Blue Skies

by Robyn Carr

  A flight attendant supervisor gave them last-minute instructions while the air stairs were brought to the plane. By the time the inspectors had boarded, the crowd was vibrating with energy. The selected group and their supervisor held hands in a tight circle and did some kind of prayer or motivational affirmation that ended with a shout—“Yes!”

  Joe Riordan’s voice came from behind Nikki. “The last time I was at one of these, it was imperative that we pass because we had just enough time to complete proving flights and start boarding passengers—we couldn’t fail and take a delay.”

  She turned around. “Hey, Joe. Jewel. Pretty exciting, huh?”

  “Or tense, depending on your perspective,” Joe said.

  “They’re going to do great,” Jewel assured him, again with a smile. Nikki and Dixie both kind of frowned, staring. But Jewel and Joe didn’t notice, since they were busy introducing themselves to everyone present.

  Then suddenly the crowd stilled as the flight attendants boarded the aircraft behind the inspectors. The doors were closed and the stairs pulled away. The aircraft was still lit within and without. Everyone waited tensely. Nikki pulled out her stopwatch. Minutes passed. Inside the plane, the flight attendants would be going through their preflight duties, explaining safety procedures to their mock passengers, the inspectors. What seemed like hours actually lasted less than fifteen minutes, and then the aircraft went dark except for the flashing emergency wing lights.

  Nikki clicked on the watch. Everyone in the crowd was mentally ticking off the seconds. Eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five—A door cracked and slowly began to open. Another door cracked. Then a third. A slide billowed out, and then rapidly, three more followed, all four exploding into view.

  Nikki stopped her watch. She was right at ten seconds, but she wasn’t sure she had started and stopped with the inspectors. She held her breath and waited with everyone else.

  The flight attendants suddenly came into view in the doorways, then shot down the slides, screaming yahoos, arms raised above their heads in victory, and their compatriots charged toward them. The spectators roared, whistled and hugged one another with the enthusiasm of Superbowl winners. Although NCA was not even airborne yet, its founders were alive with the exhilaration of giving birth to a giant.

  In the happy chaos, Nikki somehow ended up being bounced up and down in Sam’s powerful embrace. It was perfectly natural; people were hugging one another all over the place. But in that moment she was incredibly aware of him, and wished it would never end. When she broke away, she hugged five more pilots with enthusiasm, lest anyone get the idea Sam was someone special.

  After people toured the inside of the plane—many of them checking out the trip down the slides—the entire gathering moved from the airport to the Tail Spin Bar and Grill, an establishment catering to airport and airline employees. It was so near the end of the runway that it periodically trembled as jets passed over on their way to land.

  Dixie and Carlisle went straight to the bar, while Nikki made a side trip to drop her kids off at home. The place was already bursting at the seams and rocking with music and laughter by the time they arrived. A man Dixie recognized as one of the pilots lifted the pretty young flight attendant who had taken part in the inspection up onto a table. She took a few bows to the cheers of the crowd. The waitresses scurried around with heavy trays loaded with sloshing pitchers of beer. Many a toast was being raised.

  “Great place for a fear-of-flying clinic, huh?” Dixie shouted.

  “I’ll get us drinks,” Carlisle said. “Find a table or a lap or something.”

  Looking around the packed bar, she was pretty amazed by how many people she knew. Every pilot present had been run by her desk in the application process and made frequent stops after being hired for everything from uniform orders to picking up the business cards she had printed for them. Flight attendants were in and out, as well, and after several weeks in the office, Dixie knew all the other executive assistants and secretaries.

  She was looking around for Danny when she caught Jewel’s eye. The Gatekeeper was sitting by herself at a table in the corner, and she extended one long finger, inviting—or maybe commanding—Dixie over. Dixie actually looked behind her to make sure she didn’t mean someone else. After all, Jewel never came around Flight Ops. Dixie touched her chest, mouthed “Me?” and Jewel slowly nodded. Ah, it appeared the ice queen desired her company.

  “I don’t mean to keep you from your friends,” Jewel said. “I thought you were looking around for a spot.”

  “Yes, I was,” she said with fake enthusiasm. She was afraid it would not only bore her senseless to sit with the aloof Gatekeeper, but also keep her from finding Danny.

  “No, take this chair,” Jewel said, patting the seat beside her. “The view is spectacular.”

  Feeling a bit odd, Dixie did as she was told. For a split second she feared Jewel was going to make a pass, but then she realized Ms. Goddess wanted her to take in the room from the same vantage point she had. Ah, yes. Airline crews at work and play.

  In the corner, Bob Riddle sat at a table with four pilots and they seemed to be having a serious conversation. At the other end of the bar, a sexy young flight attendant was being hit on by a couple of pilots. There was a little swing dancing, a little dirty dancing. And straight ahead was…

  Dixie squinted as the woman, a brassy blond in a tight black dress cut low on top and high on the bottom, seemed to be grinding her pelvis against a guy. He wasn’t moving away, either. His arm periodically went around her waist as if to encourage her.

  But then the most bizarre thing happened. He moved away to the bar and began talking to a couple of people there. The blonde gave her shoulder-length hair a sweep upward, let it fall, and turned to the man on her other side. She spoke in his ear and began grinding his thigh.

