Stars Fell on Alabama

by M. Alan Marr

  “Is that what you do?”

  “You think I don’t work, but I do. All the time. All that stuff I’m writing has a purpose. A very important one.”

  “What purpose?”

  “I . . . can’t really talk about it, but trust me,” Dev says with a kindness that makes Chaz not pursue it.

  Chaz shakes his head somewhat, but smiles at Dev’s cryptic response. “I suppose the thing to do is keep my job and, most importantly, keep the bank account secret.”

  “Your financial affairs are private,” Dev says. “Nothing is gained by exposure.”

  They return to the hotel and change into workout clothes. Dev walks out of the bathroom ready to go to the gym and finds Chaz at his laptop. He has his various financial and banking websites pulled up. Chaz enters a numerical transaction and then turns to Dev.

  “Press the enter key for me, please, kind sir.” Dev reaches down and presses the button. “Thank you.”

  “What was that?”

  “I just paid off my car.” Chaz laughs and sets up another transaction. “Again, please.”

  Dev presses enter.

  Chaz shakes he head. “Amazing . . . I just paid off the mortgage on my condo, twenty years early.” He laughs. “I am so digging this.” Chaz sets up three more transactions, which Dev presses the enter key for.

  “And just like that, I have zeroed out all my credit cards. Wow, for the first time in my life, I am completely debt-free!”

  “Maybe we should update your American Express card.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Chaz says with some trepidation.

  “Why not?”

  “Because enough people know what that black card means. And no mere pilot would ever have one. I’m sure I can make do with my already overpriced card.”

  “What about getting the black card for normal operations and keeping your old one for when you’re at work? That way you’ll have all of the benefits.”

  “I suppose that would work.”

  Dev calls his Amex concierge and has Chaz speak to them. After a few minutes and a verification of Chaz’s checking account balance and excellent credit history, he is invited to join this most exclusive club.

  “Yes, we are,” Chaz says on the phone. “Thank you.” He ends the call and looks at Dev.

  “What happened?”

  “She asked if we’re still at the hotel. They’re going to messenger the new card to me here.”

  “Bravo.”

  “Wow. I’m really not used to this kind of service.”

  Dev and Chaz spend the next two hours at the hotel gym. As usual, Dev works out almost effortlessly, barely breaking out in a sweat. They have both been doing a lot of walking in Sydney, so the workout routine is mainly upper body and abs. Chaz notices other guests in the gym marveling that Dev’s weight machines are set to the maximum available.

  Just before 5:00 pm, the boys shower and then head down for a cocktail outside by the marina.

  As they sit enjoying their drink, the hotel concierge approaches, along with a bike messenger.

  “Mr. Ronaldi? Package for you, sir.”

  The courier looks at Chaz’s identification, which matches what he has on his paperwork. Chaz signs a paper, and the courier hands him a black onyx box engraved with his name on it.

  “I’m to tell you it’s already activated, sir. And, that they will call to verify your first transaction. G’day, sir.”

  Chaz stops the courier and hands him a folded twenty. He thanks him and quickly departs.

  “That was pretty quick,” Chaz says to Dev.

  “I’m actually impressed,” Dev says. “That’s almost as fast as I got mine.”

  Chaz laughs. “Guess they like the smell of new money.” Chaz runs his thumb over his engraved name on the onyx box, then opens the lid. Inside is a brand-new black metal card resting on a pillow of white satin. “Wow—look at that.”

  The server brings over the bill, and Chaz plucks the card out of the box and hands it to her.

  The server swipes the card on her mobile scanner, and as the receipt is printing up, Chaz’s iPhone rings.

  “Chaz Ronaldi . . .”

  “Mister Ronaldi, this is Alison Bertram with American Express calling to verify your new Centurion card was just used at the Marina Bar at the Cannery in Sydney?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Thank you, sir. I apologize for the intrusion. If you save this phone number to your directory, you will reach your personal concierge directly, twenty-four hours a day. Welcome to Centurion services, sir.”

  “Thank you very much.” Chaz ends the call and saves the number to his contacts.

