Page 72 of Summer Haze & Tokyo Craze
"Important or rich?" he asks curiously raises his eyebrow. "That's a very important difference."
"Well, you're right – rich," I admit, watching through the window as we leave the airport far behind us. "You're the important one here; it's your jet after all."
"My company's jet," he clarifies, and I roll my eyes.
"You own the company, Adam. Same, same."
"Tell that to my brothers who always demand to borrow it. I don’t even know where they need to go half of the time, but I'm lucky if I can get this thing to myself."
“Wow, my sympathy, what a problem to have,” I tease him, sticking out my tongue at him when I see him roll his eyes at me. "You're close with your brothers, right?"
"Sometimes we are, sometimes we aren’t," he says cryptically, and I decide to drop the topic. It seems to be a sensitive one. “How about you? Do you have siblings?”
"One brother," I tell him. “And I find thatmore than enough.”
"Older or younger?"
"He's two years older than me. Already married and trying for a kid now. I feel like I get along better with his wife than him nowadays. He works so much, I barely get to talk to him." I look out of the window, watching as a plane lifts off the ground. "We're definitely not as close as we used to be, but I guess that just comes with growing up."
"Right," Adam says, and I can see him visibly gulp. Was that the wrong thing to say?
Both of us trail after our own thoughts, until minutes later the taxi stops in front of what I assume is his private jet. My suspicions are confirmed when Adam opens the door on his side and I follow suit.
It looks fancy, even from the outside. Squeaky clean, the white of its exterior almost blinding us. No comparison to commercial machines and their taped wings and dirty windows.
It looks like they just polished it, just for us, even though we won’t even see it from inside. Such a rich people thing to do.
"Yes, this is… my company’s jet." I can tell he wanted to say "me," but changed it at the last moment. "Come on."
He motions for me to walk ahead, and I grin, putting a little bit of extra sway into my hips as I climb the steps.
"Hi there. I'm Wesley, and I'm going to be your pilot today," a man wearing a pilot uniform greets me with an outstretched hand once I reach the top of the stairs.
"Nice to meet you," I tell him, surprised, and shake his hand. I didn’t expect someone to jump me as soon as I enter the plane, but I feel a bit better about flying now that I actually know who’s in the cockpit.
Good thing he looks trustworthy. So does his co-pilot, Ben.
It's such a different feeling to actually know who's going to be flying us, compared to the commercial flights where you only hear a voice that's barely understandable. Even with Millie’s and Kayla’s jet, I can’t remember ever getting a pilot introduction, and it really shows the difference between Croney and Siren’s Talent.
"Hi, Wesley, how are the kids?" Adam greets him, and they shake hands and clasp each other's shoulders like they're old friends.
Meanwhile, I walk further inside the plane, taking everything in. Everything is adorned in beige upholstery and polished wood. Very fancy.
So this is the machine I could die in if anything goes wrong in the next sixteen hours? Suddenly, a woman appears from the back of the plane and introduces herself as Miranda, our stewardess for the flight.
"You've got your own stewardess?" I hiss at him as we sit down. "Holy fuck, you’rerich, rich."
"Trust me, it's always better to have someone on board who knows what they're doing," Adam scolds me playfully, and I shake my head at him ignoring the ‘rich’ comment.
"It just seems unnecessarily fancy, you know?" I tell him, but he shakes his head.
"You say that until she's the only one who knows how to heat up the kind of meals you're allowed to take on planes with you. It’s not like we could just have a regular old microwave installed in this thing," he points out, and I hate to admit it, but he's right. I never even thought about that.
“Do you need another security demonstration?” Adam asks me with a chuckle, and I shake my head.
“If the plane goes down, I’ll die. I’m not ‘only survivor needs to be rescued’ material, so I’m good.”
“You’re…” Adam says, amusement written all over his face as he shakes his head at me.
