Hit'n Those Notes Ch. 13

The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Friday, March 29th, 12:38 AM

The nerves and the anxiety I felt about meeting Blake were tossed right out the window and replaced by an all-consuming curiosity about where we were going. He played on that curiosity during the entire walk to his car, which was parked in the hotel's underground parking garage.

It was fun, and I really didn't mind him dropping random hints about where we were going, none of which gave me any clues. Was this all part of his evil plan to drive me crazy with wonder? If it was, well, it was working! I was still nervous and feeling a little anxious, but my mind was more locked and dialed into the question, 'Where are we going?'

We had been driving now for ten minutes, and he wasn't giving me much to go on other than repeating his spiel about watching people from a different perspective. Yeah, got that already buddy! You're not telling me so much, Blake. Thank you very much.

At first I thought we were going to another hotel or something, but when we left the Grand Cayman and turned off the main drag after a block, that idea went out the window as well. Maybe if I didn't press, I could trick him into telling me what he had in mind.

"This is a nice car; have you had it long," I asked.

"Thanks, I'm enjoying it. It's a lease, and depending on the deal I can get at the end, I might consider purchasing it. Got it last year."

By the logo on the hood and on the steering wheel, I knew it was an Acura, but I wasn't familiar with the model.

"Is this a TL?"

"Nah, ILX... You know what they want for a TL lease? Stupid money, half a mortgage payment," he said, chuckling.

"Well, if you want to get into something American-made, I might be able to help you."

I smiled in the dimness of the car, thinking he'd have to be willing to come to San Diego to work that one out. Would he?

"I'm pretty sure this thing is made in the US," he said, looking right at the stop sign we were at, then turning left. "You enjoy working for Cambridge Chevrolet?"

Interesting, he remembered where I worked? Maybe he saw my application for the contest; that's probably how he knew where I worked. No, I told him that the morning I called to accept his offer to join the competition.

"Kaley's parents have treated me pretty well over the past couple years. She's my boss and friend, so that makes work a bit more fun." I thought about how that might have sounded and added, "It's got its pressures, though."

Would he think I was making an excuse about being friends with the owner's daughter? Augh! Quit over thinking everything! Ask questions, ask him questions...

"I imagine trying to convince someone during their financing that they should buy an extended warranty is a tough sell."

Okay, now you are showing off by offering up details about my actual job so casually. Does that mean something? Do you know more about me than you are letting on... We were passing a large mall with a nearly empty parking lot - nope, we're not going to a mall to watch people. That's a dumb thought, like it would be open this late. I really have no idea where we were exactly, but I did catch the name of the multi-lane road we were on: Rancho Drive.

Say something, ask him a question: "The process is scripted by Chevrolet, and while most people think the extended warranty and maintenance plans aren't necessary, I do show them statistics and costs for repairs. Being able to roll the cost of that into the payment and only marginally increase it gives most a piece of mind."

Augh! Stupid, stupid, stupid! I'm not trying to sell him something! Where are we going?!

"That works," he asked skeptically.

Breathe... Get back on track. "I've hit my sales goals all but once in the past year. The bonus money is nice," I said, looking towards him, his face subtly illuminated by the dash board lights.

He was focused on the road. What are you thinking? Do you know how good your cologne smells? What do you have planned? You aren't going to slip up and tell me where we're going, are you? You know I'm trying to... The car slowed, turned right onto Airport Drive, and the large sign said, North Las Vegas Airport'. What are we doing at an airport? This isn't the main Vegas airport, is it?

"That's cool; you've got a bonus structure. Mine is a pain in the ass. Took three months of riding my staff to finally get my first one, but the next month I missed on both labor and liquor costs. I fixed a few things, and I've nailed costs now for two months in a row."

I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer.

"Are we at an airport for a reason?"

"You worried," he asked, turning to smile at me.

"No, but I'm wondering a lot of things right now..."

That wasn't an exaggeration. Did I sound worried? Annoyed? Contain your frazzled self, relax...

"Come on, Brea," he said lightheartedly. "How are we going to get a different..."

I interrupted him, "Are we going..."

He interrupted me right back, "Yeah..."

"Like in a plane?"

"Yeah...," he said, parking near a building that had a sign that said, 'Bret Corte Aeronautics'.

I could see several planes sitting a hundred feet or so away. "So... You know someone who's going to fly us? Like, this late at night?" I'm sure I sounded pretty confused right now.

"No," he said, turning the car off.

"Okay, I'm confused. What am I missing?"

"Well, let's go see if we can clear away some of that confusion. Let me show you..."

Friday, March 29th, 12:46 AM

Blake was incredibly patient with me and answered every one of my rapid-fire questions about what he intended on doing here tonight, which was flying us around Las Vegas. I must have looked skeptical because he asked if I still wanted to go.

