Queen of Hearts

by Sheryl Wright

  “Aren’t they incredible? I mean wow, Rene and that car! I had goose bumps when she drove up, and what about Pamela, she’s the lawyer, right? My mother always says to stay away from lawyers but boy oh boy, I’ve never seen one who looked like that!”

  Before Erin could think of what more to say, other women began pulling their chairs over and sharing in the conversation. It did make it easy for her just to sit back, eat her lunch—or was it an early dinner now? She had no idea. They had all been relieved of their watches, cell phones, tablets, and any other electronic devices. A few had even been asked to relinquish their sex toys. Connie, the director, was adamant they not consider self-relief. She wanted them excited and if they got a little edgy, more the better.

  “I like the quiet one,” one offered.

  “She’s okay,” another said, “but that flight suit…I mean, really? Couldn’t she think of something else to wear?”

  “What else would you wear in a helicopter?” another asked.

  “No, I mean, she should have taken the time to change, like the other queens. And good God, do something with that hair.”

  “She was nice,” another defended, “But lordy, lordy, that Virginia has everything you could ever ask for.”

  “Are you talking ’bout her figure or her money? You do know who she is, don’t you?” While some of the women made as if they knew, the speaker elaborated for the rest. “She’s the heiress to the Jackson Cosmetics Company. She must be worth billions. You can’t tell me a pilot or even a lawyer has that kind of money.”

  Erin made a note of the women who took an interest in Virginia’s pending fortune and dismissed Pam and Ally for the same reason. It was all she could do to stifle her laugh. If they only knew.

  * * *

  Allyson stood in the hangar watching KC maneuver the power cart towing in the executive Jet Ranger they had borrowed in place of their bird painted with the Channel One logo and colors. The Billy Bishop Airport was one of the few truly inaccessible facilities once the Tower closed, situated on the western edge of the Toronto Islands chain. Before World War II, the field had been the home of Toronto’s first major league baseball team, the Maple Leafs. In 1940 the old wood stadium was torn down and repurposed as an airfield to house the displaced Royal Norwegian Air Force. Today, modern hangars crowded the harbor channel along with the quaint one-time WWII headquarters and tower, now turned air terminal and administration offices. In Ally’s mind, the airport manager had the best office in the world, ensconced in what was once the old wood-framed and brass-trimmed control tower.

  If it was an easy airport to find, it was horribly complicated to reach. Between the lakeshore condos on the north side, the bird sanctuary to the southeast and the gay nude beach that ran parallel to runway 33 and right up to the threshold of runway 08, one’s approach had to be taken carefully.

  With their flying day in full swing, Ally knew she had to risk Connie’s ire and make sure KC had everything under control before she drove back out to Glendennon Castle. Once the borrowed helo was parked in the hangar and the power cart returned to its charging station, KC and Ally headed for their tiny operations room. They shared this space with the pilots from the local commuter airline and weren’t surprised to find a few there, completing their flight plans for the day.

  “Hey guys,” KC offered genially. “How come so late?”

  “Still waiting for Sierra X-Ray Foxtrot to arrive. They got held on the ground at LaGuardia.”

  “What’s that about?” Ally asked, trying to sound casual.

  They shrugged, either not knowing or uncomfortable sharing company gossip with the two charter pilots. Instead, the First Officer changed the subject. “How’s the traffic?”

  “Chock-a-block,” KC warned. “For what it costs you in gas to drive out to your parents’ house in Hamilton, you could probably find a place in town to share with one of the guys. I mean, that traffic alone would make me crazy.”

  “Yeah but my parents are right on the lake, and we have an indoor pool.” He said it like it made sense.

  Trying to help, KC offered her usual, “I don’t think a pool is the chick magnet you imagine. Maybe what you should do is suggest they buy one of these new condos facing the lake for when they come into town?”

  “There’s an idea,” the other pilot said, perking up at the suggestion. “If they buy a condo, talk them into something big enough for me too. I’d dump my girlfriend and leave Scarborough forever for a chance to live down here.”

  “Nice,” Ally commented. “I’m going to tell her that.”

  He laughed. “Like you wouldn’t dump a girl for a chance to live down here. Wait, where do you live?”

