by Aly Martinez
Sliding my finger across the screen, I found that it was at least still operational. Hopefully it would limp along another few weeks before I had to fork out the dough to fix it. Scrolling through my phone, I noted a missed call from Jackson. There was no possible way I could fly today. Awesome. Yet another paycheck that won’t hit my bank.
After tugging a shirt on, I made my way to my kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee. Surprisingly, I found Scott shirtless, sitting at the bar, a steaming mug already in front of him.
“Any more of that?” I asked in a raspy voice. My throat was fucking killing me.
“Whole pot. But your milk is bad. So I hope you like it black.”
I lifted my phone to show him the cracked screen. “What the fuck happened last night?”
He chuckled. “Well, let’s see. You were half a second from passing out when a song came on the radio in the cab. I swear to God, it was like an exorcism. Your eyes were still closed, but your drunk ass sat straight up and shouted for the cabbie to turn it up. He refused. You called him an asshole.”
I groaned.
He laughed, fiddling with the handle on his mug. “Yeah. It was fun. You proceeded to tell us both some never-ending story about how you’d flown the dude singing. I couldn’t make out half of the shit you were saying, but at the end, you decided you needed to call Nikki and tell her you’d met Henry Alexander.”
My stomach rolled. “Please, God, tell me I didn’t drunk-dial her.”
“Fuck no! What the hell kind of friend do you think I am? I slapped that shit out of your hand before you even got it to your ear.” He lifted his coffee in the air before taking a sip. “Shattered the screen, but that’s a small price to keep your cock from drawing up into a pussy. You’re welcome, by the way.” He finished with a smirk.
“Jesus fuck. We are never going out again. I’m way too old for this shit.”
I said that every single time Scott and I went out. Yet, a few months later, he’d show up and put forth a mediocre argument and I’d find myself once again having this conversation. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
He quirked an eyebrow and pushed his coffee toward me for a refill. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure my grandma drunk-dials me after her weekly book club. It’s not exactly something you outgrow with age.”
I was digging through my cabinet for some ibuprofen when my phone started vibrating on the counter. It was Jackson again. I quickly ended it. I was in no mood for his shit and in even less of a mood to have to say no to a flight when I could really use the money.
After swallowing two pills and washing them down with a bottle of water, I tossed the medicine Scott’s way. “Well, thanks for keeping me from calling Nikki, but you’re a dick for breaking my phone. And, for the record, I wasn’t bullshitting. I really did fly Henry Alexander the other day.”
“No shit.” He swallowed the pills as I topped his coffee off.
“Yep. Nice enough guy—” I was quickly interrupted.
“Scared to fly. Just on takeoff and landing though. Can be a real dick. But he at least has the decency to apologize for it. Drinks bloody marys like fucking water. Doesn’t know shit about eighties cartoons. His only saving grace was that he at least seemed knowledgeable on Star Trek.” He stopped, and his eyes danced with humor as he smiled wide.
My face heated in embarrassment.
“Yeah. You may have mentioned something about the guy.”
“See? Yet another reason we can’t do that bullshit anymore. I’m pretty sure I signed a nondisclosure when I started working for Jackson.”
“Roth, don’t worry. Your twelve-year-old fangirl secrets are safe with me.” He pushed off the stool and stretched, groaning as he cracked his neck. “I need to get the hell out of here. I’m gonna jump in the shower.” He lifted his chin toward my phone. “And give you a minute to call back whoever’s blowing up your phone.”
I sighed. “It’s my boss. But I can’t fly today. He’s gonna be livid.”
“Wow. Maybe I was wrong. Your cock must have turned into a pussy a while ago.”
I laughed and hurled my empty water bottle at him.
He easily batted it away, but I followed it up with a sponge from my sink. It hit him on the chest with a loud slap.
“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled, rubbing the red mark.
I arched an eyebrow. “What were you saying about a pussy?”
“I’m not the bitch too afraid to answer a call from my boss.” Scott moved down the hall to the guest room. “Just tell him you started your period. After last night, it’s not far from the truth!”
“Dick!” I shouted back only to wince when the loud noise felt like a knife to the skull.
Jesus, I really had to stop drinking. What the hell else had I said to him last night?
My phone began ringing again, and I finally decided to stop being such a bitch. It’s not like Jackson could fire me for turning one flight down. I wasn’t even on call. I was, after all, part time—however, if Craig was still out, he was probably hoping I’d be available to pick up some of the slack. Hell, I had been hoping that too.
Which made me wonder… Maybe Henry was scheduled for another flight.
“Hello.”
“I’ve been calling you for hours.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“It’s noon, Evan. My morning started at four a.m. It’s practically dinnertime for me right now.”
And he was in a shit mood. Awesome.
“Right. Sorry,” I replied curtly.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you and Nikki broke up?”
Ugh. Fantastic. More Nikki questions. Could this morning get any better?
“Because I didn’t realize we were sorority sisters who shared our feelings,” I smarted. I immediately bit my lip, hoping he’d laugh and not…say…fire me.
