by T. A. Foster
“What is this place?” Skye stepped from the truck and took in the building adjacent to the pier. It was wooden and looked like it hadn’t seen a coat of paint or stain in twenty years.
“A bar.” Ben walked to her side to help her step down, but she was already on the pavement.
It was almost entirely outdoor seating. There were people leaning against the railings, beers in hand, fruity drinks with tropical umbrellas scattered on the tables. Skye followed Ben up the stairs, wrapping her jacket a little tighter as the ocean breeze kicked up.
“Dude, where the hell have you be—oh, hello.” A tall, well-built man stopped in mid-rant to smile at Skye.
“Skye, Hollywood. Hollywood, Skye.” Ben introduced them.
“Bolt didn’t tell me he was bringing along a beautiful woman.” He took her hand.
Skye’s eyes darted to her date. “Bolt?” It crossed her mind maybe he hadn’t been honest about his real name.
He nodded. “Yep. It’s a call sign.”
“So you’re a pilot?” Her head tilted to the side.
Hollywood laughed. “Aw, man. You didn’t tell her? That’s funny.”
“Shut up.” Ben looked uncomfortable.
Skye scooted onto the open barstool. “Aren’t there always stories that go with call signs?” The guys nodded. “Well, then you have to tell me the back story on your names.” She looked at both men.
“I think you need a drink for this talk, sweetheart.” Hollywood waved down a waitress.
“There you are!” A tall, lean guy in jeans and a surfing T-shirt dropped into an open seat.
“Eagle, what’s up man? I didn’t know you were meeting us out.” Ben looked surprised to see him. Skye assumed the newcomer must be another pilot.
Hollywood handed out three beers, while Eagle ordered another for himself.
“And I didn’t know we were bringing dates.” He turned toward Skye. “Nice to meet you.”
She smiled. “Nice to meet you. Skye.” She extended her hand to his. “Now I get to hear another call sign story.”
“Oh, we’re doing that?” Eagle accepted the beer from the waitress with a grin.
Hollywood laughed. “Yep. We’re doing that. Why don’t you go first since you got here last?”
Eagle hung his head. “Ah, do I have to? It’s embarrassing. Mine isn’t the most glamorous story.” He took a swig of beer. “When I was in flight school some dudes in my class dared me to shave my head one night. We were pretty plastered. Anyway, the next day I woke up with a white bald head, and that with the combination of this nose,” He pointed to his face. “garnered the awesome call sign Eagle, because everyone said I looked like a bald eagle. Never shaved my head again after that one.”
Skye smiled. She wasn’t sure how to react. Now that he mentioned it, he did have sort of a hooked nose and high eyebrows like a Muppets character. Giggling definitely wasn’t a good idea.
“I’m up.” Hollywood slammed his beer on the table. “Ever heard of the show The Dad?” He searched her eyes.
“Of course. I loved that show. It was hilarious.”
“Well, I was Little Ricky.”
“What?” She studied his face trying to make out the features from the five-year-old boy that she and her family laughed over every Thursday night.
Ben and Eagle started to laugh. “He’s a genuine movie star.” Ben winked at her and she felt that sensation deep in her stomach, the one that she hadn’t stopped thinking about since last night.
Hollywood nodded. “That’s right. I was Little Ricky for three years.”
“But, what happened? After the show ended I don’t remember seeing you on anything else.” She leaned forward in her seat. This was like a Where Are They Now show.
“My parents decided to move out of California. They didn’t like the lifestyle, so we headed back to the east coast. I was too young to know the difference. I went to college, flight school, and now I’m here having a beer with my buddies and you.”
Skye recognized a flirt when she saw one. This guy had more moves than a chess board. “And Hollywood I’m guessing is to make fun of your illustrious career?”
“Exactly. That and they’re all just jealous. I like to think it’s more of a compliment.” He grinned from ear to ear.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s a compliment.” He had the good looks to back up the name. “So that leaves you.” She tipped her beer toward Ben. This was the story she had been waiting to hear. The one she had tried to figure out since she heard his alternate name. She asked the question but was praying the explanation had nothing to with his possible tendency to bolt on women. “How did you get the name Bolt?”
He rested on his elbows and rotated so his eyes were locked on hers. “Lightning strike.”
“Lightning?”
“It was my first tour after flight school and I was heading out for a night flight. There was a storm rolling in, but we thought we could take off before it was over top of us. It was past the five-mile safety mark, or at least we thought it was.” He paused and she knew there was no hiding that she was absorbed in his every word. “But, as I was rolling down the runway and about to lift off, we had a strike on our tail. It must have been a pop-up cloud or something. We were airborne for about a second then, smack!” He hit the table. “We were right back on the runway.”
“Oh my God. Were you hurt?”
Ben laughed. “Naw. We destroyed a forty million dollar aircraft, but we were fine.”
Skye realized she had been holding her breath. “I bet you were terrified.”
He shook his head. “Not until much later. We were just glad we didn’t fry. It took awhile for it to sink in what had actually happened. It was one of those surreal experiences. You know?” He smiled at her, and for a second she thought he might be talking about more than just his lightning accident. As he stared into her eyes the heat from last night came back to her. “Who’s ready for another round? Want another?”
