"Six new reports this month. Same pattern, passengers being challenged in premium cabins, documentation requests, hostile language from ground crews." Vivian's jaw tightened. This was why she was here, not the merger, not the route expansion. "This, I'll handle it personally.
Keep documenting everything." The gate area for flight 440 to Charleston was already filling up. Viviane found a seat near the window and observed the room the way she always did, systematically and mechanically without apparent interest, cataloging every interaction between. Her people and her passengers. The gate agent was warm and efficient.
The boarding area was clean. The announcements were clear and calm. So far, so good. It was not until first class boarding opened that Viviane noticed the woman in the designer coat cutting directly to the front of the line with the energy of someone who had never once. Been told to wait.
She filed the observation away. She would need it later. Rebecca Hartley operated on the assumption that the world was divided into two kinds of people, those who understood how things actually worked and those who pretended to. She had spent 20 years in aviation ground services. She had managed tarmac operations, coordinated gate assignments, supervised fuel contractors, and built enough professional relationships to know exactly how much weight a phone call could carry.
In this industry. She knew the booking systems of six major carriers. She knew which airlines gave ground service vendors priority boarding access. She knew, in other words, the machinery behind the curtain, and she had never been able to forgive the people who didn't. CloudGate Services held contracts with four of the largest carriers in the Southeast.
Rebecca had negotiated three of those contracts personally. When she walked through an airport, she did not see a public space. She saw infrastructure she helped maintain. She saw people whose professional lives intersected with hers in ways they probably didn't fully appreciate. She arrived at gate B9 at 7:42, 17 minutes before boarding was scheduled to begin, and she assessed the situation immediately.
The line was already forming. People who had gotten there early enough were sitting along the windows, bags at their feet, watching their phones. The gate agent, a young woman whose name badge read Keisha, was managing the boarding podium with quiet competence. Rebecca bypassed the general waiting area entirely. "I need to board early," she announced, presenting her first-class boarding pass at the podium.
"I have connections with air operations, and I'm running behind." Keisha smiled with the particular professional patience of someone who had heard many variations of this sentence. "First-class boarding will begin in about 15 minutes, ma'am. We'll get you on shortly." Rebecca's eyes moved over Keisha's face the way an inspector's eyes move over a certificate.
"Do you know who I handle accounts with? Because I handle accounts with Sterling Sky Corporate. One phone call, and we're having a different conversation." Keisha's expression did not change. "I understand, ma'am.