The Candy That Didn’t Do Shit

In the heart of a bustling airport, a symphony of organized chaos unfolded. Overhead speakers boomed, their echoes resonating through the vast space as a last boarding call reverberated above the bustling crowd. “Final boarding call for Mr. Adam Stroe. Mr. Adam Stroe, please proceed to Gate 9 for flight WA 7493.”

The amplified call acted as a beacon in the crowd, pointing an accusatory finger at Yuiko Ishida, a petite Japanese young woman standing near the closing gate. Dressed as though she’d just stepped out of a business catalog, with bob-cut chocolate brown hair neatly framing her honey-colored eyes, she was quite the exotic sight but her sweet exterior didn’t currently match her fuming insides. She stood stiff, clenching her fists in annoyance. Her knuckles turned white against the boarding passes and her international ID—a subtle display of controlled panic.

“Once more, please,” Yuiko requested the airport employee, her voice steely yet calm. “He will be here. He assured me this morning.”

The patience of the airline staff was wearing thin. “Miss Ishida, we have rules. Either you board now, or you’ll have to rebook, alongside Mr. Stroe.”

Yuiko didn’t relent. Her authoritative tone was demanding, not pleading. “Give Mr. Stroe five more minutes. This is of utmost importance.”

Leaving her elegant dark purple suitcase behind, she swiftly dialed a number on her phone—the contact of a man who threatened to become the bane of her existence for the next 7 days: Adam Stroe. He was the brilliant engineer behind the project she had to sell as her first major assignment for Ishida Tech. As such, Yuiko had every intention to make sure everything went smoothly. However, mister Stroe had proved almost impossible to work with from their very first meeting call – a ridiculously good-looking man with a devil-may-care attitude that seemed to think work was optional and his project would just sell itself. 

After a few weeks of video calls that were mostly taken over by his team in his inconspicuous absence, it was finally time for Adam Stroe to fly with Yuiko Ishida to Costa del Sol, where

they would give their first sell pitch for his project, in the Malaga City Hall. And he was late to their flight.

The riffs of “Bad to the Bone” echoed in the distance bringing Yuiko back from her fuming reminiscence of their first failed interactions. An absolutely predictable ringtone.   With the aura of a man off to an adventure, Adam Stroe breezed towards the gate, casting a spell on the present company with his nonchalant charm and dashing smile.  He had blonde, tousled hair and his blue eyes were positively luminous. His surfer-boy vibe was so infectious that the airline staff instantly overlooked the preceding five minutes, greeting him with renewed enthusiasm.

Before the announcer could react, Yuiko barged in, her face a portrait of disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking, Mr. Stroe. We were this close to missing the flight. You couldn’t possibly be this irresponsible!”

 Adam, in return, flashed her a cheeky smile. “Why, Miss Ishida, is this the last flight to Málaga?”

Yuiko held back an exasperated reply, her professionalism kicking in. Instead, she watched in silent reproach as Adam smoothly passed his documents to the announcer.

The process was quick and filled with smiles from the besotted staff, and then they were directed towards the connecting corridor. The other passengers cast frowning glances at the pair as they navigated the narrow aisle to their seats.

“Miss Ishida, not flying Business?” Adam asked, a teasing grin playing on his lips as he reached out to take her bag before she could protest. The overhead compartment was packed, but Adam, with those obviously nicely defined arms and engineering precision, rearranged everything to accommodate her bag.

“No, I don’t care for such ostentatious displays on short-haul flights,” Yuiko replied briskly, her voice carrying a tone of finality. She slid into her window seat, glancing at the handsome man who garnered stares from even the elderly ladies down the aisle. They were just 15 minutes into their trip, and already his every gesture and word exasperated her. She could tell he thought he could get away with anything if he just flashed that ridiculously attractive smile. Well, he did not know Yuiko Ishida.

“Fasten your seatbelt,” she ordered him even before the flight attendant began her pre-flight presentation. Unfazed, Adam preferred to check his phone, furrowing his brow as he typed out a quick text message, ignoring the illuminated seatbelt sign. A flight attendant promptly approached him.

“You must fasten your seatbelt, sir. If you don’t know how, I can assist you,” the smiling woman offered.

“Yes, you can assist me but not with the seatbelt” Adam replied, leaning towards the flight attendant. “I don’t really like flights, an early service with something strong could really help.”

“Normally, we serve the spirits mid-flight, but I understand the situation, I will see what I can do,” the flight attendant whispered, making Yuiko want to roll her eyes at how easily pursued the woman was. 

Adam nodded, fastening his seatbelt as per request. The plane started taxing, heading for the runway, and when she looked away from the window, Yuiko found mister Stroe was looking straight at her, as if waiting for something.