“You know the only reason I hired you is because your stepdad and I go way back. I respect the shit out of him, and he was willing to vouch for you. I gave you every flight I possibly could. But let’s be clear here. I have virtually no use for a part-timer.”
Shit.
“Jackson, I’m sorry. Yeah, Nikki and I broke up a few days ago. It wasn’t exactly a good thing.”
“Well, no shit. I figured that out this morning when I had a very awkward conversation with her about you. Her number is still listed on your contact sheet. For fuck’s sake, Roth, she was two seconds away from crying. I was on a Goddamn landline and had to fake static just to get off the phone with her.”
If it hadn’t been for the idea of her crying, I would have laughed. Instead, my stomach wrenched with guilt.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. But you should be more sorry for ducking my calls because your ass is hungover.”
My back shot ramrod straight. “Uh…”
“Anyway, good news is I don’t need you to fly today. Bad news is you’re fired.”
My entire body tensed. “What? No! Jackson, wait—”
“Sorry, son. I lost a client this morning. As much as you know I’d like to, I can’t afford to keep you anymore.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose as my head pounded almost as loud as my heart. This morning had just gotten a hell of a lot worse. Just what I fucking needed.
“Come on, man. Is Craig back? Why don’t you let me fill in for him for a while? I can’t afford to be unemployed right now.”
I heard him chuckle. “You want to know what client I lost?”
Not really. I mainly wanted to hear the part that ended with me still being able to pay my mortgage without cashing a mutual fund out.
He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Henry Alexander.”
Oh, fuck. Suddenly, getting fired made a whole lot more sense. I was the last one to fly him. And, despite how he’d acted toward me on the flight back, he wasn’t happy at all with Jackson’s replacing Craig with me. Not to mention that the fuel pump on his plane hadn’t passed maintenance inspection the following mo
rning. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with me, but Henry had implied I’d broken his plane.
I stumbled back a few steps until my ass found one of my barstools. “Did you tell him that a pilot can’t fucking break a fuel pump?”
“I sure did. I also told him you were one of the best pilots I’d ever had the pleasure of working with and that it was going to be a great loss to me to let you go.”
Story of my fucking life. When the hell did the best become not good enough?
“Right.” I mumbled. “Thanks.”
“You should be thanking me. I also told him I pay you three times what I really do and that you are worth every penny. You start next week.”
“I’m sorry. I start what?”
“Personal pilot for Henry Alexander. Full time. Salaried. One-year contract. He asked for you specifically. The money’s some of the best I’ve seen.”
I jumped to my feet. “No fucking way.”
“Now, don’t get cockier than you already are. I’ll still be overseeing flight plans and maintenance for your aircraft. But he’ll be signing your paychecks now.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this new job Jackson had clearly already accepted on my behalf. It worried me that I’d heard Henry only flew a few times a year. I couldn’t imagine why he needed a personal pilot. However, Jackson had said three times my current salary. And, if my calculations were correct, that would be doubled again considering I’d be full fucking time.
I was vaguely aware of Scott coming back into the room, but my mind was still counting dollar bills. Making a career as a pilot was a labor of love. The jobs were few and far between, and job security was almost laughable. But I loved flying. I’d take it any way I could. Especially the way where I was well paid, contracted for a year, and captain on my own private aircraft.
Yeah. I’d especially take it like that.
Hope roared through my veins. Maybe this was it. The opportunity I’d been praying for. This could be my in in the business. Even if Henry only kept me for a year, I was sure I could get a nice recommendation and move on to some other celebrity with more money than sense. Adding Henry Alexander’s personal pilot to my résumé definitely couldn’t hurt.
“Please tell me you aren’t kidding here,” I breathed.
Jackson laughed. “No joke, kid. You deserve this. But hey, considering you informed me earlier that we aren’t sorority sisters, I’ll let you go giggle with your girlfriends. But you need to get your ass up here. I have new paperwork for you to sign.”
And just like that, he hung up, leaving me in state of shock with the phone still secured to my ear, too afraid to pull it away.
Scott nudged my knee.
I lifted my dazed eyes and found him fully dressed and watching me with concern. Water from the shower still dripped from his short hair.
“You okay, man?” he asked.
Adrenaline surged through me.
Was I okay?
I had a job. A real fucking honest-to-God job—after almost a year of busting my ass to keep my head above water. Leaving the Air Force hadn’t been an easy decision for me. But, as an officer, I’d spent entirely too many hours behind a desk. I wanted to wake up every morning, crawl into the confines of a cockpit, and leave it all behind. I was free from the weight of the world up there. In complete control no matter how out of control my life felt on the ground.
“Evan?” Scott once again tried to catch my attention.
I was lost in thought of what I prayed was my new reality.
Flying.
Fuck yeah.
I stared at him for several seconds longer before a loud bellow of laughter sprang from my throat. “I got fired.”
“Shit,” Scott breathed.
“And then rehired.” I nodded entirely too many times, all the while continuing to laugh. “As Henry Alexander’s personal pilot.”
“Nice!”
I scrubbed my hand over my face. As it turned out, adrenaline seemed to be the best hangover cure of all. “Yeah, listen, I need to go. Jackson has some shit for me to sign.” I pushed to my feet.
