Dipping a wing to evade a patch of tall trees, I sucked in a breath and squeezed between two evergreens before raising my nose to get to a safer altitude. When I was in this seat, everything was trying to kill me; the weather, the terrain, the mock enemy on my tail, the change in G-forces, the turbulence, my quickly dwindling fuel supply. I had to be better than all of it to survive.
The life wasn’t easy, and it sure as hell wasn’t safe, but I lived for the thrill.
This was the seat my royal ass was born to occupy.
“What’s your situation, Jagger?” I asked into my headset. My fuel was dwindling, and it was time for the second part of our plan. “Ready for me yet?”
“Yes ma’am. Let’s do-si-fuckin’-do.”
We verbally swapped coordinates. I banked left, narrowly squeezing between two high trees again and almost losing my tail. Slowing to give the bandit time to catch up, I set my course to intercept Jagger. Once he was in sight, I targeted the bird on his tail while he targeted mine.
“Locked,” I said as soon as I had his enemy in my sights.
“Locked,” he replied.
We’d officially switched dance partners and were prepared to fire. If this was an actual combat situation, we would have toasted the bandits. Jagger had passed his training.
“Good job,” Colonel Norman said in our headsets. “Red Team, you have been targeted. Drill’s over. Wrap it up and come home.”
All four of us turned our birds toward the base.
It was the first air-to-ground training Jagger had taken the lead on, and he’d crushed it. Congratulations were in order, so after the workday, our crew headed to a favorite watering hole. We took turns buying him drinks as we threw darts, shot pool, talked all sorts of shit, and he embarrassed himself on the dance floor. The guys I served with were ridiculous, but they were damn good people. I loved nights like this where I could relax and unwind in the midst of those who understood and shared my love for flying.
These motherfuckers were as crazy as I was, and I adored every last one of them. They were my tribe.
Our days started at the butt crack of dawn and I wasn’t a glutton for punishment, so I limited my drinks and stayed hydrated as the fools around me indulged. Jagger, on the other hand, was sloppy drunk. He’d be feeling every one of those victory drinks in the morning. His back had been thoroughly patted and the impromptu celebration was dwindling down, so I sidled up next to him at the bar. After ordering a glass of water to help him sober up, I gave him a hug and reached into his jacket pockets to find his keys.
“You tryin’ to cop a feel,” he slurred, dragging out the “E”s until they had their own zip code. “Don’t take this wrong, Queen M, I like you, but not like that.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, you can barely stand.” Finding what I was looking for, I tugged them out and twirled the keyring around my finger before popping them into my pocket. “I’ll drive you home. Then I’ll pick your sorry ass up on my way in tomorrow.”
His brow scrunched up, and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “I’m not on your way,” he said like he’d uncovered the greatest mystery of the world.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Jagger and his girlfriend had just moved into a nice new apartment complex on the northeast side of Clovis, whereas I’d bought a small house on the southwest side, much closer to Cannon Air Force Base. But since the town’s population of 40,000 was stretched out over about twenty square miles, school buses were the number one cause of traffic problems. He was out of my way, but picking him up would only add about fifteen minutes to my morning commute. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad living in a small town. “Think I’ve forgotten about that housewarming party you and your girl threw? You guys sprung for the good food, and I never forget a tasty appetizer. Those crab cakes were bomb.”
He grinned. “Candice comes from money. She says she’s my sugar mama. You need to get you one of those, Queen M.”
The bartender delivered my glass of water and I slid it in front of Jagger. “Drink that. And what the fuck you mean, I need a sugar mama?” I stood straighter, mustering up all my mock offense. “Oh, you think because I can fly I must be a lesbian? Let me assure you, this girl takes in a steady stream of vitamin D.”
Jagger laughed, draping an arm across my shoulders. “Calm down. Nobody’s questioning your sexuality. You know full well that’s not what I meant.”
“What, then? You think I need someone to pay my bills? I got this shit on lock.”
He swayed a little too far to the left and bumped against me. “No. But the compan… companionion… companionionsh…
Clearly big words were a problem in his state. Working through the pronunciation, could take him all night, and I was beyond ready to turn in. “Companionship?” I provided.
“Yeah. That shit. It’s nice having someone to come home to every night.”
Words slurring, eyes swimming with compassion, this conversation had serious personal territory potential. Time to throw some ice on his intoxicated emotions before he spent the ride home drunk crying and telling me childhood sob stories. I liked the man and all, but I had to fly beside the guy; he needed my respect, not my pity.
“You’re drunk, and you’re talking crazy. You know I don’t need a relationship; I’m already married to the cockpit. That F-35 keeps me so damn busy my feet rarely touch the ground anymore. But when I do land, I get all the side cock I want. Win, win.”
It took a moment for my words to penetrate the alcohol fogging his brain, but his eyes finally lit up. Throwing his head back, he laughed so hard he almost fell off his barstool. “That’s what I like about you, Queen M. You keep it real.”
I was the realist. Drunk emotional meltdown averted, I informed the bartender that we’d be back for Jagger’s truck the next day and helped him stumble to my car. After packing his ass into the passenger’s seat, we headed out.
By the time I unloaded Jagger off on his surprisingly understanding girlfriend, it was close to midnight and I was mentally calculating the hours of sleep I’d get and preparing to hate life in the morning. Knowing Jagger’s suffering would outweigh mine made me feel a little better about the situation. At least traffic was light this early in the morning. Motoring out of his neighborhood, I made it all the way to the turn for the highway before I had to stop for a light.
