by Stowe, Dani
Vollmer shakes his head and starts to pack up his tools as well. “I don’t know how you ended up with a last name like Badass because sometimes I think your brain is about to blow a big fart like Bleau’s does when he opens his mouth to let out a stinker—always bringing up stupid shit.”
“I have to agree with Jet,” groans Bleau. “Vollmer, you’re an asshole.”
I chuckle as I watch Bleau climb down off the wing of the aircraft.
“Suck, Squeeze, Bang, Blow,” recites Bleau and I can practically feel the hard smack on the back of my head when I first heard those words...
I couldn’t help but laugh as my dad, my adoptive dad, smacked me in the middle of class to get my attention forcing everyone to turn and look at us.
The instructor got distracted as he glowered at me before repeating himself to the rest of the class, “Suck, Squeeze, Bang, Blow. These are the fundamental principles of aircraft engine mechanics. The piston opens and closes, allowing air and fuel to be sucked, compressed, then expanded as it combusts then blown through the four-stroke engine. Let’s go into this in more detail, shall we?”
Suck. Squeeze. Bang. Blow. At fifteen, of course, my thoughts were consumed with sex with the exception of the promise I would be allowed to fly planes. I didn’t want to learn about engines, but my adoptive father, who was a damn-good sharpshooter and a well-respected leader in the army community, wouldn’t allow me to take flying lessons until I learned the foundations of how an aircraft worked.
In truth, I think my adoptive father felt guilty. He had something to teach my brother, Gunner, who was an excellent marksman. My father also found it easy to mold my oldest brother, Bastion, into a leader as they seemed to share the same mentality about bringing out the best in people, especially when people were at their worst.
But with me? My father and I had nothing in common, so he decided he would take some courses with me until he thought I was ready to get my pilot’s license and fly on my own. Over time, flying was not what I loved most—it was our conversations as he drove us home.
“Suck. Squeeze. Bang. Blow.” My father repeated it in the car and I busted out laughing. My father was not happy. “You weren’t paying attention at all. Were you, son?”
“Oh. C'mon, Dad. Don’t you think that’s funny?” I teased, “Suck. Squeeze. Bang...” I couldn’t even finish, it was so hilarious.
“Why? Because it sounds like something that has to do with sex?” My father saying the “s” word aloud made the moment feel awkward so I shut up. “Can I ask you a question, Jet? Are you having sex?”
What started out as funny had suddenly become irritatingly uncomfortable. “Dad, I’m not talking about that shit with you.”
“Jet, you’re fifteen and I’m sure very soon you’re going to end up in a position with a girl where you might want to have sex with her.”
“Dad, again, I’m not talking about this with—”
“Jet, I just want you to know that before you—”
“Dad, I’m already having sex!” I blurted.
I could hear my Dad swallow whatever speech he had long planned out. “Are you using protection?”
“Of course, I’m using protection,” I snapped back. “Mom, keeps that shit loaded in our top drawers. And believe me, none of us wants to get a chick pregnant. Me, Gunner, Bastion—we all came from different parents who couldn’t take care of us right. The last thing any of us wants is to have kids.”
“Your mom knows about this?”
I couldn’t believe my Dad. He was genuinely surprised.
“We don’t talk about it with her, but she knows. Mom’s a chick, too, Dad. We might be the bad seeds in the neighborhood, but trust me when I say that every teenage girl in our county wants to get with a Badass brother.”
“Right,” he said, probably just realizing he was a little too late bringing up the topic. “Can I say just one more thing, Jet? I can tell you don’t really want to talk about this with me.”
I tilted my head back and huffed. “What Dad?”
“When it comes to fuckin’, don’t be an asshole. One day, you might meet a nice girl and you’ll regret having just fucked her. Treat women like they deserve to be treated, which is how she wants to be treated and be nice.”
I thought I was going to gag. “Sure, Dad.”
“I’m going to take you boys out shooting tomorrow. Make sure you pack up your shit tonight.”