  “And there it is,” Dev says, holding up his drink for a toast.

  The next night, Dev and Chaz walk down to the hotel bar and take a seat and figure out what they want to do this evening. A bartender neither have seen before strikes up a conversation.

  “Evening, Gents. What can I git ya?”

  “How about two martinis?” Chaz replies.

  “Pleasure,” the bartender says. As he makes the drinks, he continues to chat. “Here on holiday?”

  “Yes, we are,” Chaz says.

  “Wonderful. Welcome to the Cannery. How long are you with us?”

  “We’ve been here over a week already,” Dev replies.

  “Oh, right, I’m the one who’s been away. I was down in Tasmania visiting me mum.”

  “Good visit?”

  “Yeah, nice to see the old bird,” the bartender says. “You both Yanks?”

  “Yanks?” Dev says.

  “Americans,” Chaz translates. “Yes, well, technically, he’s Canadian. We’re here from Atlanta.”

  “Nice. Do they really call it Hot-Lanta?”

  Chaz laughs. “They do.”

  “Let me guess,” the bartender says, “you’re here for two weeks.”

  Dev registers surprise. “How do you know that?”

  “Most of you Yanks come for two weeks,” the bartender says, “what with the airfare and travel time to America. What do you do there?”

  “I’m an airline pilot,” Chaz says.

  “Ah, so you boys fly for free.”

  “Something like that.”

  The bartender places the drinks in front of them. “Here we are, Gents—cheers.”

  Dev and Chaz toast. They both take a sip. Chaz has a thought. “Hey, when did you get a US passport?”

  “When I first arrived,” Dev replies and takes a quick sip.

  “Any difficulty immigrating?”

  “No. I sort of . . . dropped right in.”

  “I guess everything is easier when you have solid financial standing.”

  “So,” Dev says, quickly changing the subject, “what do you want to do next?”

  “I don’t know. Sydney’s been great, but I think I’m ready to move on. I kind of think we should head back. My head is still swimming from all this. I’m sure there’s a lot of financial stuff I need to do back in Atlanta.”

  “Very well.”

  “I just feel like there are things I need to be doing.”

  “I’ll call right now.”

  Chaz is surprised to learn the BBJ and crew are still in Sydney. He assumed they would be flying other clients, but apparently, Dev contracted to keep the plane and crew close by. Chaz has a feeling Dev is worth considerably more than two hundred twenty seven million.

  2330 HOURS

  40,000 FEET EASTBOUND

  PACIFIC OCEAN

  Flight Attendant Annette clears the last of the plates from the dinner table. “Can I get you more champagne, Mr. Ronaldi?”

  “Thanks, Annette, but how about calling me Chaz?”

  “More champagne, Mr. Chaz?”

  “Just Chaz.”

  She smiles, “Whatever you say, Mr. Chaz.”

  Annette disappears for a moment to fetch the bottle. She fills Chaz’s glass, then turns to Dev.

  “More champagne, Mr. Dev?” she catches herself
, “I’m sorry, is it okay to call you that?”

  “That’s fine, Annette, I’d love some.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She adds, “I shouldn’t say this, but some of the clients we fly won’t even talk to us.”

  Dev is surprised. “Really?”

  “Yes sir. Their assistants do all the talking, and usually it’s not a lot of fun. We all just love flying with you.”

  After dinner, Franz lowers the cabin lights. Chaz and Dev are sitting together on the couch. Chaz nodded off with his head against Dev’s shoulder. Dev is awake with a snifter of brandy in his free hand, into which Annette quietly pours additional spirits. Dev mouths a silent “thank you.” Annette smiles warmly and nods without making a sound. Sipping his brandy, Dev ponders his situation. He didn’t come to Earth to get involved with anyone, but that is exactly what has happened. The Vernal Equinox, the date Dev is supposed to leave the planet, is little more than nine months away. In the grand scheme of things, not that far off.

  How in the world will I explain that to Chaz?

