Would you be the guide?
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Rachel's POV
People trust me with their husband; they really shouldn't.
Once upon a time, my world was simple, there is only right or wrong and nothing was ever in between. I was taught to grow up in the way where you marry the one you love and love the one you marry.
At least, that was what I believed until I was sixteen.
It's in human nature to find temptation in things that are forbidden, things that they want but can't have, maybe we can, but the question is... can you bear the consequences?
I view myself as a mannequin of a boutique store that had the same fashion sense as me; preppy, polished and classic.
And also, that was how I dress, until I was sixteen.
Converse and Jeans were never a check list in my wardrobe. Yet, one fine day, my adopted mom took me to Halloween shopping, I came out from the dressing room with a black hoodie, a camouflage pants and black converse. 'Aw Rachel, I couldn't recognize you.' She said with teary voice, I thought those words were said to their daughter during their wedding day, but my mom did the otherwise.
I know nothing about politics. You could ask me if I choose Republican or Democratic, chances are, I just shrugged like you just speak to me in French or Chinese.
Oh wait. Déjà vu is French, so does Hermès.
So I do know a thing or two about French.
Even with no prior knowldge or interest in that area, I decide to head forth with what I am always curious about. In my world, in Rachel Woods's world, luck is something predictable, or somehow, unpredictable. When I took a dive in my career, shifting from commercial air flight attendant to Base Andrews, I knew my luck was shifting for the better. I got what I what want since the begining of his popularity, that is to meet President Derek Hoffer in real life.
He had me at the begining of his presidential campaign. Sleeves folded up, wavy brown hair that seems to be attractive in whichever angle he is facing you. Chiselled lips bringing out the vibrancy of his smile, I was totally transformed back to the innocent girl who believed in the stories which Disney told us again, that is, Prince Charming do exist.
He can't be wrong, he is Derek Hoffer.
Two trips prior to this, I was serving the Vice President and the Secretary of State. It was never as surreal as tonight. I learnt to familiarize myself with how the systems works inside this magnificent aircraft, not to mention about knowing everything inside the cabin, where foods are stored, the emergency plan, what dishes are expected to be served in the menu, and blood supplies are made sure to be ready in the medical room where there is an operation table.
Operation table.
The exclusiveness lies in the presence of this facility, how many flights provides that luxury? I skipped the routinity of offering peanuts to passengers, the job of a salesman in hoaxing pessengers to buy duty free goods, they are worth buying, by the way. I believe I deserved more than that, and I wanted something special to remember when I get old. Thus I decide to take a leap of my career at the age of 29 by applying to 89th Airlift Wings.
Although the uniform wasn't something to be brought up in Vogue, but it wasn't hideous enought to be mention in the Fashion Police. The perk of this job is merely about having the slightest chance of being close to that man. I got what I want.
Tonight, seven hours shift, I am going to create my own historic moment. Along with Dolores, my cabin manager, we stood around Thomas Gavinski, who is giving a brief instruction before the President arrrived. Commading voice, charismatic in nature, it is no wonder they call him the whisperer of Derek Hoffer. The way he puts his words, carries the air of sophistication. He often carried a folder pinned with a black fountain pen by his side.
Tonight we are expecting a total of sixty-four pax on this fourteen hours flight to Tokyo. This also means we have to be on duty for seven hours before we got an interval with our team.
'We need to have the coffee ready, they are expected to be here in three minutes.' Dolores instructed.
'I'll be out in two minutes.' I assure her. When Dolores says three minutes, she timed it. So, it maybe glamorous to be working with the politician and high profiles members, but the cons sometimes outweighs the pros.
Derek Hoffer has a special request for digestive biscuits with his coffee. I decided to make an extra efforts to serve peanut butter on the side along with his refreshment, and hence, I placed his drinks in a separate tray from the others. Talking about hospitality, you can always count of me.
Talking about accuracy of timing, Dolores is almost never wrong. After placing the refreshment neatly on the meeting table, Mr. Gavinski and the other congressman gathered inside the meeting room.
I puts the empty tray closer to me, straighten my back, ready to greet them with professional level smile. 'Good evening, Sir, Ma'am, welcome on board Air Force One.'
I was lucky if some responded. And the others were busy debating God knows what subject, I told you, I know nothing about politics. When I thought about leaving the meeting room and headed towards the door, the man in blue shirt, red tie arrived. He was folding up his sleeves, just the way I like it.
Okay, I need a minute here to discuss about a man who had his sleeves folded up. There is something about a man revealing his toned arms, the attractiveness is undoubtedly multiply by ten times. His thick, charcoal wavy hair that never runs out of place, his sapphire eyes reflects the blue ocean. Derek Hoffer looks way better in real life.