  Ally shook her head, but KC, always open with information and ready to share, did so. “I live in Port Credit. Not right on the beach, but just a few doors down. But Ally here lives over there.” She signaled east as if from the windowless room they could see where it was she was pointing. “Right on the lake and on the south side of Queen’s Quay.”

  “South?” they both asked in confusion.

  “KC,” Ally growled.

  “What? You live over there in what used to be the Admiral Hotel. Pretty cool, huh?”

  The other pilots nodded, finishing up their flight plans and offering their farewells. Ally knew they would endlessly speculate. Who lived in a hotel? She knew they would ask about it and the gossip would be relentless. Who lived in a hotel? People who own a major share, that’s who, you dorkwads!

  Once they were out of hearing range, Ally wheeled on KC, only to witness her mischievous grin. “You’re a pain, you know.”

  “’Course, I am. It’s my specialty. That and reporting the traffic. About which by the way, we have an offer to consider. The network reporter was a no-show this morning. Well, he did show up, but only about an hour after I took off. I whipped back in and picked him up, but for the first hour I had to wing it and do the reporting thing. Actually, they tricked me. I thought I was just giving the details to the anchor off-air, and she was just asking questions to get all the details, but it turns out they aired the whole thing, and they want me to do it again.”

  “Wow, that’s huge. Congrats.”

  “I know! But here’s the thing. They want to talk with us. Maybe do a little training for the on-air stuff, you know, stuff like that. What do you say?”

  “What do I say? I…” She had to think about it for a minute. “Right now, I have to get my ass back to Glendennon. I don’t know how much longer they’ll need me, but I’m stuck for now. If you’re comfy doing this reporting thing, then go ahead and get the new terms worked out.”

  “Good. Listen. I can handle the network. Why don’t you stick your nose into the delays our crews are facing at LaGuardia? We can’t afford to have them wasting hours on the ground when we need that bird for the afternoon flight to Ottawa.”

  Ally nodded. “Let me get on the horn with LaGuardia bright and early tomorrow. If we can’t solve the issue at the source, then we need to look at the numbers and decide if the route is worth all the trouble.”

  They were interrupted by the airline manager. “You just had to tell them you own the Admiral!” he challenged.

  “That was all KC. I’ve kept my mouth shut, as agreed.”

  “Hey!” KC stepped in, arms crossed and tone as menacing as her dark expression. “I spilled the beans. What’s the big deal? It’s not like I told them we own the airline too.”

  “That’s not the point!” he protested. “I just…I thought you wanted to observe and evaluate the staff before you made any announcements.”

  “We still do,” Ally assured him. “Our restructuring plan is based on them no longer having access to the top brass. That’s what this whole transfer period is about.”

  The manager slumped into one of the stools around the flight planning table. “There’s something else. The new kid was towing Sierra Charlie November from the hangar and broke the trailing arm off the nose gear.”

 
“What the…” KC started but stalled, seeing the look on Ally’s face. If Ally was mad, that was something.

  “Explain why a cabin attendant was towing an aircraft?”

  “I told you, our guys get called on to do everything,” he answered in a sheepish tone.

  “And I told you, ‘No more!’” She leaned hard on the table toward him, making sure he understood her completely. “I specifically explained why the jack-of-all-trades-and-master- of-none approach was hurting our bottom line and this just underscores my argument.” She stepped back from the table, pacing the small space. Finally, she stopped, asking the most important question. “Damages? And I want to know everything right down to scratches on the paint.”

  He nodded. “It was PP3. He ordered the kid to tow the Dash-8 out so he could hangar his personal aircraft.”

  Hangar 1, used solely by Triangle Airlines, was a huge brick monstrosity built during the Second World War, but it was small by the standards of any major airport. The hangar could only accommodate two of the eight DeHavilland Dash-8’s they operated. Because of that fact, only aircraft scheduled for maintenance were allowed in the hangar. After all, this was Canada, and repairing and maintaining an aircraft outside the hangar in winter was no fun, no fun at all. And because of the need for room and conformity to the maintenance schedule, only the aircraft maintenance engineer in charge could order aircraft into or out of the hangar. Personal aircraft were not allowed. Even KC and Ally hangared their helicopters in the Avatar Hangar downfield.

