Desperately Seeking Epic(7)

School your features. School your features. My instructor? As in this man, who was significantly smaller than me, would be the one I’m strapped to when I jumped out of the airplane? My heartbeat increased tenfold.

“Now, I tell you this,” he continued, speaking in broken English in his thick accent, “I the best jumper you ever meet.”

Oh my God. He’s serious. I’m supposed to jump out of a plane with him? Shit.

My mouth opened to protest, but what were the right words? How could I get out of this without completely offending him? Don’t you think you’re a little small for me? didn’t quite sound like it would go over well.

“Now, you come stand here.” He pointed at the space in front of him where he now stood in the center of the room. Reluctantly, I obeyed as I racked my brain for a way out. Stomachache? Yeah, I could say the nerves got to me . . . that should work.

“Sir, I think maybe I’m not ready for this. I’m terrified of heights and I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. Maybe I’ll come another day.”

“Ohhhh,” he uttered with a deep chuckle as he pried my coat from my hands and tossed it on the table behind him. “You be okay, I promise. Marcello never lose his jumper yet.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He wagged his stubby little finger at me. “Today, we live!” he exclaimed. “Now, put this on.” He tossed something at me and after I shook it out, I realized it was a jumpsuit for me. “Go on,” Marcello insisted.

My brain was yelling, “Flee,” yet my body kept going along with everything, unable to stop myself. I got one leg in over my shoe, then the other until I managed to put my arms in. “Here, let me help you,” Marcello called out as he grabbed a bar stool from the corner and dragged it over, setting it in front of me. Awkwardly, he attempted to climb up, until finally, exasperated with the effort, he flopped down on the seat and looked at me.

“You mind giving me a hand, here, Se?ora?”

Without thought, I rushed to help him, wrapping my arm around his waist and hoisting him up. He was surprisingly heavy for his size. Once he was standing on the stool, he slicked his hair back with one hand and adjusted the collar of his suit with the other. “Gracias.” He nodded.

“Now, to you.” He began buttoning my suit as we stood eye to eye; me on the ground, him on the stool. “Okay,” he took my shoulders and turned me so my back was to him. “When we are up there in the . . .” his wording drifted off, “the . . . what is that thing called?” he mumbled to himself.

“The plane?” I squeaked out, panic choking me.

“Aw, yes, the plane. I’m so stupid,” he chuckled. “When we are up there, I will come behind you and begin hooking us together.”

“We’re not hooked together before we get on the plane?”

“Oh, no . . .” he laughed haughtily. “That would be awkward. You’re a beautiful lady . . . it would make being a man . . . how you say . . . difficult.”

My mouth popped open, but he continued on, loudly, stopping me from voicing my objection.

“Now, se?ora, I know you say you’re nervous, but I do this many time.”

“How many times?” I asked as I spun around to look at him.

“Oh, so many,” he assured me with a bright smile. “At least twice.”

“What?” I shrieked. That was it. I was done. I could no longer pretend for the sake of not possibly offending him. A bell from the back sounded loudly and Marcello shook his hands.

“You help me down, please?” he asked. “I turn alarm off.”

He wrapped his short arms around my neck and I lifted him off the stool, placing him on his feet on the ground. “You wait here. I be right back.” He scurried down the hall toward the back into a room and a few seconds later the alarm shut off. My chest constricted with anxiety. It’s going to be okay, Clara, I inwardly told myself. I stared straight ahead, fists balled up at my sides, and told myself to just leave. So what if they took the deposit? There was no way I could jump out of a plane with that tiny man. On the count of three. One, two . . .

“I come back for you, se?ora,” Marcello called as he came back down the hall. He lugged something heavy behind him, the weight so much that he stopped every few seconds to adjust his grip. Ah, crap. Finally, he got a good hold on the giant item and came toward me, the thing he was dragging bumping along behind him. When he reached me, he dropped the straps and put his hands on his hips, working hard to catch his breath.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the thing he dragged in.

Letting out a long breath, he turned, hands still on his hips, and in his deep accent replied, “That’s the chute.”

My eyes felt like they were about to bulge out of my sockets. I’d had enough. This was over. Frantically, I unzipped my suit and started jerking it off. I couldn’t get it off fast enough. “What’s wrong, se?ora?”

“I’m sorry, but I think I’ll need to come back another day.” I grunted as I fought to get the suit over my sneakers.

“Okay, Marcus,” another voice called, causing me to jerk my head up. “I think you’ve gone far enough.” And there he was. Paul James in the flesh. Looking more handsome in person than he did in his pictures.