Caribbean Castaways

He gives her another smile, then walks towards the vehicles. He does an estimate in his head - the ten-mile flight from Rock Sound, plus a few hours of light throttle on the ground. He will only need about five gallons of AvGas, to top off the tanks. There's still over thirty gallons of usable fuel left, but he doesn't want to be the cause of any delays tomorrow, so he'll top up now.

~

After refueling with the hand-cranked pump, Cob thanks the driver and lets him return to the vehicle park, just as Millie is approaching.

"Where are you staying tonight?" she asks.

"I've got a sleeping bag and a tent. I'll just set up over near those trees."

"The resort will still have a room. We chose the start of the week cos it's quieter. And cheaper rates. I'll speak to Jaylen, I'm sure he won't mind adding another room to the account, especially since the record company is picking up the tab. And there's a security guard here all night, they can mind the helo."

"Sounds great. As long as Jaylen doesn't mind," Cob says.

"He'll be fine. I'll just tell him the pilot needs a good night's sleep, before flying his star around tomorrow," Millie grins.

"Then I'll put the doors back on and tie her down for the night."

"Is that the only 'her' you tie down at night?" Millie asks, with a raised eyebrow.

"Our workhorse is a Eurocopter 120 turbine; more reliable, easier to get onto yachts. Or a 206 TwinRanger, if we're doing sling loads," Cob says, with a smirk. "But I guess you're asking about women in my life. I've got an ex-wife, and a seventeen-year-old daughter. We separated fifteen years ago, while I was posted to Japan. Wife got sole custody."

"Yeah, same story, except, no kid. Too busy chasing fires around the world to keep my fiancé happy. Got back from Spain two days early and found another woman in our kitchen, wearing my bathrobe," Millie says. "Well, not really the same. I didn't mean your wife was cheating on you."

"She was. Her lawyers rushed the divorce though in six months, then she got married a week later. Gave birth two months after that," he says, staring at a weed growing out of the expansion gap in the concrete. "I think that's why she slept with me when I first got back; for appearances. She tried to tell me the boy was a few months premature, but I'd already heard the birth-weight. Ten-pounds-two."

"Sounds full-term to me."

"Hmm. She dropped the ruse when I insisted on a paternity test. So what made you move into the film industry?" Cob asks, changing the subject.

"I guess, I finally decided I couldn't save the world. Fifteen years fighting wildfires and there's always something burning, somewhere, regardless of how hard we worked. Doing logistics, I'd always be looking at the big picture - and that didn't change until the season did. So, four years ago, I decided I wanted to work somewhere creative. I'm still doing logistics, but now I'm helping people to make something. Even if it's just a cheesy pop video."

"Hey, this production is a masterpiece. It's got a helicopter in it."

"Oh, you're easily pleased," she says.

"Sometimes, I don't even need the helicopter."

"Ha! Then tuck it in for the night and head over to the van. I'll be over there uploading my phone footage."

Cob watches her walk away, trying to work out her age. Nineteen years of work would put her in her late-thirties, he reasoned. She looks early-thirties, at most.

~

Once Cob is into his room at the resort, he dumps his bag on the luggage rack and extracts his toiletries bag. He doesn't know what the night has in store, but wants to shower and shave before dinner. Eduardo had told him that dinner will be a buffet-style meal, in the outdoor section of the restaurant. Cob is happy with these arrangements, because a polo shirt and cargo shorts is the extent of his traveling wardrobe.

As Cob emerges from the bathroom, it's showing 6:44 PM on the bedside clock. It's a quarter-hour before their dinner time, but he wants to head down early to investigate the pool area and beach views. And, maybe, have a beer. As always, he'll apply the military-pilot's rule-of-thumb, and keep at least 'twelve hours from bottle to throttle.' Flying tomorrow won't start until nine, but plans can change, so he won't drink any alcohol beyond seven-thirty tonight.

Cob doesn't make it to the pool, or the beach. As he enters the dining area, he finds Jaylen, Aki, and Eduardo sitting at the bar. They are enthusiastic about the footage they've captured today, and want to discuss the flying sequences planned for tomorrow.

Right at seven o'clock, Eduardo changes the subject.

"I think she likes you, Cob. She never lets her hair down," he says, looking towards the door.

