Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
“No, you’re all pretty accepting. It’s one of the things I love about you. I want to be up front with everybody. I’ve never done anything like this before in my life.”
“Hey, as long as you are comfortable with it, that’s all that matters.”
She hugged me and went to the refrigerator. “I really should’ve grabbed my cereal or something yesterday. I was in a big hurry and didn’t think to bring anything to eat.”
“I made you a smoothie when I mixed mine up. It’s in the fridge. Blueberries, chia seeds, lots of good stuff.”
“You guys don’t have to feed me.”
“Please,” I said. “You don’t have to bring your own groceries or mop the floors and sing to the mice or whatever Cinderella did.”
She rewarded me with a smile for my lame attempt at humor. It bothered me to see her worried and upset. I got the smoothie out of the fridge and offered it to her.
“Thank you. Did you draw the short straw and have to drive me in today?”
“I wanted to. I don’t work ‘til three. Which you know because you make the schedule,” I grinned. She smiled back and drank her smoothie.
“That’s not bad. I’m going to get dressed really quick and we can go. Thanks for waiting on me.”
“You don’t have to hurry,” I called after her.
“You may not work till three, but I have to be there in like forty-five minutes.”
“Relax, I’ll talk to the boss, see if he’ll cut you some slack.”
“Very funny,” she said.
In twenty minutes she was ready. She rode shotgun in my hybrid and rolled her eyes theatrically when I called her my co-pilot.
“I’m the only one that gets to make flyboy jokes around here,” she teased. “Unless you want to put on full-dress whites and sing Take My Breath Away, that is.”
“I should never have let you watch that movie.”
“Excuse me? How many times did we have to watch Top Gun: Maverick? That was not my idea after the first time.”
“I went to the theater expecting to heckle it and hate it. It made me love going to the movies again.”
“If you talk about the part where he saved Rooster again and start crying, I will video you and post it to the website.”
“You’re a savage. No wonder you fit right in,” I said.
We were the only ones in the office after Ballard came in to grab a taser off the charger. Most of us don’t carry anything of the sort, but we have a few for those who want them. We all keep our training up to date on safe usage, and I made sure she signed it out and time stamped it on the tablet.
“Channeling Jake there?” Jasmine said.
“I can be meticulous. I’m an excellent pilot.”
“I’ve flown with you three times and didn’t die once,” she quipped.
She gave a laugh and sat at her computer. We worked in companionable silence for an hour or so as she fielded a couple of phone calls. I followed up on one of them, an inquiry about security for a children’s event in the spring.
“Do I need to schedule a booking on that one?” she asked when I was off the phone.
“Yes, it’s a small outdoor carnival for the pediatric foundation. We’ll have to take on a few gig workers. I want fifteen security personnel on site. They’re doing four rides, three carny games, face painting, a magician and someone doing balloon animals. That’s ten activity hubs plus the snack carts and photo spot. It’s a contained space and they’ll have the hospital ladies’ auxiliary helping so that will take care of kids wandering off from their parents, that kind of thing.”
“Right, I’ve got that down. It sounds like a fun time. Not like the black-tie stuff you guys get stuck at.”
“It will be. These are more fun to watch for one thing. Although there’s more crying and puking at a kids’ carnival than you’d find at a gala.”
“Nah, I just think the fancy grownups do their crying and puking in the bathroom instead of out in the open,” she said with a small sigh.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Nothing. I’m good,” she said brightly.
“If you want to talk about it, I’m right here,” I told her.
I went back in my office to give her space. In a moment she was at my door.
“I want to talk about it. And since you were here to see me just break down the other day, I think I can’t make your opinion of me any worse. You know I’m a mess.”
“Nothing like it. You’ve been through a lot and you have to process it. But there’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
“Have you been to therapy?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Really? You sound like it, but it’s hard to imagine the invincible Burns boys needing someone to talk to.”
“We were all in the service, Jas. After I left the Navy, it wasn’t easy shifting back to civilian life. I started flying private, it was a different world completely. The destinations, everything lavish, the food and alcohol and women and drugs. I went down that road for a couple months, then Jake woke me up from a hangover and told me we were going to talk to a doctor, or he was going to beat the hell out of me and drag me there. They said I was dissociating and had to develop better coping skills. Embarrassed the hell out of me at the time, but what they said was solid. I was used to impressing people—graduated early, did an aviation engineering degree in three years, then I fast-tracked to being a pilot in the Navy. Pretty soon, I got elite assignments flying the top brass and VIPS, got to tool around Europe. It was an adjustment,” I told her.