“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll let myself out.” He headed for the front door as I moved in the opposite direction toward my bedroom.
I heard the door creak open just before he called out.
“Hey, Evan?”
“Yeah?” I turned to face him.
He was sporting a huge grin. “I’m happy for you, man. Seriously.”
“Thanks.” I returned his smile.
“Just be careful, okay?” His tone was serious, but his grin grew to epic proportions.
I twisted my lips in confusion. “Huh?”
“I mean…it can’t be easy to work for someone so”—he lifted his fingers and tossed me a pair of air quotes—“‘fucking hot.’”
My breath caught in my chest, and my face fell to a practiced blank.
Oh God.
Shit.
Damn.
Fuck.
No more drinking for me. Ever.
He laughed loudly but said not another word before I heard the door click behind him.
One week later…
“ROBIN CALLED LAST night,” I told the window at the small private airport I’d been waiting at for the last fifteen minutes.
Levee gripped my hand and intertwined our fingers. “She’s probably running out of money.”
I nodded. That much I knew.
As much as it had broken my heart, I’d called the bank and had them cut her debit card off. It was a waste of time. Her account was already overdrawn.
“She wouldn’t tell me where she was, but she didn’t sound right.” I sighed. “I told her the apartment would always be there, but I wasn’t giving her any more money. I’m done, Lev.”
She tugged my arm around her shoulders. Her rounded stomach brushed against my hip as she looped an arm around my waist. “I think that’s smart. I know you love her. I love her too. But, honey, at some point, you have to show her some tough love. You can’t save everyone.”
Sam came strutting over with three Styrofoam cups of coffee squeezed between his large, callused hands. “Hey, that’s my line.” He tossed me a sexy smirk that probably could have impregnated me if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was married to my best friend.
Sam Rivers was gorgeous, and if he hadn’t met Levee first, I can guarantee he would have found himself on my radar. All of that smoldering, tattooed bad boy had practically been begging me to top him. However, if the way he looked at Levee was any indication, I wouldn’t have been successful.
I chuckled, taking a cup from the front of his caffeine pyramid. “Thanks.”
“Nope. That’s Levee’s decaf.” He flashed her a proud smile.
One she did not return. “I hate you,” she hissed at him before retrieving the cup from my hand.
He barked a laugh and raked his eyes over her pregnant stomach. “Your current condition says otherwise.”
“No. My current condition says that I liked you at one point in the not-so-distant past. It was probably before you banned soft cheese, sushi, and caffeine.”
“What can I say? I’m obviously an asshole.” He shrugged with a wide smile.
I went back to staring out the window as Sam moved around me and curled Levee into his side.
“Oh! Is that them?” she asked, pointing out the window to a plane coming down for what I hoped was a landing and not instant death.
“Probably,” I replied, quickly spinning away from the window and screwing my eyes shut. I couldn’t even watch without having a panic attack.
A few seconds later, Sam’s hand landed on my back.
“It’s all good now. You want to go out? They’re taxiing up.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I needed to get my shit together. I had a concert in a few hours. Not to mention a man to seduce.
With just the thought, my pulse slowed and my shoulders rolled back in confidence.
“No,” Sam whispered
when I turned toward him.
Levee gave me a suspicious side-eye. “I thought you said there were two women on that plane? Why do you look like you’re on the hunt?”
“Did I forget to mention I hired a new pilot?” I winked. “I guess it slipped my mind.”
“This should be fun,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head.
Crossing my fingers, I lifted them in his direction as I backed out of the door. “Let’s hope.”
A member of Levee’s security team quickly fell into step behind me.
Carter had flown back to San Francisco after my show the night before. He’d informed me just before the bus had left that he had some emergency business to attend to. I’d had no clue what that could be, but he’d looked amazingly pissed as he’d marched away, so I hadn’t bothered asking. He’d been exceptionally cranky recently. I could only hope he’d flown back after discovering there was a robot woman who could give him a piece of ass. Or at least a blowie to take the edge off. She couldn’t have been very good though, because he’d called earlier to let me know he would be on Evan’s flight to Los Angeles.
Ground crews were busy moving around the plane when Levee sidled up beside me.
“Let me get this straight. I’m fat and pregnant. Stuck at home ninety percent of the time because my husband is so overcautious about me that, if it didn’t make me love him more, it would make me hate him. It took me two weeks to get him to agree to my joining you on stage for one damn song tonight.”
I smiled and glanced down to see she wasn’t kidding in the least. Her eyes were sparkling with tears.
“What the—” I started to ask, but she lifted a hand to silence me.
“My life is so incredibly boring right now. And you—my best friend—set your sights on a pilot and didn’t even think to call and tell me all about it?”
I sidestepped to get a better read on her face. “You’re kidding, right?”
Sam whispered from behind me, “She’s totally not.”
Waving a finger over her face, I asked, “Is this…a pregnancy thing?”
“No!” she shouted.
Sam quickly nodded until Levee silenced him with a glare.
Tossing an arm around her, I dipped to kiss her forehead. “And yet another reason I’m happy to be gay.”