Placed the portfolio beside him.
Accepted an espresso.
Opened a folder.
Twenty minutes later, Vanessa entered the cabin from the galley.
She had been speaking with a ground concierge about a different passenger expected to join them later.
The second passenger canceled at the last minute.
Vanessa did not yet know.
She walked forward.
Saw Curtis.
Stopped.
“Excuse me.”
Curtis looked up.
“Yes?”
“Who seated you there?”
Curtis glanced around.
“I did.”
Vanessa laughed.
Not loudly.
Enough.
“Seat 1A is reserved.”
“For me.”
“That’s not possible.”
Curtis closed the document.
“Why?”
Vanessa looked at his sweater.
His old portfolio.
His watch.
Nothing in her answer would later sound reasonable.
At the time, she believed it completely.
“Because this is an executive aircraft.”
Curtis stared at her.
“I know.”
“Are you part of the maintenance team?”
“No.”
“Vendor?”
“No.”
“Ground support?”
“No.”
Vanessa’s expression hardened.
“Then who authorized you to board?”
Curtis looked toward the cabin entrance.
“The same people who cleared every passenger.”
Vanessa reached for the manifest tablet.
Then stopped.
The battery warning flashed.
She had forgotten to connect it to the charger after the previous flight.
It still had power.
Enough to check.
Instead, she made the first wrong decision.
She relied on assumption.
“Move to the rear while I verify.”
Curtis did not move.
“No.”
That single word changed something in her.
Vanessa had worked too long in cabins where most people complied quickly because they wanted to avoid making scenes.
She had become accustomed to controlling the environment.
“Sir.”
She said.
“This seat is not available.”
Curtis opened his portfolio again.
“It is occupied.”
“You’re being difficult.”
“I’m reading.”
She stepped closer.
“I have worked with real executives for years.”
Curtis looked up.
“Congratulations.”
That irritated her.
“They don’t show up dressed like this.”
Curtis’s eyes sharpened.
Now he understood.
Not a manifest issue.
Not a boarding issue.
Something uglier.
He glanced toward Maribel.
She had heard.
Her expression showed embarrassment.
Curtis looked back at Vanessa.
“So check the manifest.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“You don’t give instructions on this aircraft.”
“Then verify the seat.”
“I don’t need to.”
Curtis leaned back.
“Interesting.”
Vanessa saw the portfolio.
Heavy leather.
No obvious tag.
She reached toward it.
“I’ll need to see identification.”
Curtis placed his hand on the portfolio.
“My identification is in my wallet.”
“Then give it to me.”
“You haven’t asked professionally.”
Vanessa stared.
Curtis continued.
“And you’re not opening this.”
Something about being corrected by a man she had already categorized as unimportant pushed Vanessa past judgment into anger.
“You don’t tell me what I can do.”
Curtis’s voice stayed calm.
“Do not touch my documents.”
She reached anyway.