'Mr. President,' everyone, including me, greeted him. It's like a non deliberate action. It's spontaneous, even though you've never met your president before, but, that is an unconscious response.
I put the tray even closer to my chest, like it was A shield to protect myself from his attractiveness. He is married, I reminded myself. But everyone fancies Prince William even though he is happily married with two kids. So, I think it's absolutely normal, right?
Derek Hoffer nodded at me as he make way for me to leave the room. I can't believe I just stood that close to the Commander in Chief. As soon as he sat at his swivel chair, the meeting was conducted immediately.
I close the door and took a brief second to see Derek Hoffer again. He was eating the digestive biscuit and dipping it on the coffee, without touching the peanut butter at all. A wash of disappointment wave over me, and I close the door shut.
'What time are we suppose to serve the supper?' I ask Dolores, who was reading a list of notes with her glasses hanging on the top of her nose. With no intention of offence, she looks like Cinderella's stepmother, if I were to find a suitable description for her.
'No instruction were given by Gavinski, we'll just have to wait,' Dolores replied, still facing the list.
'I'll be serving the refreshments to the captains first,' I told her.
--*--*--
Two hours has past and there were no instructions regarding supper, I guess everyone has gone to sleep. I am strolling along the front deck, making sure the areas were clean. But, suddenly, I heard the sound of broken glasses.
It came from the President's suite.
The President suite, which means the President himself is inside. I halted, debating internally if I should knock the door. The nearer I get to the door, the more overwhelming it becomes.
The secret service officers, both came forth from their seat and walked towards where I was.
I was in front of them, which means I have no private time to decide if I want to enter his room. 'Sir, is everything alright?' I knocked softly, not intending to startle him at this late hour. The secret service were eyeing at me, and getting concern if they should let me be involved.
'Come in, please.' He responded. Derek Hoffer's voice.
My heart pounds furiously. As the door clicks open, the first thing I saw was the shattering glasses on the floor of the suite. It was the Riedel whisky glass from the moment I saw the smithereens. I knew it, because, I made the sofa into the bed, and I place the glasses as well.
The next thing I saw, a shirtless Derek Hoffer.
Shirtless. Toned. Abs. Although his abs is not as prominent as Chris Pratt's, but it's definitely a fine sight. His pant is still on, thanks God.
Our eyes lock. For the first time, we are facing each other like that. You know what's my Achilles' heel? My faces blushes easily, and before he discover, I looked away from him.
'Oh gosh, your hand is bleeding.' I paced towards him and look at his ring finger. The one where his wedding band is.
'Clumsiness took over.' He jokes. 'Alan, Joe, it's okay, I can handle it.' Derek Hoffer stops his bodyguard, but he allows me to remain.
I peered at them, which from their expression, I can conclude that they are reluctant, but they have to comply with the President's order.
'Let me get the first aid box, Sir.' I went to his bathroom and open the drawer besides the sink.
'You know this place better than I do.' He said from the bedroom.
'I ought to, it's my job.' I walked out of the bathroom and he was already sitting on the sofa. 'Shall I dress the wound, or should I get some security clearance before I'm allowed to touch you?' I questioned him, it's kind of a joke anyway, I'm not sure if he is comfortable with me doing the bandage.
'You are funny.' He laugh light-heartedly.'I don't really expect my bodyguards to dress it for me, I'm afraid of them myself.'
'You don't say?' I laugh.'May I suggest for you to wear your shirt, sir? It's very questionable if anyone happens to come in here.' I advised him.
'Looks like I got no choice at all, do I?' He took the blue shirt he wore earlier on and put it on himself while I kneel down and prepare the medicine and gauze to clean his bleeding.
'I'm Derek.' He offers his hands to me, which I return him with a mild confuse expressions.'We haven't really been introduced.' He explains.
'Oh.' My mouth is still in the 'O' shape. Now, I get what he means.'Rachel.' My hand met his as I proffered his handshake. Derek, Derek, Derek. My mind is repeating the two syllable De-rek.
'I'm sorry that I cause the mess, Rachel.' He hinted at the broken glass.
'No worries, that happens all the time.' I'm still avoiding his gaze, because I might just found myself lost in his blue eyes. My hands is trembling, usually I won't be affected by my passenger. This time, I'm not sure.
'You are trying to make me feel better.'
'I have to, or else, I might offending the most powerful man in this Earth.' I said as I took his hand.
'What else will offend me?' He continues.
'Unbuttoned shirt, that's the fastest way to make scandal for both of us.' I grin.'My cabin Manager, Dolores, and Mr. Gavinski might be wondering what activities has been proceeding before they came in.'
