Opie. “It got him going.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Sam snorted. “Didn't you see the smirk on that ferret face? You’re what got him going. He’s got plans for you tonight.”
“Well, he doesn’t need to know he’s going to be disappointed until after we’re in the air.” She turned and asked, “Does he?” Sam laughed in response.
But he was still uneasy about the flight. The weather looked ugly. After a few minutes, he sighed impatiently. “I thought Opie said weather was moving in. What the hell is he doing out there, wandering around in the mist?”
“He’s doing the visual check,” she explained, tossing more candy into her mouth. “You know, looking over the ailerons, the flaps, the rudder …”
“The ailerons, huh?” There was an edge to his voice, “So which young stud has been teaching you all about flying?”
“A pretty hot one. But he’s an older guy.” She looked back at Sam again and arched an eyebrow. “Most people address him as Commander, but I get to call him Dad.” A slow smile spread over Sam’s face as she added, “He’s retired Navy.”
The pilot’s hatch opened, and Opie hopped in, shaking his longish brown hair back like a wet dog. “OK, let’s stow that gear.” He nodded to their bags. He leaned over Tess, lingering, as he made sure her hatch was secured, with a sighed, “You smell great.” Then he slumped into his own seat and picked up the clipboard with the preflight checklist.
He began a slow taxi, and she listened politely to his explanation of checking the yaw indicator and feathering the prop. When they finally took off, Opie kept right on talking, going on about his extensive training, his flying skills, his friends and a social life that consisted of getting wasted every Saturday night. With an occasional chilly nod, Tess mostly looked out the window, her lack of interest now clear though Opie prattled on. Sam dozed for a while. But, as they headed west, the flight become bumpier, and he roused a little, listening with his eyes closed to the one-sided conversation.
In response to Opie’s request to Flight Watch, the radio crackled, “Wind 310 degrees at 11 knots, 3 mile visibility, ceiling 2500 feet.”
Opie nodded, “OK, we can manage, and we’re getting close. But let’s hustle on getting those pictures. We want to be on the ground when that next big front rolls in.” He looked over at Tess and offered a husky reassurance, “Don’t be scared. I’m taking good care of you. My flight instructor told me I was the best he’d ever seen. Told me I had the makings of a Blue Angel or one of those hot shot military pilots.”
“Um-hum,” Tess made a pretense of studying the ground below. The turbulence increased.
From the back, Sam murmured, his eyes still closed. “Didn’t you say your Dad is a Navy pilot, Tess?”
Sam heard her sigh and answer, “He was. And my two brothers are now.” And he laughed softly, when she said to Opie, “So you really don’t have to explain anything more to me. I’ve kind of had a lifetime of it.”
“You’ve been up with them, huh?” Opie asked.
“Sure, in planes like this and even the fighter jets. They’ve flown me around in them all.”
He nodded. “I thought you were different.” The plane jostled and thumped. “You’re not as skittish as a lot of babes I get.” She glanced back at Sam. His eyes were still closed, but he grinned at the word “babes.”
“Let’s just say I’ll know when it’s time to be scared. Give me the camera bag, Sam,” she said. He pulled it free, passing it over the seat, then settled back again. Digging out the Leica, she asked, “Could you circle back, and tip us up? I can zoom in, but I need a good angle.”
“Sure,” Opie smirked over at her, and slowly inched the throttle back. Another bumpy jolt made the plane creak and he laughed, “Like riding a bronco, ain’t it?” She didn’t answer. “So, you know all about flying, huh?” She
“Don’t kid yourself,” Sam snorted. “Didn't you see the smirk on that ferret face? You’re what got him going. He’s got plans for you tonight.”
“Well, he doesn’t need to know he’s going to be disappointed until after we’re in the air.” She turned and asked, “Does he?” Sam laughed in response.
But he was still uneasy about the flight. The weather looked ugly. After a few minutes, he sighed impatiently. “I thought Opie said weather was moving in. What the hell is he doing out there, wandering around in the mist?”
“He’s doing the visual check,” she explained, tossing more candy into her mouth. “You know, looking over the ailerons, the flaps, the rudder …”
“The ailerons, huh?” There was an edge to his voice, “So which young stud has been teaching you all about flying?”
“A pretty hot one. But he’s an older guy.” She looked back at Sam again and arched an eyebrow. “Most people address him as Commander, but I get to call him Dad.” A slow smile spread over Sam’s face as she added, “He’s retired Navy.”
The pilot’s hatch opened, and Opie hopped in, shaking his longish brown hair back like a wet dog. “OK, let’s stow that gear.” He nodded to their bags. He leaned over Tess, lingering, as he made sure her hatch was secured, with a sighed, “You smell great.” Then he slumped into his own seat and picked up the clipboard with the preflight checklist.
He began a slow taxi, and she listened politely to his explanation of checking the yaw indicator and feathering the prop. When they finally took off, Opie kept right on talking, going on about his extensive training, his flying skills, his friends and a social life that consisted of getting wasted every Saturday night. With an occasional chilly nod, Tess mostly looked out the window, her lack of interest now clear though Opie prattled on. Sam dozed for a while. But, as they headed west, the flight become bumpier, and he roused a little, listening with his eyes closed to the one-sided conversation.
In response to Opie’s request to Flight Watch, the radio crackled, “Wind 310 degrees at 11 knots, 3 mile visibility, ceiling 2500 feet.”
Opie nodded, “OK, we can manage, and we’re getting close. But let’s hustle on getting those pictures. We want to be on the ground when that next big front rolls in.” He looked over at Tess and offered a husky reassurance, “Don’t be scared. I’m taking good care of you. My flight instructor told me I was the best he’d ever seen. Told me I had the makings of a Blue Angel or one of those hot shot military pilots.”
“Um-hum,” Tess made a pretense of studying the ground below. The turbulence increased.
From the back, Sam murmured, his eyes still closed. “Didn’t you say your Dad is a Navy pilot, Tess?”
Sam heard her sigh and answer, “He was. And my two brothers are now.” And he laughed softly, when she said to Opie, “So you really don’t have to explain anything more to me. I’ve kind of had a lifetime of it.”
“You’ve been up with them, huh?” Opie asked.
“Sure, in planes like this and even the fighter jets. They’ve flown me around in them all.”
He nodded. “I thought you were different.” The plane jostled and thumped. “You’re not as skittish as a lot of babes I get.” She glanced back at Sam. His eyes were still closed, but he grinned at the word “babes.”
“Let’s just say I’ll know when it’s time to be scared. Give me the camera bag, Sam,” she said. He pulled it free, passing it over the seat, then settled back again. Digging out the Leica, she asked, “Could you circle back, and tip us up? I can zoom in, but I need a good angle.”
“Sure,” Opie smirked over at her, and slowly inched the throttle back. Another bumpy jolt made the plane creak and he laughed, “Like riding a bronco, ain’t it?” She didn’t answer. “So, you know all about flying, huh?” She
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