Having a wet dream while 40,000 feet above sea level and going 550 miles per hour is difficult in the best of times, but the baby was not helping. It had, to that point, been a relatively easy and peaceful red-eye. I had gone to my All-Inclusive in Cancún and was on my second piña colada with Sexy Buxom Blonde #2 when either the pressure got to him or the smushed carrots did their job.

It was particularly unfortunate since we were somewhere over Nebraska and that meant there was too much time left in the flight to stay awake and too little left to get some good rest. I didn’t want to be the asshole that lights up the TV monitor and ruins the sleep of the couple next to me, so I was stuck on the window seat with my thoughts.

God Bless the people that can sleep through babies crying. I wish I could do that. Maybe that’s why I’ve never had or wanted kids.

The girl was likely snoring in her nice and comfy business class seat. I heard there is some noise cancellation thing in the curtains that divide the classes. I wouldn’t know as I’ve never flown business let alone first.

Yes, this was a business trip so I could have charged the client for the upgrade. He certainly was a dick so it would have felt good to spend a lot of his money. The only problem is that it would be very difficult to surveil covertly when there are only two people in the same cabin.

The thing that pissed me off about the client was the secrecy. Normally, when people ask me to follow someone, there’s a story behind it. Maybe a husband suspects his wife is cheating on him. Maybe the wife thinks the maid stole her jewels. Maybe the maid is positive the pool boy slash her boy toy is also fucking the maid next door.

There is always a story and a reason. Not this time.

This asshole Beverly Hills lawyer with the office on Beverly Drive with that hideous fake wood paneling and green lamps and dirty carpet didn’t tell me shit. He gave me the girl’s name (Betty Crocker. Are you fucking kidding me with that?), gave me a picture, and told me she would be taking the Jet Blue red-eye to New York. JFK, to be exact.

That was it. He wanted me to follow her and see if she planted roots anywhere. Once she did, I was to report back, give the location, and get my merry ass back to LA. He gave me five grand as a retainer and another five grand for initial expenses. All in cash.

I didn’t want to take the case but it meant a trip to New York and an opportunity to see a couple of old friends that I hadn’t seen in a long time. Plus, I needed a change. 77 and sunny wears on you after a while.

I am also a sucker for a mystery. If there is a puzzle to be solved or something that doesn’t quite fit or make sense, I am compelled to solve it or figure out what happened. It’s no wonder I’m still single.

The girl wasn’t bad looking either, so the more cynical person might say I was interested in the case just because of that. I dunno. I’ve stuck it in plenty of crazy but at least I knew they were crazy prior to said sticking.

I knew nothing about this girl other than the made up name.

While pondering all this, I suddenly realized I had a golden opportunity. The baby had, mercifully, gone back to sleep along with the rest of the plane that had been woken up by him. The pantry was right next to the restrooms which were right next to the business class section.

I summoned up my inner ninja and somehow climbed over the sleeping couple without waking them and made it to the aisle. As I walked up, I noticed the little darling on his mother’s lap. He was certainly a cute little monster.

At the pantry, there were two flight attendants talking. I went into the bathroom to figure out my strategy and take a quick piss. Always take the opportunity to take a piss when it presents itself. That’s a life lesson right there.

The bathroom was surprisingly clean. I prayed that no turbulence would hit at this exact moment as it would be pretty embarrassing to be known as the a-hole that North’ed the restroom with piss on the way to JFK.

I used the Three Points of Contact technique to steady myself. The stream was strong, which seemed like a good omen for the case. I finished up and washed my hands without incident.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning, sir. Anything we can help you with?”

I had spoken with my voice low and barely above a whisper. I didn’t want to be rude. Also, it sounded cool and sexy. I didn’t know if that would help but it was worth a try.

“How does the Pantry thing work?”, I asked politely.

“You can just grab what you want.”

I gave her a look.

“Easy as that?”

“Easy as that.” She shook her head and laughed. Her companion didn’t seem to get the joke and walked away. Or maybe he did get the joke?

“Pretty smooth flight this morning? Crying babies aside.”, I said as I grabbed a bag of pretzels and a water.

“Not too bad. I didn’t even hear the baby. I’m working the business class section.”

“Lucky you! I saw while boarding you’ve only got two passengers.”

She tensed up a little.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to get in there. Just an observation.”

“Are you the observant type?”

“It’s a blessing and a curse. It also allows me to make a living, so there’s that.”

“And what do you do?”

Nothing wrong with telling the truth. “I’m a private detective.”

“That’s the lamest pickup line I’ve ever heard!”

I pulled my license out of my wallet and showed it to her. “I swear this isn’t a toy.”

“I didn’t think that job existed anymore! It’s like the stuff of old books and shit!”

“It’s real and it’s spectacular. Well, not really. But at least I get to have fun conversations with interesting people.”

“So, Mr. Private Dick, are you going to ‘pump’ me for information?”, she smiled.

“Would you like me to?”

“Why not? I’m bored, everyone is asleep, and we still have an hour until we have to get ready for landing.”

“What do you know about the lady sitting alone in business class?” I explained to her the details of my case and my frustrations with the lack of info.

“Well, you probably know I can’t tell you anything or else I’d lose my job, but I can tell you one thing: There is no Betty Crocker on this flight.”

“Thanks! I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to tell me anything.”

“So, are we at the part where you ask me out?”

“You’d say you can’t because you have to meet someone or you have another flight to get to.”

“It’s still nice to be asked.”

“Would you have a drink with me in the City?”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

I laughed all the way back to my seat.

***