My Dad—I didn’t know why he felt such an intense need to mold us into soldiers. I knew it was not just because he was a soldier. Truthfully, I liked it. No. I loved it. I loved being a Badass, but I still wanted an explanation. “Dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Always, son.”
“Why do I feel like we are always in training?”
My father chuckled, “You boys were already fighters when I met you. Where most folks are likely to run from a fight, I know you boys would run towards it. I just want to give you a fighting chance is all if you ever decide to charge with a flag on your arm.” My father put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay to be who you are and what you need to be to protect your family and your country.”
.
“Suck. Squeeze. Bang. Blow,” repeats Vollmer who puts his hand on my shoulder. I’m reminded how I wanted to be a pilot in the military and though I’m not, it still feels good to stand beside fellow Airmen.
As Bleau takes his place to stand next to Vollmer and me, I remember my father standing next to me the first time I was about to climb into a plane as a teenager and takeoff on my own. It wasn’t just the idea that I could fly that turned me on, but the aircraft, itself.
Assholes aside, the three of us—Bleau, Vollmer, and me, stand in awe as we admire Betty, a fifth-generation, twin-engine, single-seat, tactical fighter jet also known as a Lockheed Martin F22A Raptor.
“Now, that,” gasps Vollmer, admiring the aircraft, “is a sexy chick.”
“God fucking bless her,” adds Bleau.
Chapter 3
“If there’s one thing I could change about the military, it’s the fact we have to shave our face,” whines Bleau. “I like dressing up in my dress blues, but damn! I’m short and without a beard, my round face and freckles make me look like a fat baby. No woman is ever going to want me.”
I look over to Bleau sitting across the circular table with half-drunk glasses of champagne and pineapple flavored iced tea as I try not to laugh. Despite the décor of his ribbons pinned to his chest and the formal dark blue jacket and bowtie, Bleau does look like a fat baby.
“Chicks like babies,” I tell him, trying to sound encouraging. “Maybe you should use that to your advantage.”
“The only thing I know about babies is that they cry a lot.”
“Don’t do that,” I parry. “I’m pretty sure chicks don’t dig dudes who cry.”
Bleau nods in agreement and we both notice Vollmer strolling over with his super-hot date—long curly brown hair, tan skin, with plenty of cleavage showing through a sparkling silver dress. She’s in trouble tonight and she knows it as does Vollmer strutting proudly.
I admit not having a date for tonight’s ball might’ve been a bad idea. I’m not in the mood for dancing, but I feel stupid sitting alone with Bleau. I hope no one thinks we’re together although I don’t think anyone’s thinking about us at all.
I think about K.
“Fuck, man,” blurts Vollmer, who sits down right next to me. “You thinkin’ about that chick again?”
“What chick?” asks the brunette, but I don’t answer.
“My man, Jet, got his heart broken by some girl he met back on the East Coast while on vacation a few months ago,” replies Vollmer.
“Wow. Really? You’re hot. I like the dark and mysterious you got going on. With those honey brown eyes and baby pink lips, I’m pretty sure you could steal the heart of any girl here.”
I can’t help but smile.
“Ouch! And those dimples!” she bats her eyes. “You were right
to let her go.”
Vollmer looks at his date with a suspicious eye.
“Don’t worry, baby,” she laughs at him. “You already have my heart.”
He already has her heart? I want to puke.
Instalove. It’s a big problem for military folk. Vollmer just met this girl last week and she’s already calling him “baby” and professing her heart’s commitment to him. It’s ridiculous, really. The whole thing makes me realize I was right to let K go. Vollmer and his date are filled with nothing more than hormones. But once the attraction wears off and the sex positions get redundant, it’ll only be a few months before at least one of them will be looking for a way out of the relationship and, hopefully, they won’t be married by then.
“So, who is this girl?” she asks.
“You wouldn’t know her. She attends a college on the East Coast,” I answer.
“So, what’s her name?”
Vollmer interjects, “Shayna, Jet doesn’t want to talk about her.”
