by Ward, Steve
“Come, come ladies. Let’s not get hostile. What do you say we have a nightcap? Then I’ll take you girls to Heather’s apartment to have your little pajama party.”
* * *
The following Friday night, Christina finally had a chance to have dinner with Lazer. She was beginning to have some strong feelings for the southern-fried fighter pilot and thought of him constantly. Their relationship seemed to be moving along, but she was so busy there was little time for him. It was the perfect case of “hard to get.” The more she put him off, the more he called.
As far as Christina could tell, Lazer was a great guy with only one flaw, a total inability to speak the King’s English. His southern accent was so thick she could barely understand him. He was raised on a farm in south Georgia and neither of his parents had more than a high school education. His dad was a peanut farmer. They had a lot in common in their love of the outdoors. Lazer grew up with a rifle in his hand and was an expert deer hunter and bass fisherman. He seemed shocked to learn that Christina knew how to handle a shotgun and loved to fly-fish. She had never hunted big game, but Lazer promised to take her deer hunting on his dad’s land in the fall.
Over the last few weeks, Christina began to feel some deep emotions for Lazer. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and usually kept her in stitches. He was also the perfect gentleman. After all the college boys she had dated, it was refreshing to see a man from the old school. He never failed to open doors or pull out her chair. He always treated her like something special. Although they had shared some passionate kissing, he never pressed her for sex. Lately she had been thinking about Lazer a lot. She was starting to believe he might be “the right guy.”
It was an Italian restaurant, very dark and romantic with violins playing softly on the sound system. Their table was adorned with a dark red rose and two white candles. The wine and dinner were nothing less than spectacular, and Lazer kept her laughing the entire meal. Over dessert it was time for serious conversation.
“Lazer, I’m really worried about Heather. We’ve gotta do something about this Weston guy. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know he’s just not right. This marriage will be a disaster.”
“Well, then,” Lazer replied, “why don’t I just wander over there some night and beat the living shit outta him? Oughtta be ashamed fooling around with a young gal like that. Expect he cud be convinced.”
Lazer’s plan had a nice ring to it, but Christina figured it wouldn’t work. If Heather found out, the Three Amigos would be finished. “No, I’m afraid that won’t do. But I really have a bad feeling. How could we find out more about his background?”
“I have an ole Air Farce buddy in Atlanta that’s got his own private-eye bizness. Why don’t I just ask Rick Thompson to check out this guy fer ya? Owes me a powerful lot. I saved his ass in air combat school. Was sure to wash out when I managed to blow the instructor right off his tail.”
“Great! I’d really appreciate that. Just make sure he gets on it pretty quick. This joke of a wedding is only two months away.”
The wine was taking full effect, and Christina began to feel quite bold. She leaned over and gave him a tender kiss, putting one hand on his neck fingering his hair. She stared into his blue eyes and said, “I’ve been thinking, Lazer. I promise not to get pissed off again if you still wanna call me ‘sweetheart.’ ”
Lazer gave her a silly look of astonishment and roared. She started laughing too as he broke into song. He was off-key and way too loud,
“Let me call you Sweetheart. I’m in love with you.
Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.
Keep the love light glowing in your eyes so true.
Let me call you Sweetheart, I’m in love with you.”
Everyone in the restaurant turned to look, staring at them like they had fire coming out of their ears. Christina wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. She conjured up her best Southern Belle accent, “Why sir! That’s just the sweetest thing anyone ever sang to me. You, sir, have a most beautiful voice.”
While everyone was staring, she leaned over, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a big, lustful kiss. Although her subconscious still burned with the specter of her mother’s death, a new kind of flame ignited deep within. But this was different; it was a good flame. All of a sudden her whole body felt warm and tingly, and she was overcome with passion. She purred in her sexiest voice, “Hey, fly boy, what do you say we go over to your apartment for a little nightcap?”
“Do ya think that’s a good idea?” He had a serious tone. “Not at all sure I’d be able to keep my hands to myself.”
“That’s the point. Listen, Lazer, you should know one thing about me. I’m probably the last twenty-one-year-old virgin in Atlanta,” she gulped. “But I’d very much like to change that tonight. That is. . .if you’d have me.”
“Hells bells, are you kidding? Thought you’d never ask.” He grabbed the check and stood at the ready. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”
* * *
That night Christina discovered the secret Heather had tried so ineptly to describe years before. But there was a huge difference: no blue hair, no tattoo and no pain. Christina was so overcome by lust she felt nothing but excruciating pleasure. Lazer was very gentle at first and seemed to know exactly what to do. As he made love to her, she was lost in a river of ecstasy. Her mind floated through unexplored spheres as their bodies undulated in perfect harmony. In the short span of a few moments, her world seemed to be transformed, and the warm flame roared into a scorching blaze. All her pain and suffering washed into a sea of perfect bliss. Wave after wave of pleasure peaked into a hurricane of frenzy. When the moment came, she not only saw stars, but her entire body was wracked with an explosion so intense she almost fainted. She was swept into a new world of feelings and emotions. Afterward she felt drugged, unable to open her eyelids. Just before falling asleep, she realized Heather was right about one thing. She chuckled to herself, No question about it, he’s the right guy.