  Jewel leaned toward Dixie. “She is going to have the worst headache.”

  “Who is that?”

  “You can’t tell?” She gave a short laugh and leaned back in her chair. “She’s been doing shots.”

  At that moment the woman turned to face them. “Shanna,” Dixie breathed. She also sat back. “Great little window on the world.”

  “I thought you’d like it. Knowledge is power. Remember that.”

  Dixie watched Joe Riordan work the room. He was at once the big boss and one of the guys, glad-handing and slapping shoulders. He raised his mug and toasted over and over, but the level on his glass never seemed to get any lower.

  He walked over to the table where Bob Riddle held court, and all five men sprang to their feet as if the general had just dropped in, each one taking his turn at a lengthy verbal ass-kiss.

  “They’re up to no good,” Jewel said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Just a feeling. They’ve set themselves apart from the group.”

  “So have we.”

  “But we’re different.” She smiled conspiratorially. “We’re gatekeepers.”

  Dixie was shocked. “You know you’re called that?”

  “I know everything. By the way, I don’t see enough of the chief pilot around Riordan’s office.”

  “Well,” Dixie said, a tish uncomfortable at the remark, “she’s been out of town, at the simulator. Plus, she works really long hours.”

  “I know,” Jewel said. “But you should know, that one—” she indicated Riddle only with her eyes “—seems to have plenty of time to hang around my desk, looking for information and face time with the boss.”

  Dixie absorbed this, aware her mouth was slightly open. She clamped it shut. “Thanks.”

  “Hey. No problem.”

  Presently Carlisle arrived at the table with two drinks. “Ladies,” he said, setting down the glasses. He noticed Jewel’s was quite low. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Thanks, no. I’m fine.”

  Carlisle sat down across from them, his back to the room, and the two women shifted slightly because he was blocking thei
r view. After a few moments of being ignored, Carlisle dragged his chair around to their side of the table so he could watch the show.

  They entertained themselves like this for a good while. Nikki came in, but she was so busy with the pilots, she didn’t seem to notice them. There was some serious drinking going on, but nothing that could keep up with Shanna, who was growing more unsteady by the minute.

  “Did you see if she came in with anyone?” Dixie asked Jewel.

  “No, but I’m sure she’ll leave with someone. Unless there’s a person with a conscience at this table.”

  “Ew. Is it going to be me?” Dixie asked, feeling so much the subordinate.

  “Or us,” she said.

  “But aren’t you here with…?” Dixie began.

  Jewel tilted her head and peered down her nose at Dixie. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” she said. “I have my own car here. But I will leave when he leaves.”

  Dixie stole another look at Shanna. The dragon of HR was smashed and acting so very slutty. “She doesn’t really deserve help, you know.”

  “But she also doesn’t deserve what’s going to happen to her if we don’t help,” Jewel said. “At least this once. Who knows where she’ll wake up in the morning?”

  “I love it,” Carlisle observed. “The Bed Cross.”

  “Okay, then…” Dixie said.

  “Your car,” Jewel told her. Dixie’s head snapped around. “Seniority.” She flashed Dixie that rare smile. “Think of how easy it’s going to be to work with HR after tonight.”

  “All right, then. Let’s get this over with.”

  “I’ll be saying good night,” Carlisle said. “Much as I’d like to stay and watch.”

  Quite a few heads turned as Dixie and Jewel, both beautiful leggy blondes, each took an arm and walked a confused and dazed Shanna out the door of the bar. After an emergency stop at the trash bin by the side of the building, they loaded her into the passenger side of Dixie’s car.

  “Well, at least I’m less worried about what she’s going to do to the inside of my car,” Dixie remarked.

  “Sit tight, I have a couple of things in my trunk that could help,” Jewel said.

  Shanna, butt on the passenger seat and feet outside, her head resting on her knees, moaned miserably. Dixie tsked. The girl was totaled.

  “Here,” Jewel said, returning with a beach towel and little lunch-size cooler. “Drape the towel around her and place the opened cooler on her lap. Don’t bother returning either if they’re used.”

  “She owes you big-time for this,” Dixie said. “If it was just up to me, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  “Everyone has been rescued at one time or another,” Jewel said.

  “You’re actually a very nice person,” Dixie drawled.

  Jewel put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell. I have a very useful image going.”

  When Nikki arrived at the Tail Spin, she didn’t notice her friends and Jewel back against the wall. She’d returned not only because she was in a celebratory mood, but because she knew the value of mingling with her people. And her people were pilots. They would definitely be here.

  For whatever reason—her performance at the sim, or the fact she knew the 757 inside and out—the men she’d hired had warmed to her. She was greeted enthusiastically, and her hand immediately fitted with a beer. She’d rather have had a glass of wine, but if they were drinking beer, she was drinking beer.

  Talk turned to the proving flights, then the schedule for the first month, then where everyone had worked before. By the time a half hour had passed, many of them had made connections with friends or friends of friends from other carriers. With hundreds of thousands of people in the industry, it never failed to shock Nikki how many of them knew one another.

