Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(41)

“Dylan, buddy, we’ve had charter cancellations, the BBJ leasing company came for their jet and they’re talking about holding us to the lease. That would definitely wipe out petty cash.”

“We had petty cash?” Dylan asked.

“By September we’re going to have to shut down the training center—not enough instructors or students to run it. I thought we could limp along for six months, but it doesn’t look like it. By fall we’ll be down to just the fixed base operation—storage, maintenance, fueling and landing facilities. I’m sorry, buddy. We’ll be joining the ranks of many other small airports in this country, gasping for breath.”

“I’ll be on the road in a couple of hours,” he said when he could find his voice.

“There’s no hurry, man. There’s nothing you can do here. Come home when you feel like it. I’m sending out résumés—just looking, just in case something pops up. If I get a job offer, I’m going to take it.”

“Flying job?” Dylan asked.

“I’ve heard some shipping companies are hiring pilots for freight transport. Multiengine heavies, which, thanks to you and your fancy BBJ, I’m qualified to fly. I might as well throw out my net. It wouldn’t have to be forever, just until we get back on our feet.”

It was on Dylan’s lips to shout Don’t do it! He knew Lang wanted to live and work in Payne; wanted to raise his family there. So he said, “I know you have your reasons…”

“Five of ’em,” Lang said.

“I understand. But you want to live in Montana…”

“I’m just looking around, D. You can’t carry us all forever, not on just a little airport that gets minimal use. I’ll let you know if I get any promising news.”

Dylan pressed his thumb and finger into his eyes, trying to ease the ache there. If Lang got a job offer, he’d probably have to move to a larger city, a larger base of operations. He felt like shouting, You’re my only family! You can’t move away! He said, “We probably should have done this a long time ago, when we could have found flying jobs at the same company…”

“Nah, we had us some good years here and I don’t regret a day of it. With any luck, and we’re due some, you can operate this company on your own. You can still instruct—you’ll get the occasional student. With Stu on maintenance, you’ll have yourself a two-man show. It’s your land, after all.”

“Only sort of,” he said. It was Adele’s land. They’d paid back what they owed her for the runway and buildings, but she wouldn’t take lease payments on the house or land. And he was her only heir.

“Your gran will be fine with it, Dylan. Listen, try not to take this personally—it’s a shitty time for businesses like ours. Can’t make a living if you can’t gas up the planes.”

“I feel responsible. I feel like—”

“Bugger off,” Lang said. “We knew what we were doing. We did what we wanted to do. We could’ve gone to work for a commercial carrier and been furloughed ten times by now. We had it good, we just didn’t have it forever. I’m not divorcing you, I’m just going to try to get another job.”

“Carry your cell,” Dylan said unnecessarily. Of course he’d have his cell with him.

“I’ll talk to you in the next couple of days. Don’t let this gut you, D. It’s just change, it’s not the end of the world. We do what we have to do.”

“Right,” he said. “Good luck, man.”

The truth was, Dylan could manage his livelihood just as Lang described, though it would be reasonably modest. But then Dylan, alone, didn’t need much. He just hated cutting all those other people—Lang, instructors, charter pilots—out of the loop because the company fell on hard times. And since he had a chance to try to save it, he had to at least give it a shot. But he was running low on time and Hollywood had a reputation for moving with all the speed of bureaucracy. If Jay didn’t have anything soon, Dylan would have to get back to Montana and try to drum up something to pay the bills. He was open to anything from crop dusting to renting a big truck and turning his airline into a moving company.

When they signed off, he called Jay Romney. “I hope you have something encouraging to tell me,” Dylan said. “If you don’t, I’m going to have to—”

“I have excellent news, and thanks for your patience. I have an interested director and a script I optioned last year that I think you’ll love,” he said. “The director is Sean Adams—big name with a lot of juice. He’d like a meeting. Can you meet us at my office on Monday at noon? I’ll have lunch catered in.”

“I’ll be there,” Dylan said. “And, Jay, until we have something nailed down, not a word to anyone.”

“Absolutely. Tell me your nearest airport, son,” Jay said. “I’ll have a chartered jet bring you in.”

Dylan burst out laughing. “Is that right?” Dylan could’ve brokered that deal if he’d been at home. “I’ll get there. I’ll give you my ticket stub and you can reimburse me.”

How funny was that—apparently there were some business entities that still made use of charters.

Dylan would fly down. He’d try to make a deal. Because his best friend might be right, it might be time for a change. But just in case Lang didn’t get a flying job right away, Dylan was going to find a way to keep Lang and other employees who were left behind in paychecks. He could sacrifice a few months on a set to get that done.