AaaaH... Yes! Are you kidding?! I answered him, showing a little more excitement than I intended. I'm pretty sure I blushed a few times during my Q&A session. My questions were:

Me: "How long have you been flying?"

Blake: "I've been flying for just over three years now."

Me: "Do you have a license?

Blake: "Of course... Would you like to see it?"

Me: "Whose plane is this?"

Blake: "I'm part of a... how do I explain this? The plane is like a timeshare; I own 1/26th of it and can use it when it's available, and I can reserve it for a week each year. It cost me about five grand to join; I bought my share from a previous owner. I pay two hundred a month to use it and keep it maintained, and I have to pay for gas after using it."

Me: "What kind of plane is it?

Blake: "It's a Cessna 170 SP. Has about a seven-hundred-mile range. It's very easy to fly."

Me: "How often do you fly?"

Blake: "I try to get up at least three or four times a month, though a lot of that depends on if she's booked or not. Luckily, she's not used much or in the shop, so availability is rarely a problem. I fly more at night than during the daytime hours because of my job. Catching the sunrise is pretty cool."

I walked around the plane with him as he did his pre-flight inspection. He moved the thing up and down on the wings and back and forth at the back of it. I was sure there were technical terms for these things, but I didn't know what he was doing or checking for, so to me, he was checking a 'thingy' or a 'whatcha-ma-call-it'. He kicked the tires, removed the chocks and tie-downs from the wings, looked into the engine compartment, and then unlocked the doors.

Next came getting me buckled in and set up with headphones.

"You good," he asked after I was buckled in securely, which he helped me with, and he leaned in close enough that I got a very good whiff of that cologne.

When he was helping with the headphone's adjustment, it would have been so easy and so natural to just lean in and kiss him. Be still, my beating heart! Did he know the effect he was having on me? Would he want to kiss me?

"Yeah," I finally replied nervously, hoping he knew I was very excited and not worried or afraid.

I sat there looking around the four-seat plane, took a deep breath, and smiled as he shut the door. He made sure it latched and gave me a 'thumbs up'. I nodded with a big smile on my face.

There was a steering wheel in front of me and pedals on the floor. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be using those, especially if he didn't want us to crash. The dashboard was full of gauges, dials, switches, and indicator lights. Why were there so many doodads to keep track of?

I felt giddy, with a huge dose of childlike excitement making my heart race. I'm getting to see Vegas - at night from an airplane! I had no idea how many feet up we were going and didn't care! We were going to fly around the greater Las Vegas area in an airplane! AAAAHHHHH!!! How cool was this? Blake opened the door on his side and noticed the perma-grin on my face.

"You look like you're already enjoying this."

"This is pretty damn cool, I'm not gonna lie."

"I'm glad you're down for this," he said, getting seated and situated. He opened a bag he'd brought, pulling out an iPad. He tapped the screen, unlocked it, and set about pulling some apps up. When he was satisfied, he slid it into a sleeve with straps and attached it to his leg.

"In the flight app," he began, "Weather, wind, and air traffic." He tilted the display so I could see it.

I nodded, a big smile on my face, like I was full of laughing gas from the dentist's office. Get a grip! No, forget that! This was cool!

He explained a few other things, specifically the 'open' microphone when switched on to communicate with the tower or other planes. I got the point he was trying to make -- not a good idea to say stupid stuff when others might be listening.

He showed me where the switch was that kept our conversation between us and the setting for when we were broadcasting. The last thing was letting me know the controls in front of me were inert unless he switched them over to me.

Okay, I didn't have to worry about accidentally knocking the pedals or steering wheel, which he called a 'yoke'. I'd heard that before, yoke, but still thought of it as a steering wheel.

"Are you ready," he asked.

"Oh hell yeah!"

"Let's get this show on the road then," he looked at a list he'd attached to the yoke, "Brakes: test and hold; shutoff valve in; circuit breakers: check; trim on; avionics master switch on; throttle open quarter inch; auxiliary pump on..."

The little light coming from the instrument panel flickered, and a buzzing noise filled the quiet cockpit. I jumped and asking, "What's that?!"

"Nothing to worry about; it's all part of getting her in the air," he said, sounding sure of himself.

He continued speaking aloud his checklist items, checking fuel, and even tapping a gauge with his finger - I had no idea why. When he was done, he was holding a red knob in his right hand and turning the key with his left. The quiet stillness of the night was instantly gone as the engine came to life and vibrated my body like a car going down an old gravel road.

The cockpit was illuminated a lot more by the instrument panel now that power was being supplied to all the gauges and stuff. Blake continued with checking gauges with the engine running, adjusted something called 'the mixture', and reported the engine temperature was low. I hoped that was a good thing. I sat there wide-eyed and curious about everything happening around me. Seriously, how freak'n cool is this!!!

