The Pilot and the Pinup

by Tina Holland

  "Next!"

  "Honey, that's you." The woman in line behind Sydney lightly tapped her shoulder.

  Sydney stared at the girl behind the desk. "Sorry."

  "Name, please."

  "Wagner."

  "Sydney?"

  "That's me." Sydney gave the woman her credit card.

  "Very good, Miss Wagner, we'll have you in your room in a few minutes."

  "Thanks."

  "Party Girl, is that you!" Sydney turned in time to see the nearly six-foot redhead, Gwen McIver, bearing down on her. Party girl indeed! She earned the nickname from Gwen because she was one of the few people that could keep up with the fast-paced, shot-drinking Floridian.

  "Hey, Gwen.” She waved. They became fast friends when she and Sydney met at a previous convention. Gwen was open and carefree; two things Sydney always longed to be. Gwen was also gorgeous, with bright green eyes and dark curly auburn hair that fell past her shoulders. Her good looks managed to keep a constant stream of men in her wake. They also kept her from starving; when Gwen wasn’t wrestling alligators, she was modeling. Sydney was amazed there wasn’t a single man trailing Gwen at the moment.

  “I was thinking you'd never show." Gwen embraced Sydney.

  "I had a flat."

  "That's rotten luck. It appears you managed."

  Sydney blushed and conveniently glanced away as the clerk gave her the key.

  "Syd! Did something happen? Tell me." Apparently, Gwen hadn’t missed the blush and fell into step tailing Sydney to the elevator.

  "Nothing." Sydney spoke after a few moments. “What’s on the agenda?”

  “Oh, the usual: parties, books and hunky guys walking around. I really liked that last part. And don’t think you’ve sidetracked me; it's something, so quit dodging."

  "Don't you have a Rafael, Gabriel or some other Don Juan stashed in your room?"

  "Ooh! You're getting the claws out. Sadly, there’s no Don Juan this trip, but I might still find one. And you?”

  "Lance is coming down; you know that.”

  “I suppose you’ll be shut up in your room?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “That’s rather disappointing.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means we won’t go out on the town, which, if you ask me, is a total bummer. Two single chicks like us should be spreading our wings and maybe our legs,” Gwen continued, paying no attention to the other patrons in the elevator. “Which brings me back to, why the blush?”

  “Give it a rest, Gwen.” Sydney ducked under Gwen’s arm, getting out onto her floor.

  "I will get it out of you eventually." Gwen was determined.

  "There’s nothing to tell, and, besides, think of it as something to look forward to." Sydney unlocked the door, hoping for escape.

  Gwen finally gave up as she followed Sydney into the room. She plopped down on one of the beds even as Sydney put her suitcase on the other. The beds had white comforters and mahogany headboards to match the rest of the wood décor. "Got any agent or editor appointments for your book?”

  "Yep. Hopefully, they go well."

  "Sweets, you'll do fine." Gwen checked her watch. "Oh crap! I got to go get changed for the shoot.”

  “You don’t want to keep Rafael waiting.”

  “Of course not, but I won't forget!" She waved her finger at Sydney as if to scold for not telling.

  "I’m hoping." Sydney crossed her fingers as she looked back at Gwen. Gwen stuck her tongue out at her and closed the door.

  Sydney no sooner sat down when there was a knock at the door. "Yes?"

  "I have some flowers here for a Miss Wagner?"

  Flowers? From whom? Peter? But they just met, and he didn't know where she was staying. Stop thinking about him. She walked over and opened the door.

  "Here you are, miss. Sign here." He gave her a piece of paper and pen. Sydney signed.

  "Thank you." Syd tipped him, catching the scent of the fresh flowers as she closed the door. It was a springtime bouquet. Lance, Sydney thought as she set them down on a neighboring table. The envelope was easy enough to find standing straight up on a plastic holder. Sydney read the card.

  Sydney,

  Good luck! Do your best and don't worry about a thing. I've got things covered. Call me when you arrive.

  Your sis,

  Courtney.

  Sydney peeked at the phone, not sure if she wanted to hear about all the trials and tribulations at The Starving Artist, the coffeehouse that she and her sister owned. Sydney and Courtney decided that the shop was stable enough that each of them could follow their dreams. Sydney sought to be an author. Courtney wanted to be an artist. She didn't need the hectic day-to-day operations to sour her mood. Eventually, her sense of responsibility won out, and she picked up the phone.

  It picked up on the third ring. "Starving Artist, this is Courtney."

  "Hey Court, how are things?”

  "Good. Did you make it okay?"

  "Yeah, no problems."

  "What happened? You should have called me two hours ago."

  "Nothing. Just a detour off the main road." Sydney hated lying, but didn't want to worry Courtney.

  "I hate those. Well, I'm glad you made it in one piece. I was worried."

  "I'm fine. Anything going on at the store?"

  "Believe it or not, it’s been going pretty smooth. I'm kinda surprised. I half expected everything to fall apart 'cuz you're not here. I've been pretty lucky. Hold-on … $6.29 please … Hey Syd! I gotta run. I got payin' customers here."

  "Call me if you need anything."

  "Got it. Bye."

