by Ward, Steve
Kicking herself for not getting her shot off faster, Christina could’ve thrown in the towel. She felt like hell. Her head was throbbing, and her stomach felt like she had just eaten eight or ten donuts. But quitting wasn’t in her character. Instead, she got on the radio in defiance, “Oh, that’s bullshit! I had you right in my sights. Thought you were going to turn, so I could do a High YoYo. You gotta give me another go.”
“No prob,” Frog agreed. “Got time for one more. That is, if you don’t mind getting your ass busted again.”
She was bound and determined not to be out-maneuvered by the old coot twice. He’s seventy-four for Christ’s sake! Surely her athletic body could handle more stress. While flying out to separate the two planes, she asked for some advice, “Lazer, I got to admit, I’m getting a little green at the gills. I need a quick kill. Any suggestions?”
“Be creative. Try something he won’t expect. This thing’ll do ‘bout anything ya want,” Lazer drawled on. “When I say, ‘fight’s on,’ try pulling straight up in a loop. He’ll be looking for ya ‘round to his side, and you’ll be comin’ over the top. With the sun just overhead, he won’t be able to see. There’s and old saying in air combat, ‘Lose Sight, Lose Fight!’”
The second charge was on, and Furgeson once again rolled into a steep left turn. Christina went straight up in a big loop. As the back horizon rolled into view, she could see the little plane down below as he dived in a defensive maneuver. Sweeping her cross hairs in front of his plane, she pulled the trigger, just missing a quick “snap shot.” Pulling out at the bottom of the loop, she could see he was turning in defense, so she yanked the stick up into a Hi YoYo. Unable to move in behind, she commenced another cycle and started feeling dizzy. At the bottom of the third looping maneuver, the centrifugal force tried to rip the skin off her face. At six G’s, she was smashed into her seat so hard, she could barely hold her hands on the stick. Just as her vision was going black, she saw the T-34 square in her sights. Squeezing the trigger, a thick stream of white smoke poured out of Furgeson’s plane. She finally released back-pressure and claimed her victory.
“Die, you son-of-a-bitch!”
Lazer blasted away, “That’ll teach you scum suckers to fool with us. This here’s Christina the Sky Warrior yore dealin’ with. I suggest you two don’t tell nobody you got yore ass wiped by a girl,” he roared over the radio.
Her entire body felt horrid, but the feeling of accomplishment was overwhelming, a definite highpoint in her life. At that moment, she knew there was nothing in aviation she couldn’t do.
“Christina the Sky Warrior, huh?” she said. “Yeah, I like the ring of it.”
“Nice handle,” he agreed.
As they pulled in behind Frog for the ride back to Charlie Brown, she said, “Hey Lazer, it’s your airplane.” She could feel him take the stick as she pulled off her helmet. Finding a barf bag in the side pocket, she retched with several spasms of severe nausea and quickly filled it up. After her stomach settled, she turned to Lazer with a scowl, “Don’t you dare tell John that I threw up.”
“Hell no, sweetheart,” he exclaimed. “It happens to a lotta pilots ‘til they get used to the G. Don’t worry none, sweetheart, yore good as any man.”
“Goddamit! I’m not your fucking sweetheart!” she shouted in her bitchiest voice. “You got to promise me. I don’t want him to know.”
“Okay, swee. . .I mean Ma’rm, whatever you say. Promise I won’t mention the lunch toss, if you’ll go out to dinner with me.”
Wiping the vomit off her chin, Christina could hardly believe he was hitting on her. She wasn’t feeling very romantic. She thought for a second and said, “I tell you what, Lazer, if you can squeak down a smooth landing and get me to a bathroom within five minutes, I’ll buy you dinner.”
Lazer called the tower, “Charlie Brown, this here’s Sky Warrior Two Seven Seven Niner Zulu. My passenger up here’s got a serious bladder issue, got to git to the potty real quick-like. Request to forgo the military approach and git a straight-in.”
“Seven Niner Zulu, clear of traffic. Straight-in approved.”
Exactly three minutes and forty-five seconds later, Lazer pulled alongside the hangar, cut the engine, and rolled back the canopy. “There ya go Ma’rm. I believe that’s right on about four minutes.”
“Thanks a lot, fly boy. I owe you one.”
Chapter Nine
After a hard week of midterms, Christina was more than ready to have some fun. It was Friday night, and Heather had called to see if the girls could come to Athens for some serious bar hopping. She sounded quite mysterious, saying she had some “very juicy news.” Driving toward Athens, Christina glanced over at Jessica and noticed her worried look.
“So what’s the deal?” Jessica asked. “She’s completely quit calling me.”
“Don’t know, but I’m worried too,” Christina replied. “What would you guess?”
“I expect it’s something to do with that Psych professor she’s been sneaking around with. I don’t know what happened. She used to tell us everything.”
