The Drop Zone

by Boyes, Shandi

  My hands instinctively veer for hers, more to stop her from fidgeting than to hold her hand in public. I’m not a hand-holding type of guy, but even if I were, I don’t hold a taken woman’s hand.

  “I’m so sorry, this is awkward.”

  I lose the chance to give her the same assurance I gave Tyrone seconds ago when a shouted voice gains my attention. “My fiancée paid for me to jump, so what do you mean it isn’t booked?” A guy with black hair, wide shoulders, and a massive fucking chip on his shoulder flips the daily schedule board into the air. “Check it again because I’m not leaving until I get what she paid for.”

  I’m about to toss his ass to the curb when a faint voice next to me whispers, “When he saw your emails in my private inbox, I told him I was organizing for him to skydive on his birthday. Today is his birthday. I tried to book, but your website had no openings for the next six weeks.”

  I give Jamie a look, one that says way more than my words ever could. Our emails have been nothing but platonic, so she had no reason whatsoever to hide them from him. But I guess if this is how her fiancé acts in public, who knows what he’s like behind closed doors.

  After squeezing Jamie’s hand, assuring her I have her back, I make my way to the douchebag asshole I’m about to have strapped to the front of me. “That was my error. I forgot to add him to the books after my friend requested a last-minute special.” I overemphasize the word ‘friend’ ensuring he and everyone else gawking at me understands that I don’t mow another man’s turf—even if he is a douche.

  Brad sizes me up as much as I am him. “And you are?”

  “Colby McGregor.” Your worst fucking nightmare. “Nice to meet you, Brad.”

  He’s taken aback that I know his name. I would have preferred for him to introduce himself, it makes men feel less inferior when people don’t know who they are, but it would have foiled Jamie’s ruse that we’re only emailing each other because she wanted to give him a thrill on his birthday. If this is the only thrill he’ll get, I’m down with stroking his ego.

  “Fill this in.” I toss a clipboard with the safety indemnity form onto his side of the desk as aggressively as he flicked up the daily schedule. “Don’t bother reading it. You’re jumping with me. You’ll be safe.” For the most part.

  Jamie peers at me over Brad’s shoulder, her eyes begging. If she’s worried I’m going to pull a stunt like I did with her, she doesn’t need to be. She took my near-heart-attack stunt like a champion. Brad has the nervous-shitter vibe pumping out of him.

  “Weight? I’m guessing around one forty, one fifty max.”

  Brad’s almost black eyes peer up at me in disdain. “One eighty. These aren’t made out of marshmallows.” He jack-knifes up to show off his guns—emasculating muscle shirt and all. Once the college girls stop giggling, he returns to filling in the paperwork.

  With his insurance forms filed in the trash, I walk him into the locker room as I did Jamie only two weeks ago. “Because it’s your first time skydiving, we’ll tandem jump.” When he makes a face as if he’s going to be sick at any moment, I say, “Don’t worry, this will be just as awkward for me as it for you.”

  I lower my assholery when his grin relaxes the aggressive lines tainting his face. I don’t even know the guy, yet I’m already hating him. I can’t help it. He has a hateable face. “Do you have any preference in suit colors? We have black, blue, green, rainbow—”

  “Black.”

  After jerking up my chin, advising I heard him, I move into the cage to gather our parachute and jumpsuits. While he gets changed, I add him to the next flight manifest. It’s technically at capacity, but since most of the jumpers going up are college students, the weight allowance has some leeway for an additional two people.

  As I’m heading out of the office, I bump into Jamie. “I’m so sorry about this, Colby. I honestly didn’t think he’d jump even if I had purchased him a ticket.”

  “It’s fine. It’s all good. I don’t mind taking him up.”

  Jamie steps closer to me, engulfing me with the lavender smell still embedded in the passenger seat of my car. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make things awkward?”

  I slant my head and cock a brow. “And how will this make things awkward? If anything, this will benefit me.” When her brows scrunch, I add on, “If you trust me enough with your fiancé, I figure you won’t be so quick to judge my abilities with other patrons. He is, after all, your most valued possession. Right?”

