by Jeff Pollard
“What is it, Vaseline?” Caroline asks.
“What'd we end up using, do you remember?” K asks Tim.
“It's Astroglide,” Tim says.
“See,” Kingsley says to Caroline, “I told you I had a perfectly good explanation for buying a thousand gallons of Astroglide.”
“Did you make some poor intern test out a bunch of different butt lubes for you?” Caroline asks.
“That's precisely what interns are for,” K replies. “I'm pretty sure that's in their job description. The first test did not go so well, really gave that guy's ass a good scorching.”
“Did he get workman's comp for that?” Arnold asks. The handle on the submarine door at the end of the bunker unscrews from the other side and opens as technicians help the astronauts out of the bunker and into an electric van to take them back up to the SpacEx facility just outside of the Air Force base to change back out of their suits as the day's pad training is done. They take off their suits with the help of numerous technicians, knowing that tomorrow morning they'll be back in this room, putting on their real space suits, taking a ride in that same van back to the tower, and climbing aboard a spaceship that's ready to actually fly.
“Oh that place sucks, no, last night on Earth, let's go to Miami and eat some Cuban,” K says as he gets dressed.
“Last night on Earth?” Tim asks.
“It might be,” K replies.
“Every night might be your last,” Branson adds.
“Exactly, so let's hit up Miami and get some good food, none of that Daytona Beach crap,” K says.
“Cuban food?” Branson asks, “you wanna be stuck in a small room with Arnold after he's eaten Cuban food?”
“Do Cubans eat Sauerkraut?” Arnold asks. When the men finish changing, they exit and wait for Caroline to finish changing in the female astronaut suiting area. By the time she fashionably exits, Kingsley had changed the minds of his comrades.
“So what are we doing for our last meal?” Caroline asks. “I'm starving.”
“I know a great place,” K says, leading the group to the van taking them to the SpacEx hangar and to Kingsley's Starship.
“Wait, where are we going for dinner?” Caroline asks.
“A great little place in Miami,” K replies.
“Miami?”
“Relax it's only a thirty minute flight.”
The crew of Griffin 7 relax and enjoy a meal together on the eve of their launch, joined by K's assistant Stephanie, K's seeming protege Josh Yerino, and Tim's wife Makayla. It's a boisterous night out as they blow off steam. Arnold and Kingsley are recognized and approached for photographs from several passers-by. Richard Branson also inserts himself into these photos, despite many of the people not knowing who he is.
Near the end of the meal, Stephanie answers K's phone.
“Kingsley,” Stephanie says. “I've got good news.”
“Well?” K asks.
“NASA caved.”
“ISS?!” K asks. Stephanie nods. K jumps up in celebration. “Oh man, we need to celebrate. Waitress! Get us a round of...what do Cubans drink? Tequila? Rum? Something fancy and Cuban!”
“Kingsley, no, no drinking the night before,” Branson says.
“Oh come on Richard, I know it's already past your bedtime, but this is worth celebrating,” K says. An hour later the crew is on their fifth round of Havana Coolers and Cuba Libres. That is everyone except Tim, who became the designated-pilot after one drink.
“Kingsley, are you alright?” Arnold asks, joining K at the bar.
“Fine Terminator,” K replies.
“You need to go for her,” Arnold says.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Stop being a dick and just go get her. Look, you might think these groupies will be all over you for the rest of your life. But trust me, they won't. I blew it so hard with Maria. I don't want to see you make the same mistake. A hundred regular women don't compare to just this one. Go get her.”
“I've got things under control Arnold, but thanks for the advice,” K says.
“I'm trying to have a moment and level with you, Mr. Universe to Mr. Solar System.”
“I got it.”
“Alright, whatever you say Kingsley,” Arnold says, heading back to the table. K turns back to the bar, waiting on another drink, finding Josh next to him, trying to buy a woman a drink. K cringes as he watches Josh's technique. K puts his arm around Josh.
