Demon Stories

Josephine: Jet Set, 1963, Skyway

The American with the Texas drawl was talking to me again. Thank god for that. He might serve as a great distraction from her and even serve as an excuse for her not to approach me if I faked like I was interested in his attempts at conversation enough. I made a deal with myself: if this rude American talked his way through this flight and therefore caused her to stay away, maybe he would spend a day in Rome with his Sophia Loren afterall.

"Well, maybe there are people on this flight who don't know them," I said to him politely.

"Oh, I don't think so. Does it look like we got any greenhorns on this flight? Look at the luggage racks. Mostly briefcases. I bet they flew all over," he laughed, his mouth wide open and crude.

"Maybe," I smiled.

"You and your 'maybe's," he laughed. 

Soon, we were in the air after a smooth take off and I had given the man my magazine to read. He had taken to talking to me about all of the articles in it in a conversational loud way, and for this I was grateful. 

"You know, in Texas we didn't like that Jack Kennedy, but it sure was a shame he got shot in Texas. Everyone thinks it was a Texas boy who got 'im, but I say nay. I don't think one of our own would'a done it even if he was a yankee."

I really had no experience with Kennedy since I had been in France for the past seven years, so I admitted this. He looked at me with joking eyes. 

"I'm about to give you an earful," he laughed. 

"My ears welcome it, sir," I said, looking at him straight in the face and as far away from the aisle as I could to avoid that black haired woman.

"Awwuh, don't call me 'sir'. I ain't an old man yet," he joked. 

"Alright," I smiled at him. I saw a small blush form on his old cheeks at my direct smile like this.

"Tea, coffee, or another beverage, Miss?" came a sultry voice which made my skin crawl. I had no choice but to look in the aisle now. At her.

I looked up at her perfectly made up face, and our eyes met. She was looking at me without the regulation Pan Am smile. My stomach fell to my toes. 

But then my savior leaned over me in an very ungentlemanly way. 

"Miss? Is that...Miss Black?" He had read her nametag. "I'll have a coffee, plain black. Or maybe make that with two sugars. Where am I, am I right? Wife's not here to tell me no sugars, you know?" He started to laugh and I chuckled politely with him. Miss Diana Black did not laugh with us.

"I'll have champagne," I said nervously after him. 

"Of course," Diana said curtly. "I will get those to you." She walked away.

"Seems like a sourpuss, doesn't she?" the man joked.