“He flies in beauty, through the night,” I improvised, stroking the butter-soft leather backrest of my seat.
“In cloudless climes and starry sk—” My phone chimed with a text message. It interrupted my ode, which was rude, but also convenient, as I had no idea how to work the next line.
“And soars the best…?” I questioned quietly, pulling out my cell. “Whether dark or bright.” Fully cognizant of my lack of creative talent, I facetiously boasted to the empty cabin, “Boom! Poet Prowess, right here.” Somewhere, Byron was tossing in his grave.
QUINN: Do not bring back any cheese that is over 175 mg sodium per ounce.
“Oh, for Thor’s sake,” I snarled at my phone. “I get it, man. I get it.”
Dan, just coming aboard the plane, asked, “Quinn?” He wore a similarly frustrated expression and waved his phone.
“Listen to this shit.” He shook his head and scrolled his screen until he found the message. “If Steven attempts to bring any unpasteurized cheese home for Janie, I’m ordering you to ‘lose’”—Dan held up his free hand to air-quote lose—“his luggage.”
I felt a slight heat rise to my face. I was embarrassed that Quinn felt the need to enlist Dan to police me. He already laid out the rules of the cheese in explicit detail. “Gee, I’m beginning to think he doesn’t trust me or something,” I said lightly, unwilling to allow the sting to bleed through.
“He doesn’t,” Dan retorted. “Not where Janie is concerned.”
My phone chimed again, and as I glanced at it, Dan’s chimed as well.
In unison, we read aloud, “I’m serious.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he muttered as he dropped his laptop bag on the seat. “All my life, I’ve never seen him this way. He’s lost his goddamn mind.”
Daniel O’Malley was Quinn’s business partner and best friend since childhood. As his business partner and best friend, he’d been picking up all of Quinn’s slack since Janie had been put on bedrest. So, in addition to his position as Chief Security Personnel Coordinator, he’d been doing Quinn’s more public tasks, like the traveling and meetings.
Unlike Quinn, who seemed to have shed some of his street-tough upbringing, becoming a more urbane and polished businessman, Dan’s previous life was evident by his thick, south Boston accent, frank manner of speaking, and neck tattoos playing peekaboo at his collar.
His daily uniform consisted of an expertly tailored black suit and black tie. My initial impression when I met him six years ago, was that he was Tough Guy Level: Federal Agent Meets Mob Enforcer. You wouldn’t know it at first glance, but Dan was laid-back and funny.
At the moment, he didn’t appear laid-back. He was clearly frustrated with his friend.
“I know he’s worried about Janie and the baby, but she knows—better than he does—what she can and cannot eat.”
“It’s my fault,” I admitted, sullenly. “I should have never brought up the cheese.”
“You dumbass,” Dan said lightly. “Why’d you say you’d bring her cheese? Why not yarn or thread or whatever the hell she knits with?”
I sighed and settled into my seat. “I mentioned that I wanted to get Kat some cheese as a present. It snowballed from there.”
At the mention of Kat, Dan stilled. After a moment he said, “Yeah, she likes cheese, that’s a good idea. But don’t get her any of that shit with maggots in it.”
Horrified, I said, “What the hell? Why would I give her maggoty food?”
“It’s a thing. I swear.” He raised his right hand. “Some black market shit. I heard Janie tellin’ Kat all about it, how the larvae can do damage to the stomach. She wrinkled her nose all up and said she’d take a pass on that one,” he gave a shrug. “So, no maggots.”
He selected a seat in the row across the aisle from mine and busied himself by digging in the side pocket of the laptop bag. I debated for half a second on whether or not to give him shit about Kat. I couldn’t let it pass. My inner devil was strong, my angel, weak.
“Ooh, eavesdropping, huh?” I issued him a meaningful eyebrow wiggle once he turned back to me. “I know you security guys love to get your information on the sly, but I could, you know, just give you her number and you could ask her about herself.”
“Hey, you try bein’ in the same room with Janie talking about cheese maggots and see if you can ignore it,” he deflected. The expertly executed way he so completely sidestepped the implication about Kat, made me want to give him a standing ovation and slow clap. Bravo, Bro. Bra-vo.
I didn’t entirely understand the dynamics of what was happening between Kat and Dan or why they avoided each other when both clearly wanted to do the horizontal mambo. Despite our friendships, it really wasn’t my business. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t mess with them once in a while, right?
“Maybe you could buy Kat the cheese, since you know so much about her.” I shrugged, then began buckling my seatbelt. “Nothing says love like a wheel of cheese. I’ll just get her yarn.”
“It’s a long flight, asshole,” he said. “How about you don’t bust my balls, okay?”
I took pity on him. “Ugh. Fine. This is going to be one boring trip,” I joked.
Dan got up, presumably to use the bathroom, and just as he returned, my phone chimed with a text.
“Oh, great,” he said from behind me. “What’s it going to be this time? We gotta grind up vitamins and rub them all over the cheese?”
He leaned an arm on my headrest and bent down, eager to see Quinn’s next edict.
I opened the text.
“Ahhgghh!” we both yelled, rearing back.
It wasn’t an edict and it wasn’t from Quinn.
It was a dick.
Full frame of cock, balls, and pubes.
I jerked the phone away and laid it screen-side down on the seat. Fuck my life. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, the sting of mortification slapping me across the face. Dan, if you wanted to get technical, was my boss. A boss. We joked and had an informal relationship, but dick pics in his face was a bit too informal, if you asked me.
I wouldn’t put it past some of my friends and acquaintances to send dick pics, but they wouldn’t be sending them to me. Likely, I was simply an accidental recipient. Friend or not, accident or not, I was going to tear them up just for the embarrassment. It was beside the point that the cock in question was impressively large. I didn’t appreciate it in this circumstance.
As I lifted the phone, careful not to flash the sausage at Dan, he said, “Well that will teach me not to read over anyone’s shoulder again, eh?”
I glanced at the sender information. It wasn’t a saved contact and a number I didn’t recognize. I did also give the picture a thorough examination, you know, in case I recognized it. I didn’t.
“It’s a wrong number,” I said, heat increasing in my face. “I don’t know this person.”
Dan, facing forward, avoiding eye contact, shook his head. “Hey, you don’t have to explain anything.”
“I’m serious,” I insisted. I got the feeling he didn’t believe me, and I wanted him to know I didn’t want or encourage random dicks popping up at four PM on a workday.
“Yeah, no, I know,” he said, turning toward me. “What I mean is, it doesn’t matter. That’s your b—” He halted mid-sentence, his face split into a joyful, radiantly happy smile. “Hold up. Are you blushing?” he asked. “Ho-ly shit, you are.”
I closed my eyes.
“Oooh!” he hooted. “This is the best day of my life.”
Deciding to ignore his chuckling, I tapped out a reply to Mr. Pushy Penis.
ME: You have the wrong number and you need to groom. Tidy that shit up.
“You know what this is, Steven?”
“Hmm?” I asked absently, my phone chiming with a reply.
“You thought you were being funny before, bustin’ my balls…”
I opened the message.
UNKNOWN: We’re going to be friends, Steven. Don’t block my number again.
King. My ears buzzed and it was a wonder I heard Dan’s words.
“…but you just got slapped by Karma.”