'As you said, I'm the most powerful man in the Earth, your job will be secured at all cost.'
'I voted for you.'
'Thank you.'
'Don't thank me too fast, I'm not a person who knows anything about politics.' I laugh softly. His wounds has dried up, now, I'm peeling a plaster.
'Then why did you voted for me?'
I look up at him, as I realized his eyes is hunger for my answer. Why would he be? Does my answer means a lot to him?
'It's a top secret, confidential.' I answered, our eyes is still locked within each other's. Fine wrinkles were plastered on the side of his eyes. Running a country does makes you old. He is only forty five this year.
'Then, I suppose, I would have to ask the secret agent to run another security clearance on you.' He said softly, his voice is deep, if I have to say.
'You can try. But I don't think it's that easy.' I paste the plaster on his wounds. 'There, we are done.'
The entire room is quiet now. It's so silent that the only thing I can hear is the mild buzzing sound from the plane.
'Thank you, I really suck at first aid.' He observe the plaster for a while and back to me again.
'So, I guess, I'll leave you alone now.' I stood up
'By the way, I'm allergic to peanuts.'
'I'm sorry?' Facing down at him while he is still sitting at the sofa.
'You know, the peanut butter that you place on the tray?'
Peanut butter.
Oh. My. God.
I almost ruined my whole career!
I paused everything I was doing, my mind trying to find a word, any words to say to Derek.
He stood up, and for once, I noticed, he was taller than me. When he was standing that near to me, I had to look up in order to see his face. And when he was standing this near to me, my stomach took a violent flip. 'I'm not blaming you, if you ever thought about that. I just appreciate your offer, but I'm sorry that I can't eat peanut butter.'
'I almost kill you, and you are thanking me?' My voice were echoes with fear and utter disbelief. He is near, so damned near that my uniform is going to touch his chest.
'Why yes, that's actually the fastest way to assassinate me.' He shrugged in a joking manner.
This man is funny. Smart. And easy to like. I can't really stay for long, for I won't know what might happened next. All I know is that, I got to experience what other Derek Hoffer's fan dream of, and that is to be talking with him, alone, thousand miles above the ground.
'Right, I'll remember that, and I think it's good night for now, Derek.' I stood a few steps back and heads towards his bathroom, returning the first aid box to where it belong.
When I head out of the bath room again, he is waiting for me at the door. 'Thank you, Rachel. I'll see you tomorrow again.'
If I knew things like this would happened between Derek and me, I wouldn't mind working for another seven hours. 'I'm not sure if you'll be seeing me tomorrow.
'Why?'
'My shift ends in five hours, and by the time you have breakfast, I'm already vanished.'
'Five hours?' He looks at his watch, like he is counting what time it will be in another five hours. 'If let's say I need a tour around the plane, would you be the guide?'
I stumbled upon his request. He is asking for my companion. This is risky, Rachel, this is very risky. 'Absolutely.' I snapped. I don't know what I am doing now, but I didn't want to stay away from him either. There is something that is drawing me towards him.
'Wonderful. I'll have a quick change.' Off, he went to get something from his luggage. I left the room since he needs to change his clothes.
I waited outside, impatiently. Breathing is almost impossible now. Derek Hoffer is somehow...intimidating.
His bodyguards are still guarding outside the door, which leave me uncomfortable at the same time.
The door clicks open again, the blood vessels in my body are going through minor stroke. Right, I'm overreacting. Stroke is the wrong word. I'm experiencing hyperventilation and my blush is going to give it away.
Derek came out, wearing a powder blue t-shirt and jeans. I have never seen the other side of him in the media. He always wear formal outfit for his speeches and tuxedo during state dinner.
Tonight, he look so casual, not a person on business purpose. He is just Derek tonight.
'It's okay, I just need Miss Woods to give me a tour in this plane, time pass faster that way.' He instructed Joe and Alan again, who is always ready to follow him around. 'And by the way, make sure Mike is asleep.'
'So, I'm always curious about airplanes, and what's hidden from the passengers.' He closes the door and walks towards me, placing both his hand behind him, like a gentleman.
'Well, we'll start with the kitchen, shall we?' I turn to him briefly and look away again, my blushes, they are killing me.
'After you.' He gesture a hand which signals me to lead the way.
'By the way, why do you ask for the White House photographer to be asleep?' I asked, mildly curious by the instructions he has for the secret service.
'Unless you want our photos to be captured? I have no problem, but I don't want to get you into trouble next time.'
'Ah.' I nodded, getting what he means. Scandal. Affair. Mistress. Those three things are almost forbidden in the active years of presidency.