for the duration of my commute and workday.
"Bodyguards are unnecessary when I'm working, James," I told him, my voice pitched low to keep the conversation private. "I'm quite safe at work."
He looked at me. It was the first direct look he'd given me since he'd met me at the door. His face was as unreadable as I'd ever seen it. "I find it very necessary," he said shortly.
He looked out the window.
I hated his mood, hated his distance, but it still made me want to cling to him. I knew how unhealthy that urge was, and I tried my best to squelch it. Still, I found my hand seeking his knee, rubbing it comfortingly.
It did not have the intended effect. His hand covered mine instantly, pushing it hard into his leg. I couldn't have pulled it away if I'd tried.
"You in the mood to be pinned to the seat and fucked with an audience, Love?" he said, his voice soft with danger.
I tried to snatch my hand away, but he held it fast. I didn't answer the ridiculous question, and he didn't say another word, looking out the window, a storm in his eyes.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?" I finally asked him quietly.
He squeezed my hand, his jaw working. "Bear with me, Bianca. I am going through some rather trying legal issues, and letting you leave me every week tests every last ounce of my self-control."
I was silent for a long time, debating if I should tell him about my decision. It seemed rather like rewarding his bad behavior just then, but I had already made up my mind. It just made sense, as much as I hadn't wanted it to.
The voluntary furlough for flight attendants had already been announced. I'd received the email as we were taxiing into JFK. I had the seniority to keep working even if there weren't enough people to sign up for the voluntary furlough and it became involuntary, but I saw that as such a selfish thing. I didn't need the job, not as much as so many others did. Perhaps there had only ever been this solution, and the bankruptcy was just forcing my hand more quickly. I suspected that might be the case, but it didn't really matter anymore.
"I'll be taking the voluntary furlough," I told him.
I saw his hand shake with a fine tremor. He didn't look at me. I understood that he didn't appreciate that we weren't alone just then.
"Thank you," he said very quietly, in an unsteady voice.
"I'm doing it because I feel ridiculous having more money spent to protect me at work than what I'm actually making. And because there are people that need the job more than I do," I told him, my tone hard. This was not because of his tantrum. "And I would like to begin planning the gallery showing."