“Just hope she’s not in some kind of trouble. Maybe she’s pregnant.”
“No way, too smart for that.”
Parking in front of Heather’s apartment, she honked the horn, got out and walked toward the door. Heather came running out to meet them like an excited schoolgirl. Daddy’s paying out the nose for this less-than-humble abode, Christina thought. While Jessica and Christina lived in squalor on the Georgia Tech campus, Heather thrived in a plush, two-bedroom apartment with no roommates.
“God, I’ve missed you guys!” She almost cried giving them both a tight hug. She walked them inside and broke out a bottle of wine and stemware.
“Missed you too, Heather. How come you’ve quit calling?” Christina got right to the point.
“Gee, I’m sorry. I’ve been swamped. But that's all changed now. I have something to tell you.”
Heather babbled on nervously with small talk while they sipped their Clos Du Bois Merlot, but Jessica was having none of it. “That’s enough chit-chat Heather. What the hell’s going on?”
Heather took a deep breath and finally blurted it out. “He wants to marry me! Can you believe that?”
Jessica and Christina looked at each other perplexed.
“And who might he be?” Jessica asked as though she didn’t already know.
“Listen, I’m not stupid. I know you guys are aware I’ve been seeing my Psychology professor. His name is Dr. Steve Weston.”
“You’re not serious,” Christina choked on the news. “You don’t mean your professor actually wants to marry you?”
“Bingo! I really love this guy, and we’re getting married in July.” She pulled out a small case and showed off a large diamond engagement ring.
“Holy shit. It’s huge!” Christina stammered. “That has to be at least two carats. Wonder where a college professor would get that kinda money?”
“Not sure. I do know he inherited some from his grandmother.”
Christina tried to introduce some reason into the conversation. “Don’t you think you’re a little young to be getting married?”
“How old is this guy, anyway?” Jessica prodded. She was visibly upset.
“Forty-seven, but he looks a lot younger.”
“Are you out of your fricking mind?” Jessica blasted away. “He’s old enough to be your father, for Christ’s sake! Why don’t you just move in with the old fart until he gets tired of bangin’ you?”
Heather looked at the floor and frowned, “Well, for one thing, he doesn’t bang me. We make the sweetest love. Steve knows a lot more than those boys I’ve dated.”
“Don’t you think he’s just using you?” Christina felt sick at the thought of this middle-aged pervert taking advantage or her best friend.
“No,” Heather continued her rehearsed speech, “Steve makes me feel grown up and special. He’s very interesting and has a wonderful personality. More important,
I know he truly loves me, and I don’t want to walk away from the real thing.”
“Sure he loves you,” Jessica cackled at her naivety. “He loves having a beautiful coed in his bed every night. But what could you possibly have in common? He’s from another generation. Don’t tell me you’re going to marry a Baby Boomer! What are you thinking?”
Heather’s face turned serious, and she started to cry. “You guys are supposed to be my friends. Now you can see why I didn’t want to tell you. What happened to the Three Amigos, huh? All for one, and one for all? I would think you might be a little more supportive. Ever hear of congratulations?” She started whimpering.
“We are supportive, Heather. We love you very much, and that’s why we care enough to question this insanity.” Christina put an arm around her.
Jessica jumped right back in. “Why get married so soon? Why not let it cook for a year or two, and see how it goes?”
“He wants to marry me, and I’ve already said yes.”
“Do your parents know?” Christina already knew the answer but was curious how Heather planned to handle the announcement. “Has he gone home to meet mommy and daddy?”
“No, we’re not going to tell them for awhile. Steve likes to keep our relationship kind of quiet. He’s worried about bad press for the school.”
“Quiet is not the right word, Heather,” Jessica said. “He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s bedding a student. . .his student.”
“Come on, you guys, I’m engaged, for God sakes!” Heather dug her heals in. “Listen, I’m not a kid anymore, and I’ve made my decision. Now let’s try to have some fun.” She slid the engagement ring on her finger and waved it around. “Looks pretty good, no?”
They weren’t making much progress talking her out of a bad situation, so Christina tried to sound more supportive. “Heather, if you’re sure this is what you want, you know we’ll be with you all the way. That is, until the old bastard takes you away. In the meantime, I think we should check this guy out and make sure he’s not some kind of weirdo or something.”
“That’s a good idea,” Heather agreed. “He’ll be over here in about five minutes, so you can ask him yourself.”
“Maybe he has a weak heart,” Jessica put her jab in.
They had heard rumblings of Heather and her Psychology professor. Christina figured there was some fooling around, but never dreamed Heather might actually marry the guy. It didn’t make sense. They polished off the bottle of wine and teased Heather unmercifully. They reminded her that she had pledged to marry a farmer and make a house full of little Amigos.
