“Love this rum. You know, I owe you an apology,” she said.
“About time.”
“Yeah, I never should have called you a jackass for stealing that case of rum from Babineux’s presidential mansion. You were right. It was worth every sip.”
I picked up my own glass and filled it with another splash of the golden brown elixir.
“Cheers,” I said, bringing my glass to hers.
“Cheers,” she responded.
“Now, what was so important that you had to ruin my dump?”
“It’s about Corn.”
“I didn’t eat any corn.”
She frowned.
“Gross. I’m not talking about your dump anymore. What I really want to talk about is making sure that we have our stories straight about what happened on the island.”
Lux was referring to the fifteen short, though passionate, minutes of sweet lovemaking that we had shared on the beach back on Soft Taco Island. At the time we had sugar coated it by saying we were just two people taking back a moment in time that the world had stolen from them, but it was still two people committing some textbook adultery.
“I think what you’re really trying to talk about is what supposedly didn’t happen on the island.”
“Yeah, basically.”
“I thought we had already agreed that it would be our little secret—that we wouldn’t tell Corn,” I said.
“I know, but I just want to make sure that we’re on the same page.”
“Don’t worry, as far as the public record is concerned, nothing happened on the beach that night. My lips never touched your lips, my penis did not go anywhere near your vagina, and I have no knowledge whatsoever of that cute little freckle just above your left nipple.”
“You can make your little jokes, but let me warn you. Corn isn’t the Deputy Director of the CIA by accident. You still see him as a corn-fed farm boy, but he’s smart and perceptive, and, beyond that, he’s much more sensitive than you think, and I don’t want him to get hurt. Fuck, this whole situation...”
“I know. It’s complicated. I understand.”
And, for once, I actually did. It’s complicated was my new favorite phrase, though I used to hate it because it was uttered by every client who ever walked though my door. I never really believed that their situations were all that complicated, but now, however, I was a changed man and realized how useful that phrase could actually be. It meant so many things to so many people that it was the ultimate end-all when you were at a loss for the right words. How else could I explain my night of passion with Lux’s little sister Bridgette, or any of the other shenanigans I had gotten up to during the course of the previous week? It’s complicated was the equivalent of telling a child because I said so, but it could be used with adults. It was funny how things changed.
I walked over to my bag and smiled to myself as I pulled out my clothes for the evening. It was practically the first time in a week that I chose pants and a button-up shirt instead of shorts and a T-shirt, and I realized that I was going to miss the tropics. As I was about to slip out of my towel, I noticed that Lux was watching my every move rather intently—her big blue eyes unblinking.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Well, can you look at nothing over there?”
“No. I like looking at nothing right there where you are.”
“Interesting words coming from the married woman with her sensitive husband twenty feet outside that door.”
“I think we’re a little past that considering everything that happened on the island.”
“Don’t you mean everything that didn’t happen on the island? Avert your eyes, she-devil.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen. I’ve already seen it.”
“Exactly, seen it—past tense. You got your peek through an inexplicable fold in the space-time continuum, but now it’s all sealed up, and this piece of man-heaven is off limits. It’s now time for you to live with your poor life choices.”
“Oh, quit whining and get dressed.”
“Fine.”
I turned slightly away and dropped the towel, only to hear Lux whistle her approval with an obnoxious catcall.
“You’re making me feel like a piece of meat,” I said, as I slid on my clothes all the while keenly aware that her eyes remained on me the entire time.
“Good. How does it feel? Women spend their entire lives under that kind of scrutiny from men.”
“At least you know we care.”
CHAPTER FOUR
High Flying Hijinks
DRESSED AND READY for a lovely evening aboard the Vandenberg jet, I followed Lux out the door, and we headed to the lounge, which was looking a little romantic for a covert CIA operation. The lights were dimmed, the table had been set with elegant dinnerware, and a bottle of red wine sat open and breathing in the center next to a plate of fancy-looking cheese and crackers. We sat down, and, as I filled each of the wine glasses, Corn and John joined us at the table. John sat next to me while Lux and Corn opted to sit on the other side. That left two extra place settings, one to my left and one at the other end of the table, though I wasn’t sure who else might be joining us for dinner. Perhaps it was one of the other pilots I had yet to meet.
A sultry voice saying hello brought my attention to the far end of the room, and I looked over to discover our fifth guest—and wasn’t disappointed. Sweet mother of all boners. The woman before my eyes was absolutely stunning, with her beauty a combination of long brown hair, pale green eyes, high cheek bones, and a figure with curves that would have even made a Formula One race driver blush. She was most likely American, but her prominent jawline and full lips hinted that she might have some Eastern European heritage. Where the hell did Vandenberg find these people? Did he hire supermodels and then train them for whatever positions he had available? I can only imagine that somewhere out in the countryside, sitting quietly behind a hedgerow, was a secret facility not unlike the CIA’s farm. It may look innocuous, but inside, beautiful women were learning to become pilots, graphic designers, engineers, and top-notch chefs. One day I would find Vandenberg’s secret training facility and, on that day, retire and devote my life to helping his new employees transition into new and exciting positions—so to speak.
