Marianne glanced at Simone’s clothes.
Dark trousers.
Flat shoes.
Simple burgundy sweater.
No designer handbags are prominently displayed.
No company logo on his luggage.
There was no visible indication that the fifty-three-year-old black woman sitting quietly beside the aisle was someone Meridian considered important.
“There’s a problem with the allocation of premium cabins,” Marianne said. “We need that seat for another traveler.”
Simone looked behind her.
Near the door of the plane stood a white man dressed in an expensive grey suit, talking impatiently into his phone.
A boarding agent hovered beside him.
He was the only remaining passenger who had not taken a seat.
Simone understood.
“Does he have a confirmed first-class ticket?”
Marianne’s jaw tightened.
“This information is private.”
“Does he do it?”
“Madam, we need to finish boarding.”
On the other side of the aisle, a young woman lowered the financial newspaper she was reading.
