THREE TIMES A LADY Read Free Page B

slender ribcage stretched nearly to the point of snapping as she extended her body a full four inches past her natural height of five-foot-three in a clumsy attempt to stow her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment located above her seat on Continental Flight 942, nonstop LA to Cleveland.  Balancing on her tiptoes, Dana nearly had the bag tucked away when a sharp elbow smacked directly into the back of her skull.
    ‘Ouch!’ Dana hissed, losing her balance and almost collapsing beneath the weight of the bag.  The muscles in her overworked arms trembled like high-tension wires strung between skyscrapers, letting her know they’d given her their best shot but also that they were done working for the day. 
    Dana whirled around and narrowed her pale blue eyes.  A businessman wearing a rumpled gray suit stood across the aisle from her stowing his own bag, paisley-patterned tie hanging loosely around his unbuttoned collar.  The man looked down and sideways at Dana over his right shoulder and mumbled an insincere, ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’
    Dana glared up at him.  For one long, satisfying moment, she fantasized about sliding her Glock out of the shoulder holster tucked inside her blazer and giving him a good pistol-whipping right then and there on the plane.  Teach him some manners that he obviously hadn’t learned through good old-fashioned home training.  Maybe if he knew that Dana was legally entitled to carry a firearm on this flight – not to mention every other domestic flight in the United States – he’d try a little harder to sound a tad more sincere with his apologies the next time. 
    Then again, probably not.
    ‘Here, let me get that for you,’ the man said, wrestling the bag out of Dana’s arms before she had a chance to protest or stop him.  Leaning over the top of her head, he stored her bag in the overhead bin with ease before snapping shut the compartment and cleaning his hands of imaginary dust.  ‘There,’ he said.  ‘That ought to do it, wouldn’t you say?’
    Dana smiled up at the man through clenched teeth, caught in a strange no-man’s land somewhere between rage and relief.  Rage that the presumptuous bastard would dare to touch her bag without her permission and relief that she wouldn’t need to stow the stupid thing herself.  In any event, the task was accomplished – which meant there was one less thing she needed to worry about now.  And the simple truth of the matter was that Dana could use all the help she could get these days, even from a jerk like this.  Life was that bad for her right now.  ‘Thanks,’ she said, still putting her veneers in mortal danger of chipping.  ‘’Preciate it.
    The businessman paused and gave her the once-over, lingering at her breasts, of course.  Smooth operator all the way, this one.  ‘No problem, sweetheart.  Let me know if I can buy you a screwdriver when the drinks cart comes around, ‘K?  I plan on throwing back a few myself on this flight.  Five hours is a bitch of a trip.’
    Dana continued fake-smiling until her cheeks began to ache, at the same time resisting the urge to rub at the back of her head, where she could already feel a golf ball-sized knot welling up.  She didn’t want to give the moron the satisfaction.  Unbelievably, she also resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the casually dropped ‘sweetheart’.  Instead, she simply responded in kind.  When in doubt, go passive-aggressive.  Irritated Woman 101.  Worked every time.  ‘Will do, cowboy,’ Dana said, putting enough sugar in her voice to ensure a mouthful of cavities that would no doubt keep her pricey dentist busy for at least a year, enabling each one of his six children’s eventual attendance at private universities of their choosing. 
    That particularly witty comeback tucked safely away under her belt, Dana turned and scooched past the matronly woman sitting in seat 32a who was knitting a scarf apparently meant for a giraffe.  Settling