Chapter Ten
The last week in May finals were taken, and the wedding date loomed. Jessica was wired, Christina was bored and Heather broke out the champagne.
“So, what did your parents say about letting us use their house in the Keys?” Christina inquired.
“Bad news,” Heather sighed. “Daddy’s using it for business the entire month of June. Here’s the good news. He said if we could find a good site, he’d be willing to pay for us to go treasure hunting. It wouldn’t cost much to fly down to Miami, and Steve says he can get us a cheap deal on a charter flight to the Bahamas. He has a friend who flies out of West Palm Beach.”
“Are you kidding?” Jessica queried. She jumped up and down and clenched her fists with excitement. “Do you think he would do that? I’ve developed a theory how we might actually find Spanish gold in the Bahamas.”
“He said he would. So I expect so.”
“Super!” Jessica squealed.
“Let’s not get our hopes up, Jessy,” Christina said with raised eyebrow. “By the way, what’s your theory?”
A self-proclaimed expert on lost treasure, Jessica launched into a tirade, “I’ve been studying two wrecks near Great Exuma. Two Spanish Galleons called the Santo Domingo and the El Capitan went down there. They were on their way to Spain with tons of gold and silver coins minted in Mexico in the early 1700s. They got caught in the same storm that sank the Atocha. A handful survivors escaped in a lifeboat and reported the ship went down in shallow water off the island. Spain sent a salvage mission, but never found a thing. For over two-hundred years treasure hunters have searched the site, and nothing.”
“Gee that’s exciting.” Christina sneered. “So?”
“Well doesn’t it sound kind of suspicious? At first I figured the captain must’ve filed an inaccurate report so he could go back later and recover the loot. When I researched the original manifest, I discovered the latitude numbers were smudged and unreadable. So I started looking n
orth and south. I was intrigued by the description of three small islets in a similar pattern off one of the lesser Exumas directly to the north.”
“So what are the chances of finding a site to explore in just a few days, and how would we go about getting permits?” Christina seemed skeptical.
“Listen, I’ve been working on this for three years. It’s really not a problem if you have the dough,” Jessica explained. “We can contract a local salvage company to take care of the legal side, transport us to the site and provide assistance.”
“Sounds good,” said Heather. “But how would we know where to look?”
Jessica looked at her feet and thought, Guess it’s time to let the cat out of the bag. With an aura of great mystery, she walked over and closed the blinds and dimmed the lights. She pulled a wad of paper from her purse and carefully unfolded it on the coffee table.
“Wow, a treasure map!” Heather exclaimed.
Christina rolled her eyes in disgust, but Jessica noticed her peeking.
Jessica whispered, “Listen girls, this is top secret. You both have to swear a solemn oath not to mention this to anyone, ever!”
“All for one, and one for all, remember?” Heather retorted. “We already swore. Now, what is it?”
“Yeah, pinkie swear,” Christina added with a giggle curling her little finger.
Jessica wasn’t laughing. “The Captain of the El Capitan survived to testify at an inquiry in Spain. Apparently, Juan Carlos Jerrera was a mathematician. He reported the galleon went down inside a group of three islands that formed a perfect equilateral triangle with two-kilometer legs. If you look at the report, they concentrated their efforts on three islands off Great Exuma. It’s not hard to see they form the corners of an isosceles triangle with two legs at four clicks and one side at two. He specifically noted an equilateral triangle.”
“So come on, be real,” Christina prodded. “I’m sure they were just eyeballing. I mean, they were in the middle of a hurricane.”
“True,” Jessica admitted. “But the Spaniards were very precise with land formations and navigational aids. The interesting thing is, just fifty miles due north, there are three small islets that form an almost perfect equilateral triangle, 1.8 clicks each. No record anyone ever salvaged there. So, what do you think?”
“Hell yes!” Heather was in.
“But how would we hire a salvage company?” Christina asked.
“I’ve already talked to some guys down there who call themselves Wrecks Unlimited. Found them on the web. For a meager investment of $10,000, they can get the proper permits, support us on site and search with their metal detectors for a full week. If we stumble onto something, they handle the Bahamian government, and we, the investors, would get 40% of anything salvaged.”
“Well, that sounds pretty exciting, but there’s only one problem,” Christina chortled, “we don’t have $10,000.”