“Sorry ladies, hands off this one,” K says as he swoops Josh out of there and to the other side of the bar.
“Hey, I was getting somewhere with that one,” Josh says.
“No you weren't,” K says. “Rule number one, never offer to buy women things. If you're on a date, you can pay for stuff, but you don't lead off with buying her shit. It's a lame move.”
“I didn't lead with it, she asked me to buy her a drink,” Josh says.
“And that makes it better?” K asks.
“I mean, she liked me, so she asked me to buy her a drink, so then I buy her drinks and we talk for a while. It's like buying time to get in some flirting.”
“I don't know that much about you, but I'm going to go ahead and guess that you're not so great with the ladies, so stop talking and just listen,” K says. “If a woman you just met asks you to buy her something, you say no. You say no, and maybe smile. Don't take shit from her. You might think it makes you seem cheap or poor, but it doesn't. Don't jizz in your pants at the chance to buy her shit, that's the wrong move, believe me. You really need some help with your technique, trust me on that one, I learned this stuff the hard way. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about.” K looks for the bartender. “I still haven't gotten that drink.” K reaches across the bar and grabs a bottle of tequila, two shot glasses, and several lime wedges. He whips out two shots, pushing one across to Josh.
“This is what you wanted to talk to me about?” Josh asks.
“Hey!” The bartender shouts.
“Here you go, for your trouble,” K replies, whipping a folded hundred at the bartender like a frisbee. “Josh, seriously, you're in charge of first-stage return tomorrow. You do know how important that data is don't you?”
“I do,” Josh replies. Kingsley picks up the shot and the two of them down some tequila. Josh's throat burns.
“Nobody has ever attempted to control a first stage returning on a ballistic arc like that,” K says as he pours out another shot for both of them. “So remember, even if it crashes into the ocean, even if you can't keep control, it doesn't matter. Just trying will gives us a lot of data. Alright?”
“I know Kingsley, I'm on top of it,” Josh says.
“I'm just saying, don't beat yourself off if it crashes, all I'm saying,” K adds.
“Don't beat myself off, got it,” Josh replies. “Wait, Kingsley, how drunk are you?”
“Shhh,” K shushes him, “and don't call me Kingsley. It's K.”
“Okay.”
“No, not O-K, just K.”
“Right,” Josh says. The group assembles at the bar, getting ready to leave.
“Alright Kingsley, I think it's about time we head out,” Tim says, putting his arm around K.
“Actually, now that we've got everyone together,” Stephanie says, “I think it's time I should make an announcement.” She gets everyone's attention. “I'd just like to say that Kingsley and I are expecting,” Stephanie says with a big smile.
“Expecting what?” K asks drunkenly. Everyone else cringes.
“I'm pregnant,” Stephanie replies.
“Ooooohhh,” K says exaggeratedly. Josh looks to Caroline, having overheard fights between K and Caroline. She takes a slow step away from the group, eyes on the floor.
“I am too excited, I couldn't wait to tell everyone,” Stephanie says. Kingsley starts laughing hysterically. I'm talking side-splitting, verge of crying, face hurts from laughing so hard hysterical laughter. Caroline backs away, leaving the bar in a hurry.
“I don't get it,” Arnold says. Kingsley whispers in Arnold's ear. Arnold takes a moment to let it sink in, then Arnold starts laughing too.
“What? What'd he say?” Stephanie asks as Kingsley continues laughing hysterically. “What the fuck did he say?” Stephanie demands, pushing Arnold.
“I'll be back,” Arnold says awkwardly before leaving the bar.
“What the fuck did you tell him!?” Stephanie demands, grabbing K by the shirt.
“Who me?” K asks.
“Alright, I think it's time to head home,” Tim Bowe interrupts. “Come on folks, let's head back to the airport.” He puts his arm around K, saving him from the girl and escorting him toward the door.
“You know what,” K says. “I've got some more shit to celebrate right now, so you guys go ahead, I'll catch up.” K shrugs off Tim.
