"Listen, folks," he said, raising his voice loud enough for all to hear. "I really need to get checked in for my flight. Sorry I couldn't get to everyone."
With that he pushed his way out of the crowd and headed for the security checkpoint once again, Janice trailing silently behind him. There were a few pleas from those who had not gotten their autographs and even a few angry words about how Jake was forgetting where he came from. Jake didn't look back.
"You didn't have to be so huffy to them," Janice chided. "They are your fans, after all."
Jake ignored her. If she would've had her way he would've stayed there for six hours signing something for every person in the airport.
There was a short line at the security checkpoint. The people waiting in it all stared at him and whispered among themselves, but none of them talked to him. The two security guards manning the checkpoint, however, seemed very interested in him. One of them spoke into his phone, covering his mouth and glancing over at Jake as he came closer and closer.
When Jake and Janice got to the front of the line and put their bags on the conveyer the guards let them run through the machine and then took both of them off and set them to the side. After they walked through the metal detector the guard who had been on the phone asked them if they could step over to the side for a minute.
"Is there a problem?" Jake asked.
"I don't know," the guard asked arrogantly. "Is there?"
Jake sighed. Janice seemed about to say something but changed her mind.
Within a minute two uniformed police officers arrived, one of them a sergeant. They conferred in whispers with the two security guards for a moment and then walked over to Jake.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to search through your carry-on luggage," the sergeant told them.
"What for?" Janice asked.
"The officers noticed some strange items in the X-ray," they were told. "We just want to take a closer look."
"Bullshit," Jake said. "They were on the phone to you before we even put our bags through."
He looked at Jake mildly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "But even if that was the case, you are subject to search in this airport. I believe you might've seen signs to that effect when you came in?"
Jake shrugged. "Go ahead," he said. "But there aren't any drugs in there. All you're gonna find are my dirty underwear and some shampoo samples I swiped from the hotel."
They went ahead, pawing through everything in both Jake and Janice's bags in full view of the other people making their way through the checkpoint. They held up Janice's panties and even felt the lining. They opened up Jake's electric razor and sniffed the inside of it. When they failed to find anything incriminating they had both of them submit to search of their person.
"I will certainly be sending a letter to your chief about this," Janice huffed as they made her turn out her pockets and dump the contents out onto a tray.
"You do that," the cop said as he commenced patting her down.
They did the same to Jake, who dumped his cigarettes, his lighter, his wallet, and two dollars in small change out for them. When it was over they didn't apologize for the inconvenience. They simply told them they could enter the terminal and then they left.
"The nerve of those people," Janice fumed as they made their way into the terminal. "Searching me. We'll just see what my husband has to say about all this when we get back."
"He'll just try to get it written up in the newspaper somewhere," Jake said. "Jake Kingsley suspected of drug smuggling at JFK. Cops unable to find his stash."
"Hey," Janet said, brightening. "That's not a bad idea."
Jake just shook his head and showed his boarding pass to the security agent guarding access to the first class lounge.
They waited in the lounge for about twenty minutes. Through it all Jake could see people pointing at him, whispering about him, much of it, he was sure, disapproving in tone. The other first class passengers were mostly older types wearing suits or business dresses. They probably weren't Intemperance fans. None of them came over to talk or ask for an autograph.
The aircraft was a Boeing 747 and the first class section was on the upper deck, just behind the cockpit. They climbed up the steps and went to their assigned seats. Jake and Janice were in the second row on the left side. Janice claimed the window seat, leaving Jake on the aisle. He stretched out and tried to relax a little as the rest of the first class passengers found their own seats. No sooner had he settled in than a tall, clean-cut man wearing a white uniform and cap emerged from the cockpit and walked directly over to him.
"You're Jake Kingsley, right?" the man asked, glaring down at him.
"Yeah," he said. "I am."
"I'm Captain Simmons," the man said. "I'm in command of this aircraft."
"Uh... okay," Jake said. "Nice to meet you, Captain." He held out his right hand.
Simmons just looked at it. "You're not going to cause any trouble on this flight, are you?"
Jake let his hand drop. "I wasn't planning on it," he said. "What sort of trouble was it that you were thinking I'd cause?"
"Drunken behavior, lecherousness, drugs, Satanism. I won't put up with any of that on my aircraft."
"Satanism?" Jake asked. "You were afraid I'd have a satanic ritual on your aircraft?"
"Don't be smart with me, boy," Simmons told him. "You just keep your nose clean up here. There's any trouble from you, I'll land at the nearest airport and have the FBI take you into custody."
Jake sighed. "I'll keep that in mind," he said.
"You do that," Simmons said. "My flight attendants have been instructed to keep an eye on you."
With that he turned and walked back into the cockpit, closing the door behind him.
He wasn't gone more than ten seconds before one of the flight attendants in question came over to him. She was a redhead, in her early twenties, and possessed a body that filled out her red and white uniform quite nicely.
"Hi," she told him, leaning down so close she was flirting with violating Jake's personal space. "I'm Laura. I'll be your flight attendant. I'd just like to tell you that I really love your music."
"Thanks," Jake said, giving her a smile.
"I tried to catch your show in LA but all three dates were sold out."
"Well, maybe next time," Jake said.
"Do you think you could sign your autograph for me?" she asked.
"You bet," Jake told her, taking out his pen. "Do you have something for me to sign?"
She giggled a little. "Oh I got lots of things for you to sign," she said. "But for now, I guess we'll have to make do with this." She tore off a page from her order book and handed it to him.
"What's your last name, Laura?" he asked.
"Grover," she told him.
He had her spell it and then wrote, To Laura Grover, the best damn flight attendant in the sky. Keep on rockin, Jake Kingsley. He handed it back to her.
She read it and then giggled again and made it disappear into her pocket. "Thanks, Jake," she told him. "Now can I get either one of you a drink while we're waiting for the coach section to board?"
"I'll have a bloody Mary," Janice said. "A strong bloody Mary."
"You got it," she said, noting that down. "And what about you, Jake? Do you want a bloody Mary as well?"
"No, I'll just have..."
"How about some Chivas and Coke?" she offered. "I read in that article your agent put in Rock Star magazine that you love Chivas and Coke."
"Uh... no, thanks," he said. "I'll just have some coffee."
"Coffee?" she said, disappointed. "Just coffee?"
"It's only ten in the morning," he said. "I wouldn't want to get drunk this early. Who knows what might happen. I might start having a satanic ritual or something."
She giggled yet again, casting a knowing look towards the cockpit. "Right," she said, winking at him. "I get you."
When she returned four minutes later and set the steaming cup of coffee down before him she winked again. "Just the way you like it," she said. She then gave Janice her bloody Mary and headed off down the aisle to get more drink orders.