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In the first class cabin, the gentle rumble of the engines suddenly died down to a faint wine. The massive aircraft came to a shuddering halt in the middle of the tarmac. Brenda nearly tripped over a passenger’s bag as the plane jerked. She recovered her balance, smoothing her skirt with an annoyed huff. Just a slight delay, folks. Probably ATC spacing.
Then the intercom chimed. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Mitchell from the flight deck. The voice echoed, sounding incredibly stressed. I apologize for the inconvenience, but we have received an emergency directive from our corporate headquarters. All Horizon Airlines flights have been grounded worldwide, effective immediately.
We are [snorts] currently waiting for a tug to pull us back to the gate. Please remain seated. The cabin erupted. Grounded. Elellaner shrieked her aristocratic composure entirely vanishing. What does he mean grounded? I have a helicopter waiting. This is unacceptable, Mr. Dalton shouted, throwing his newspaper to the floor. I have a board meeting in Manhattan in 6 hours. Brenda’s heart began to race.
A worldwide grounding. She had been flying for 30 years and had never heard of a company enacting an immediate mid-taxi corporate freeze unless there was a massive terrorist threat or the airline had run out of money. “Please, everyone, stay calm,” Brenda said, holding up her hands, her fake smile trembling.
I’m sure it’s just a computer glitch. I’ll go speak to the captain. She rushed to the front, punching the code to unlock the reinforced cockpit door. She pushed her way in just as Captain Mitchell was hanging up the company satellite phone. He looked pale, as if he had seen a ghost. “Thomas, what is going on?” Brenda demanded.
“The passengers are furious.” Captain Mitchell turned slowly in his seat, looking at Brenda with a mixture of horror and absolute disgust. Brenda, he said, his voice shaking. Did you forcefully remove a passenger from seat 1A before we pushed back? Brenda blinked, taken aback by the question. Yes, of course.
She was a fraud, a young black girl in sweatpants trying to pass off a fake digital ticket. She refused to show a corporate card, so I had police remove her. I was protecting the integrity of the cabin. The first officer buried his face in his hands, letting out a long, groaning sigh. protecting the integrity of the cabin. Captain Mitchell repeated the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Brenda, that fraud was Naomi Harrison. I don’t care if her name is Mary Poppins. Brenda snapped, crossing her arms. She didn’t belong. Naomi Harrison, Captain Mitchell yelled, his professional demeanor breaking completely. is the only daughter of Robert Harrison, the billionaire who owns Harrison Capital, the firm that was literally five minutes away from wiring us $800 million so we could buy jet fuel tomorrow.
Brenda froze, the color instantly drained from her perfectly madeup face. No, no, that’s impossible. She didn’t look She didn’t look rich enough for you. Mitchell roared, slamming his fist on the console. Well, guess what? Her father just pulled the funding. The syndicate collapsed. Horizon Airlines is officially insolvent.
The fuel trucks at the gate won’t even pump gas into this plane because our company credit cards are bouncing. You didn’t just kick off a passenger, Brenda. You just bankrupted the entire airline. The slow, agonizing tow back to Terminal 5 felt like a funeral procession. The cabin was dead silent, saved for the furious whispered complaints of the wealthy passengers whose schedules had just been obliterated.
Brenda stood in the forward galley, hiding behind the curtain. She felt sick. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, and a cold sweat had broken out across her forehead. “It couldn’t be true,” she kept telling herself. It was a coincidence. A girl in a hoodie doesn’t take down an airline. When the plane finally connected to the jet bridge, the heavy front door was violently thrown open from the outside.
Standing there was Simon Fletcher, the vice president of European operations for Horizon Airlines. His tie was a skew, his face was flushed, and he looked like a man who had just watched his house burn down. Flanking him were three Heathro police officers, the very same officers who had escorted Naomi off the plane 20 minutes prior.
Simon stormed onto the aircraft, ignoring the bewildered stairs of the first class passengers. He locked eyes with Brenda, who was trembling by the espresso machine. “Where is she?” Simon barked his voice carrying clearly into the cabin. “Who?” Brenda squeaked, her throat tightening. “Naomi Harrison,” Simon yelled.
“Where did she go after you threw her off my airplane?” “I I don’t know,” Brenda stammered, shrinking back against the metal galley wall. “She walked up the jet bridge. Sir, I was just following protocol. She didn’t have the physical card. Protocol? Simon interrupted his voice, reaching a hysterical pitch. Do you know what you’ve done? I just got off the phone with the CEO in Chicago.
We are in freef fall. Our stock price plummeted 40% in the last 10 minutes. We have 70 planes in the air right now that won’t have fuel to make their return trips. You profiled the daughter of our sole financial savior because she was wearing a hoodie. The passengers in the first class cabin gasped collectively. Ellaner covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with shock. Mr.
Dalton slowly closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. They had all sat there and watched it happen. They had encouraged it, and now they were collateral damage. “I didn’t know,” Brenda cried, tears of panic finally spilling over her mascara. She didn’t tell me who she was. She gave you her name, Simon shouted.
She gave you her boarding pass. She was cleared by security. You decided purely based on your own twisted prejudice to humiliate her. Well, congratulations, Brenda. You wanted to flex your authority. You wanted to decide who flies and who doesn’t. Simon stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing the gold senior purser wings pinned to Brenda’s lapel.
>> [snorts] >> With a sharp yank, he ripped them right off her uniform, leaving two small holes in the pristine fabric. “You are terminated,” Simon said, his voice turning ice cold. “Effective immediately for cause, meaning you forfeit your pension, your severance, and your flight benefits.
You’re no longer an employee of Horizon Airlines, assuming Horizon Airlines even exists by tomorrow morning.” Brenda let out a choked sob, clutching her chest where her wings used to be. You can’t do this. I have 30 years of seniority. You don’t have a job, Simon spat. He turned to the police officers. Escort this woman off my aircraft, remove her security badge, and walk her out to the public curb.
She is not allowed in the employee lounges. Officer Davies, the man who had reluctantly escorted Naomi away, stepped forward. He looked at Brenda with zero sympathy. Let’s go, ma’am. Collect your personal items. As Brenda, weeping and stripped of her pride, was marched down the aisle to grab her roller bag, the passengers who had supported her just minutes ago now, turned away, refusing to meet her eyes.