Ginger told Sherri that travelers were supposed to dress for an airplane ride the way you might dress for church, so Sherri wore her favorite fitted daisy-print polyester dress with puffy shoulders and a pair of slingback heels. She loved everything about the flight at first, from the hum of the engines to the stewardesses in their slim navy suits, smart caps, and wispy neck scarves. They were poised and friendly in the same service-oriented way that she’d been trained, and reminded her of all the Bunnies at the resort. Maybe, Sherri thought, she should go to flight attendant school in order to become a stewardess. She could try to work on Big Bunny, Hugh Hefner’s plane, the one he’d painted black and outfitted with special lights on the wings so that everyone could see it from the ground. She’d heard his plane had a big, round waterbed with a possum-fur cover.

Her dreams of traveling the world on Big Bunny ended as soon as the plane hit turbulence, and she gripped her armrests so hard her fingers turned white. She looked out of the window and saw how far she was from earth and home and everything she knew.

The flight attendant could tell that Sherri wasn’t doing well, and showed her the long, narrow waxed bag in her seat pocket that looked like one of the doggie bags from the Sidewalk Café. “It’s for airsickness, hon. You can throw up in it.”

When the plane landed in Houston her stomach was still uneasy, and she was suddenly terrified of what she’d agreed to, and everything she’d risked. She understood that Sam hadn’t invited her on this trip for mere companionship; the Trojans in her purse were proof. Accepting his offer had made her feel sophisticated and worldly; now she just felt dirty. She figured people in East Troy had whispered and spread rumors about her once word had gotten out that she’d taken a job as a Playboy Bunny. Wouldn’t this prove them right? Then again, they’d never need to know. Those people back home sitting with their legs crossed tight couldn’t even find Houston on a map.