  "I'm serious. Call."

  "Okay, okay. Good-bye." Courtney sounded exasperated.

  Sydney knew she shouldn't worry. Courtney was able to handle things back at the store so she could do this. Her concern came from being the oldest. To be truthful, their brother Patrick was in fact older, but Sydney had never been close to him. Their mom had always referred to him as the man of the house since dad had walked out. Pat was only two years older than Sydney.

  Their father left when she was sixteen, and Courtney was only two years younger. Their mother was devastated. No one could’ve foreseen their father’s abandonment. He simply vanished one night. Even though ten years passed, questions remained unanswered. Sydney shook off negative thoughts as she headed towards the bathroom. A hot shower would ease her muscles and the tensions of this day.

  Sydney felt like a new person when she emerged from the bathroom. She searched through her luggage, deciding what to wear. She wanted to look seductive. Lance would be here in a few short hours, and Sydney hadn't seen him in six months, since Chicago. Her family wondered why Sydney maintained a liaison with a man over a thousand miles away.

  She once told her mother the relationship had the three S's. It had safety, stability and sex. Her mother blanched at the last part, but there wasn’t much she could say. Syd was an adult, and she didn't need the emotional roller coaster that came with relationships. Sydney and Lance met in college and became friends, later lovers. Neither had wanted to move, so they didn’t. Lance stayed in Las Vegas and Sydney in Fargo. They were both happy and spoke daily, confiding secrets and sharing dreams. Lance didn’t give her butterflies changing a tire, but at least he was constant. She may be her mother's daughter, but she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes.

  Sydney finished putting on the black spaghetti-strap dress and was ready to apply her face when the phone rang. "Hello?"

  "Syd? Lance. I have terrible news, love."

  "What?" The man must have lost a tie or something.

  "I won't be able to make it."

  "No!!" The frustration was evident in her voice.

  "I have a client that needs some changes made right away. We have a presentation scheduled in three days."

  "I understand." Her voice was flat.

  "You don't know how awful I feel. I’ll make it up to you, though. I'm scheduled in Minneapolis in a few mon
ths. I'll drive up and see you."

  "That'll be fine." She couldn’t hide the disappointment.

  "Okay, honey. Have a good time. You’re not alone; go out with the girls. We’ll catch up another time.”

  "Yeah. Bye." Sydney hung up the phone, feeling utterly discouraged. How could this be happening?

  * * * *

  Sydney got up to answer the door. “Come in.”

  “Syd? What’s wrong? Why are you in a towel?”

  “Lance isn’t coming.”

  “So?”

  “So! So look at what I packed.” She pointed to the suitcase in the corner of the room.

  Gwen assessed her clothes. “Syd, this is fine. You do realize this is a convention, and there are some cute and single men down-stairs?”

  Sydney stared at her. “Ugh!” She dropped back on the bed dramatically.

  “Aren’t you the girl that told me, "Men aren’t reliable; don’t invest your heart?"”

  “You have the memory of an elephant. It’s annoying.” Sydney was not pleased.

  “I know, and aren’t we lucky I don’t act like one? Seriously, you can’t afford to worry about this. It’s gonna set your mood for this whole conference. You have to move past it.”

  “I know.” Sydney got up, reluctantly “But I really need a good pout.”

  “I find pouting in a room full of men has tremendous success at reeling them in.”

  Sydney smiled. Gwen knew just what to say. “Thanks. I needed that," she said, hugging her friend.

  “You’re welcome.” Gwen stayed the course and pushed Sydney away, “Now get dressed so we can get going.”

  The next few days were spent going to parties and staying out late. Gwen moved into Sydney’s room, having woken up in the middle of the night to find her assigned roommate chain-smoking and watching her sleep.

  One night, Sydney stayed out even later than Gwen did. She crept in quietly, to not wake Gwen. Once she latched the door, she heard noises coming from their room. Oh God, Gwen brought a man back to their room. Not wanting to be invited into that bed, she raised her voice

  “Gwen?”

  Sydney heard the rustling of covers and proceeded further in.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, must’ve gotten a little excited with the man in my dream.”

  “Don’t you mean the man in your bed? I can see him under the covers, Gwen.” Sydney placed her hands on hips for effect.

  “Him, too.” Gwen seemed to duck under the covers a little more. Poor thing, she was blushing from ear to ear.

  “Okay.” Sydney laughed. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Be out in fifteen.”

  Neither of them spoke of the incident later, but sat up most of the night on the balcony drinking a bottle of Chardonnay that Gwen’s gentleman caller brought with him.

  “What do you love about him?” Gwen asked

  “Lance?”

  “Yes, Lance. Who else?”

  Sydney paused. This would be the time to tell Gwen about Peter and get another perspective. She knew Gwen didn’t care for Lance. That wasn’t what guided her decision, though. Gwen would always opt to pursue the new man. “I like how he encourages my dreams.”

  “I didn’t ask what you liked; I asked what you loved.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.” Gwen was silent for a few moments. “He doesn’t love you.”

  “You don’t know that, Gwen.”

  “He doesn’t. If he did, he would be here. He would find a way.”

  “He was busy.”