  That thought keeps Dev up most of the night. Even after retiring to the stateroom, sleep eludes him. Nothing in his mission or orders addresses interpersonal relationships, minus the prohibition of impregnating anyone. Not a problem here. But fact is, Dev hails from an entirely different solar system. The logical thing to do is put some distance in this relationship or end it all together, but Humans have never been known to do the logical thing. Not on this world, or Dev’s. No, this is a friendship Dev holds dear and would lay down his life to protect. There’s just the small matter of the truth.

  Dev gets up and quietly leaves the stateroom. He paces slowly around the lounge and takes a seat on the couch to ponder the situation. Franz arrives quietly and sets down a pot of tea and a single cup. He can tell something is weighing heavy on Dev’s mind.

  “Chamomile tea, sir,” Franz says quietly. “It will help you sleep.”

  “Thank you, Franz.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  The tea does help soothe his tensions, but does little to change the facts. It seems only yesterday Dev was just a quiet Observer. Somehow, he’s managed to build something of a life on Earth; one that has eluded him on his own world all these years. The situation is untenable. For three months Dev has had this in the back of his mind and chose to ignore it, thinking combat is easy; real life is hard. Clever, but pointless. He’s not in combat, he’s here. And his actions have involved someone else. His direct influence has changed the course of Chaz’s life (hopefully for the better, but changed none the less). He’s here to observe, not change anything, and certainly not to alter the path of an Earth resident’s life.

  Dev pulls his laptop out and begins composing a detailed report to the Admiralty. The report is also a sort of mea culpa and about his relationship with Chaz; how and where they met, the circumstances of their early interaction, and their current status. Dev uses the ‘advanced’ features of his system to access the US Department of Defense and downloads Chaz’s service records. Dev reads through every line, every fitness report, every evaluation. He smiles upon seeing the various headshots of Chaz associated with each step of his naval career from 18 year old Midshipman, through the ranks, to his last posting as a Lieutenant Commander. As Dev reads the information, he thinks of all the things they truly have in common. Dev includes Chaz’s Navy dossier in the report.

  The work occupies Dev for quite some time. The saving grace is that Chaz has been, and continues to, be instrumental in Dev’s contextual understanding of the this world. Earth is fraught with problems, but Chaz Ronaldi is not one of them.

  Dev does not to mention the lottery, internally justifying the omission as not being germane to his mission. He also does not mention the anguish he feels knowing he will eventually have to return home to resume his normal duties. Some things are better left unsaid. The report is saved to his ‘private’ files, along with all the other Admiralty dispatches. The screen switches to the usual cosmos program. Dev stares at the screen for a minute lost in thought until Franz’s chamomile tea kicks in. Sleep is finally drawing near. Dev makes a mental note to buy some of this tea in Atlanta, since he will no doubt have many other sleepless nights.

  Chapter 15

  Binary Stars

  Life in Atlanta went on without them, of course. Most of Chaz’s friends are airline people, so absences of a few weeks are no great mystery to anyone, particularly since he e-mailed photos of he and Dev together in Sydney.

  Chaz and Dev are walking to Starbucks. They have a couple of hours before their meeting at the law firm. Despite the business appointment, both are dressed casually. Chaz balked at putting on a suit, commenting they don’t need to dress to impress. Their trip was successful, and Chaz is feeling like his old self again.

  As they enjoy their coffee, Chaz pages through an architectural magazine. “I think I’d like to have my condo renovated. I’ve been wanting to do that but kept putting it off.”

  “Why?”

  “Cost for one thing, but mainly because I didn’t want to live in a construction zone for a couple of months while it’s being worked on. I still don’t, but it needs to be redone.”

  “Would you like to stay at my place?”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve got several bedrooms.”

  Chaz thinks about it for a quick second. “That might actually be fun.”

  “Move in today if you’d like.”

  Chaz smiles. “Hmm, move into a four thousand square foot penthouse, or stay in my outdated little hovel . . . ”

  “Your place is not a hovel.”

  “I might enjoy penthouse life.”

  “Well, give my place a try and see how you feel about it.”

  Chaz thinks about it. “You know what? Why the hell not? I’m in.”