She bristled instantly, already on the edge from their near miss at the gates. “How could you have been so irresponsible?” Her voice was a harsh whisper, keeping their conversation private. But her reprimand was abruptly interrupted by the very same flight attendant delivering two small bottles of whiskey to Adam. 

“Our secret” the man whispered, accepting them, and rewarded the attendant with a wink that seemed to make her commercial smile brighter as she straightened up to take her take off position. “Are you serious? You’re going to drink during the flight?” Yuiko was appalled.

“No. Not during the flight” he replied, uncapping the first bottle and downing it in one gulp. “Gonna drink them right now. Not a fan of take-offs. Or landings. Or, hell, even cruising altitude.” The plane quivered as it accelerated for take-off. A baby’s wail echoed from the back seats, and the young business woman felt her seat receive a strong kick. It was going to be a long flight. But Yuiko was on a business trip and she had every intention to act professional. She refused to let anything throw her off, so she cleared her throat.

“We have an almost four-hour flight; I suggest we start going over our presentation once in the air.” No reply. “Mister Stroe,” she called out, her tone considerably less pleasant than the first. 

“No,” was all he said and she noticed his knuckles turn white as he gripped the armrests. The captain’s voice crackled indistinctly over the loudspeaker, and with the roar of the engines, they took to the air.

“I would appreciate it if you could go over the presentation with me one more time,” she tried again, but Adam remained unresponsive. He opened the second bottle and swiftly downed it. His fingers gradually unclenched.

“It’s your presentation, not mine. I’m sure you know it by heart.”

“Yes, I know my presentation. Do you know yours, Mister Stroe?”  She noticed him inhale the contents of the second bottle and had to fight back the urge to comment. Despite being a young woman in her early twenties, Yuiko carried an air of maturity, courtesy of her stern exterior. She was the kind of woman who wore a pantsuit for a flight. At least she matched it with flats. In stark contrast to Yuiko’s stiff formality, Adam wore sweatpants and a rolled-sleeve T-shirt that displayed his impressively tattooed arms.

“I’m here to fix stuff if it breaks, and to teach others how to fix stuff if they want to buy it and it breaks. I know my job.” He attempted to look at her, but it meant glancing outside, causing him to visibly blanch.

“When does the service start?”

“About thirty minutes after take-off,” Yuiko replied, giving him a thoughtful look for the first time.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, are you experiencing motion sickness?” Her voice carried a tinge of amusement, almost mocking. Not so cool now, Mister Stroe. Reaching into the pocket of her designer coat, she offered him a piece of bright yellow candy.

“Go on, take it.”

“Candy? Let me guess, it’s vegan, organic, sugar-free, and all profits go to baby pandas?” Adam teased.

“Yes, yes, yes, and no. It’s Yuzu Candy, my father used to give it to me to cure my flight motion sickness when I was a kid,” she responded matter-of-factly.

The plane experienced slight turbulence, and the same baby somewhere at the back started screaming louder. Startled by the turbulence, Adam tensed up.

“Oh, fuck it,” he commented intelligently, before grabbing the candy with a certain urgency he couldn’t hide. He popped it into his mouth and started crunching down on it.

“Good.” Miss Ishida concluded in her most professional tone. “Now that the crisis is averted and you can focus, tell me what might go wrong with the machine during the presentation.”

“I’m sure you’ve read all your little reports and had my team run all the simulations. Waste of time, by the way, you ruined their weekend for nothing,” he retorted dismissively.

“Excuse me?”  Indeed, she was known for being a strict professional, perhaps overly so. She had to be, to compensate for her young age and petite stature. But then there was this man, this Adam Stroe, who played by his own rules and wasn’t easily intimidated.

“And why were you not present?”

“Because what you do is pointless and a waste of time. Stressed people don’t work better,” he shrugged.

“I would advise you to rethink and rephrase your words. I won’t permit you to insult me and my work. I don’t care how much my father tolerates you.”

“And what exactly happens if you don’t permit it? What are you going to do? Send me an avalanche of emails?”

“You are so rude!” Yuiko exclaimed, her voice escalating, her cheeks flushing red with indignation.

She really did try to keep it professional, but her companion seemed to have no regard for her efforts.

“I can’t comprehend what your problem is orand what my father sees in you. If it were up to me, I’d fire you instantly without giving it a second thought.”

“You must have little trust in your father,” he replied, his tone still clipped as slight turbulence made the empty mini whiskey bottle vibrate on the table. She looked insulted.

“I will have you know I have nothing but the utmost respect and absolute trust in my father.”

“Then you might want to respect his choice of engineer.”

“I am not commenting on your skills, I am commenting on your character. You, mister Stroe, have absolutely zero decorum,” she retorted dramatically, putting on her earphones and turning her attention back to her tablet. 

The last thing she heard from Adam Stroe was “Your Yuzu Candy doesn’t do shit.”