Tailspin(78)

There were only a handful of women in the place, all younger and less modestly clad than Brynn. Nevertheless, she received her share of speculative once-overs, whistles, and leers.

Rye headed toward a table on the periphery, which was a bit more secluded and where the lighting was dimmer. It was occupied by two men whose nachos had been reduced to crumbles. On the table was a collection of empty drinking glasses. Rye leaned down. “I’ll buy you a round in exchange for the table.”

They looked up at him, ogled Brynn, and one said, “Two rounds.”

“Done.”

With nudges and winks, they wished Rye good luck, then left them. As they sat down in the vacated chairs, Rye said, “I recommend sticking to the basics like a cheeseburger and fries, or nachos.”

“What else is on the menu?”

“Sides.”

“What are they?”

“Chili and jalape?os.”

“I’ll take the cheeseburger. No sides.”

He signaled a passing busboy and, as he was clearing the table, Rye said, “Couple of cheeseburgers, please.”

“I ain’t the waiter.”

Rye gave him a pained look. “Give me a fuckin’ break and bring out two cheeseburgers, okay?”

The young man looked even more pained. “Fries?”

“What do you think? And two Cokes.”

“Bourbon in those?”

Rye shook his head. “I may be flying tomorrow.”

“Rum?”

Rye laughed. “Straight Coke.”

After the young man moved away, she said, “You seem right at home.”

“Yep. And I know how the system works. Wait here. Keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact, or he’ll take it as encouragement.”

“Who?”

“Pick one, any one.”

He left the table and waded his way to the bar, where he motioned the busy bartender over. He paid for the drinks of the two men who’d given up their table, then conferred privately with the bartender.

Brynn read the names and dates and vulgarities carved into the tabletop.

Rye returned. “I put a bug in the bartender’s ear.”

“He’ll find a pilot for me?”

“He won’t have to. The pilot will find us.”

“That’s the system? You put the word out and see who comes around?”

“Basically. But don’t be scared. Whoever winds up taking you will have met my qualifications. He won’t be a rookie.”

“Thank you.”

“Save it for when you’re on your way.”

She took a look around. “You were teasing me about the porn.”

“No, I wasn’t.” He indicated the wall nearest their table.

She looked at it, then realized that every inch of wall space was covered with pictures of airplanes. Every era of aviation was represented, so was every type, shape, color, and size of aircraft.

Rye said, “I call it ‘plane porn,’ because it’s what every guy in here gets off on.”

“Flying.”

“Flying.” He handed a five-dollar bill to the busboy, who had returned with their food and drinks.

They doctored their burgers using the condiments grouped into a beer six-pack in the center of the table, then dove in hungrily. When Brynn came up for air and took a sip of her drink, she said, “Why do you love it so much?”

“Tabasco?”

He’d poured a puddle of it onto his plate, but she knew he was using the quip to dodge giving her an answer. “Why do you love flying so much?”

“Early exposure, I guess. Most of my growing up was done on Air Force bases.”

“Was your father a pilot?”

“He had his license, but flying bothered his ears. Pulling Gs made him sick.”

“He didn’t have the stomach for it.”

He responded to her joke, but then his smile relaxed into a thoughtful expression. “He didn’t have the—” Coming up empty, he made a gesture of dismissal.

She ate one last French fry, then moved the plastic plate aside and wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “Didn’t have the what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

He dabbed the last bite of his burger into the pool of hot sauce, but returned it to his plate without eating it. He took a drink, shifted in his seat, turned to see if perhaps the bartender had forgotten him. When he finally resettled and his gaze lighted on her, she said, “Rye, this may be the last private conversation we ever have. Make it count.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s been roughly twenty hours since you knocked me to the ground. That was the high point. Since then it’s been one calamity after another. Aren’t I entitled to take away something meaningful from this experience?”

“You turned down a grope and a damn good sloppy kiss in the making.”

She held his stare.

He relented by exhaling a deep breath as he leaned back in his chair. “Thing of it is, I don’t know how to explain it, any more than I know how to explain my fingerprints. They’ve always been there, and so has the obsession for flight. It goes beyond liking it, or even loving it. It’s…” He paused, searched for the word, and again drew inspiration from his fingerprints. “Ingrained.”