SEVEN – LAS VEGAS

MASON

"Welcome aboard, sir. May I take your coat?"

I look up at a smiling Marjorie, my chief air hostess, my eyes narrowing as they scan over her.

Her pristine work shirt is two sizes too small, and the buttons are on the very verge of popping off and revealing her breasts to whomever might care to see.

I nod once and she walks over, her hands lifting to touch me. I step back, and her face creases in confusion.

Without a word, I shrug off my coat and hand it over to her, keeping my mouth firmly shut. I feel uptight…way too uptight. If I decide to speak, I might just end up lashing out at her.

She takes the coat, batting her lashes at me,

"Have your seat, sir, and please, do alert me if you need anything. Have a nice flight."

" Thank you, Marjorie." I say coldly, making my way to my seat.

The pilot's voice comes over the speakers and within minutes, we're off. Destination, Wemp Creek, Las Vegas.

Marjorie tuts and prowls around, obviously looking for attention. When I do not pay her an