by Kylie Parker
It was at this moment that Dean looked at her, over his left shoulder. He looked surprisingly calm and composed. Slowly turning around, he addressed her.
“Are you done?” He sounded cold and took a step closer to her. Isabelle was forced to take two steps back.
“Now, I got a question for you. Just where the fuck do you think you would be if it wasn’t for me?” He continued walking towards her, but Isabelle would not back down. Instead, she remained still. Standing right in front of her, Dean clenched his fists.
“That’s right. You’d be dead!” he yelled.
“Your precious…pilots are getting all those people killed! Don’t you get it? Should I start counting? I’m not even gonna mention Richardson and his 300 pounds that almost crashed that 767 we were in. Remember Germanwings, a year ago? That pilot was being treated for depression! He led 150 people to their deaths!” Dean went on. His face was so tense that Isabelle thought his cheekbones were going to tear out of his skin. His blue eyes darkened. A chill crept up her spine.
“Germanwings, you say. And you think you’re smart…?” Her ironic remark seemed to infuriate him even more. Dean gritted his teeth, grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back. His grip was tremendously strong. As a matter of fact, it was strong enough to lift her two inches from the ground. The few seconds it took him to pin her against the wall behind her seemed to take forever.
“You got something to say on this matter, Ms. Miles?” Without loosening his grip on Isabelle’s shoulders, Dean lowered his voice. Struggling to hide her fear, Isabelle squeezed out two more tears.
“Did you even see that plane’s flight plan…?”
“No…”
“Go ahead and check it out. Barcelona to Dusseldorf. Take a look at any map. You don’t have to be a pilot to realize that the official report on that accident is a bunch of bullshit…” Isabelle raised her voice, slightly.
“What?!” He squinted at her.
“It’s a straight line on the map, you idiot! It crashed in the French Alps, hundreds of miles from where it was supposed to land!” Isabelle had studied that case. It was very strange for the authorities to blame it on the pilot, only days after the plane had crashed.
“You know why airlines always put the blame on pilots? Because dead people can’t speak for themselves!” Upon hearing her words, Dean took her hands off her and averted his gaze from her. He then leaned towards Isabelle and put his hands against the wall.
“I don’t know about Germanwings, Isabelle. All I know is that my uncle died in my arms last night…” Dean sighed. The loss of his beloved uncle had devastated him. Isabelle did feel sorry for his loss. A part of her really wanted to hug him and comfort him. At the same time, though, she could not help but blame him for it. Watching him walk away from her, Isabelle spoke her mind.
“Dean, I’m sorry. But, I’ll be sorrier for all those…thousands of people who will end up unemployed. The whole pilot profession will become a thing of the past; don’t you understand? You’re a pilot yourself. Don’t you love it?” She tried to regain her composure. This time, Isabelle’s voice reminded more of the woman that was smitten by him, on the day they had met.
“I do. But, I also have ambition, Isabelle.” With his back turned to her, Dean spoke in a trembling voice. He was overwhelmed by emotion.
“Vain ambition…I’m sorry, Dean. I’m really sorry…” Isabelle’s voice broke. She burst into tears. Unwilling to stay there any longer, she turned her heels and stormed out of Dean’s study.
“Isabelle, wait!” he yelled, but that was enough to stop her.
“I can’t believe I wasted my time with you, Dean. You’re the most selfish prick I’ve ever met…
Isabelle ran down the stairs, with Dean a few feet behind her. She reached Kate’s front door within a few seconds. Surprisingly, it was open. As she entered the house, she saw a middle-aged man walking towards her and also heard Kate’s voice. It was Jonathan. Apparently, he had returned sooner than expected. But, Isabelle did not even wave at him. She just walked past him, eager to go upstairs and lock her bedroom door.
The married couple soon saw Dean. Despite his efforts, Isabelle managed to climb the stairs quickly enough and enter her bedroom, the third door on the right. Just when she tried to close it, though, she saw Dean’s hand grabbing and holding onto the right side of the door. He pushed it so hard that Isabelle was knocked off balance; she landed hard on her back.