  In normal circumstances, the wife-to-be would nod without a second thought. It takes Jamie more than a few seconds to bob her chin, and even then, it remains balancing on her chest instead of coming up to finalize her nod, proving I heard her tone right during our emails.

  After lifting her chin back to its rightful spot, I rejoin Brad in the locker room where, for the next thirty minutes, we go through the safety video, jump expectations, and rules he will be expected to follow during our jump. Once I’m confident he’s been stepped through the process, we join the rest of the jumpers in the holding room while the safety crew completes the preliminary checks the plane undertakes before each run.

  Jamie hovers at the side of the room, her eyes more on me than her fiancé. Don’t paint her with the wrong brush like I did the day we met. She’s not eyeing me with ogling eyes—I’ve got plenty of them from the college girls—they’re more like apologetic ones. For some reason, she feels it’s her responsibility to apologize every time Brad says a lewd comment to the girls vying for my attention. He’s not flirting with them. He’s just—I don’t know how to explain his actions. Believe me, I know cocky, but Brad is in a league of his own.

  Once the ‘skydiving school’ is finalized, and the plane is prepped, Brad follows me to the tarmac, surprisingly minus a goodbye kiss to his fiancée. My reasoning for disliking him from the get-go is proven with merit when his eyes drop to Claudia’s backside during boarding. Claudia is one of the safety instructors I mentioned earlier. Her short height and tiny weight mean it will take her more than three hundred freefall hours to become an instructor at The Drop Zone, but what she lacks in size, she makes up for with enthusiasm. She handles the nervous shitters and pukers like their body products are water all while keeping their adrenaline pumping.

  “Are you guys ready to have the time of your life?”

  After dragging his eyes down her body in a I’m-a-fucking-creep way, Brad joins me at our spot on the plane. “If she’s here for entertainment purposes, I have no doubt I’m about to have the time of my life.” When I swing my eyes to his, certain he didn’t just say what I thought he said, he holds his fist out for me to bump. “Am I right? She’s fine.”

  With my teeth grit, I leave him hanging by taking my seat. While Tyrone buckles us together, Brad keeps his eyes firmly planted on Claudia’s ass. I can’t see his face, but his gaze is so white-hot, I’m on the verge of calling in a skin specialist to check Claudia for burns.

  Brad twists his neck to face me before nudging his head to Claudia. “Is she single?”

  “Yeah, she is, but you ain’t.”

  He wiggles his left hand in the air. “Do you see a ring?”

  He can’t be serious, can he?

  He knows I’m aware Jamie is his fiancée, doesn’t he?

  “I must have heard wrong. I thought you were engaged.”

  His lips twist into a sly grin. “Yeah. I’m engaged, which means I’m free to sow my oats for a few more weeks.” His last two words come out with a grunt from Tyrone tugging on his harness to make sure it’s tight. I made sure before we entered the plane, but when forced between tugging on his straps or punching him in the face, Tyrone went for the former.

  I really wish he had chosen the latter.

  “Once you’re married, what happens then? You lock up the zipper to anyone but your wife?”

  Brad makes a pfft noise. “Who practices monogamy these days?”

  Now I’m more interested than angered.

  “So your girl is
down with this? You have an open relationship?”

  “What? No! But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  Since he’s strapped to the front of me, I’m reasonably sure he felt how I stiffened from his comment, but since we’ve commenced takeoff, my chance to reply is stolen.

  Once the plane is at the desired height, the five jumpers before us have evacuated and my anger has subdued to one-tenth of its strength, Brad and I make our way to the escape hatch. When Brad’s eyes stray to Claudia for his hundredth glance the past twenty minutes, I snap his eye protection into place, then leap out of the plane minus the countdown I usually do. He screams like a fucking bitch the first fifty-five seconds of our jump. That might have more to do with the fact I extended our freefall by an additional ten seconds, bringing us much closer to the ground than the jumpers around us.