  KC interrupted the confrontation, warning the manager, “Don’t call him that. He may be an asshole, but drop the PP3 thing.”

  “Sorry. It’s just, well, most of the guys still kowtow to him. They know his grandfather sold the airline, but without a head honcho to take his ego down a notch, well…” He handed KC the damage report and waited for Ally to lower the hammer. For all the world it looked like he expected he’d be fired.

  Ally nodded. Turning her attention to her business partner, she asked, “How bad?”

  “It’s not too bad. Looks like we need to replace everything below the oleo. We have those parts in stock, so we’re covered there.” She blew out a hot breath, something she always did when she was thinking. When they’d made a play for Triangle Airlines no one, especially themselves, believed they had a chance, but old man Pringle had thought them plucky and fresh—his exact words. And that was all he needed to see. He even underwrote a large portion of their purchase financing. He wanted them to succeed.

  To manage their new enterprise, they’d divided their responsibilities. Ally would oversee flight operations, admin, and finance. KC would oversee maintenance, ground operations, and spares. “How much will this cost?” Ally asked.

  KC shook her head. “Fifty grand, easy. And that doesn’t take in the time the aircraft will be on the ground and out of service.” Taking a quick look at the damage report again, she swore under her breath. “They broke the tow bar? How the hell…” KC was trying to clean up her language and had an almost full swear jar to prove how challenging it was.

  The manager grimaced. “I don’t know, but the connection was completely sheared off, and the bar itself is twisted somehow. I mean you can barely pull it with the mule, and that’s without an aircraft attached.”

  “I’ll phone DeHavilland.” KC grabbed her phone and moved to the weather station to give Ally room to continue her discussion.

  “Ma’am, about PP3, I mean Peter Pringle the Third. I’ve tried to rein him in but, well, this guy’s such an ass, and he doesn’t listen to anyone. He’s still acting like he owns the airline and it’s really hard for everyone to think any different until they see some changes.”

  Ally nodded, checking her watch. She and KC had asked to keep their identities confidential while they observed and decided what if any changes needed to be made. Four months had been more than enough time for them to learn who was a problem, like Peter Pringle the Third, and who needed their support. She hadn’t made her decision about the operations manager just yet, but at least he didn’t waste time bringing them gossip and speculation, which was in his favor. “Okay, here’s what you are going to do…”

  Chapter Three

  Connie checked her watch for the umpteenth time. “If she’s not here in time, I’ll kill her.”

  “Kiddo relax,” Pam offered. “You know Ally. Her head’s in the air half the time but once she gets her feet on the ground, she’s all in.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense, but I get it.” They were alone in the Green Room. The other Primaries, Virginia and Rene, had retired to their rooms to prepare for the evening shoot and Tommy was busy kibitzing with the crew. “Well?”

  “I think it’s going splendidly. You have a great crew, and the Borderland costumes were a brilliant idea.”

  Connie snorted. “Have you any idea how hard it was to find Irish kilts in this town? Luckily my production manager is like a bloodhound. That woman can find anything. Speaking of which…” She stood to make introductions as the production manager stormed in.

  “A shit storm is about to go down.”

  “Whoa there.” Connie tried to rein her in, but the woman was so agitated it took awhile to calm her.

  “Maybe we should talk privately,” she suggested, her face tense with serious stress.

  “It’s okay. Pam’s an insider and our legal counsel. What’s happened?”

  “Virginia Hazelton-Jackson, that’s what. Her family found out she’s in the show. A team of Jackson family lawyers is camped out in the downtown production office. And her check bounced. They want her off the show. Not only are they threatening to sue us for so many things my head is still spinning, but they’ve also frozen her trust fund to be sure she knows just how serious they are.”

  “Holy fuck!” Connie looked more than angry. “Pam?”

  “Okay, first things first. What does the loss of her investment do to the production budget?”

  Connie was in shock and having a hard time putting the pieces together. “We’re fucked,” was all she could say.

  “Connie, stop! Think! Can you continue without her money?”

