Flygirl

by R. D. Kardon

  “Well, we’re leaving the day after tomorrow. Let me know if there are any changes. If not, I’ll see you then.” Zorn looked back down at his desk and started shuffling papers.

  “Yup. Ok,” Ross pulled himself out of the chair. “I’m outta here.”

  As Ross walked out of his office, Zorn called after him. “Hey, Larry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “About Tris. There’s nothing going on with you two, right? Nothing I need to know about?”

  Ross shook his head, rolled his eyes, and gave Zorn his best “you’re nuts” look.

  But his heartbeat increased, just a little.

  PART II:

  THE BALL BUSTER

  March 1998

  Twenty-Four

  THE CREDITS HAD stopped rolling, but the lights still hadn’t come on. Stepping over bits of spilled popcorn, Danny made his way in the dark behind Tris. He inhaled the lavender scent of her shampoo.

  Danny barely remembered how the movie ended, even though it had finished only moments ago. Tonight was the night. He’d made up his mind to ask her.

  “I’m going to find a trash can,” Tris said, holding up their empty popcorn box. “I’ll meet you by the door.” As she moved past the concession area toward the trash bins, he watched the outline of her ass in fitted blue jeans.

  It was late in the evening. Shoppers still filed by the mall’s movie theatre, their heavy winter coats open as they munched on soft pretzels and Cinnabons, safe from the early March snowstorm out-side. More than a foot of snow was forecast to fall overnight, but Danny had taken his pickup, so he wasn’t worried about getting stuck.

  Danny hung back keeping a protective eye on Tris. Even in a big shirt and no makeup, she looked beautiful. Damn.

  When he finally caught up with her, Danny planned to have the conversation he’d rehearsed all week.

  Yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. When they were both at Clear Sky, he could say anything to her. After all, he had seniority and rank. Since she left, and he was no longer her captain, he couldn’t believe how unsure of himself he’d become around her.

  “What did you think of the movie?” was all he could think to say. “So, who’d you like better, Matt Damon or the other guy. What’s his name?”

  “I loved it. Ben Affleck? Yeah, Matt Damon is cute. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen Robin Williams in a dramatic role before. He was terrific. Deserves an Oscar.”

  “Want to go get a drink?” Danny looked at his favorite ten-dollar watch. “I still have another two hours before I have to cut myself off.”

  Tris grimaced slightly, a signal she would say no. With the snow and early trip tomorrow, he knew he probably shouldn’t be out either.

  Danny’s hand brushed against hers during the movie while reaching for the popcorn. She hadn’t pulled away, so he gently placed his hand on top of hers. It only took a second for her to move it, slowly, gently, politely. Well, he had to start somewhere.

  He wondered if he should ask to sleep on her couch tonight. Her apartment was closer to the mall than his crash pad. Nah. The last thing he wanted was to lie there looking at pictures of her and Bron displayed around her living room.

  As they ambled through the thinning mall crowd, Danny caught a reflection of light off of the tiny diamond stud earrings Bron had given her for her birthday. Bron had pulled them out of his uniform jacket in the crew room to show the guys. He and Tris were paired together on a trip, and he was going to surprise her on the road.

  “So, I’ve been thinking,” Danny said. “I’ve got vacation coming up. I’ve built up a bunch of Marriott points and want to do a weekend in the Bahamas.” He took a long breath and held it for a beat. He was so nervous he tried to push his sunglasses up on his nose before he realized he wasn’t wearing them. “Do you have enough points to join me? I mean, you know, to come along. Hang out.” He tried to make it sound like it would be two buddies in separate rooms.

  Tris looked down for a few seconds before she spoke. Bad sign.

  “You know, Danny, I have no idea if I even get vacation. I mean, we don’t fly that much, but I’m always on the pager. Even if I’m not scheduled, theoretically a trip could pop up.”

  “Well, is the Astral flying with other crews? That way you’d know you’re off, right?”

  “Yup, that’s true. But, seriously, they want me on the Astral every time its engines turn. I mean, they can’t do anything else with me. I don’t fly the Gulfstream.”