Cob turns to see Millie, walking towards them in a floral summer-dress, her jet-black hair released from the ponytail, and her beautiful smile accentuated by raspberry-red lipstick. Cob quickly admires her figure, down to her slender ankles, elevated by high heels, then turns away to finish his comment to Aki. He doesn't want to be too obvious in his ogling of Millie.

"Hi all," Millie says, as she reaches the group. "You didn't tell me you were starting early."

"You would have been late anyway, washing your hair," Jaylen points out.

"Yeah, probably," she replies.

"Well, I think it was worth the wait. You look beautiful," Cob adds.

Millie blushes, and is uncharacteristically flustered for a second, then says, "Thank you. We should head outside and leave the restaurant to their regular diners. It looks like our buffet is served already."

Outside, with plates in hand, Millie and Cob are waiting in line together. They see the young actor, Mark, sharing a table with four of the dancers.

"That must be exhausting," Cob says.

"I agree. He doesn't have the energy to keep up with those girls. They were following him last night too, but I think he's gay. Or he's under the same rules we are."

"What's that?"

"Oh. Our production company has a 'no sex' policy when we're working. It's mostly to make the promoters comfortable. They don't want their models, actresses, or singers, coming back from a job pregnant, or whatever. But it also avoids production problems, so we have to keep our hands-off all of our hires, including you."

"Oh."

"You're not getting in my room tonight; sorry, company rules."

"That's okay. I wouldn't sleep with you on a first date, anyway," Cob jokes. But internally he's disappointed. He'll have to modify his aspirations for the night.

"So, we're on a date, are we?"

"A cheap one. I have a friend in logistics who's paying for all this."

"What a great friend to have," Millie laughs, but Cob can't admire her smile for long, because it's their turn for food.

In the bustle of getting food and drink, and finding a table, Cob ends up seated on a round table between Jaylen, the director, and Aki, the videographer. Eduardo and Millie are seated on the other side of Jaylen, so Millie is sitting opposite Cob.

Andromeda arrives soon after, and joins the table, taking the last seat between Millie and Aki.

The dinner discussion is mostly driven by Jaylen, who wants to discuss the framing of tomorrow's landing scene. He's under the expectation that the helicopter would be descending vertically, onto the landing spot. So Cob explains the recommended flight profile for an approach.

"Oh, so it needs to be like that beach-scene in Predator?" Aki says, catching the gist of the limitation.

"Well, the approach doesn't need to be that shallow," Cob answers, "I just need to keep my speed up between fifty and three-hundred feet. I can't make a safe autorotation from that height, not without some airspeed. Rescue helicopters hover there all the time, on winch rescues, but they all have two engines these days. It's not worth the risk in a single, unless it's a real emergency."

The conversation evolves into discussion of how they will hide Cob; through turning approaches, and using the sun-glint off the canopy to mask him behind the glare. By the end of the meal, it's decided that Cob will report to makeup in the morning, to have black hairspray painted onto the lower-legs of his flight suit. From Cob's perspective, the meal is 'all business' except, perhaps, for a few accidental foot taps with Millie, under the table. Her feet always seem to be very close to his own.

With their meals finished, Yvonne comes over to entice Andromeda away to the dance floor, where the rest of the dancers are playfully experimenting with choreography. The resort's music is soon displaced by the audio engineer's phone, with a newer playlist that's favored by the dancers.

Aki excuses himself to leave, so Millie moves around the table to sit next to Cob, where she can see the dancers' impromptu performance more easily.

"I see Mark has snuck off too, but all the dancers are here," she says.

"Yes. I counted them," Jaylen responds.

"Are they under company orders too?" Cob asks.

Jaylen looks at him, momentarily, realizing Millie must have said something about their rule.

"Technically, no, they're not my employees. But if I can't have any nookie, then I'll make damn sure nobody else can, either," he jokes.

Millie chuckles, "Jaylen has a new wife in Miami. They've only been married a few months. He could have brought her along, but these shoots are busy enough, without having a partner in tow."

After a few high-energy routines, and some rotations between individual performances, the dancers are finally exhausted. They start encouraging the rest of the production crew onto the dance floor, on the presumption that everyone loves to dance as much as they do.

Millie turns to Cob, grabbing his elbow. "Come on," she says, "we're allowed to dance."

"But not on his lap," Eduardo quips.

Cob isn't very enthusiastic, but wants to stay close to Millie. He resigns himself to a dance with her being the highlight of his night. They excuse themselves and head for a corner of the dance floor.

"I don't even know this song," he tells Millie.

