"Mine contained airline tickets, too," the lieutenant governor said, in a voice drier than his drink.
"Mine, too."
The two highest elected officials in California-over California, now-digested this startling coincidence in silence.
"Someone," the lieutenant governor said thickly, "must really want us at that concert."
"Or maybe," the governor croaked, "on this flight."
Their eyes were already wide. They had been widening all through the conversation. They could hardly have grown wider, but they did. A child could have run a Magic Marker around the outer edge of the irises and not touched or discolored an eyelash.
They were both thinking the same thing. They were thinking how unpopular their administration had become in less than two years. How many special-interest groups despised them. How unpopular recent gubernatorial vetoes had been.
The governor shot up in his seat.
"Turn this plane around!" he demanded harshly, his voice like something that had been torn off bleeding muscle.
The flight attendant hurried up the aisle. She presented a concerned face, and a smile that promised reassurance but jittered around its lipsticked edges.
"Sir, is something the matter?"
The governor used his finger to point. "This is the lieutenant governor sitting next to me."
The attendant looked, said, "Yes?"
"We're not supposed to be flying together!"
"It's the Buddy Holly rule," the lieutenant governor chimed in dutifully. "And you know what happened to them."
"Was he an actor?" wondered the flight attendant, who looked all of twenty-two.
The governor cleared his throat and mustered up his best oratorical voice. "Please inform the captain that the governor of the state sincerely requests that he turn this flight around and put us down at LAX," he said, giving each syllable a tight, steely enunciation.
"I'm sorry, but that's against the airline's rules."
"Please do this."
"Yes, please," the lieutenant governor pleaded, moist-eyed.
The flight attendant hurried off. She was gone for a while.
Eventually, a stone-faced man in airline black stepped into the first-class cabin. He wore his years in the cockpit on his regular, seamed face.
"Are you the captain?" the governor said tightly, trying to keep control of himself.
"Copilot. The captain sends his regrets."
In terse words the governor presented his case, ending with, "This can't be a coincidence."
The copilot gave an aw-shucks laugh and tilted back his uniform cap.
"Sir . . ."
"Governor. "
"Governor, what I think you got there is a pair of tickets from Miss- What did you say the lady's name was?"
"Mouskouri."
"It's clear to me that you're both being treated by the little lady herself. I don't see what the fuss is."
"You don't understand!" the lieutenant governor put in frantically. The copilot's face hardened. "Maybe it's the other way around," he said flatly. "We held up the flight to let you on board, sir. Now, the captain has the discretion to do that. But turning the plane around without an on-board emergency?" He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry."
They harangued the poor copilot, demanded to see the captain, but the man stood his ground.
Eventually, with mumbled apologies and a stiff face, the copilot returned to the cockpit.
The flight attendants refreshed their drinks and made a point of showing off their legs.
The governor and his lieutenant soon settled down. The drone of the jet engines became routine, putting them off their guards.
"Maybe it was Miss Mouskouri who sent the tickets," the lieutenant governor said hopefully.
"It's the only explanation that makes sense," the governor agreed.
"Still," the lieutenant governor said wistfully, "I wish I had taken the bus. Just in case."
They shared a laugh that rattled in their throats like old bones. It was an unpleasant sound that squelched further conversation and provided absolutely no reassurance up at twenty thousand feet, in a jet buffeting through clouds and air pockets like a shaky rollercoaster.
The jet rattled. The overhead luggage compartments jiggled uncertainly. The seats, although bolted to the cabin floor, shook and bounced them on their plush, roomy cushions.
The governor and lieutenant governor started to grow nervous all over again.
"Is this plane shaking worse than usual?" the lieutenant governor muttered.
"I can't tell. I'm shaking too much myself."
"Why are you shaking?"
"I'm thinking of how many death threats I've been getting since I vetoed that Gay Rights bill."
"Well, I didn't veto it. I was for it. But you-you wouldn't listen to me."
"That's right. If it was the Gay Rights people, they wouldn't be after you." A flush of relief raced up the governor's boyish features.
At that exact moment, the 727 went into a steep dive and the overhead compartments popped, like topsy-turvy jack-in-the-boxes.