She then introduced herself to the man and woman across from me. As she did that, my seatmate arrived. How do I say this without sounding like a complete jackass? The guy who sat next to me didn’t look like he belonged in first class. Something about him just wasn’t right. Uncle John had talked to me about listening to your gut. Too many times, people try to rationalize what they thought of someone. They would find out later that they should have trusted their instinct.
I tried to puzzle out what made me uncomfortable about this man. I didn’t get the terrorist vibe, so it wasn’t that. Surprisingly, the first thought that came to mind was this man was a bully. I thought back, and it was how he’d pushed his way past the flight attendant. Most people waited until they stepped aside. This man put his hand on her hip and moved her.
I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he was sizing me up. I turned, and our eyes locked. A smirk came onto his face, which caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise. If I were Duke, I would have growled. I instantly didn’t like this guy.
“You’re David A. Dawson,” he said.
I just stared at him, and his smile got bigger. They closed the front door, and we began to back up from the Jetway. I tried to ignore the man beside me, but he kept watching me. The plane got in line to take off. It was finally our turn, and we were on our way to Chicago.
“How lucky for me that you’re sitting next to me,” he said once we hit cruising altitude.
I looked at him and frowned.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“He talks!”
I took a closer look. My seatmate was well built, and his face looked like he’d been in a few fights. There was a funny lump on his nose, and there were scars around his eyes. He was either a boxer or maybe an enforcer of some kind. I shook my head to stop my imagination from running away with me.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“Pay me to leave you alone. How much do you have in your pocket? Couple hundred bucks?”
“Why would I pay you?” I asked.
“To keep me from making you look like a little bitch. I hate it when people like you cry. Save us both the trouble and just pay me.”
“I hate to say it, but I won’t be the one crying, so behave yourself. I’d hate to see you get embarrassed when a wimpy guy like me takes you down,” I said. Then I put my earbuds in and acted like I was listening to music.
What I actually did was turn on the video recorder on my phone. I sat it on my tray and hoped it would catch the action if it happened. My would-be extortionist shoved my shoulder.
“Don’t ignore me!” he said loud enough to be heard throughout the first-class cabin.
I smiled when my flight attendant hurried up the aisle.
“He shoved me,” I told her.
“What, you need her to protect you?”
“Sir, you need to calm down,” she admonished.
He was seething, but at the same time was looking around and saw that his actions hadn’t gone unnoticed. His eyes squinted as he looked at Bev.
“It’s all good,” he said.
That was when I figured it out. Since his extortion attempt hadn’t worked, he had tried to goad me into hitting him. He first tried to get me to pay him off. This must have been Plan B. I would never have thought someone would try something like this in first class. I needed to be more careful in the future.
Fritz had wanted me to start wearing a bodycam. He also wanted to install cameras in all our cars, both dashcams and ones that would monitor the cars’ interiors. I had hesitated because teenage boys don’t want films of some things that happen when they’re alone with a girl in a car. I was sure that I’d been caught on camera with Halle at her place. But now I started to see why it might be a good idea. Hell, we already had passive ‘just in case’ cameras in the living areas of the house and the apartment.
When Bev left, and everything seemed to settle down, my seatmate shoved me again.
“When we land, I’m going to kick your ass. You’ll wish you’d just paid me when I sat down. If you tell your bodyguard anything, I’ll kick her ass too,” he threatened.
I unbuckled my seat belt, grabbed my iPhone, and stepped into the galley where Bev and the other flight attendant were busy filling drink orders.
“I hate to interrupt, but I need you to hear this,” I said, and then played them the last few minutes of the recording.
Bev got on the phone to the cockpit and explained what she’d heard. The copilot opened the door and came out. Bev pointed out the troublemaker. I watched as the copilot approached him, and almost missed the vicious right that took the copilot down. Two women screamed as he got out of his seat and marched up the aisle. Bev was talking to the pilot, describing what she saw.
I centered myself and gave myself as much room as possible. The other flight attendant ran into the bathroom and locked the door.
The first hint I had that I might be in trouble was when he didn’t just charge in and try to pummel me. He recognized my stance for what it was.
“You think you’re a tough guy, do you?” he asked.