  Nikki spied Riddle and his table of pilots at the end of the room. “Save my place,” she said to the group she was standing with. She went over to his table. “Bob. Gentlemen.” They popped up like fishing bobbers. “No, don’t get up. I just wanted to say hello. What did you think of the mini-evac?”

  They looked at one another uncomfortably. “We didn’t make it to the evac,” one of them finally admitted.

  “We were here, having a beer, when the party came in,” Riddle said.

  “Well, it was great. The FAA was most impressed.”

  Again there were furtive looks, almost as if they’d been caught doing something wrong.

  “Ah, work-rules meeting?” she asked. Only Bob connected with her eyes. The others looked away. At that moment she realized she had ignored his animosity for too long. He wanted her out. He’d already taken credit for her work and would do considerably more damage if she didn’t figure him out. “Just enjoy your beer,” she said pleasantly. “See you later.”

  That the next day was a workday didn’t seem to deter anyone from staying late at the bar. In fact, once Joe Riordan left, the din rose slightly. But by the time a couple of hours had passed, the airline groups began to thin and give way to the bar’s regulars. It was about ten when Nikki looked around and couldn’t pick Dixie or Carlisle out of the crowd.

  “I guess I should think about getting home,” she said to Sam, who was standing next to her.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Let’s grab a table and have a cold one.”

  She looked down at her beer, the same one she’d been nursing all night. It was now reduced to a half glass of warm and flat yellow brew. “Ah, to tell you the truth, I don’t think I want a beer. I wouldn’t fight off a glass of cabernet, though. If you’re buying.”

  “I am. See if you can find a table as far away from the juke box as possible.”

  “You’re showing your age, Landon,” she teased.

  “Wasn’t ever trying to hide it, boss.”

  She looked around the bar for a table. Probably shouldn’t do this, she thought. But it was still a public place and there would be no funny stuff. Probably shouldn’t. I don’t need this kind of encouragement. But she did as she was asked—she found a table away from the noise, the music, the crowd.

  She watched Sam at the bar, procuring drinks. He laughed as the bartender said something funny. When he wasn’t laughing, he had an almost brooding look. When he was in training class, for instance, concentrating, he could look downright angry. But all you had to say was “Anything wrong, Landon?” and that somber expression would instantly disappear and be replaced with a grin. As he turned from the bar, looking for her, she once again admired his handsomeness. For a man of fifty he had such a boyish look, the thick, floppy hair and twinkling eyes. But it was really his smile that got to her; straight white teeth, and a small hint of the devil.

  Because she enjoyed watching him look for her, Nikki didn’t wave to get his attention. When he finally did spot her, he made a beeline for the table. “Here we go,” he said, putting down the drinks.

  “There’s that diet cola again,” she observed. “You don’t drink.”

  “Not much, no,” he said. He lifted a glass to her. “Here’s to start-up.”

  “Amen.” She sipped her wine. She’d been toasting the company all night but hadn’t swallowed much beer.

  “How is it?”

  It was actually pretty bleak—bar-stock cabernet. “Good,” she lied.

  “I heard we have something in common that I didn’t realize. Your husband died recently?”

  That took her so by surprise she nearly choked. “Oh, God, Sam!” She covered his hand in sudden sympathy and looked at him so earnestly, forgetting for the moment that she meant this to look to all the world as if they were just having a friendly drink. “He was my ex-husband. We’d been divorced for four years and…Well, I don’t know if there’s any delicate way to say this. He was a complete jerk, with a capital J.”

  “Oh, man, that’s too bad,” he said. “Rough divorce?”

  “You don’t want to hear all that,” she warned, giving him a break.

  “I do.” He leaned toward her, his head on a hand. “I mean, if yo
u don’t mind talking about it. It won’t go further.”

  It brought a smile to her lips to think of him keeping a personal confidence for her, even though there wasn’t any need. And it felt awfully good that he was interested. “There’s no secret about my marriage and divorce, even if I haven’t talked about it much. I married Drake on the rebound. He was the first guy who smiled at me after I broke up with a boyfriend I thought I’d marry. He was a difficult, negative, complaining, controlling pain in the butt, but I was pregnant with April instantly. We divorced eleven years later and he sued for custody based on the fact that I left town for a living and he didn’t. But he was a lawyer and had a little edge, you see. So for four years I paid him child support while he made life miserable for me whenever I tried to see the kids. Then one morning he had a heart attack. The kids were in school, he was alone, and boom. Gone. At forty-seven.”

  “Whoa. Young.”

  She took a sip of her wine. “Very sudden.”

  “How about the kids?” he asked.

  “They loved him, of course, but they’d had a hard time with him, too. He was strict, inflexible and pretty much impossible to please. I don’t know if I ever heard him tell the kids he loved them. It baffles me, because he did love them. It’s not as though he was indifferent. He demanded custody and promised to fight me to his last breath.”

  “Maybe that was more about scoring one against you than his need to have the kids live with him.”

  “I’ve pondered that a lot, of course. But since there’s no way of knowing for sure, I’m going with the idea that he loved them a lot and just didn’t have the ability to express his emotions.”