(I can leave this one up too - just removed some from the end, but nothing detrimental.)
Chapter 3
The seat belt sign had been turned off. The stewardess was making her rounds with the drinks. Face had insisted upon champagne for the two of them. Maybe he was taking his 'role' seriously. He'd been the perfect gentleman so far, and he didn't even need to convince anyone yet.
"So, what shall I call you?" Amy asked, putting down her glass on the little table in front of her. So much more room than coach. She felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't just paid to go first class in the beginning, but her bank balance just wouldn't have allowed it.
"Huh?" Face looked at her as he sipped his drink.
She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears and turned to face him. "Well, I can't introduce you as Templeton Peck," she lowered her voice. "Some of my friends and family read my articles. 'Face' is out of the question, as well. So, what name should I use?"
Face nodded, putting down his champagne glass and reached into his pocket. He handed his wallet to Amy. She looked at him, frowning with confusion.
"Pick one. Choose a name you are comfortable with and that's who I'll be."
Amy pulled out the numerous business cards, thumbing through them, tucking them out of sight as the stewardess passed them. Face gave the stewardess one of his smiles. He's doing it again, Amy thought. She glanced back at the cards, concentrating on them. There had to be at least ten cards.
"Lance Ryans, Colton Larousse." Amy slowly read through the different names, keeping her voice low, shaking her head. "Jamie Kreibel, Talent Agent." She rolled her eyes, continuing to flick through the cards. She leant forward, reaching for her glass, and took a sip. She started to laugh but coughed, nearly choking on the champagne, unable to contain herself.
"Are you alright?" Face took the glass from her and placed it on the little table.
Amy nodded. Her eyes watered. Once she was able to talk again she chuckled, "Coffin Salesman? Geez, where'd you make this stuff up?" She tapped her chest with her hand, to clear her throat.
"Shhhh…" Face waved at her to keep it down.
"Sorry." Realising she'd been rather loud, she lowered her voice. "You just ask it, we've got the casket!" She giggled again, unable to contain herself.
"Ah, that one is actually real."
"What? Some company has that as their slogan, geez," Amy shook her head as Face smiled.
"Honestly, Face. When are you ever going to need that business card?" she giggled. "Okay, this is more you. Real estate." Once she'd looked through all the cards, she started, one by one, to put the cards back into the wallet. "I don't know, Face, they all seem so… false. What about the one you used to get on this plane? Samuel Twyford." That's the name he'd given her, when she'd booked the flights.
"Yes, that's the one," he pointed to the identification behind the plastic window in his wallet. "Sam Twyford."
"Samuel James Twyford." Amy curled her lip, as she found the business card to match the identification. "Tractor sales?"
"I need to have these things handy." He took the wallet from her and put the last of the business cards back in it. "You know Hannibal, always coming up with these far out plans and unusual requests."
"We'll go with Sam Twyford. I think I can handle calling you Sam. Samuel if you're naughty." She winked and he chuckled.
"Sam it is then."
"But you're not a tractor salesman."
"Amy, are you saying you wouldn't date a tractor salesman?"
Ignoring the comment, with a stern look in her eye, she continued, "Work for the paper or something. So it's realistic how I met you. It's not as if I get time to go out and meet someone from anywhere else."
Face ignored the cynical tone she'd taken. "Another reporter?"
"You could be in Advertising, working in one of the offices."
Face nodded. "How'd we meet?"
Amy shrugged her shoulders. "The cafeteria?"
"Ah, yes, I can see it now. I spotted you over the mashed potatoes and it was love at first sight."
Amy playfully pushed his arm.
"Okay, how about we met on someone's farewell bash. Bill Jackson left a couple of months ago. He retired. We could use that."
Face winked. "Okay, we met at Bill Jackson's retirement party."
Amy reached for her purse, getting out a notebook. "Do you need me to make notes about this?"
"Kid, it's all up here." Face tapped at his temple. "Trust me."
She put the notebook back in her bag, glancing at Face. He was watching her. This was definitely going to be an interesting weekend. They'd rarely spent any time on their own together; usually the others were close at hand. Usually all he did was tease her. She felt he never had much to say to her, unless he had to. Butterflies again. Would she be okay with Face for a whole weekend? Would they get on, or hate each other after this?
