Such a Rush(13)
Author: Jennifer Echols

For some reason, he really wanted me to fly for him.

I glanced toward the end of the runway, where the Admiral was landing just in time to save me from this uncomfortable conversation. As the white Beechcraft touched down and sped across the asphalt, waves of heat made the plane seem to ripple. I dismissed Grayson with, “I’ve already got a job. Not for this week, but starting in the summer.”

“No,” Grayson said. “You’re supposed to be working for me this week and in the summer.” His voice rose over the engine noise as the Admiral taxied closer.

“Working for your dad,” I corrected him. “I didn’t dream you’d reopen the business. I haven’t heard from you until now. What was I supposed to do, wait around for you just in case?”

“You could have looked up my number and called me,” he shouted above the racket.

“Even if you’d offered me a job, that wouldn’t have meant you’d come through,” I yelled back. “You’ll fly for a week, change your mind, and blow it off to go surfing. Just like you always did.”

The Admiral cut his engine. Just like you always did rang against the brick wall behind us. I cringed at the volume of my own ugly words.

Luckily, I had an escape. Leaving the torn newspaper in my seat as if I didn’t care about it and didn’t plan to steal it at the end of the day and take it home with me, I headed for the Admiral’s plane. I grabbed three heavy sets of chocks from a rack just beyond the porch.

“This time is different,” Grayson called after me.

My left arm could handle one set of chocks, but I’d taken two in my right hand so I wouldn’t have to go back to the rack and face Grayson again. My right arm might pull out of its socket with the weight. I hoped he’d give up on this ridiculous idea and go back to his hangar by the time I secured the Admiral’s plane. I knew Grayson was grieving and I didn’t want to upset him, but there was no way I could afford to give up the summer flying job I’d been promised in exchange for this job he’d made up.

I tried not to groan with relief as I dropped the first set of chocks at the front wheel of the plane and kicked the wooden blocks into place around the tire. The plane’s gyros whined, still winding down, as the Admiral opened his door.

“Nice flight?” I hollered in my friendly airport voice.

“Beautiful.” The Admiral stepped down from the plane and reached toward me for the second chock. “Perfect. Unlimited ceiling. Beautiful day to fly.”

I felt a pang of jealousy that he could fly and I’d been grounded for two months, followed swiftly by the ache of losing Mr. Hall, who loved to say, “Man, what a pretty day to fly.” But I just handed the chock to the Admiral and kept up the polite conversation like I didn’t hurt at all. “Where’d you go?”

“Touch-and-go’s in Darlington, then over in Orangeburg.”

I nodded, put chocks around the third wheel, and hooked a cable to the side of the plane to secure it to the tarmac. When I straightened, the Admiral was staring at Grayson, who still rocked on the porch.

“What’s Grayson doing here?” the Admiral asked me quietly.

“Reopening the banner-towing business, he claims.”

“Really.” The Admiral didn’t use the incredulous tone I expected. His tone sounded more like… admiration. He’d walked a few steps toward the porch before he turned around and called, “Thanks, Leah.”

I gave him a little wave of acknowledgment, then rounded the plane and bent to secure it to the tarmac on the other side. But I listened for what the Admiral said to Grayson, and I watched them from under the curls in my eyes. I expected Grayson would keep rocking in his chair, sullen, and the Admiral would lean over him and say a few soft words of encouragement I wouldn’t be able to hear. But Grayson stood with his hand extended to shake the Admiral’s hand before the Admiral even reached him.

The Admiral grasped Grayson’s hand and simultaneously slapped him on the opposite shoulder. “Good to see you back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Grayson said. He might even have been looking the Admiral in the eye. Like a business owner at the airport, not just the son of one.

The Admiral’s voice dropped lower, his words more private, and I felt almost guilty for overhearing the end of his speech: “… good men.”

“Thank you,” Grayson said again.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” The Admiral disappeared through the glass door into the office. After using the bathroom and buying a pack of M&M’s, which his wife did not allow in the house because of her weight struggles, he would get into his Infiniti parked on the street side of the building and drive home to their condo on the swanky end of Heaven Beach, where they would take an ocean-side stroll together before dinner. It seemed so foreign. I couldn’t imagine being retired. Or having enough money to do what I wanted.

Grayson rocked slowly in his chair again, waiting for me to finish tying down the plane.

There was just so long I could dawdle over a metal hook attached to a ring sticking through the asphalt. I stalked back toward Grayson, but if I had any idea of slipping past him into the office without continuing the argument, he ruled that out. “Who is your other job with?” he demanded, stepping into my path and towering over me.

This was none of his business, but I felt bad about the Just like you always did comment. I felt worse now that the Admiral had been so nice to Grayson. I was trying to get rid of Grayson as politely as possible. Without stopping, I walked around him and opened the door. “I’m flying a crop duster for Mr. Simon,” I said over my shoulder before I swung into the office. I hoped now Grayson would take no for an answer, and he wouldn’t follow me inside.

He was right behind me. “Leah.” He trailed me all the way across the lobby, down the short hallway, to the open doorway that led behind the reception counter.

Turning around at the threshold, I took off my sunglasses, tossed them on the counter, and eyed him. He seemed to get the message that the area beyond the doorway was my private territory. He walked back down the hallway, into the lobby.

But instead of leaving, he leaned over and rested his elbows on the counter like he was there for a long discussion. “Leah,” he said in a coaxing tone. “What do you want that job for? Every organic fruit you’ve ever bought and eaten will be negated times a thousand with each pass you make spreading chemical filth over a field.”