“Daddy felt bad about our missing the Keys this year,” Heather said. “He’s already agreed to cough up the money if we want to hunt treasure.”
“He didn’t agree to put up ten grand, so we can go and have ourselves a nice little swim,” said Christina with a large dose of sarcasm. “That’s a lotta dough.”
“We didn’t talk an exact amount, but he said such a thing can be written off as a bad investment on his income taxes. He’s in the highest bracket, so it would actually cost him less.”
“Sure,” Christina sneered.
“Just to make it fair,” Jessica jumped in, “we could offer him half our cut. Should we get lucky, he could even make some money.”
“I’ll call him,” Heather turned and walked out of the room.
Jessica had no desire to argue with Christina. She turned away and stared through a crack in the blinds. Her mind was racing with possibilities, God, this could be it. She stood there like a little girl with her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers crossed behind her back.
Heather returned with good news, and Jessica shrieked with delight. They started planning details for an excursion to the Exumas. It would be their last chance to vacation as three single women, so they planned to make the most of it. Burned out on academia, hunting treasure in the Bahamas had tremendous appeal, and even Christina finally agreed Jessica’s notion had potential.
Jessica was surprised when Weston agreed it would be a good idea for Heather to go off for a few days with her friends. He was very helpful with the planning, making several calls and arranging flights.
“I know some people in West Palm,” he said, “who can give you a great deal on a charter. I insist. I’ll take care of everything.”
They were all three shocked when he decided to pay their way.
“It’s the very least I can do,” he said, “after all you girls have done for my sweet Heather.”
* * *
Christina was excited when the day finally arrived. They were off to the airport overloaded with baggage and diving gear. After the short flight from Atlanta, they were shuttled to the West Palm fixed based operator, Signature Flight Services, on the far side of the airport. Their charter pilot, Hank Rogers, wore an old, beat up leather jacket. She took one look at him and thought, Looks like he’s been flying about a hundred years.
An attractive older man in his sixties, Hank had a full set of dark brown hair with only a slight frosting of gray. His face was painted with light blue eyes and a friendly smile. After doing some paperwork, he walked over to Christina and explained that he planned to take his grandson, Billy, to do some fishing on the islands.
Billy, a nice looking teenager, was obviously caught in the awkward transformation from boy and man. The smooth skin on his face was dotted with freckles, accented with bright red hair. Christina snickered at his appearance. He was visibly taken aback by the Three Amigos, and he studied the floor in bashful silence. The girls ate lunch with their flight crew in the FBO diner just before departure, and Christina took an immediate liking to both Hank and Billy.
She walked into the lobby and noticed a female pilot filling out her logbook. A plain looking woman and a little overweight, she appeared to be about thirty. Christina wondered how long she’d been flying and decided to strike up a conversation.
“Hi, my name is Christina Matthews. I noticed your wings, and I was just wondering what the job market for female pilots is like these days.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Barbara Gilmore. You, a pilot?”
“Just getting started. How long have you been flying?”
“Don’t think I want to answer that one,” she said with a chuckle. “I took my first lessons when I was a teenager in California, after I got out of high school.”
“So, did you major in aeronautical engineering?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I majored in Psychology at the University of Georgia.”
“What a coincidence. My friend, Heather, is a Psych major there. Would you happen to know a Dr. Weston?”
Gilmore’s face turned bright red, and she coughed loudly, quickly looking away. Turning back to Christina she said, “Uh. . .hey, listen, I’m busy here. Only got a couple of minutes. Got to take a charter to the Exumas in less than an hour.”
“Where are your passengers?”
“I don’t know, my clients seem to be running late. Let me ask, how far along is your flight training then?”
“Just soloed.”
“So you want to be a commercial pilot?”
“Well, my long-term goal is to be an astronaut.”
“Astronaut?” Gilmore snorted in her face, rudely. “You’re kidding right? Why don’t you just go for President? Your chances would be better. Don’t you know those two words ‘female’ and ‘astronaut’ don’t mix?”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“Hey, I know some people at NASA. I tried to apply once myself, and they just laughed. The general policy at JSC is that women don’t have the Right Stuff.”
“Are you sure? But. . .”
“Grow up kid. O
f over three-hundred astronauts selected, only three females, and only one ever made it off the ground.”
“But. . .”
“Hey listen. If you want to build your hours without breaking the bank, your best route would be the military. If you qualify, they pay for the training and keep you in the air. Only other way to get the time without spending a fortune is to work as a flight instructor.”
Christina couldn’t figure. Surely she knows about the most famous female Astronaut Commander. “Guess you’re right,” Christina said, “I understand Eileen Collins did both. She was a T-38 instructor in the Air For. . .”
“Eileen Collins? Are you kidding me? What a joke! NASA needed a female commander so they manufactured one.” Gilmore stomped back to her office before she could reply.