  He shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Well, you could ask, right?” Danny knew he was sunk.

  Again Tris didn’t answer right away. Maybe he should just come out with it, tell her he wanted more. He’d love to call her his girl.

  Bron wasn’t coming back. Danny wanted to care for her; maybe fill that gap Bron left in her heart. After all, it had been almost nine months since he died.

  Danny flashed back to the elegant way she pulled her hand away from his during the movie. No, it’s still not time, he realized just as they’d reached the exit to the parking lot. Danny zipped his parka all the way up and tightened the strings of his hood, bracing for the cold.

  Twenty-Five

  BEADS OF SWEAT dotted the lines of Tetrix Captain Charlie Basson’s forehead as he sipped his margarita at the Mexican joint in downtown Albuquerque. Tris had listened to Basson talk nonstop about golf during their leg together from Exeter to ABQ. As if to prove his devotion, he’d changed out of his uniform into a white Izod and red-and-blue checked shorts, reminding Tris of a billboard she once saw near the Exeter golf course: “Caution! Men in bad pants!”

  But Tris couldn’t get her mind off of a ten-day Europe trip she saw on the schedule for the Astral in April. Deter and Ross were on it. Why wasn’t she? Maybe Basson could enlighten her. She hoped he’d loosen up over lunch before she asked him.

  When the waitress finally arrived with chips and salsa, the two pilots dug in.

  “So. Still liking it?” Basson asked, draining the last of his margarita.

  “Yep. This is a great trip so far. Thanks, Captain!” Tris tipped her glass to Basson. He was the only Tetrix pilot so far she was completely relaxed flying with. He was reliable, affable and asked only that she do her job.

  He flashed a smile at Tris, revealing yellowed teeth that crisscrossed underneath his upper lip. “Yeah? Well, I’m happy to just fly a few trips a month and spend the rest of the time at home. Unless I get a nice long trip with a great golf course nearby.”

  “Yeah, I get that. It’s nice that you get the chance to golf on trips.” Tris sipped her drink. “So, you know everyone at work pretty well. You like flying with everyone?”

  Basson hesitated for a second. “Well, we all like flying with Larry Ross. He’s real easy-going, a good stick. Keeps things to himself. Don’t have to worry about him. And you can trust him.”

  “Yeah, I’ve done a few trips with him. I think I have one next week. Who knows? The schedule changes a lot,” she said. “Mostly I’ve been flying with Deter.”

  Basson’s face looked like he’d just eaten bad fish. She’d heard the rumors that Deter was always on Basson’s case about one thing or another in the cockpit.

  Tris shot him a knowing glance. “Guess you’ve had a firsthand look at him, eh?”

  “Oh, I have.” Basson crunched the remaining pieces of ice in his glass, then pushed his chair away from the table and sat back. According to Ann-Marie, Deter complained about Basson all the time.

  Seven months into the job, she and Deter had settled into a routine. He’d make comments while she flew, which he called suggestions—but sounded more like insults and orders. If she tried to ask why, he ignored her or gave a one- or two-word answer. Deter consistently spent their overnights by himself. If Tris tried to make conversation, he’d respond curtly, if at all.

  “I see we have a big Europe trip on the Astral coming up. Zorn has Deter and Ross flying it. Do you know why I’m not?”

  Basson looked surprised at firs
t, then a bit guilty.

  “Well, uh, we just had a pilot meeting the other day.” Now it was her turn to look surprised. Tris had not been at the meeting. She didn’t even know about it.

  “To talk about the Gulfstream. And Deter, well, he showed up, you know, because they told him he was gonna get trained on it soon.” Basson quickly backtracked like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

  He motioned to their waitress and ordered another margarita.

  “Well, the guys, you know, we started talking…”

  Basson struggled to make his point, which put Tris on guard. Whatever he couldn’t spit out was something he either hadn’t meant to or was afraid to say.

  “And, yeah, well, we started talking about the Ball Buster.”

  “Huh? The what?”

  “That ten-day trip to Europe. A real pain in the ass,” he said and let out a quick self-conscious laugh. “Sorry.”

