Even if the guy is a misogynistic prick.
But I won’t say yes to this.
Not after what my mom went through at BBN. The ousting by Karl Newton was harsh but only part of what cut so deep. When I wasa teen and started to understand exactly what she went through, I asked her why he wasn’t fired, too. Mom told me that’s how things work. Karl Newton had the power, and she didn’t. Her coworkers turned their backs on her because he told them to.
Apparently, the day security escorted my mom from the building, not a single person met her eyes. No one reached out afterward. Only a lawyer with threats to keep her mouth shut. And later, when she worked up the courage to call a few, hoping to get a reference or two, they all turned her down.
The whole company turned on her, as far as she could tell.
What if the word of one influential man could do the same to me?
I want to be part of the flying world. Not just earn my license, but join the community. Become a member of the club when I have the funds to pay the fees. Maybe even take on a volunteer role. I want to look at careers in the field.
Will I be able to do that if Vernon Roswell is always referring to me as “George Bunsen’s redhead” or saying I’m the girl who only got my license because I slept with my instructor?
Will anyone be willing to fly with me if they hear that? Would I be allowed to transport rescue dogs if the rumor reached the Pilots and Paws organization? How could they trust that I actually know what I’m doing?
Will an examiner even be willing to test me, or will they fail me like Tim warned could happen?
I try to convince myself that Vernon is only one man. But then I hear him as a guest on my favorite aviation podcast, the hosts applauding his career and war hero father. I visit the flight club’s website and find out he’s run unopposed as president for years. I listen to George reminisce about his first flights and how Vernon was there at a pivotal point in his life.
Maybe I’m overthinking this, but I’m new to the world of aviation.I don’t fully understand the power dynamics. What I do know is how gossip can ruin a reputation. How the wrong word from someone important can destroy a career.
Especially a woman’s.
I stand up from the couch, wanting room to pace and distance from George. Slimy discomfort coats my skin, and I rub my arms to dispel the sensation.
“You’re an established pilot. You own your own planes. People respect you.” I cross my arms and glare at the man, willing him to understand my position. “I’m a nobody. A pretty girl fucking you for flying lessons.”
George’s face goes cold. Arctic. I swear I get frostbite.
“Who said that to you?”
“I thought you said screw those other people,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze.
George leans forward in his seat. I can feel the shift in the room, spy the movement from the corner of my eyes.
“Those aren’t your words. Tell me who said that to you.”
I throw my arms up. “Who said it doesn’t matter! I just don’t want to have to hear it for the rest of my life.” Which I’m not sure I can avoid at this point. Not if I want to stay with George. But maybe I can take steps now to mitigate the damage. “You’re not my instructor anymore. Just deal with it.”
There’s a heavy silence in the room, and I risk a glance his way.
He’s furious and doing a bad job of hiding the way his anger twists his face.
Unlike his father and mine, he doesn’t spew angry words at me.
But what he says next somehow hurts more.
“You can’t afford it. Not if you insist on paying Shawn back.”
After George learned there was no trust fund, I told him about how I was working more hours and saving all of my money to payback what Shawn had lent me. George, like Darla, was adamant that my brother wouldn’t care.
That’s easy for them to say, I’m sure. They aren’t the ones faced with losing the love and trust of their only sibling. They weren’t with him the night after he left Tiffany, when he broke down sobbing after four strawberry daiquiris and asked me if money was the only thing that made him lovable. Now I’m the one leveraging everything he’s ever felt insecure about against him.
George didn’t press me when I told him my mind was made up, and he agreed not to tell Shawn about the lack of a trust fund, even though he grit his teeth through it. His frustration seemed more directed at Karl Newton than at me, at least.
“I’ll figure it out,” I tell him now.