"'The Best is Yet to Come', by Lovebug," she replies.

"Never heard of them. Too new for me."

Cob is moving on the dance floor like a half-inflated tube man. Millie takes his hand and places her other around his waist.

"This song must be at least five years old. Come on, I'll lead," she says.

In her embrace, Cob is able to find a suitable rhythm, and begins to enjoy himself.

"Eduardo is the real muso in the team," she explains, "he makes us watch all the music videos, to critique them. That's how I know all the modern stuff."

Cob recognizes the next two songs, adding to his enjoyment. They're also dancing closer now. Millie's sundress has a fairly low 'sweetheart' neckline, with narrow shoulder straps. From his intimate vantage point, when her hair is covering the straps, it looks to Cob like she is nude. From the cleavage up, she mostly is, he observes. She's not wearing any jewelry or hair clips, only lipstick. An assortment of spots across her neck and chest give him some blemishes to admire. Points of interest to memorize, like constellations in the night sky.

Cob hasn't felt this way for many years. He notes that Millie seems to be similarly excited. Her pupils are dilated, and there is a slight flush to her chest. There seems to be a deeper, emotional connection at work. An undercurrent of communication within their words, movements, and gestures.

"You'll have to let me know when you're back in Miami," she says.

"You mean when I'm off your payroll?"

"Yes."

"I'm off-the-clock from tomorrow afternoon," Cob says.

"Miami. You've got my email address. Oh, and one more thing," she whispers, while leaning closer.

Cob leans forward to hear, but she gives his cheek a kiss instead. Then she steps back.

"I'm off to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

She lets go of his hands and then walks off, going the long way around the dance floor to avoid everyone. Never looking back.

He sighs, but remains standing at the edge of the dance floor for too long, alone. Jodie finds him and, despite his reluctance, leads him over to the other dancers, including Andromeda. Fortunately, they are just moving rhythmically, with no set moves, so Cob joins the circle for the rest of the song. It helps him take his mind off Millie's departure.

~

The second day of filming doesn't require an early start. Only Aki has set out, before dawn, to gather some B-roll footage of the sunrise.

Cob is at breakfast before 07:00. A few of the support staff are already there. He's about to start on some poached eggs when Andromeda comes up to his table, a bowl of fruit and yogurt in her hand.

"Mind if I join you?" she asks.

"Please do," Cob gestures.

"I can't wait to go flying today. Sometime after nine, by the schedule, when the sun is high enough," she says, sitting opposite Cob.

"I'll be ready. I want to get out to the field early, to do the daily pre-flight."

"And I need to get out to the set for makeup. That'll take nearly an hour. Jaylen's going to drive me out at half-past. You can come, too; if you're ready."

Cob looks back at Andromeda's flawless face. "I don't think you need any makeup," he says, honestly. "Maybe just some sun cream for protection."

"Ha! Aki and Eduardo would have a fit. Sun cream will blow out the highlights on my face. They'll have to stop-down the lens so much my eyes will recede into my skull. I'd look like a dancing skeleton. Makeup has special sun protection for me, it's a matte base layer."

"You seem to know your stuff about videography," Cob says.

"Nah. I just listen to the smart guys, and mimic them."

"With that attitude, I think you'll go far. Not everyone is smart enough to listen to experts, these days."

"Thanks," Andromeda smiles. "Tell you what; you show me how a helicopter is flown, and I'll do my best to mimic you."

"I think Eduardo will have some conflicting, creative ideas. For example, I've never flown in a bikini. But I'm sure I can give you enough tips to convey the gist of it."

"Yeah, bikini's gotta stay," she agrees, "for continuity."

Cob finishes his food, then looks at his watch. It's quarter-past-seven.

"I'd better pack my things. I'm going to grab a coffee to take back to my room. I'll see you in reception at seven-thirty," he says.

Andromeda just gives a nod, and a smile. Her mouth is full of watermelon.

~

At half-past, Cob is in the hotel's reception area, looking for Eduardo. He feels obligated to let Millie know that he's getting a lift out to the set, since he traveled with her yesterday. He asks the concierge to call her room, but it rings-out, so he'll get Eduardo to message her instead. However, Andromeda, Millie, and Eduardo all appear together, luggage in hand.

"Good morning, Cob. Sleep well?" Millie asks.

"Fantastic. Big improvement over camping-out," he answers. "You all checking-out?"