Dean stepped into the room and offered his right hand.
“Get away from me!” Isabelle gritted her teeth and pushed it away. She put both hands on the floor to support her weight and rose.
“I’m sorry, I just--”
“What, Dean?” she interrupted him.
“You’re sorry for what? Being ‘ambitious’? Allowing your uncle to use it on a Cessna? I was there! I saw the whole thing!” Isabelle was yelling, yet again. The broken man in front of her would not speak. He kept staring at the spot where Isabelle had landed earlier. Then, he looked up at her.
“I didn’t allow him to use it. I had a reason to leave you alone that night. They were arguing about it; my aunt and my uncle. He wanted to use it. She didn’t. I went over there to talk some sense into him. He said he wouldn’t. That’s the reason why I bought the house next to Kate’s. She’s a married woman now. I don’t go after married women, Isabelle…” Dean’s apologetic tone did not have any effect on her. Adrenaline was still rushing through her veins. Isabelle had to make a decision.
“We’re over, Dean…” she said, emphatically.
“I can’t be with a man who only cares about money. And you’re a billionaire, for God’s sake...” The young woman felt like she had no choice. Dean took a deep breath and made three steps towards her. After that, he placed his right hand on her left cheek and ran his thumb over her cheekbone.
“I’m not saying goodbye yet, Isabelle. Till we meet again…” He sighed. Speechless and with her heart racing, Isabelle stood there and watched as Dean turned his back on her and tilted his head down. Upon slamming the door behind him, Isabelle leaned against the wall and shut her eyes, squeezing out a few more tears. Deep down, she had a feeling she might regret it.
Wondering what to do next, she heard Kate screaming at someone. Immediately, Isabelle opened her eyes and went to the door. A look down the stairs was enough for her to realize that Dean had not left yet. He was halfway down the stairs and was staring at something, 25 feet down the hall. She got curious and looked at that direction. Jonathan and Kate were in the middle of a big fight. The middle-aged man had his back turned to Isabelle and Dean. He wore a navy-blue suit and could not have been more than 5’10”. Isabelle’s friend was in a shiny yellow sweatsuit.
“I came here to surprise my lovely…wife and the neighbors are laughing at me! Why?! Because she’s fucking the gardener, that’s why! One of them told me he’s here all the fucking time!” Jonathan was really mad at her.
“I wouldn’t be fucking anyone if you were here!” Kate admitted to having an affair. It was at that time that Jonathan extended his arms and grabbed her by the throat before he pushed her back hard and pinned her against the wall. Distracted by their fight, Isabelle did not notice that Dean had left the stairs and was walking fast towards them.
In a stunning turn of events, Dean stopped behind Jonathan went on to encircle his huge arm around his neck from his right side and locked it between the crook of his elbow and the right side of his body. He pulled him off Kate with ease and dragged him on the floor. All of a sudden, he loosened his grip and used his right hand to push him hard onto the ground.
“No!” Kate screamed. Within a few seconds, undeterred, Dean was on top of Jonathan, punching him in the face. Isabelle watched in horror as he landed right and left punches on the poor man’s face, chest, and stomach. Jonathan let out cries of agonizing pain.
“Dean, no!” Isabelle cried out. Dean looked up at her; she was on the stairs landing. His face was covered in Jonatha
n’s blood. It had taken him just a few seconds to take out his rage on Kate’s husband. Isabelle’s cry was enough for him to stop. Dean then rose and glanced at his bloody knuckles.
“You’re welcome…” he murmured, walking past Kate…
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Poor Jonathan…Look at him. I can’t believe that prick.” Standing by the window of the room on the second floor of New York’s Metropolitan Hospital, Isabelle voiced her opinion. Jonathan was intubated. According to the doctors, he had to stay there for the night. He had two fractured ribs, a broken jaw, abrasions on his hands, multiple bruises on his chest area and a black left eye.
With Jonathan bleeding heavily, the three friends had to leave the house in a hurry. Isabelle was in black jeans and a purple blouse. Monica wore a denim, knee-length skirt and a blue sweater, while Kate did not have time to change clothes.