“We're going to the airport K,” Tim says. “That plane is taking off in twenty minutes. You better be there if you want to get back to the cape tonight.”
“I think I can find my way home tonight, who's staying out with me?” K asks. Nobody will. “Josh, come on, you're not going to space tomorrow, stay out with me, I'll introduce you to some groupies.”
“I don't know K,” Josh replies.
“Come here, I got a secret to tell you.” Josh reticently approaches. K whispers in Josh's ear.
“Really? Wow,” Josh says, looking at Stephanie.
“What'd did he say?” Stephanie asks, getting very pissed off. Kingsley whispers something else in Josh's ear. Josh listens but doesn't react.
“Stephanie, come on, let's get to the airport,” Tim says.
“Not until I figure out what the fuck is going on,” Stephanie demands, getting in K's face. Josh walks around behind her, reaching surreptitiously into her purse.
“Umm, actually Stephanie can find her own transportation,” K says. He eyes Josh's hand as he extracts Kingsley's cell phone from Stephanie's purse. Once he has it all the way out, K says, “because I just fired her.”
“You what?”
“I just fired you. You are no longer my assistant. You do not work for SpacEx. See you later. Bye,” K says.
“Oh yeah!?” Stephanie says as she reaches into her purse for his phone. “How about I...” she trails off as she searches her purse, finding his phone missing. In that split second, K bolts for the door.
Kingsley wakes up to a very bright sun, an undulating stomach, and repeating insistent whispers of, “K.”
“K, come on wake up,” Josh says.
“Shit, it's morning huh?” Kingsley says rolling over. He sits up and discovers two passed out women beside him. “So that was probably fun,” he says.
“Yeah, you hooked me up with that one,” Josh says proudly.
“Way to take one for the team,” K replies. “Oh, you meant that sincerely.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Josh replies.
“So are we gonna get some chicken and waffles or what's the deal?” K asks.
“The launch is in five hours,” Josh replies.
“Relax, it's like a 40 minute flight, tops,” K replies.
“Except we don't have your plane, Tim flew the others back last night.”
“Right,” K replies. “So we'll just borrow a Cessna or something, no big deal.”
“Yeah, about that,” Josh says.
“What?” K asks. Josh points toward the doorway. K squints into the bright sun and realizes that they are on a yacht in the open ocean. They step outside and look around, seeing no land in any direction. “So this might be a slight problem,” K admits. “Whose yacht is this?”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe it's one of the girls',” K replies. K pokes his head in the cabin, “Hey ladies, do either of you own a yacht?” No response. “So all we gotta do is head east and we'll hit the coast.”
“You mean west,” Josh replies.
“Right. We're probably right off Miami. I mean, we probably just snuck on a yacht to bang some girls, left port and drifted away.”
“Yeah, or maybe you decided we should go to Cuba in your drunken stupor,” Josh replies.
“That's entirely possible,” K admits.
“And do we really want to use up our gas before we know where we are?”
“What about phones? Surely somebody has some GPS on them, this is the future. People don't get lost at sea anymore.” K rushes to the railing and vomits off the side.
“Yeah, you probably want to get that all out before you get into space,” Josh says.
“Shut up Josh, you're not space principal.”
“What?” Josh asks.
“I don't know, I'm still kinda drunk. Hammersmith is gonna kill me.”
“Maybe you should just let Travis take your spot,” Josh suggests.
“No. I'm going. If I don’t go there will be a big thing about the last minute change and everybody will wanna know why.”
“What about delaying the launch?”
“We can't without someone wanting to know why. Let's just get there.”
“Why do you care so much about the bad press? It's not like we're taxpayer funded.”
“Because our new investors are looking for any excuse to kick me out of my own company, that's why,” K says.
Kingsley and Josh search the yacht for a GPS, finding only one cell phone on board and it belongs to one of the girls.