  “Syd, take a reality pill. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Six months ago.”

  “Don’t you think if it was real, you two would make time for each other?”

  “We do.”

  “No, you don’t. You both do what’s convenient.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so concerned.”

  “I’m concerned … because men fairly drool over you, and you’ve committed to merely settling.”

  “I’m not settling,” Sydney said defensively

  “What are you doing then?”

  “I’m living my life, Gwen! If I wanted advice on how to live it, I have a whole family to tell me. I don’t need you telling me too.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset, just tired.” And with that, Sydney rolled over.

  * * * *

  After the convention, that conversation stuck in Sydney’s mind most of the drive home. Gwen didn’t know what she was talking about. Lance did love her. He was just busy. If she admitted the truth, he was frequently busy. She remembered once when she scheduled a cruise at the last minute a conflict came up, and she’d ended up spending her romantic rendezvous with her mother. She was the only person available to take the ticket. Her mother ranted on about how men slip away when most convenient. Another moment of lecturing that re-affirmed what Sydney already believed. She may have a few moments of disappointment in this relationship, but it was better than having a broken heart. Lance may not make her pulse race, act impulsive or say things that made her blush. Nevertheless, he was one thing: constant. He was a phone call away and usually made time for her.

  Sydney shook off her negative opinion of Lance by the time she plopped down on her bed at home. She considered the event of the past week. Lance had disappointed her, but they had decided long ago not to move beyond friendship and occasional sexual romps. Why should she want more? She just did; even now Sydney wanted to share the excitement of pitching her novel with someone, someone who could share the same passion for her dream.

  What’s stopping you? She reached for the phone and dialed Lance’s number.

  “Hello?” a groggy voice echoed through.

  “Lance, did I wake you?” Sydney glanced at the time. It was only eleven.

  “I must have dozed off.”

  “I thought I’d call and update you on my trip. Maybe celebrate?" Her body quivered in anticipation. She had become so use to this part of their life together. Phone sex was the one thing they excelled at. They didn’t really need each other but there was something arousing about sharing this intimacy together.

  “How was the trip?”

  In the space of time it took for Sydney to tell him about the parties and the contacts she made, Sydney removed all of her clothes. While getting under the covers, she mentioned rooming with Gwen but left out her meeting an attractive stranger.

  “Sounds like it went well,” Lance responded.

  “It did, so how ‘bout some celebrating?” She snuck her hand below the covers.

  “Not tonight Syd. Sorry, I’m just beat.”

  “Um … okay … that’s fine. “ She settled back, disappointed.

  Sydney lay for a few minutes trying to quell the hormones built within her. She was entirely caught up in her own need. Well hell! Might as well go for it.

  She got up and headed for her vanity. Opening the top drawer, she found her favorite vibrator. Sydney assumed the position on the bed, laying back and bending her knees. She closed her eyes.

  Her lover kissed her deeply, his tongue sent shivers of anticipation coursing through her. His hand seared a path from the nape of her neck to her breast. She curled into his touch. He explored her breast, rolling her nipple into a tight peak.

  She tried to view his face, but he rolled her onto her side so he could enter her from behind.

  Sydney could feel the cool brush of his erection against her hot wet flesh. She pressed back, touching him until she felt him enter her. He plunged in and out of her wanton haven

  “Look at me,” his voice broke with huskiness

  The sight of him brought a frenzy of simultaneous explosions. His name was on her lips when she opened her eyes.

  “Peter.”

  She should do something for him. What did you do for a knight in shining armor? Images of seeing him dressed in chain mail and little else flashed through her head. The heat crept up her cheeks.<
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  Chapter 4

  Peter was caught by surprise as he walked into his office. On his desk was the largest bouquet he’d ever seen. It seemed alive, bursting with crimson and russet plants.

  “Laverne!” He leaned out the door. “Where’d these flowers come from?”

  Laverne, his middle-aged secretary, rolled over to the door on her chair, peered in and said, “They were delivered this morning.”

  “Who are they from?”

  Eyeing the bouquet and shrugging her shoulders at him, she replied, "You’ll have to read the card.”

  Annoyed that she stated the obvious, Peter shouted as she started to roll back, “By the way, quit rolling around, I don’t want to redo the floors.” She stood and pushed her chair back to her desk. Peter felt guilty, but he shouldn’t. She was his secretary; Laverne worked for him. Peter was supposed to tell her what to do, but he still felt guilty.

  Peter lifted the card and read: Thanks again for all your help! If I can ever return the favor, let me know. Sydney Wagner

  Sydney. He thought back to their meeting, over a week ago. She sent the flowers. Images of her sent a rush of blood through him and soon he was rock hard.

  “Laverne! Which floral company delivered these?” Peter swung around to see Laverne right there with a stack of papers in hand.

  “FTD delivered them. I can find out if they were local or not?”

  “Please do.”

  “These are stock closes from last night. Buzz Caulfield called five times already. You might want to call him back.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bill Mitchell called about the glitches in payroll. Apparently, we caught the latest virus going around.”

  “I told you to quit downloading that porn, Laverne.” Peter winked, hoping for a smile to make amends.