The businessman scoffed to his seatmate. “Probably not hers,” he muttered.

Kesha’s phone buzzed. “Tell the board I’ll be twenty minutes late,” she said calmly. Janelle rolled her eyes for her live audience. “Oh, she’s got board meetings now. Maybe at a burger chain’s headquarters,” she quipped. Laugh reactions streamed in. A young Latina woman in 3B shifted uncomfortably but stayed silent—she’d felt this before.

Heavy footsteps on the jet bridge. Two airport security officers boarded, shoulders filling the aisle. Officer Martinez, the lead, addressed Janelle first.

“What’s the situation?”

“This passenger is in the wrong seat. Refusing to move to coach.” Janelle’s authority sounded practiced.