Crashed into Love: Boxed Set
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Authors: Seline White
Crashed into Love
Copyright ©
2015 Seline White
Published by Seline White
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written
permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied
in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the
author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would
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author’s work.
Published:
Seline
White 2015: [email protected]
Cover Design:
Selene White
Canstock Photos
:
http://www.canstockphoto.com
Contents
I
earned my wings.
This was it. I was
qualified.
Stepping
on-board the plane, fizzles of joy frothed in my stomach. I’d done it; one step
closer to my dream and free to fly the skies. I was no longer a ground-dweller stifled
in an office. My work day included prancing around fluffy clouds. It didn’t
matter I wasn’t graced with a halo. For all intents, I was an angel of the
horizon. Who needed stupid wings when gravity relinquished its hold in the form
of a giant metal bird? Jet-fuel and combustion were my wings and were a lot
faster than flimsy, fluttering things.
Acute, sharp happiness buoyed me and I swear I
floated by sheer emotion.
A good day at work meant soaring above the globe. A
bad day at work meant turbulence and…a horrific crash, flames, mutilation,
and/or death.
Um, I didn’t think this through, did I?
My heart stuttered at the thought of my body, crisp
in its immaculate uniform, mangled and whooshing with fire.
Great, I signed
up for death by—
“Nina Poppins?”
“Here!” I shouted, running daintily down the aisle
in a pair of brand new heels that were evil incarnate. I no longer just had
ankles—I had blisters the size of golf balls on my ankles. The price of beauty,
and in this case, my job.
“You’re late, young lady,” the airline examiner
snipped. Her blonde hair was in a bun, sprayed to plastic hardness, and her
perfect red-orange lipstick was primed to perfection. Not a face-fuzz or nail
chip in sight.
I shrivelled inside. I spent much longer than usual
dressing this morning, and yet I didn’t spruce up as nice as Ms. Klein.
She gave me a hoity-toity look down her nose.
“Sorry, Ms. Klein.” Swallowing, I slung my satchel
over my shoulder and smoothed down my air hostess uniform, searching for the
creases I knew had to be there. I wasn’t like the creature in front of me. She
was a sharp-tongued-take-no-crap Barbie doll.
I presented well, but I could never compete with
that edgy chic. I was more suited to vibrancy and music. A whimsical dancer’s
soul lived within me, no matter how aloft and professionally aspiring my dreams
were. I didn’t like the severe uniform; I liked freedom and colour. I didn’t
want to work the back of the plane; I wanted the front seat. Spectator to
storms and crystal blue horizon; in control of rudders, ailerons, and wings.
A small smile played on my lips. At least I wore
something fun and flirty
beneath
my clothes. I had a serious obsession
with lingerie: corsets, garter belts, lace, and organza. Didn’t know why I
bothered, though, no men saw me, and I was too focused on my career to chase
love and attention. Having a career equalled money. And money equalled freedom
from my poverty past. Probably why I was drunk on buying finery… I’d never had
the bank balance to do it.
Dodging past Ms. Klein’s piercing glare, I dashed
down the aisle of the 737-300 Boeing. Checking, as I hustled, that all the
seatbelts were neatly crossed on the seats and the magazines placed just so in
the seat pockets.
“Hey, Nina,” Joslyn said as I arrived in the back
galley. Her heart-shaped face was warm, green eyes deep as jade. If it hadn’t
been for Joslyn, I would’ve died of tedium in the flight attendant course. She
was as unpredictable as a pinwheel firework, and although some of what she said
made me cringe, I enjoyed her company. She was the exact opposite of my doom
and gloom family, and reminded me my life had just begun.
I shot her a smile, pretending to wrap a noose
around my throat. “Do you think they’ll fire me on my first day?”
“What, and waste eight weeks of training they
invested in you?” She punched me gently. “No chance.”
I bit my lip. “I hope so. I’d hate to go down in
history for the shortest air hostess employment record ever.” Not to mention
have my father rub my face in it. He disowned me when I got the job. His quote:
‘No daughter of his would be a slut in the sky.’ My stomach rolled, but I
focused on other things. Important things like I hadn’t put lippy on this
morning.
Fumbling in my bag for the Coral Crush lipstick, I
found it and looked at Joslyn. My eyes zeroed in on her neck, covered demurely
by a teal scarf. I frowned. “What the hell is that? You never wear scarves.”
She flushed, her cheeks glowing a bright shade of
fuchsia. “What? I’m allowed a wardrobe change, aren’t I? No crime in
accessorizing, Nina.”
Joslyn was a terrible liar. I leaned in, trying to
stifle my chuckle. “You naughty bitch.”
She groaned. “No! How did you guess?” She opened the
food trolley and grabbed the hand mirror hidden on top—a necessity of our
occupation—we always had to look our best for the passengers.
I stole the mirror to apply my lippy. My blue eyes
popped beneath a dusting of eye-shadow and my bronzy-chestnut hair behaved
itself for once, staying in its plait. “It’s too obvious. You
never
wear
scarves. Not even when it snowed last month.”
She hung her head in her hands. “Do you think Ms.
Klein will notice? You being late won’t matter at all if she spots me.”