“I’m Tatyana. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, as she held out her hand.
Interesting. Her name backed up my theory that she may indeed have Eastern European heritage.
“I’m Tag, and it’s nice to meet you too,” I said, standing up to greet her.
“Oh, I already know your name, Mr. Finn. Yvonne has told me all about you.”
Yvonne had formerly been the chef on the Sozo but had switched places with the jet’s usual chef Tiffany for the flight to Europe so that she could spend time with her new boyfriend Brett—who also happened to be one of our pilots. She was also likely our sixth guest at dinner, which would be nice, as we hadn’t spent much quality time together since our Soft Taco Island adventure—during which I had rescued her from the clutches of a French mercenary who had been trying to force his way into her pants.
“Oh, please call me Tag or Finn. Mister makes me feel far more important than I could ever be.”
“Tag it is,” Tatyana said, smiling as she sat down and placed her napkin on her lap.
I felt eyes on me and looked over to see that Lux was closely scrutinizing my interaction with Tatyana.
“I’m John. It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, standing up and reaching his hand across the table.
“I know who you are, sir,” she said.
“Oh God, please call me John.”
John was practically glowing as he looked at Tatyana, and I could all but feel the rush of testosterone radiating out from his testicles and through his expensive, finely tailored pants. I knew from our time together in the past, as well as recent news stories, that he had quite a penchant for the ladies. In fact, it was even rumored that his
still being single was a major factor in why he hadn’t yet ascended to the presidency. Just then, Yvonne came in with a tray of steaming hot food and proceeded to serve up chicken Marsala, wild rice, grilled asparagus, and a butter leaf lettuce salad tossed with pears and a light vinaigrette dressing.
“Bon appetite!” she said, merrily before sitting down and joining us.
Conversation would have to wait, as it was yet another amazing meal, and I was starting to worry about getting enough exercise on the plane ride to justify all the calories I was consuming. No wonder Corn had put on some pounds. If I had married into this family, I probably would have had to put a treadmill at the dinner table just to keep my girlish figure intact. I finished every last morsel of food on my plate then came up for air to have a sip of wine and take a little time to get to know my new dinner companion a little better.
“So, Tatyana, what made you decide to become a pilot?”
“I’ve always wanted to fly—ever since I was a little girl. I did ROTC during college then joined the Navy.”
Another Squid. It made sense that she chose the Navy, as she, like Lux, had plenty of flotation around her chest, which would be very handy in the event of a water landing.
“Interesting. Where are you from originally?”
“Southern California, but I went to college on the East Coast.”
“Northern or southern?”
“Northern—Harvard.”
“Wow—overachiever?”
“Maybe a little, though it helped that I had a swimming scholarship.”
Swimming. Interesting. I found myself doing a little unintentional manterpolating and imagined Tatyana in a bathing suit. I’d certainly like to join her for a little breaststroke.
“Wow, you must be pretty good in the pool,” I said.
“I was OK.”
“Bullshit, and believe me I know, as I went to Stanford on a partial swimming scholarship.”
“So, you’re also a bit of an overachiever.”
“Yeah—but only in the fine art of man-whoring,” Lux interjected.
“Beyond that, I suppose I might have been a low-grade overachiever in college, though it certainly didn’t keep my parents from being underwhelmed.”
“Don’t feel bad. I’m pretty sure no one lives up to their parents’ expectations.”
“Except me,” John said.
We all shared a little laugh, then I continued the conversation.
“So, I must say, Tatyana—I’m impressed with your career path. Not many people would go from Harvard to the military.”
“Well, I really wanted to fly, and the military was the best place to learn.”
I looked over at Lux and noticed that she was once again quietly watching our exchange, and her expression was now noticeably uneasy, which made me curious about her relationship with the lovely Tatyana. At that moment, John, who had been quietly dying to get into the conversation, finally found his opening.
“So, Tatyana, how did you end up going from the Navy to the Vandenbergs?” he asked.
“The usual route. After resigning my commission, I worked for a commercial airline for awhile, then Lux called me and told me her uncle was looking for another pilot and voila, here I am.”
“Wait—how do you know Lux?” I asked.
“College. We were roommates at Harvard.”
Sweet mother of dirty dorm room fantasies! Having that much feminine charm and beauty in one location seemed like a statistical improbability.
“Interesting. Lux never told me about you, but then she never told me about a lot of things,” I said, casting a discerning gaze at Lux.
“Yeah, and it’s hard to believe now, but we were kind of rivals back then,” Tatyana said.
“Academically?” I asked.
“More like everything. Grades, guys, you name it.”
“Brutal.”
“Yeah, it was in the beginning, but then we got over our shit and became best friends. We girls get a lot farther in life when we work together.”
“Don’t we all.”