“I’m just asking. Gosh!” screeches Shayna, “You boys can be so uptight. You know you don’t always have to be tough guys. Sometimes it helps to talk about things.”
It’s awkward, but Shayna seems like she’s just trying to help. “K,” I tell her.
“Kay? That’s unusual,” she says. “What’s her last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Shayna cocks a brow. “That must’ve been some one-night stand. So, what does she look like?”
Vollmer interjects again. “Shayna, please. The man has been nursing his own heart for months now. I’m really trying to help him get over this woman that he knew for a whole day and a half or something and you’re not helping.”
“Shut up,” Shayna scolds like she’s already Vollmer’s wife.
“It was five days,” I correct Vollmer—again. “She was Asian—Japanese, I think mixed with maybe some Caucasian. Long black hair. Tall for an Asian woman—at least five feet, ten inches. Smart—she was studying engineering and beautiful, of course.”
“Huh,” chortles Shayna. “Does she fly?”
“What?” I feel a stir in the pit of my stomach.
“Does she fly airplanes?”
“No,” I blurt and I remember K did profess she liked them. “Why do you ask?”
“She sounds a lot like Keiko Matsuura, the famed fighter pilot who did a local recruitment commercial for the Hawaii Air National Guard. The newspaper ran an article about her—really smart, just like you say. She’s working on a second master’s degree in engineering based out of some college in the southeast. She wants to be an astronaut or something.”
My face feels warm.
“Hey, man,” says Vollmer. “You’re turning red. There’s no way it’s the same girl. Just chill okay?”
I whip out my phone.
“You don’t have to look her up,” interrupts Shayna. “She’s here.”
My face feels like it’s on fire and I put my phone back in my pocket. “Who’s here?”
“Keiko! This is a small island. Everybody knows everybody. She’s a cousin of my ex-neighbor’s boyfriend’s best friend. I’m really surprised you’ve never met since you all work on the same base at Hickam Airfield. If you want me to introduce you, I can. She and her date came late.” Shayna squints at me. “Maybe you should go to the restroom and splash water on your face first. Your cheeks are really red. If it was a sunburn, I’d say it was okay, but you almost look drunk on something.”
Without hesitating, I get up and walk out of the banquet room, past the bathrooms, and head to the back exit doors that lead onto a sidewalk pathway behind the hotel hosting the ball.
Several couples stroll by holding hands and kissing. There’s a soft wind blowing and the air fills my nostrils with the scent of coconut oil and tart strawberry daiquiris from the bar right around the corner. I’m reminded of K’s scent. Of course, she smelled much sweeter, much more like a lady and I try to recall our conversations.
Ridiculous. There’s no way K is this girl, Keiko, that Shayna is talking about. K didn’t just love airplanes, she loved coffee, cats, and...
Stars. She did talk a lot about stars—astronomy. It was the one big thing we had in common. She also talked about how she never got to enjoy enough of the things she loved. She never had time to stop for coffee, so we sat in the coffee shop for hours together each morning. She could never own a cat because she was too busy, so I took her to a shelter to let her play with all the kittens. But “the stars,” she said would be the one thing she would “never give up on” and that I could not give her because she wanted to claim those for herself.
Could it be? There’s no way. It can’t be her.
I look up to the night sky through blowing palm leaves and I see a satellite streaming by. I’m just overthinking things again. I should just—
“Jet?”
Ah, fuck! I’m burning up.
“Jet?” I hear that familiar voice again.
Fuck me! It is her.
I try to be calm. I’ve been dreaming about this moment for two months—in the morning, in the evening, when I’m eating, when I’m working. I gave up television to spend my time randomly searching social media in hopes of possibly recognizing her profile picture. Vollmer insisted I was obsessed and I denied it, but he was right. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about what I might say if I ever ran into her, even when I knew there was virtually zero probability I’d ever see her again.
Of course, I couldn’t call my brother and his new wife, who could tell me who she was, because of the time difference ...and I’d ruin their new perfect life.