  Certain I have him fearing death, I release our parachute. The pilot chute soon catches the air and inflates, awarding us a more peaceful and surreal feel. This is usually when I instruct my students to marvel at the wonderous surroundings. There’s nothing more addictive than seeing the world we live in from this altitude in this situation, but Brad doesn’t deserve to marvel. I don’t even shoot his big toothy grin in the webcam strapped to my wrist. If he wants to rehash this experience, he’ll have to jump again—with another instructor.

  I swoop low and fast, more eager to get our jump over than give Brad an additional thrill. He must not feel the anger pumping out of me. He hollers into the air like a wolf before begging for me to do it again. I do, only to lower our time under parachute from five minutes to three. The quicker our jump is over, the better it will be for all involved.

  “Prepare for landing.” I pull down on the steering toggles causing the parachute to flare out like wings of a plane. “Stretch your legs out straight.”

  As we reach the drop zone, I parallel my legs with Brad’s before preparing my ass for impact. We skid across the thick-grassed ground, stopping nearly in the bullseye all instructors aim for. I’m quick to unleash him from my harness, and he’s even quicker to leap up from the ground.

  “That was fucking unreal!”

  I smirk, grateful Brad at least has enough manners to advise he enjoyed himself.

  It’s wiped straight off my face when he slaps my back before charging toward the group of families filming their loved ones in the sky. His mouth collides with Jamie’s so fast, even with my ears still ringing from the whoosh of the freefall, I hear their teeth crash together.

  I won’t lie, I’m jealous as fuck. Not just that he’s kissing Jamie, but the fact he thinks he’s worthy of her kisses.

  Brad is a dog, and if I were more of a man, I’d ensure Jamie is aware of that. Since I’m not, I push the pang of jealousy to the background of my mind and remember who I am.

  I am Ms. Burgess’ client. Nothing more. Nothing Less.

  Chapter 10

  Jamie

  When Brad’s lips collide with mine, I’m too stunned to do anything. I don’t return the lashes of his tongue or the nips of his teeth, I just stand still, motionless, peering in the direction where Colby once stood but no longer does.

  Today is Brad’s thirty-fifth birthday, but that doesn’t mean our past two weeks of bickering has been forgotten. Yes, he gave a mountain load of excuses as to why there was a random earring found in our walk-in closet, but I don’t believe him. His mannerisms are off—more than usual—and I’m confident it isn’t cold feet as our wedding date creeps closer. He’s keeping something from me. I just don’t know what it is.

  “Did you see me up there soaring like an eagle.” Brad sets me back onto my feet before nudging his head to the sky he just fell from. “Bet you thought an angel was falling from heaven for the second time in your life.”

  Tandoori chicken never tastes as good the second time around. “I’m shocked you jumped. I didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

  “Me, scared? Please.” When Brad curls his hand around mine, his sweaty palm foils his calm ruse. He’s scared, but doesn’t want anyone around us to know.

  “Why did you jump? When I told you I was being handed this claim, you said the only way you’d ever jump out of a plane was if it were already in the process of going down.”

  Brad escorts me into the room Tyrone took me to after my unexpected base jump two weeks ago. “Figured I should try something new. There’s no harm mixing things up occasionally.”

  My skin crawls when he drags his index finger down my bunched-up nose. I know what you’re thinking. If he gives me the heebie-jeebies anytime he touches me, why am I with him? The short answer is I love him. The long, it’s a lot harder to fall out of love with someone than it is to fall in love with them. Every time we fight, I remember the good times, the days where he made it seem as if the sun shined out of my ass. In the beginning, he was attentive, kind, and made me feel like a princess—hence the nickname—but the instant he slid a ring on my finger, it was as if a switch inside of him turned off. He no longer tries to impress me, preferring to bask the stray cat in our building with attention instead of me.

  Athena tells me to walk away like it’s the simplest thing in the world to do, but our lives are intertwined together so profoundly the past seven months, I’m having a hard time knowing where Brad’s ends and mine starts. Our house, cars, and even my parents’ mortgage are in both of our names. Our bank accounts are joint, and we’re down as each other’s beneficiaries.