  They boys pay a brief visit to Donovan & Clarke, the interior design firm who decorated Dev’s penthouse. Donovan is delighted to see Dev brought him a new client. Chaz outlined his expectations: make it current and stylish. Time isn’t a problem, and the unit will be vacant. Since Donovan has virtually all the local Midtown condo plans available on his computer, and this a top to bottom renovation, he could get to work at once drafting a reimagined condo.

  Chaz and Dev leave Donovan’s office and walk to the law firm. This meeting will introduce Chaz to several financial experts, vetted by the firm, to parse his millions into a logical series of well-thought-out accounts. In the end, a portion of Chaz’s money is put into growth funds to try to make even more money; another portion into a portfolio of blue chip stocks, minus those companies Chaz finds objectionable due to their organizational values or corporate stewardship. The bulk of the cash, however, is sitting in the bank generating gobs of interest every minute of every day.

  Since the star clients arrived on foot, the lawyers insist on having their driver, Phillip, take them home. Chaz diverts Phillip to the Atlanta Porsche dealer to look at a car he has had his eye on. Had his eye on, the way a passerby or enthusiast would, but now the math has changed. The previously unattainable things an enthusiast may dream about are not only available to Chaz, but instantly so.

  Phillip waits at the dealership, but ends up driving away empty. Chaz and Dev drive off in a brand-new sapphire blue 911 Turbo Cabriolet to the tune of $190,000, which Chaz used his black card to pay for. The dealer initially balked at that, but in the end processed the payment and was almost surprised when the charge was approved without question.

  “That’s practically my annual salary,” Chaz comments.

  “Not anymore,” Dev counters.

  “True, and this is pretty fabulous,” Chaz says, flexing his grip on the wheel.

  Naturally, Chaz is paranoid about parking his new car out on the street, so they drive to Dev’s building, and his reserved parking spaces situated between two cement pillars so no one can bang into it. Currently, Dev’s 1985 Ford Bronco is occupying the center spot. A 1985 Bronco that has less than five thousand mile
s on it.

  Their Australian jet lag demands additional caffeine, so a Starbucks visit is the next order of business. Since all their business is concluded, Chaz and Dev settle in their usual leather chairs and enjoy their lattes and read the paper. Dev turns a page and sees an article titled: Winning Thrillions! ticket sold to unnamed winner near LAX.

  “See this?” Dev says.

  Chaz glances at him. “Sold near the Airport? The winner could be anywhere by now.”

  After their latte, Dev and Chaz head to his condo to pack.

  “Do you think anyone will know it was you?”

  “I doubt it. I’m not really a flashy person.”

  “What about the car?”

  “Pilots do tend to buy flashy cars,” he laughs. “But I’m not going to be parking that at the airport.”

  Dev remembers Chaz’s job. “Hey, when do you have to go back to work?”

  “Next week.” Chaz replies. “I’m ready to get back at the controls and flying the plane myself for a change.”

  “I bet,” Dev says, missing being at the controls himself. He can’t say that, of course.

  Re-caffeinated, they spend the rest of the day moving Chaz’s clothes and personal effects to the penthouse. It took several trips, and Dev paid some of the Gillespie staff to man valet carts to the transfer easier. Chaz’s furniture is a smattering of things bought over the years, but none of it is particularly good quality or has any sentimental value. Diplomas, pictures, small items, camping gear, all the stuff he wants to keep is stored in the spare bedroom behind Dev’s kitchen. It is a lot of work, but they manage to finish by dark for a quiet night at home.

  The next few months flew by. Chaz’s condo renovation is coming along, albeit slowly. Since his renovation involves major changes to cabinetry, moldings, floors, bathrooms, and tile (and the associated noise generated from that kind of work) Chaz had to submit formal blueprints and plans to his condo association board for approval and allow for reasonable notification to his neighbors. Not a big deal, but very time consuming. It took more than a month for all the plans to be approved. Then it is a matter of the work. Dev’s penthouse was move-in ready. Not the case for Chaz. A top to bottom renovation will take a while.