“This is it?” K asks as he looks over the pink bedazzled phone. He turns it on, but is greeted with a pass-code screen. “Well, wake up the girls and get that on,” K says, tossing the phone back to Josh. K sits at the controls of the yacht, discovering a third of a tank of gas, batteries are in good shape, a compass which isn't too useful since Kingsley or Josh could easily determine their direction based on the position of the Sun. Kingsley fires up the engine, it sputters then comes to life. K shuts it back down.
He hops down meeting Josh back inside. “Engine's good, got a decent amount of fuel. What's up with them?”
“They're not super awake, but they both said it wasn't their phone.”
“Then whose phone is it?” K asks. Josh shrugs. “Okay, let's trace back our steps and maybe we can figure this out.”
“We left the restaurant and...that's it, I'm drawing a blank. I remember leaving, and they were going to the airport, but you wanted to continue celebrating after the Stephanie thing.”
“Right. So... I'm drawing a blank after that too.”
“So all we know is that we left a Cuban restaurant in Miami at like ten-ish,” Josh says.
“That's about it,” K replies. K climbs back up top, surveying the open ocean around them. The boat rocks in the gentle waves and Kingsley tries not to vomit again. Josh joins him. “God dammit,” K says, sitting down, his head pounding. “I'm supposed to be in space in four hours. But instead, I'm lost at sea. Because I'm Kingsley and that's what I do,” K says, mad at himself.
“Maybe we can guesstimate what happened,” Josh says.
“How?”
“Well, like you said, you're Kingsley and you do Kingsley things,” Josh says. “So think like your drunken self. It's the night before a launch, you're partying in Miami, what do you do?”
“I try to get a threesome going, plus maybe throw some scraps your way,” K says.
“We know that much already,” Josh replies.
“Wait! There's only two girls downstairs,” K says excitedly.
“So?”
“I remember banging two girls!” K says.
“Does that help us?” Josh asks. K rushes to the front of the boat, looking over the railing. Josh rushes after him.
“Bingo,” K says. A woman in a bikini is laying face down on a raft tied to the front of the boat, passed out. “I'll bet it's her phone,” K says.
“Let's get her on deck,” Josh says. They both look down on her, unsure of how to do that
. It's a good distance from the railing down to the raft so they can't just reach her. Josh unties the line attaching the raft to the railing, then he tugs her along the side of the boat. They get her to the back of the yacht where they can more easily reach her. She's unconscious, and not wearing a life-jacket, so one wrong move and she's in the water. The two of them grab ahold of her, but it's extremely difficult to get a good grip, especially since the raft under her is squirrely and tries to escape. Finally they get her on board. She's still out of it. K taps her on the cheeks, snaps fingers near her ears, pulls back an eyelid. . . nothing.
“She's not dead is she?” Josh asks.
“Of course not,” K says. “Probably.” He puts his fingers to her neck and finds her carotid artery. “She's alive.”
“So when she wakes up, she can unlock the phone and then we can figure out where we are, and then we can head back to port, then to the airport, borrow a plane, and we'll get there in time.”
“That's the plan,” K sighs, sitting against the side of the yacht, looking at the unconscious woman. “Pretty great plan,” K says underwhelmed. “Or, we wait for her to wake up, it's not her phone, we're lost at sea for the rest of the day. Griffin 7 takes off without me. The cock brothers kick me out of my own company, and I spend the rest of my life hanging out on shitty yachts like this.”
“And running an electric car company,” Josh adds.
“Alright, so I mean, it's not the end of the world, but I want to retire on Mars, not in Detroit.”
“Just put on some red glasses and Detroit seems a lot like Mars,” Josh adds.
The two sit in silence, listening to the waves rock the yacht for a while, hoping the girl would wake up. The harsh truth that K is going to miss his flight starts to sink in.
“I can't believe I was that reckless,” K sighs. “What did I think would happen? I'd wake up, hungover, then catch a flight in the morning? How could I be so stupid?” K lays back, looking up a the blue sky. Kingsley was supposed to have the opposite view today, looking down from that blue sky on the ocean.