  I thought it was cute he didn’t want to keep our money separate, even more so since he earns a lot more than me, but now I’m realizing it’s weighing me down even more than the ball and chain he plans to strap to my ankle a few weeks from now. I can’t even splurge on a second iced chocolate without him being alerted. I shouldn’t complain. Things are only tight because he had my mom moved to the best assisted-living facility in the state.

  God—now I feel terrible. I lied to him before refusing his request to sleep in our room, so he could wake up next to me on his birthday, and now I’m trying to snuff his high not even two weeks could siphon from my veins.

  “I’m glad you had fun. Perhaps Colby isn’t as incompetent as you believed?”

  Brad peers up at me mid-strip. “My instructor was the Colby McGregor?”

  I return his glare, equally confused. Colby introduced himself when Brad first entered The Drop Zone. I know this because not even the nerves in my stomach could stop me feeling the ripple when Brad balked during his introduction.

  “He did introduce himself to you… full name and all.”

  Brad screws up his face. “I thought he was pranking me. My instructor was a baby. He’d be lucky to be twenty—”

  “Four? Yep. That’s how old Colby is.” I could also divulge his weight, height, and the circumference of his ankles for him to authenticate, but Brad’s flaring nostrils are warning me it would be the wrong thing for me to do. “He had help, but pretty much everything you see before you is compliments to the drive of Colby and his business partner, Tyrone.”

  Brad pulls a shirt over his head before raising the cuffs, so it shows off the biceps he was shamefully displaying earlier. “You’re sounding a little too smug for the woman who’s about to tear this place down.”

  “Who said I’m about to tear it down?”

  He arches a brow sardonically. “You know what Mr. Luis wants.”

  “What Mr. Luis wants and what Mr. Luis can have are two entirely different things. If there’s no reason for me to deny The Drop Zone’s request for insurance, I won’t deny their application.”

  Birthday or not, I’m five seconds from slapping his face when he murmurs, “Spoken like a woman who doesn’t bark on command.”

  Brad pats my head to amplify his comment before pacing out of the room, dumping his jumpsuit and harness on the floor on the way. I’m too shocked to go after him—even more so when a deep rumbling voice at the side asks, “Did you mean what you said? Will you go against Mr. Luis on my behalf if you believe I a
m competent?”

  I spin around to face Colby, my footing unsteady. I’m not shuddering with anger, I am jittering with nerves. The last time we stood across from each other like this, he threw me off a cliff—literally.

  “Yes. Despite what Brad says, I’m not a dog who performs tricks for a treat.”

  Colby moves out of the shadow he was hiding in while spying on my interaction with Brad. “You know he’s a douche, right? Not just what he said now, but in general. He’s a douchebag in all forms of the term.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.” I should be defending my fiancé, but in all honesty, I’m tired of taking up the fight. It’s been nonstop since we got together, not just from my friends, but my family as well. I swear no one likes Brad, not even me right now.

  I weave my fingers in front of myself, praying it will hide the shake of my hands. It does, but Colby doesn’t need to see their spasms to know I’m worked up. I’m confident he can see it in my eyes.

  “But you’re still going to marry him?”

  I bite on the inside of my cheek, praying it will stop the moisture looming in my eyes before nodding.

  “Why, Jamie?”

  “Because it’s complicated. This isn’t real life.” I wave my hand around his business premise that also seconds as his residence. “Adults have—”

  “Adults? Am I not an adult?”

  I roll my eyes as if I’m not one. “You know what I mean.”

  Colby steps closer to me. I really wish he wouldn’t. I’m struggling to speak now, so I can only imagine how much harder it will be when poor lighting isn’t hiding his eyes. “No, I don’t, Prim, so why don’t you spell it out for me.”

  “You’re young—”

  “You mean I’m a baby, right? That’s what doucheface Brad called me.”

  I continue as if he didn’t interrupt, “So you don’t understand the responsibilities someone my age has.”

  “Someone your age. What’s that again?” He says ‘again’ like he knows my answer, but he wants to make sure I know he knows.