She looked at Hollywood and Eagle. Suddenly she felt like she had crashed guys’ night. Maybe it was best to head back to the spreadsheets. “I think I should probably go.” She pushed back from the table. “Let you guys have the next round.”
“No, no stay.” Hollywood reached for her wrist. “It’s nice to see Bolt with a girl. You can’t leave yet. This is a special treat.”
What did that mean? She looked at her date. For the first time since she’d met him, something had wiped the confident look right off his face. She settled back onto the stool.
“Ok. You talked me into it, Hollywood. I’ll have another.”
“Whew. For a second there I thought Bolt lost his touch.” Eagle whistled before Ben popped him on the back of the head. “What was that for?” He rubbed the spot.
“Because sometimes you’re an asshole.” Ben snarled.
“But you love me.” Eagle smiled sweetly.
“Sometimes.” Ben rolled his eyes.
She could tell they had a camaraderie that was layered with more than just beer nights. She wondered what it was like to work with people who depended on you for their lives. The kind of people who weren’t trying to steal projects from you or claw out your eyes to get the next promotion.
She didn’t know what to call him anymore. Was he Ben or Bolt? Since he introduced himself as Ben she decided to go with that.
“Ben, how long have you been flying?” She thought they had to be about the same age, but she wasn’t sure. After she passed twenty-five, age took on a whole new meaning. This was supposed to be the phase of responsibility and goal-building. She didn’t want to waste time on men who were still searching for themselves or were life-long college students. She crossed her fingers, hoping he was at least twenty-five.
Ben took a sip of beer. “Let’s see, after college I did Officer Candidates School, TBS, which is Marine basic school, then I went to flight school, and did a year at the RAG after that. That’s where I learned to fly the F/A-18. If I count the flight school, I’d say f
our years.”
Skye counted up the years in her head and smiled. Good he was probably twenty-six, like her. Although she had no idea what all these acronyms stood for. Marine speak was weird.
“And what about you two?” She looked at Hollywood and Eagle.
“The same.” Hollywood grinned.
Eagle put his hand in air. “I have to confess. I’m a wizzo.”
“Wizzo?” She had never heard of it before.
Ben smiled. “Yeah, it’s easier than always saying WSO. It stands for weapons systems operator. Eagle’s my backseat. He’s responsible for all of the instruments, weather checks, that kind of thing. I don’t like flying with anyone else.”
“That hurts, man. That hurts.” Hollywood covered his heart with his palms. He looked at Skye. “I’m a wizzo too. I usually fly with a guy named Ranger. We try to keep the same flight teams in our squadron. It’s sort of a tradition with the Rebels.”
All of it was new lingo and information for her. But it was thrilling and exciting. Her days were spent analyzing consumer trends and targeting buying habits. Flying was something completely different and foreign. It sounded dangerous, but extremely fun.
“What other kind of traditions do you have?”
Ben slid his arm around her shoulder. She liked the gesture, but hoped she didn’t look too surprised. It was the kind of thing a boyfriend would do, or at least someone you had been dating awhile would do.
“We can’t tell you all our top secret intel.” He grinned, showing off his white teeth.
Eagle spit out a mouthful of beer. “Secret intel? Dude, do you want her to think we’re spies or something?”
Ben shook him off. “No, but enough work talk. We talk shop too much.”
Hollywood leaned in his seat. “What about you, Skye? What do you do?”
All eyes were on her. “Oh, nothing as exciting as you guys. I’m a campaign executive for an advertising company.”
She wasn’t sure if they were legitimately interested, or really skilled at pretending, but each one nodded.
“I work with different companies to help them launch new brands, or either create a campaign for them to remarket an older product. I like it.” Her answer sounded canned, as if she were trying to convince them she loved her job.
Ben added, “You should see some of the spreadsheets she’s made.” He winked at her, and she smiled. She hadn’t realized Ben was paying attention to her work when they were at her apartment. Then she remembered she had left him alone in her living room while she changed clothes. What else could he have seen?
Hollywood and Eagle stayed for another round then Hollywood stretched his arms to the stars. “Man, it’s late. I think we better get going, Eagle.”
“Why? It’s not that late.” Eagle looked disappointed.
Skye giggled when she saw Hollywood jab the skinny friend in the ribs. “Oh, right. We should be going. Nice to meet you, Skye. See you at work, Bolt.”
“It was nice to meet you both.” She smiled.
Hollywood threw a wad of bills on the table. “Have a good night.” He winked at Skye one last time before following Eagle down the boardwalk and toward the parking lot.
“What’d you think of my friends?” Ben moved his stool closer to hers now that they had the table to themselves. It seemed quieter and more intimate.
“They’re nice. A little crazy, but nice.” In only a matter of minutes they had taken her in like she had been a part of their group forever.
He tipped the bottle back and she watched as his throat moved. No one should be this sexy just drinking a beer. She shivered as he moved his free hand to rest on the top of her thigh. It felt warm through her jeans.
“You think you’re going to finish that beer?” His expression was playful.