We finished up dinner, and everyone moved onto the lounge’s couches to get comfortable and enjoy some after-dinner cocktails. Yvonne asked if we had any alcohol preference, and I thought it wise to steer everyone away from my rum stash by suggesting something with vodka. She went to the bar and made a pitcher of Lychee Martinis then grabbed six frosted glasses from the bar refrigerator and rejoined us on the couches. I normally didn’t like to mix my alcohols, but I’d only had a snifter of rum and a glass of wine, so it was doubtful that I’d be painting my toilet in the morning.
The Lychee Martini turned out to be especially delicious, and I realized that Yvonne was as good with alcohol as she was with food. Each sip of the pale rose-colored liquid soothed my innards as it slid down my throat and made the world feel just a bit brighter. Riding high on my vodka buzz, I turned my gaze to Tatyana and found myself spellbound by how well she filled out the Vandenberg uniform. I must say that I really liked Mr. Vandenberg’s sense of style and hoped one day to compliment him on his visionary employee dress standards. The shirts were tight while the skirts were short and tended to ride a little high, thus exposing more than a polite amount of the supple flesh of the upper thighs. I, therefore, had to try my best not to stare at Tatyana, but, as a detail person, former field agent, and trained private investigator, I unconsciously took stock of my surroundings—especially things like beautiful women and their long legs, thighs, buttocks, and breasts. It was my burden to bear, my penance in this life.
My attention was suddenly pulled away from Tatyana by a firm and purposeful kick from Lux, who was sitting on the couch across from me. She smiled and apologized as if it had been an accident, though that was highly unlikely considering she had to strategically get her foot over and past the coffee table in between us in order to reach my shin. Yvonne, meanwhile, made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged in one of the cushy leather chairs, looking more like a teenager hanging out with her friends at a slumber party, and I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if she had asked us to play spin the bottle, though I, of course, would have preferred truth or dare.
“So, you said that you and Lux were rivals in the early days. Are there any specific incidents that stand out?” I asked.
“Not really,” Lux said, only to have Tatyana abruptly interrupt her.
“Totally, and the biggest one involved a guy, of course.”
“And obviously a smug Harvard guy, I imagine,” I said, in a smug affected tone.
“Oh yeah, and he was your typical blue blooded over achiever—we’re talking member of the Porcellian Club, captain of the swim team—all the typical smug Ivy League bullshit. I’m sure you know the type.”
“Yeah—every high school, college, John Hughes film, and even the White House has at least one of those assholes,” I said, turning to gaze at John.
“Not true. I was captain of the crew team.”
“Close enough.”
Tatyana laughed, and the gesture made her green eyes glow in the soft light of the cabin, though her expression abruptly darkened as she gazed into her glass and looked as though she were visiting a distant, perhaps unhappy, memory.
“Our little affair didn’t quite end like Sixteen Candles. Not for me, anyway. Ultimately, Lux won that battle and got the guy,” Tatyana said, before taking another sip of her drink.
“Not true. Nobody won. He turned out to be a real asshole,” Lux countered.
“Well, don’t feel too bad, because those overachiever, blue blood types all peak too early and end up crashing later in life,” I said, once again looking at John.
“Not true. I have yet to crash.”
“What about Afghanistan?”
“Getting shot out of the sky by an Al Qaeda RPG doesn’t count,” he said, before finishing the last sip in his glass.
“When did that happen?” Tatyana asked.
“About ten years ago, and, believe it or not, Finn and Corn
here were tasked with rescuing me.”
“Unfortunately, my chute got fouled on the insertion, so Finn had to rescue Sasquatch all by himself,” Corn said.
“Carried me nearly seven kilometers on his back.”
“Is that true?” Tatyana asked, looking from me to Lux.
“Yeah, but, more importantly, it’s where John and I fell madly in love.”
“Wow! You all have some serious history together.”
The room suddenly went quiet and everyone took advantage of the lull in the conversation to refill their glasses. Perfect! That meant more alcohol to loosen the tongues and bring out the stories. This was getting good and particularly informative, as Lux had never told me much about her college days, so I was really hoping to hear more about her youthful sexploits.
“Were there any fun rivalries while you guys were in the service together?” Tatyana asked.
“Not really,” Corn said.
“Totally,” John and I said, at the exact same time.
“Tell me more!” Tatyana said.
I laughed quietly to myself as I watched Corn grow increasingly uncomfortable.
“Corn and I ended up liking the same girl in Afghanistan, but he got her in the end—and the front as well, I suppose,” I said, my pun eliciting a scowl from Lux but laughs from John and Tatyana.
“So, who was the girl?” Yvonne asked.
“Lux.”
“No way!” Tatyana said, looking at Lux.
“Way,” I said.
“It’s more complicated than that. It wasn’t really a competition. Tag and I dated first, then Corn and I got together later after Tag got transferred stateside.”
“Yeah, it didn’t really overlap,” Corn added.
It was fun to watch Lux and Corn squirm as they explained the timeline, especially since neither of them had bothered to tell me shit thus far.
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