  “Yes, no, yes, maybe? I’ll need you to read the terms of our completion guarantee. But…”

  “No buts.” Pam ordered, now in her lawyerly element. “One, I need to see your contracts and the completion guarantee. And we better get Virginia down here and see if she can shine some light on this.” Turning to the production manager, she asked, “How long before that pack of lawyers descends on us?”

  “We’ve kept our location under wraps. Everyone still thinks we’re at Purple Mountain.”

  “Good. That will buy us some time. Constance Eugenia Coen-Parker! I need to see everything and right now.”

  “Okay, okay,” Connie offered hurriedly as she reached for her radio. “Gary, bring a laptop to the Green Room.”

  “On my way, Con.”

  Turning to her production manager, she ordered, “Get Virginia Hazelton-Jackson’s ass in here tout suite!” The woman bolted from the room, heading for the faculty suites the Primaries were assigned. “Where the fuck is Ally?”

  “Calm down and give me your cell. I’ll call KC and find out when she left.”

  * * *

  KC had just gotten off the phone with DeHavilland when Connie’s number flashed on her cell. “You’re in trouble,” she sang out before answering. “Hey Connie, how’s it hangin”? The look that followed did not inspire confidence. “Whoa there, Pam! Don’t kill the messenger or phone call answerer, or whatever,” she said, handing the phone to Ally without comment but with big apologetic eyes.

  “Look, Pam, tell Connie to relax, I’m…When did this happen?” She listened as her cousin detailed the crisis rocking the production team.

  “I don’t think you can count on them not learning the shoot location. You may have taken her cell, but not her driver’s. I would expect he’ll give it up in a heartbeat if threatened with dismissal.” She listened while
Pam and Connie went back and forth, finally offering, “I’m going to make a suggestion, but Connie may not like it. Why not run the first elimination round tonight, then just announce she’s the first eliminated? Yes…I know the legal team’s probably making all sorts of threats, but the woman is an adult and signed the contract.”

  While Pam and Connie debated changing the production schedule and the ethics of eliminating one queen regardless of how the contestants voted, she lowered the phone. “KC, have you got time to fly me out there?”

  “Channel One’s sending someone over at two to run me through their procedures and shit—oops, stuff, before I fly the drive home traffic report. Why don’t you take the Huey?” Ally shook her head like it was a bad idea, but KC insisted. “Dude, the Four-oh-One East is all fucked up with construction. The drive’ll be two hours easy. Take the Huey. She’s just sitting in the hangar gathering dust. Might as well give her a workout. Besides you might need our big bird if all hell breaks loose.”

  “I don’t know. She costs us twelve hundred an hour to run. That seems like… Yeah Pam, I’m here… Okay. Looks like I’ll be flying back. I’ll be there in thirty,” she promised, ending the call and handing KC back her phone.

  “Come on, dude. Let’s get the big girl out of the hangar and you on your way.”

  “What about the problem at LaGuardia and PP3—fuck, I can’t believe I called him that.”

  “You relax and let me handle the hard stuff for once,” KC offered. “I’m gonna tow her out and do the walkaround while you grab your gear and file a flight plan. And don’t worry about the shi…stuff going on here. It’s about time I step up and handle the cra…crew disputes and our problem captain too.”

  Ally nodded then grabbed a flight planning form. Filling in most of the details by memory, she quickly selected her flight route, calculating the airspeed and flight time, as required by air traffic control. The Bell 205, or Huey as it was commonly known, was their firefighting bird and rarely saw much use in the offseason. This would be her second flight in as many days. It didn’t make sense for her to take the big bird but the Jet Ranger was their traffic helicopter and was outfitted with mounted cameras the network could remotely operate, and direct comms and interior cameras for reporting traffic and news live. Besides, the network had paid big bucks to have the station logos painted over the entire machine. Yes, KC was right. If she wanted to get out to Durham fast, she needed to take the big bird. Thankfully, Glendennon Castle had a huge front lawn and had given her permission to land there at any time during the production. They probably weren’t thinking she would be flying something this big. Thinking about parking the Huey on the grand lawn, she was equally grateful for KC’s insistence that they keep the Bear Paws on the high skids. Designed for use in the snow, the shoes would work just as well at keeping the heavy machine from sinking into the turf.