But I’ve thought about Keiko so much, I’ve even rehearsed the things I might say to her. I’ve taken long showers, wasting water, as I practiced professing my love and stating how much I’ve missed her. I’ve even gone as far as to reenact how she might respond after I tell her how much I’ve regretted not staying in contact.
“Jet?” she calls again with a quiver in her voice so I reluctantly start to turn around recognizing this my chance.
This is the moment I’ve been hoping for. This is everything I’ve been dreaming of—my fucking dream come true! And whatever comes out of my mouth should not only be good but impressive and the truth. I take a breath and turn around...
“Hey,” I grunt.
She looks beautiful. I’m speechless. Oh God! She’s gorgeous.
She’s in a slinky, black gown that cuts high at her thigh. Her upper torso sparkles from the waist up to a shimmering beaded collar that exposes her thin shoulders. The cherry on top is the deep-cut center exposing her breasts; it looks like a keyhole and I want my face to be the key. Her hair is pulled back from her face, allowing the rest to fall straight along her back and Goddamn, I want to pull on it.
I can’t remember anything I rehearsed or what I’m supposed to say because the only thing I want to do is speak of all the dirty things that are going on in my mind.
She looks me over. “I’ve missed you.”
Oh fuck.
She looks at her toes then looks back up at me and grins. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
No. Shit.
She stares blankly at my uniform—right where I see she notices my rank and now she knows I lied. I’m not an officer or a Captain like I said—I’m a grunt Airman.
She looks disappointed. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” she asks.
I bite my lip. I’m dizzy; I can’t think of what the hell I’m supposed to say—that I missed her, that I never stopped thinking about her, that I think I might...
Love her?
“There you are,” sings an unexpected masculine voice and I see a hand reach for her arm from behind.
She smiles, blushing at the blue-eyed, blonde hair, Captain Daelan Foskett, an Air Force pilot.
The guy looks at me. “How you doin’?”
“I’m fine, sir, thank you,” I nod, making sure to keep my chi
n up. I know him. He’s a cocky fucker, but if things ever came down to a genuine cockfight, I know I could kick the shit out of him.
The Captain eyeballs me, looks back to Keiko, and then whispers in her ear.
I’m so pissed. “Hey, man, we’re trying to have a conversation. Do you mind?”
“Excuse me?” he asks, squinting as he puts his other arm around her. “Mounds and I came here together.”
Mounds?
Keiko squirms a bit and, although I figure she probably did come as his date, he’s clearly overstepped his boundaries.
“Sorry, but she and I are old friends,” I stress, “and we’re trying to catch up, so can you please take your hand off her and let us finish our conversation?”
“Mounds,” he calls Keiko again and grips her arm tighter. “The Airman looks like trouble.” Foskett glowers at me and continues to talk shit to her. “He’s probably drunk or something; he’s all red-in-the-face. Let’s go inside.”
Now, I’m pissed and I step forward. “Hey, fuck you, Captain! You don’t know me. Get your arm off her before I fucking break it off.”
“Jet!” cries Keiko. “What the hell is wrong with you? Relax.”
“You are overstepping your boundaries, Airman,” proclaims Captain Foskett. “You need to settle down before your face pops.”
I step up to him. “If you don’t remove your hand from my girl, I’m going to pop your face.”
“Your girl? Mounds is not your girl,” he laughs and yanks Keiko closer to him to the point her head bobbles back, so I push him.
“No!” Keiko cries.
She tries to come between us, but I feel a knock on my jaw, so I take a swing. We shuffle for a bit before Foskett and I both land on the ground, but I manage to get on top of him. I’m so ready to kick his ass and punch the asshole in the face when I’m suddenly choked; an arm from behind has wrapped itself around my neck and that’s when I take a big hit to the mouth.
I taste blood. It’s leaking from between my teeth. I’m so pissed as I realize three Airmen are gripping me back to allow Foskett to take one more punch at me. I see it coming and his fist hits me on the cheek.
