Page 21 of Tipping Point

He turns his head to look at me. He knows what I’m insinuating.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is louder, angry.

Jay kicks his chair from behind and we both round on him, heads together, looking back at Jay through the gap where our seats meet.

“You guys are being loud,” he says apologetically.

We turn back towards the front of the plane.

He’s a sullen, taciturn guy. But I’ve seen him amongst his peers. He says the right things and acts as one would expect. It just lacks animation. As if he’s going through the motions.

“What’s the pool?”

He shrugs. “I’m not in on it.”

Relief floods through me.

“Well,” I say. “that will never happen. I never mix business with pleasure. Besides, I won’t be here for long.”

He turns to me with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m temporary. I’m filling in for my boss, Dixon. He’s…facing some personal issues. As soon as that’s resolved, he’ll take over the project.”

Irish grunts and folds his arms.

“Well, I won’t be around long, either.”

He says it with finality, and it sparks curiosity in me.

He’s back to looking unbothered, staring down the aisle at the other passengers. He kicks his long legs out into the aisle.

The air hostess scurries over to reprimand him, but she recognises him on sight and slows down. Her whole demeanour changes.

“Mr Brennan. Is there anything I can get you?”

He turns to me expectantly. “Champagne?”

* * *

FINN

She smells like candyfloss. I like musk and florals, but she smells sweet, like burnt sugar.

Like something to eat.

We’re on the last dregs of a bottle of champagne and it’s growing on her.

“I never really liked champagne.” She crinkles her nose. “It smells like farts.”

I snort. I can’t help it.

“I thought you said you were well travelled.” I bring my own glass to my lips, taking a sip.

She nudges me with her shoulder.

“Let’s continue the game.” We’re naming the places we’ve been to and our favourite dishes from there.

“Shanghai,” I say. We’ll be landing there in two hours.