  Tris waved to let him know his language didn’t offend her. She wanted him to keep talking. “Why do you call it the ‘Ball Buster?’”

  “‘Cause that’s what it is. It’s a horrible trip. We barely get any overnight time. Maybe one night. We’re away from home ten days. It sucks.”

  “So if it’s that bad, why didn’t they put me on it?” Tris laughed. “After all, I’m still the FNG!” The Fucking New Guy always did the crappy trips.

  Basson vehemently shook his head. “Oh, you don’t wanna do that one. It’s a really bad trip. Deter and Ross don’t want to go. I’m just glad it ain’t me.”

  Tris didn’t think Basson was telling her the whole story. “It’s an awful trip and they put two captains on it? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Basson looked away and tapped the top of his margarita glass with his finger. He looked like he both wanted to speak but knew he’d already said too much.

  She pressed harder. “I wonder if they’d let me go instead of one of those guys. Or I could be relief crew. I heard that companies do that sometimes. I’m going to be flying international trips as captain eventually. I need the training.”

  “Look, Tris, nothing personal,” he began, and she knew she wouldn’t like whatever he’d say next. “It’s a long trip. Guys are far from home for almost two weeks…Well, you know, the guys might have some explaining to do to their wives and all…”

  Her chest constricted, disappointment tinged with genuine rage. “Nothing personal” was Tetrix shorthand for “screw you.”

  “What are you talking about?” She already knew, but wanted to hear it from him.

  “Yeah. Well, like, I had to call my wife once we got to the hotel here and tell her where we’re having lunch. And she wants me to call her again when we get back. She’s not used to me flying with a woman.” He added quickly, “On overnights, too.”

  Their lunch arrived, putting Basson out of his conversational misery. He picked up a taco and scarfed it down like he was on deadline. Errant pieces of fish and lettuce fell from the folded meal to the table, and Basson picked them up with his fingers and popped them in his mouth. No, Mrs. Basson certainly had nothing to worry about from Tris.

  Tris wasn’t entirely surprised by what Basson just told her. She always wondered whether wives knew what their husbands were really up to in the cockpit. Sometimes guys she flew with made oblique passes at her; sometimes the approaches were direct. It was hard to mistake ‘Hey, Tris, wanna hook up at the hotel?’ for anything other than what it was.

  Usually, the guy started the conversation with how things were ‘not good on the home front.’ Problems with the wife. Either he wasn’t making enough, wasn’t home enough, or wasn’t involved with their kids enough. And then supposedly when the wife heard he was doing a three-day trip with a female pilot, the conversation at home became even uglier. As if his family problems were her fault. And that she’d feel obligated to do something to make up for them.

  With pilots like that, Tris would gently guide the conversation back to the trip. If it was an overnight, she did her best ‘slam clicker’ routine. She’d say goodnight at her hotel room, let the door slam behind her, and click the deadbolt shut tight.

  She certainly hadn’t picked up that vibe from Deter. He could barely stand being around her. Basson was apparently afraid of his wife and kept a professional distance. But Ross. She’d held off his advances. She just didn’t take them seriously. But his behavior that night was always the first thing she thought about when she saw him.

  Tris had to find a way to get on that trip. With international experience, she’d strengthen her credentials for upgrade. Making her pitch to Basson over tequila and triple sec gave her some useful information, but that was all. The trip wasn’t scheduled until next month. She’d ask Ross the next time she saw him. He still owed her for driving him home that night.

  The waitress handed Basson the check, and he stuck his company credit card on top of the receipt.

  “Do you still want to walk around downtown like we talked about?” Tris hoped he’d say no. She was tired.

  “Nah, I think I’ll head back to the room. Maybe watch some HBO. We don’t have cable at home. Gotta save money! Kids to put through college.” He kept checking his watch. Mrs. Basson probably had him on a short leash.

  When Tris returned to her room, she was still keyed up about the Europe trip. She often overhead the guys talking about how international experience was key to being pilot-in-command. If she proved herself on that trip, they’d have to give her the captain’s seat after she nailed her training in Dallas. If it ever got scheduled.

