“He cut me off,” George repeats. “I was eighteen and told him I didn’t want to go to college. So, I lived in my van for a year. Worked as a line person at an airport.” He waves around us, and I wonder if this was the place where teenage George earned his first honest dollar. “Fueled airplanes. Marshaled airplanes and tied them down. Washed and waxed. And I’d keep up the grounds.” George smiles, but there’s no happiness in the expression. “When my dad found out about that, he gave me access to his money again. I guess I was less embarrassing as a freeloader than as an airport lawn mower.” He huffs a humorless laugh and scratches the back of his neck. “But I still lived in the van most of the time. Just to get space.”
With every sentence out of his mouth a little bomb goes off, destroying the idea of George Bunsen I have in my mind, and a new one growing in its place.
“Is that what changed your mind about working for him?” I ask, trying to understand how he got to the man he is today. How he melted back into BBN. “Getting kicked out?”
I can’t imagine my mother ever doing something like that to me. Even when she learns the truth about how I paid our bills, I’m not worried about losing a place in our home—even if I didn’t co-own it with Mom and Marge.
“I never changed my mind. Not about learning the business.” George clears his throat and stares over my shoulder. “I did realize I had to stop fucking around if I didn’t want to rely on my dad forever. But I chose the route I wanted to take. Not the one he pushed me toward.”
This doesn’t make sense, and I rub my forehead as if I can massage all the pieces of information into place. Fit them together so the puzzle becomes an image I can discern.
George works at BBN. I know that. Shawn said they work together.
I’m missing something.
“What do you do for BBN?” I ask.
“I fly the jets.”
“You…what?”
George holds my gaze. “I’m a full-time pilot. I got my private pilot’s license at seventeen, commercial license at twenty. Got certified for the jets BBN owns when I was twenty-four so I could fly them. Air transport license by the time I was twenty-seven, although I technically didn’t need it to be one of the company’s pilots.” He lists off the accomplishments like they aren’t a big deal. Like they don’t prove the label of “fuckup” is wrong. “It pisses my dad off so much, but he’d rather me be flying for the company than working for the competition. Or, god forbid, piloting commercial flights. At least this way he can keep me close and try to convince me to take an executive role.” George leans the top half of his body toward me, just a touch, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “You ask him? I’m still throwing away my life. An embarrassment. And I’ve heard the same exact thing from Karl.”
Understanding slowly overwhelms me.
“You said we weren’t friends because…” I can’t finish the sentence because the foundation of years of animosity crumble and leave me reeling.
“Because your dad doesn’t like me. He doesn’t even particularly want Shawn to be around me in case I’m a bad influence. Same with you, I’m sure. I didn’t want you getting into it with him because of me.” He studies me, as if something about me confuses him. “But you got into it with him anyway.”
Because my father doesn’t likeme. Could it be that George and I are both on his shit list?
The idea gives me an odd sort of comfort.
“We don’t get along,” I admit. Simple but true. “Never have. Never will.”
George nods once, studying me hard. I open my mouth, not sure what words are going to come out.
My phone alarm goes off.
“Shit,” I mutter. That’s my get-on-the-road-so-you’re-not-late-for-work timer. “I’ve got to go.”
“I thought this was your day off.” George sticks close to me as I hustle back to where I dropped my bag, fumbling to pick it up as my mind whirls in different directions.
“Off from the diner,” I mutter. “I have another job.” One that hopefully tips well.
“Beth—”
“I’ve got to go.” With a pathetic wave over my shoulder, I jog toward my car, once again leaving George behind me. How many more times will I flee his presence after he tilts my world off-balance?
Chapter
23
When I showup at the airport for the first time since the airplane wash, I’m buzzing with a nervous energy. The past few days I’ve turned George’s words over and over in my head, finally landing at a possibility I’m worried to hope for.
George Bunsen never intensely disliked me.
In fact, he might like me. I could be completely tolerable to the man.
