“Mile high club?” Dave whispered to Jo, his breath heady with champagne fumes. Jo ignored his cheeky comment.
“…but in order to take part, I must ask you to relinquish your mobile phones for the duration of the flight.”
“Our phones?” Jo looked at the Alligator, his slit-eyes twinkling. Like he can even see me, she thought.
“It is mandatory I’m afraid as they may interfere with our equipment, and may affect the outcome of the game. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated in this matter.”
The winners looked at each other with a mixture of excitement — and apprehension. Max, in particular, looked concerned and absent-mindedly took his handset from his pocket, thumbing the keypad to check for messages. He looked up and saw Jo looking at him. They both smiled as they noticed both Gwen and Dave were similarly addicted — staring into their little mobile phone screens.
Dave smiled down at the picture text Sarah had sent to him that morning. It was a saucy photo of her wearing black lacy lingerie, blowing a kiss at the camera along with the text ‘SO U DON’T 4GET ME TIGER, MISS U ALREADY! XXX’. Sweet. Whenever his phone vibrated at the car spares shop where Dave worked, his colleague Paul was forever trying to catch a glimpse of Sarah’s photo messages. Dave enjoyed the kudos of course, and likes teasing Paul even more. When the lad had asked him how Dave had landed such a hot chick, he’d delighted in answering, “Charm, mate. Natural charm.” Well, Sarah certainly didn’t love him for his money — not on his wages. At least now he was getting a pre-stag party in New York on the house. Result. And some people claimed social networking was a bad thing — muppets.
As they each got up and headed to the door, Jo took her phone from her pocket and checked it too. Still no messages, but about a dozen more friends had commented on her All2gethr status, expressing their envy. Jo had to admit that it made her feel good.
Outside, Max and Dave helped the stern-faced driver load everyone’s luggage into the boot of the limo.
“Thanks,” Jo said, more to Max than Dave.
Before closing the boot, the driver pulled out a small leather pouch and unzipped it.
“Gentlemen, your phones please.”
Dave took his phone from his trouser pocket, turned it off and dropped it into the pouch. He was a picture of nonchalance. Jo looked on as Max hesitated for a moment, wiping a smear of finger grease from his phone display before doing the same. The gesture was tender, almost loving — he was clearly fond of technology.
“Thank you. Ladies?” The driver shook the open pouch at Jo and Gwen, who were seated inside the limo. Gwen reached across Jo’s lap and deposited her girly-looking phone inside the pouch. The driver, openly wrinkling her nose at the glitzy handset, held the pouch out to Jo.
“No, sorry I can’t,” Jo said, “I promised my daughter I’ll keep in touch this weekend.”
The driver paused a moment, then cleared her throat. “It is a mandatory stipulation. Phones may interfere with the game.”
“Then I’ll turn it off.”
“Ah, come on…” Dave said, climbing aboard the stretch limo.
“The rules of the competition state that all phones are to be relinquished for the duration of the flight,” the driver continued, “Otherwise the competition is null and void — for all participants.”
“It’s just for a few hours,” Max said.
Jo’s fingers tightened their grip on the handset, a physical manifestation of maternal instinct. Our lifeline.
The driver smiled at her. “It is only a few hours. I can’t change the rules, I wish I could…”
Jo glanced at the limo, Dave and Gwen’s impatient eyes peering back at her. Max gave her a reassuring nod as if to say if I can do it, so can you.
“Okay, okay. Just give me a second.”
Palms sweating, Jo speed-typed a text message. NO PHONES ALLOWED ON PLANE PUMPKIN. CALL U WHEN I GET 2 NY. LUV U MUM XXX
The driver continued smiling, though her eyes were pencil hard. “Feels like losing a limb, doesn’t it?”
Jo wondered if the driver was enjoying her power trip perhaps a little too much. She nodded solemnly and hit SEND, before turning her phone off and dropping it into the pouch.
Max hopped into the limo after her and the driver closed the door behind them, still clutching the pouch. Moments later, the engine purred and they were off and away from the terminal building.
The interior of the limo was like an Aladdin’s Cave of riches. The seats were upholstered in the finest leather with chrome door fittings and sparkling tinted glass windows. On the right hand side of the limo, running the full length from the driver’s partition to the rear seats, a bar was stocked with decanters, glasses and yet more champagne on ice. Beneath the glass surfaces of the bar, the rainbow colours of ultraviolet mood lighting undulated and bathed the limo interior in a psychedelic party glow.
Max was busy examining a pedestal situated between the bar and the seats, which was topped with a little control panel of shiny chrome buttons. He fiddled with the buttons and, with a click and a whirr, an LCD flat screen television popped up out of the pedestal.
“Whoa,” Max said, awestruck.
The screen flickered into life automatically; displaying the same All2gethr logo the passengers had seen at the winners’ lounge. The animated alligator graphic sprang into life, uncurling itself from the globe and popping the cork on a cartoon bottle of champagne. Computer generated bubbles filled the screen, arranging themselves into a single word: ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’
“The riches.” Max grinned at Jo, who smiled back in agreement.
Dave stroked the soft leather arm of his seat, luxuriating in his surroundings, peering out of the window with glee in his eyes.
“Can you see it yet?”
“Oh-my-God!” Gwen already had her head out the window on her side of the limo.
Max and Jo followed suit, opening the sunroof and standing up to get a better look.
“Check it out!” Jo exclaimed.
There it was, in the distance, the embodiment of material success fashioned from metal, glass and rubber — a gleaming white private jet. As the stretch limo drove nearer, Jo saw the words ‘Deppart Airlines’ emblazoned on the fuselage. She grinned at Max as the crosswind blasted their faces.
“Yeah! Woo-hoooo!” Max hollered, ecstatic.
The others joined in, their gleeful voices buoyant on a collective wave of excitement and anticipation for the adventure to come, as the limousine drove on.
Jo and the others clambered out of the limo, eyeing the jet in awe. It was even more impressive at this close distance, all sleek lines and immaculate paintwork. The side of the aircraft, nearest the nose, had ‘Challenger 604’ painted on it in fancy gold calligraphy. The cabin door was open, stairs down in welcome. A stocky baggage handler, dressed in overalls and a fluorescent tabard, started loading their bags into a luggage apartment under the watchful gaze of the limo driver.
Dave bounced up and down on the tarmac. “Yeah baby!”
Gwen sidled up to Jo. “Boys and their toys, eh?”
“Yeah, got to confess though, I am just a tiny, weeny bit impressed.”
“Me too!” Gwen laughed. “Who’s going first?”
Dave already had one foot on the steps. He stepped back, gesturing to Gwen that she go first.
“After… me!” He squeezed in front of her and hopped up the steps.
“You swine!” Gwen laughed and followed behind.
“Age before beauty,” Jo said to Max, who smiled, grabbed the handrail and climbed the steps.
Jo followed close behind and paused for a moment before boarding, feeling uncomfortable. She turned, looked back down the steps and caught the luggage man eyeballing her. Jo held his gaze for a few seconds before turning back to the jet entrance. Men like him looked at her like that sometimes, especially when she had to run the gauntlet of the building site around the corner from her workplace, but she’d caught something else in the baggage handler’s eyes. Was it contempt? Maybe he was just resentful that she and the others were flying to New York in style while he lugged their suitcases around on the runway like a lackey. He wouldn’t be scowling if he knew how crappy her day job was, that was for sure.