“Spots the giant hickey on your neck, you mean?” I
giggled, pulling the material wrapped around her throat to expose the angry
bruise left by audacious lips. “Ouch. That’s gonna linger.”
Her eyes grew dewy. “Ah, but it was worth it.”
I cocked a hip. “Which one? You do realise you
signed up to be a flight attendant to travel the world and see exotic places
right? Not to bang the pilots.” I had to agree with my father on that one. I
was here for one thing only: career.
She gave me a fake, shocked look. “Really? Here I
was thinking I had to earn my wings.” She snickered.
Oh, for heaven sakes. What was with girls and
pilots? Every pilot I’d met was either ancient, married, or a sleazoid. No
thank you very much. They did not interest me. Travelling did. This was a
win-win. Travel—see the world—all while getting paid for it.
“What are you two gigglers doing down here?” Ms.
Klein suddenly appeared down the aisle.
Crap. Strike two. First late, now loitering.
“Nothing,” Joslyn and I both chimed. She pinched my
arm inconspicuously. I glared at her, and we struggled not to laugh.
Ms. Klein narrowed her eyes, but didn’t comment on
our disorderly conduct. “Boarding commences in two minutes. Go to your
stations.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Joslyn nodded.
The minute Ms. Klein was out of ear range, I rolled
my eyes. “Ma’am? What are you? Forty?”
She ran hands over her strawberry blonde hair.
“Nope. I’m a healthy twenty-three-year-old who likes to boink pilots.”
I snorted, unable to keep a straight face. Bolting
to my side of the plane, I tried to plaster a professional, vacant smile on my
lips instead.
This was it.
I wasn’t in training anymore. My first day as a
professional flight attendant, and I was…
Wait a sec?
I
wasn’t
nervous.
Huh, that’s interesting
.
I guess the training drill yesterday dissolved my anxiety. That was nasty.
Being forced inside a tube the size of a plane and then the seats being set on
fire. Having to crawl out of the tiny space, swamped with black, acrid smoke
was my worst idea of fun. I struggled with claustrophobia on a good day, let
alone when I might become a s'more.
Passengers filed past me with their over-the-limit
carry-on; ignoring and bumping me to put their bags into overhead lockers. One
woman practically fell into my lap she had so much crap: a bag, a laptop,
purse, and a toddler on her hip.
“Can you hold him?” she asked, shoving the kid in my
face.
Nope. Not gonna happen. I’d never held a kid before,
wasn’t gonna start now. I beamed my ‘I’m here to help you’ smile and took her
bags instead. “Why don’t you hold your bundle of joy. I’ll put the bags away
for you.”
The bundle of joy took that moment to sneeze and a
giant geyser of snot expelled from his nose and dribbled down his chin. Lucky
for me my gag reflex didn’t kick in.
Gross.
“Oh, thank you,” the woman said, before sliding
awkwardly into the window seat. I pitied the poor person who had the seat next
to that drooling bag of germs.
“Excuse me,” a masculine voice said behind me. “I
believe I’m 24B.”
Oh, the poor sucker. I turned and lost my voice.
A tall, well-built man with wavy brown hair, dressed
in a black t-shirt and jeans, smiled. His hazel eyes twinkled when I didn’t
move. He said, “You have to reverse if I’m to get into my seat.”
“Right. Sorry.” I took a few steps back and he
stretched to put his black bag in the overhead compartment. “Um, do you want
some help?” I asked belatedly; too focused on the small space of skin showing
his lower back and stomach from his t-shirt riding up.
“No, I’m good.” He flashed me a smile. “Thanks,
though.” He squeezed into the row, took one look at mom and toddler, and his
smile fell.
I made a mental note to shift him if the plane
wasn’t full. No person should have to put up with a snot-nosed kid. Especially
a man as easy on the eyes as he was.
Samantha, the third and final crew member, and only
one of us qualified, waved to get my attention up at the front of the plane.
She was sweet as candyfloss, part Maori, with endless black eyes, ebony hair,
and a tan to die for. She had been our mentor for the past week, ever since
Joslyn and I were assigned a crew. If Jos and I passed our exams, we’d fly
together on rosters. The airline thought if we became a unit, we were more
likely to enjoy our job and perform better. I wasn’t arguing.
Moving away from hazel-eyed gorgeous man in 24B, I
picked up the phone in the rear galley. “Yes?” I asked, making eye contact with
her up the aisle.
She answered in a friendly voice, “Everyone’s on
board. We’re just waiting on the manifest.”
“Okay.” I hung up and stayed in the back, watching
the heads of people getting settled, and making last minute phone calls. I was
here because of my will and determination. Ever since my father disowned me, I
revelled in not telling him a single thing in my life.
Pride swirled in my chest. I’d achieved a lot in the
last year, and not just this job. I wished Mom was still alive—she’d be proud
of me.
The flight wasn’t long today. Our training exam
would consist of a three-hour journey from Christchurch, New Zealand to Sydney,
Australia. And yet, in those three hours, there would be tests and drills. All
going on without the passengers’ knowledge, of course, and I had no clue what
to expect.
Whatever came our way, it couldn’t be as bad as
being almost set on fire like yesterday. Perhaps, I could raid the small liquor
cabinet in the galley to calm my nerves.
That was a good idea… pity I had to be coherent to
pass.