“Why?” she teased.
“Because all I’ve been able to think about since we got here is taking you back home.” He brushed her hair off her neck and kissed the spot below her ear. It could have been the ocean air breezing over her skin, but she knew it was his lips that caused her to sigh.
“I, uh—I don’t know.” She wiggled toward the edge of the barstool.
His brow furrowed. “Don’t know? I thought we were having a good time.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“I’ll pay for mine.” Her purse was resting on table.
“No, I asked you out. I’ll pay.” He insisted.
Skye slouched on the stool. There wasn’t a real plan, but none of this was going smoothly now without the other two guys as a buffer. She felt awkward and inexperienced around Ben. It was as if his extreme confidence had a way of chipping away at hers. This was no longer one-night stand territory; everything was different. This was a date.
He stood next to her. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
Great. She had pissed him off and embarrassed herself.
“Thanks.” She followed him to his truck.
On the ride back to the Gaslamp she tried to think of how she could salvage the night without sleeping with him. That wasn’t going to happen. Her hormones had cooled off along with the place between her legs, and her rational, mature self could win out any impulse she might have where he was concerned. No matter what she wasn’t going to change her one-month rule.
He slowed in front of her building. For a second she thought he might drop her on the curb.
“You can pull around to the gate and I’ll give you the code to get in.” The plan still hadn’t come together, but at least she could try to stall him.
“Ok.” He maneuvered to the gate and she called out the code so he could punch it into the keypad. He rolled forward and put the truck into park in one of the open visitor slots. “Thanks for going to PB with me. The guys enjoyed meeting you.”
She clutched her purse in her lap. “They were great—lots of fun.” She fidgeted with her keys. “Do you want to come up for coffee?”
“Coffee?”
Wrong suggestion. “Or I have wine. But I don’t know about that after beer.” Somewhere in the back of her head was a rhyme with beer and wine, but with him staring at her she couldn’t remember what order they went in.
He cut the ignition. “Ok. I’ll come up for some coffee.”
“Good.” She smiled, but he was already out of the driver’s side and standing next to her, pulling the door open. She wasn’t used to these kinds of gestures.
It seemed like most of the California guys she had gone on dates with were of the opinion women could fend for themselves. Granted, she was one of those women who liked to fend. She got her own doors, paid for her own meals, and brought her own jackets on chilly nights. It had never occurred to her to depend on a guy for anything. If she really thought about it she knew she could diagnose her approach as a symptom of her parents’ divorce.
When she was eight years old they separated. Her father moved out and she saw him twice a year out of legal obligations. For years she watched as her mother struggled to pay bills, pack lunches, and wrestle with the house appliances. She hated that her mother’s challenges didn’t end there. It only got worse. As long as Skye learned how to do everything herself, she felt equipped to handle anything. She wouldn’t be the woman who fell apart just because a man walked out the door. She could open her own doors.
Her last relationship had ended over a year ago, if she could even call it that. A month and a half in and he complained about her obsessive work schedule. Skye had her own theories as to why things suddenly fell apart after the thirty-day mark.
Unlike last night, she let Ben into the apartment without a fumble. She walked straight to the coffee pot and opened the cabinet above.
“I have decaf.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ok. You sound prepared.”
She measured four scoops into the filter and poured the water in the top. “Are you hungry?” She opened the pantry, not sure what was inside. It had been weeks since she had gone to the grocery store. Usually she or
dered take out or had dinner delivered to the office.
“No. I’m good, thanks.” He turned on his heels and walked to the window.
The coffee dripped into the pot in a steady stream.
Skye picked up the TV remote. “How about a movie?” She punched in the higher channels where the movies were.
“Sure. What’s on?” He walked back to the couch and sat in the middle.
“I’m not sure.” She scrolled past the cooking shows and the home shopping channels.
“No way.” Ben laughed. “Top Gun?”
“You like this one?” She placed the remote on the coffee table.
“Like it? Who doesn’t? It’s only the best movie ever made.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“I’m not sure about that. Best movie?”
“Have you ever seen it?” A concerned look flashed across his face.
“Of course. I saw it once.”
“Once?” He sounded shocked. “That’s un-American. I think there’s a ten-time minimum on this movie. Sit.” He patted the couch next to him.
Skye looked at his arm draped over the back of her sofa and the spot he created for her. If she sat there, he would make a move.
“Come on, sit.” He looked at the TV as a jet soared across the screen. Right now he seemed more interested in this movie than her even if she stripped down to her underwear.
She wiggled into the couch, her hip pressed against his as she pulled her heels under her. His arm instantly roped around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. He smelled good, like a mixture of cologne and cedar. After a few minutes, she felt the tenseness in her muscles relax and she nuzzled against his shoulder. This felt good.
Ben was completely focused on the movie. He nodded during certain scenes and a few times she thought she caught him whispering the lines. It was cute. Watching the jets on the screen it was hard to imagine that this was his job. He flew fast like that? He was completely in control of something powerful and intense. The whole idea was unreal. It made her both uncomfortable and incredibly turned on. It wasn’t something she could relate to, but it was exotic and very sexy.