"Yes, but we're leaving some bags in the luggage room," Eduardo answers, for them all. "We've got a boat ferrying us back to Nassau, from the marina, this afternoon."

Cob smiles, "I'll race you. It'll take you three-hours by boat, at twenty-knots. Only one hour for me, flying."

"Damn. Got a spare seat?" Millie asks.

"Sorry, you're with me," Eduardo says, "we'll be going over the day's rushes, on the boat. Let's dump this luggage, time is getting away."

~

Once he's back at the helicopter, Cob performs his daily-inspection. Walking around the aircraft, looking at all the common wear and failure points on the machine. Shared knowledge that's been built up over three-quarters of a century, for the Bell 47 model. All looks to be serviceable. The only things out-of-place are the camera mounts, added by Aki.

Next, Cob removes the two doors and carries them to a tree, adjacent the tarmac. He straps them against the trunk, so they won't blow over in his down-wash. When he returns to the helicopter, the production assistant has 'dummy-Mark' waiting. The mannequin is ready to be loaded onto the port-side litter, for the flying sequences.

Normally, a single litter-patient would go on the right-hand bed, to better balance the pilot, who sits on the left in this model. And the patient's head would be covered by a Perspex shield, protecting their face. For the sake of a music video, these details can be overlooked, but Cob will try to add realism to other aspects of Andromeda's performance.

~

Remembering his appointment with makeup, Cob heads over to the canopy tent, set up near the vehicles.

If anyone from his old aviation regiment knew he had to report to makeup, before going flying, he would expect a ribbing. But his presence is unremarkable to this team. Even the application of hairspray to his lower legs seems ordinary. He gets the impression that every shoot is peculiar, in its own way, so dealing with the abnormal has become routine.

"Are you heading back to the helicopter?" Andromeda asks.

"Yes," he replies, "I just needed a touch of color on my ankles, the rest of me is perfect."

"Lucky guy. I feel like I've got a whole new face. Which might just slide off, when this asphalt heats up again. I'll walk over with you. Just let me grab an umbrella."

Due to their height difference, Cob holds the umbrella, shading them both as they walk towards the Bell.

"What were you checking earlier?" she asks.

"Dozens of things. I was doing the daily inspection, done at the start of any flying day. I'll show you the basics, if you like? The crew have been fiddling with the cameras while I've been away, so I was going to do another quick walk-around anyway."

"They told me you were a safe pilot."

He smiles back at her, but his mind replays the memory of an RPG round, shooting up past his cockpit and passing through the rotor-arc, thankfully missing the blades. He returned for two more missions over Basra that day. Sometimes you need to be lucky, too, he thinks.

"It's best to be cautious," he replies.

Back at the helicopter, Millie is there to greet them. She's probably the only other thing on this island as distracting as the bikini-clad star beside him, Cob thinks.

Soon, Cob is leading Andromeda through an abbreviated walk-around of the helicopter. Millie is filming her, on her phone, as Andromeda shakes components, and peers at parts, looking for excessive wear, or cracks, under Cob's direction.

"This is great footage for the doco," Millie says.

"Good," replies Cob, simply. He's using the opportunity to admire Andromeda's splendid figure, while both women are preoccupied.

A horn sounds in the distance, where Eduardo is gesturing for Millie to come over to the vehicle.

"It looks like we're ready to head to the other set. See you over there," Millie says.

"Here, take the umbrella. I don't want it in the cockpit," Cob says, passing it to her. "See you soon."

Andromeda and Cob board the helicopter, as Millie walks to the van.

Cob watches Andromeda secure her harness.

"Keep the lap-belt firm," he says, "the shoulder straps don't have an inertia reel, so just loosen them, or slip out of them, if you need to reach something."

"Slip out of my seat belt?" she asks, for confirmation.

"The shoulder straps, sure. When this was built, it didn't even have seat belts. The lap belt is the important one, especially when the doors are off. Helicopter impacts come from below. Well, at least the survivable one's do. How does Mark look?"

"What?"

"Mark - the dummy on the skids - is he still strapped in?" Cob asks.

"Uh, yes. Why wouldn't he be?" Andromeda asks.

"I'm going through my pre-take-off checks - hatches and harnesses. I wouldn't want that Mark falling out, either. Even as a mannequin, he might hit someone on the ground."

"Oh, yeah. Someone like the real Mark. He's probably lounging by the pool, right now. He got the day off, replaced by a dummy," she laughs.