“I’m so getting a divorce…” Standing on the right of Jonathan’s bed, Kate sounded a little happier than Isabelle or Monica expected. With her arms folded across her chest, she sauntered towards the window and joined her friends.
“Divorce?” Monica did not want to believe what she was hearing.
“Yep. The prenup was pretty clear, I’m afraid. In the case of adultery, he’s got the right to divorce me.”
“Kate, you signed a prenup?” Isabelle was surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to get away from everything, Izzy. I was fed up with the crazy hours we had to put in. I mean, it’s insane: You get four weeks off every year, work your ass off and for what? 35 grand? There’s gotta be something better I can do for a living, you guys…” Kate could not hide her frustration.
“Kate, I’d love to have you back. Izzy, what do you think?” Monica glanced at Isabelle, on her left.
“Of course, don’t mention it. Come on, Katie. Don’t tell me you don’t miss our trips to Europe. Barcelona, Paris, Rome, Athens…It’s a great job, really.”
“I’m sure United would love to take you back, Kate. They miss you,” Monica added.
“I’m gonna have to think about it…Izzy, you haven’t mentioned Dean for…” Kate looked over her left shoulder, at the clock on the wall.
“Three hours. By the way, what the hell was he doing in my place?” Kate wondered. Isabelle realized that she had to explain the situation to both her friends. She had not been prepared for it; the image of her breakup with Dean was still lingering in her mind.
“Guys, you may wanna sit down for this. This is gonna take a while…”
Monica and Kate looked at each other for a moment.
“What the hell…” Monica silently mouthed to Kate, just when Isabelle walked past them. Kate shrugged her shoulders; she had no idea about what their friend was about to confess to them.
The two friends found a blue, plastic chair on each side of Jonathan’s bed and took a seat. Isabelle preferred to stand.
“Alright. Here we go…” she sucked in a deep breath. Monica and Kate listened intently as Isabelle narrated the events of the previous night. It took her more than fifteen minutes. By the time she had finished her story, her two friends were in disbelief.
“My God…I can’t believe I let that prick touch me with those hands…” Monica muttered under her breath.
“What?!” Isabelle and Kate asked in one voice.
“Carl…We had sex. Isabelle was over at Dean’s and Kate. I thought you’d wake up from the noise. And, trust me, we made a lot of noise. I sure did.” Monica swallowed hard.
“Phew…” Kate sighed in relief.
“You scared me there, Mon. I mean, for a moment, I thought…”
“Yeah, we know, Kate. It crossed my mind, too--” Isabelle interrupted her.
“Well, I don’t wanna say ‘I told you so,’ but, yeah…I told you so, Izzy. Now, you know what he’s capable of. Sure, he didn’t cheat on you, but this is much, much worse…” Equally disturbed by what she had just heard, Kate rose from her seat.
“Those two would sell their souls to the devil. That’s for sure. Too bad…” Monica remarked and did the same. She then straightened her sweater but noticed that Kate was staring at her, just like Isabelle.
“Too bad?” Kate asked.
“Yeah. They both fuck so well…” Once again, Monica proved that she had not lost her sense of humor. Isabelle and Kate burst into laughter. To their surprise, Monica kept talking about Carl.
“Wait till I tell you about this morning. It was so…”
“Mon!” Isabelle had to yell at Monica, in order to draw her attention. Then, she took a step towards her and put her left hand on her right shoulder.
“You can tell us about it some other time, sweetheart. Now, can we please focus on the problem?” Looking right into Monica’s eyes, Isabelle made her point. However, Monica could not understand what she was trying to tell her.
“What problem? Didn’t you just dump him?” She squinted at Isabelle.
“Kate, what am I missing here?” Monica averted her gaze from Isabelle and faced Kate.
“I’m really jealous of you guys; you know that?” A smile formed on Kate’s face, forcing Isabelle to look at her over her right shoulder.
“Meaning?” She was baffled.
