"Let me see your boarding pass," Preston demanded, snapping his fingers as if calling a dog.
"No," Desmond said simply.
He picked up his champagne flute and took a sip, completely breaking eye contact.
Preston gasped slightly, genuinely shocked by the refusal. "Excuse me? Do you know who I am?"
"I don't, nor do I care," Desmond said, his eyes fixed on the small digital screen on the bulkhead. "Now, please step out of my doorway so I can close my suite."
"Richard!" Preston bellowed, his voice echoing through the quiet, half-empty first-class cabin.
Several passengers in rows three and four leaned out of their suites to see the commotion.
Richard, the senior purser, came jogging down the aisle from the forward galley, looking panicked. "Mr. Montgomery, is everything all right?"
"No, Richard. Everything is not all right," Preston barked, pointing a manicured finger at Desmond. "This man is sitting in my suite. I specifically told my assistant to book 1A. I have high-level negotiations in London tomorrow, and I require the bulkhead suite to sleep. Get him out of it."
Richard turned to Desmond, a nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Richard was a veteran flight attendant. He knew the unwritten rules of corporate air travel. Preston Montgomery was a highly visible VIP for Global Airways. His company spent tens of millions of dollars a year on corporate travel with the airline.
"Sir," Richard said, adopting a placating, deeply uncomfortable tone, "may I please see your boarding pass? To clear this up?"
Desmond silently pulled his phone from his pocket, opened his digital wallet, and held the screen up.
Richard squinted at it. Desmond Hayes. Flight 88. Seat 1A. Class: First.
Richard swallowed hard. He looked at Preston.
"Mr. Montgomery, sir, it appears this gentleman is correctly seated. He is ticketed for 1A. Your boarding pass says 2A, right behind this suite."
"I don't care what the computer glitch says!" Preston exploded, slamming his hand against the wooden trim of Desmond's suite. "I always get 1A. My assistant requested it. I am a Montgomery. Do you understand how much money my family pumps into this pathetic airline? I want him moved. Now."
Richard wrung his hands. "Mr. Montgomery, 2A is an identical suite. It has the exact same amenities. It just doesn't have the extra legroom of the bulkhead."
"Richard, I am 6'2". I am not cramping my legs in row two because some... some guy got lucky with a mileage upgrade."
Preston turned his glare back to Desmond, his mask completely slipping, revealing the ugly prejudice underneath.