When Weston came in the front door, Christina was immediately suspicious. He was just too handsome and charming to be real. His hair pulled back in a short ponytail, it was much too long for his age. Deep blue eyes highlighted a stoic face. He was dressed in a shabby old diner jacket and rumpled slacks, the perfect look for a college professor. A few wrinkles around the eyes gave away his age, but he was very good looking. Weston walked over, bowed and graciously kissed the back of their hands like something out of a movie.
“So you’re the famous pair, Heather’s comrades in arms,” crooned Weston. “She talks of nothing else but Jessica and Christina, Christina and Jessica. She thinks you two ladies hung the moon. You must be very special. Such a pleasure to finally meet you. Now let’s see, which one is Christina, the future astronaut?” He slowly looked the girls up and down. “Let me guess, the tall one, right?”
Christina shrugged, “How did you guess?”
“I understand you’re quite the flyer. How’s your aviation career going? Any new fly boys in your life?”
She judged him instantly, and the verdict was guilty. “Just one,” she said with a smirk. “How about you? How’s your teaching career? Any new coeds in your life?” she struck back.
Weston cringed, “Ouch! I suppose you feel it a little unusual for a professor to marry one of his students, but I can assure you that I love your precious Heather very much.” He put an arm around Heather and looked at her warmly. “After endless therapy, this young lady has single-handedly rescued me from a deep depression, pain suffered for some years. She is very mature for her age, and we have a great time. I can see many happy days in our future.”
Christina wasn’t buying the bullshit. She walked right up to him and looked squarely in his eyes. “I just have one question. Has Heather told you anything about the Three Amigos?”
“Amigos?” Weston twitched nervously. “Wasn’t that a movie?”
She gave him a cold stare. “Never mind. Just remember one thing. Heather means a great deal to us. We’re kind of like blood-sisters. Wouldn’t want to see her get hurt.”
Heather’s face turned bright red. She was starting to squirm, when Weston moved quickly to disarm his attackers. He laughed aloud, “Ladies, rest assured that Heather is in good hands. I swear on my mother’s grave my intentions are honorable, so let’s cut the jousting shall we and have a drink. I would be honored to take all three of you beautiful women out to dinner. I’ll be the envy of every man in Athens.”
Weston took them to the East-West Bistro, the best restaurant in town. One thing was crystal clear to Christina, he enjoyed the company of females and was an articulate conversationalist, a smooth talker. He dominated the conversation, pouring out champagne with large doses of charm.
“Christina, my dear, I understand you come from a long line of achievers, a real aeronautical family. I’ve heard of your dad, Lt. Col. Pat Matthews. He’s probably the best test pilot working. The AOPA feature article about him last year was superb.”
“Thank you very much. I’m quite proud of my dad.”
“So I have just one question, why hasn’t he made the astronaut program?”
A sore subject for Christina, she said, “A real disappointment. Some kind of politics. Not something he likes to talk about.”
“Sorry, it’s really none of my business, of course, but it seems every other pilot at his level has had a shot. Oh well,” he quickly tried to change the subject. “You know, I’m also a pilot. I’ve owned a plane for about ten years now.”
“Oh yeah?” Christina started to come around. “What kind?”
“It’s a late model Cessna 172 in great condition. I fly it about a hundred hours a year just to keep current with my instrument skills.”
“So, you’re instrument rated.”
“Got about nine-hundred hours with over a hundred actual IFR.”
“What do you have in your Cessna? Do you have a GPS?”
“Why, yes, it’s fully equipped with all the latest widgets. How’d you like to go up with me sometime?”
Christina could feel herself getting sucked in. “No, I don’t think so. I’d be embarrassed to show how little I know at this point. I only just recently soloed.”
Heather piped in, “For God’s sake, can we please talk about something other than airplanes? Let’s talk about the wedding. Steve, honey, what kind of wedding do you think we should have?”
“Oh, I suppose a big one with lots of celebration,” he said with a cynical look. “Got it. I can bus in my buddies from the old folks home, and you can invite all your college girlfriends,” he chuckled. “What kind of wedding would you like, my dear?”
“Oh, uhhh. . .I just want a small ceremony with a few friends,” she replied.
“Whatever you say. It’s totally up to you. I’m not very good with weddings. Honeymoons are my specialty.”
“I’ll bet,” Jessica snarled. “By the way, when will we be sending out the announcements?”
“We want to keep it quiet for now,” Heather answered, “but I just had to tell my two best friends, and Steve agreed it was a good idea.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Weston continued. “I’d very much appreciate your discretion ladies. New rules at the university, you know. After all these years, it seems the powers-that-be are getting a case of the goody-goodies.”
“Not like the good old days, huh?” Jessica co
uldn’t resist. “Exactly what was required back then to get an A on the final?”