“I mean, look at you. Izzy, you’re hopelessly in love with Dean, and Mon…I’m not sure about you yet, but I think you’re getting there, fast. Yeah, they’re bad news, but Dean’s in Izzy and Carl’s on his way to ‘Monicaland’. And I’m getting a divorce…” Her last sentence wiped the smile off her face.
Neither Isabelle nor Monica wanted to comment on what Kate had just said. Instead, they looked at each other and went over to their friend, wishing to comfort her. They soon put their arms around her, just like they had done in her house.
“It’s all gonna be alright, baby…” Isabelle’s mellow voice filled her ears.
“Yeah, don’t you worry, Katie.” Monica sighed.
“Now…” Isabelle ended their hug.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I think we gotta do something about those pilots. We work with them. I mean, what’s next? Portable flight attendants?”
“Awww, that’s what you meant earlier…” Monica finally understood what Isabelle had been trying to tell her all along.
“Yeah, ‘Ms. Legs.’ Welcome back to the real world, by the way…” It was Isabelle’s turn to be sarcastic.
“Oh, crap! I have tasted my own medicine, and it is sooo bitter!” Monica exclaimed.
“Come on, Mon. Time to get serious. Bear with me on this, will ya? I really wanna prevent this from happening. Got any ideas? Kate?”
“Hmm…Seeing as neither of them wants to talk about it yet, I don’t know; talk to the press, maybe?” she chirped.
“That’s a brilliant idea!” Monica raised her tone. The three friends heard Jonathan twitching. None of them wanted him to wake up just yet.
“Thanks, but keep it down, will ya, Mon?” Kate complained.
“Sorry.” Monica took a moment to think. She folded her arms across her chest.
“Kate, I like it. But, we can’t just call a press conference and start talking, can we? I mean, who’s gonna believe us? And I really don’t want any reporters snooping around my personal life,” Isabelle stated.
“Oh, I know!” Monica chirped.
“My ex’s dad work works at the Post. Wait till he hears about this. All hell is gonna break loose…” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Give him a call, Monica. It’s time for Dean Marshall and his…associate to finally grasp the seriousness of the situation.” Isabelle was glad to have found a way to hurt Dean.
Monica pulled her cell phone out of her black leather purse and found what she was looking for in a few seconds.
“Hello? Mr. Williams?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Monica Miller. I used to date your son. Remember me?”
“Oh my, what a pleasant surprise. Don’t tell
me you got back together with my Jimmy…Did ya?”
“Um, no sir. That’s not why I called you. Look, we need to talk about something.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“We can’t do this over the phone, Mr. Williams.”
At that moment, Paul Williams, the 52-year old reporter on the other end of the line, paused for five seconds.
“You got me curious, Monica. What is it you wanna talk about?”
“Mr. Williams, I’m in New York. I can be in Washington by tomorrow, though. Let’s just say that this story is going to send shockwaves through the aviation industry…”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Paul Williams and Monica met in Washington the following afternoon. Like a seasoned journalist, he had to corroborate her story. First, he met the five heads of the (American) National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB), who indeed confirmed their meeting with Dean Marshall and discussed the possibility of suggesting the installation of “Fly-Safe 7.” By protocol, the NTSB cannot actually force airlines to do anything they don’t see fit, but can merely suggest. Although the five board members expressed their doubts on whether the software would actually work on modern-day aircraft, they all agreed that, should it pass safety tests, most airlines would be interested in buying it. Those people had been around for decades and had a very good understanding of how the market worked. Even if FS-7 cost them millions of dollars, their investment would cut down costs and generate insane amounts of profit. Well-esteemed, much respected, and handsomely paid pilots would end up losing their jobs, but, like every corporation around the world, they did not really care about it. They had already increased automation to insane levels, adopting complex navigation systems. The duties of commercial pilots had been ultimately reduced to landings and takeoffs. Back in the 1980’s, thousands of flight engineers were laid off due to the development of integrated circuits. Other advances in computers and digital technology eliminated the need for them. “FS-7” was like a dream come true for airlines.