  Slow down. Slow down. One thing at a time.

  Finally, the day’s early morning takeoff and the lunchtime margaritas caught up with her. As she lay on top of the soft hotel bed, her thoughts drifted.

  Before Bron, Tris never considered dating a pilot she flew with. Diana counseled her early on not to “dip her toe in the company pond.” It was good advice. Personal drama, drama of any kind, was the last thing that belonged in the cockpit.

  Then by some odd twist of crew scheduling at Clear Sky, she and Bron were paired together as captain and first officer three months in a row. They locked eyes on that very first trip to Philly over their dispatch release. Laughing at the ridiculously low fuel load they’d been given, they hatched elaborate plans to sweet talk the fueler into pumping with a heavy hand.

  Tris was thirty-three when they met, and Bron was four years younger. And, he was her captain. A double whammy.

  But he was friendly. When she told a joke, he laughed with his whole body. He treated everyone associated with the airplane with respect, from the baggage handlers to the crew schedulers. There was a calm about Bron, a way he had of defusing conflict before it ever amped up.

  And he didn’t come on to her, not right away. She knew she’d have trouble resisting.

  She did resist—at first. By month two, she couldn’t walk into the crew room without someone asking her where Bron was. During the third month they were paired together, she bought his old couch. He delivered it on a Saturday afternoon. Soon after, it was common knowledge at Clear Sky that they were together.

  Bron. Bron, who stood a true five-foot-nine—‘male minimum height,’ the two of them always joked—since not even the shortest pilots ever admitted to being less than five-foot-nine. Muscular torso atop skinny legs, curly black hair. And those light grey eyes that once opened like a picture window into her future.

  Tris shook her head against the memory. Now, her future was the Ball Buster. Tris had to get on that trip.

  Twenty-Six

  “TETRIX MAINTENANCE, NINE TX. We’re fifteen minutes out. Is our passenger’s limo there?” Ross was surprised by the sound of Tris’s voice. The Astral wasn’t due back for another hour.

  Brad the mechanic answered on the intercom. “Nine TX, Tetrix. Looks like you’ll be right behind the Gulfstream. Pull up next to them.”

  “We hear you, Brad,” Basson’s voice shot through on the radio. “No problem. We’ll walk our guy in and mak
e sure his ride is here.”

  Ross and Zorn were supposed to take an executive to Jackson Hole on the Gulfstream but they had a maintenance problem and were forced to return to the hangar. Ross was disappointed at first. But now he realized he might run into Tris.

  As soon as they shut down the Gulfstream’s engines, Ross went to break the news to their passenger. “We have a mechanical issue with the airplane,” Ross told him, “and unfortunately we can’t take off until the problem is fixed.” He hesitated. “Our Astral is inbound. We can continue the trip in that airplane, but it will probably take us at least an hour and a half to get it ready to go. You can spend the time in one of our spare offices in the hangar if you like.”

  Ross hoped the executive would cancel so he wouldn’t have to rush to take the Astral back out and have some time to talk to Tris. It had been a while since he’d seen her.

  “No,” the executive said slowly, “you know, I think I’ll just reschedule the meeting. I have a lot going on at the office.” And, with that, he headed for the parking lot.

  “All right then. We’re terribly sorry about this,” Ross called after him.

  He heard the familiar sound of the Astral’s engines. When he saw the plane pull onto the ramp, he couldn’t help but grin.

  “You look happy.” Zorn tapped his shoulder, startling him.

  “Well, yeah, uh, I just got three days off I wasn’t planning on,” he quickly responded. “Hey, there’s the Astral. It’s early, isn’t it?”

  “No idea.” Zorn shrugged as he gathered his headset, jacket and charts. “If I’m not on it, I don’t pay attention to the schedule.”

  Ross grimaced. Spoken like a true chief pilot, someone who really only cared about the size of his salary, bonus, and airplane. Ross didn’t typically follow the other pilots’ schedules that closely either, but he’d started looking a bit more carefully these days at where the Astral went—and with what crew.