“Clear out!” she commanded the crowd surrounding the plane. Her staff and assistants scurried off in various directions.

She sat her ample figure down on the floor of the mock-up causing it to list to one side. I clutched my hands together so that she wouldn’t see them shaking and braced myself for the worst.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

Her voice was so kind. It threw me completely off guard causing my eyes to fill with fresh tears.

“Are you on anything?” she asked matter-of-factly, without accusation.

“No.” I shook my head. Technically it was true, I hadn’t drunk or used anything since midnight except for the Valium, which was of course medicinal.

“You know what I think?” she asked.

I shook my head again.

“I bet you’re afraid of flying like I am.” Behind her, I could see Mike Hannigan stamping his feet and fidgeting like a kid waiting to use the bathroom.

“Yes,” I lied. “Terribly afraid.” If she wanted to be sympathetic, I wanted her sympathy.

“And I can imagine having Sid Goldstein for a dad can’t be easy.”

“No. It’s not.”

“A lot of pressure, right?”

“So much.” I nodded in agreement. I took a deep breath. My hands were no longer shaking, and my heart was slowing.

Moira waved for an assistant, who then presented me with a glass of water. Several of the staff drifted over, subtly checking their watches.

“Moira, dear,” Mike called out. “We’re losing the day.”

“How long to reset?” she called back.

Doug’s head popped up beside her. “Well, the windows haven’t shattered yet, we didn’t even drop the oxygen masks.”

Half an hour later, in fresh wardrobe, makeup, and with hair re-teased and styled, I again buckled myself into my seat. The Valium was taking effect and I felt just fine. Mike was back in the booth, Doug and the prop master made final adjustments. Lyle slid into his seat and buckled up while leaning a safe distance away from me.

Suddenly I remembered Nicole. Christ, I hadn’t even thanked her. Where had she gone?

“Ready!” Mike’s voice rang out from the P.A.

Moira rushed over, leaned down, and spoke into my ear, “Don’t fuck up.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“If you fuck up, I’ll eat your firstborn. I’m not kidding, Jackie.”

I nodded. I believed her.

“And…action!” Mike called from the booth.

“Thank you, everyone. Thank you, Miss Gold,” Mike’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

“Oh, dearie me, I’m afraid you might have a future after all,” Lyle joked before moving over to the makeup table.