I watched him flip a switch and smiled even more as I heard his voice through the headphones.

"Alright, wanna check that there's a solid light out there on your wing tip?"

I looked towards the end of the wing and said, "I see a light."

Everything sounded odd through the communications system; his voice was childlike and sounded like he was pretending to be funny. I was smiling so much that I swear my face was going to start hurting.

"Okay, let me," he said, putting his hand on my seat and starting to lean my way. My heart froze for a second, thinking he was about to kiss me, but he was just glancing behind us. "We have a tail light," he announced.

I watched him pop the window open slightly and look to see if the light on the bottom of the plane was flashing--I could see it flashing without having to crane my neck--but I'm sure he was being diligent.

AAHHH! How cool is this! OMG!!

"Alright, you're officially my co-pilot this evening. We'll be cruising at an altitude of roughly twelve thousand feet and at about one hundred and twenty-five miles per hour. Unfortunately, there will be no in-flight beverage service this evening - unless you snuck a couple little bottles from your room out of the hotel."

I giggled, "Thank you, captain... This is pretty cool; I'm kind of impressed right now."

"You're very welcome... I'm glad you're enjoying this so far."

Without warning, the plane began to move, and I looked around as if we had just stolen the damn thing! Surprisingly, the vibrations running through the plane seemed to smooth out, though the engine was a little louder. I didn't see anyone chasing us, so this must be legit.

"Alright, I'm going to check in with the tower and then announce to McCarren my intentions," he said, looking down at the now dimmed iPad. "Skies look pretty clear, so we won't be in anyone's way."

He took my hand and gave it a quick squeeze, then flipped a switch on the instrument panel and said, "VGT-N4034V, request 30L departure, taxi now."

"N4034V: cleared, 30 Left H, crosswind 5, Northwest 3-1-0, flight plan route recorded, safe travels..."

"Thank you VGT...," Blake flipped the switch again and said, "Okay, we're good to get out of here; we just need to ping McCarren. Still good over there?"

"Yup..." I had all this nervous energy and no outlet! Why did I have this overwhelming urge to kiss him? Should I? Like, as a thank you? No... Wait until we land.

Switch flipped: "LAS-N4034V departure, Northwest 3-1-0, VFR..."

There was a long delay, and as soon as I looked at Blake, questioning what was taking so long, McCarran replied, "Confirmed... N4034V, Northwest 3-1-0, VFR..."

Okay, that was short and to the point. Blake flipped the switch, so it was just us talking: "I probably woke someone up over there. I mean, it's late; does that guy sound cranky to you?"

"Yeah, I was wondering why there wasn't much to say from them..." I mean, the guy could have said all kinds of crap and I would have still been like, 'WOW! I'm going flying in an airplane!!'.

Blake checked his iPad, "Nothing close up there... Think a Southwest flight is the closest jet out there, and it's a good hundred-twenty miles away."

In my head, I was screaming, let's GO! LET'S GO!!!'.

Friday, March 29th, 1:09 AM

The taxi portion of this trip seemed like it took FOREVER! We drove, and drove, and drove... I just wanted to be up in the air! At whatever '30L H' was, we turned, went a little further, and turned again, pointing down a long runway bordered with lights that seemed to lead into the black of the night.

"You ready?"

"Yes! I can't wait...," I replied.

"Roger that..." he said.

The engine spun up smoothly, and we began moving again. In less time than I thought possible, I felt my stomach drop as we left the runway and the little plane began climbing. OMG! OMG! I looked out the window at the disappearing black hole that was the airport and at the surrounding area lit up with twinkling lights. OM-FN-G!

I looked over at Blake, I could see him smiling. "Yes? What's that smile all about, Mr. Schultz?"

"Nothing, you're like a little kid right now... I love that," he said, looking to his left and then past me. "This is a really good night for flying. A lot of people don't like flying at night, but I like it; it's very peaceful."

We were still climbing, and he was right about me being all childlike and giddy. This was pretty damn cool and something I'd never done before, so of course I was going to be excited. I mean, how many... Oh, now there's a thought: how many times has he pulled this stunt on other women? Was he a player, and this was his patented move? Why did that thought come to mind? Does it matter?

"This is so very cool, and I appreciate you taking me out... Up here, I mean," I said, still trying to get used to the sound of my voice in the headphones.

"I wanted to do something unexpected. Sounds like I accomplished that," he replied with a little chuckle.

"You did," I said, looking out my window. "Am I the first you've brought up on a night flight?"

I turned to look for his reaction; he didn't even flinch. The question was a gamble, and I asked it without being able to contain my curiosity.

"No, there was one other who's gotten this treatment... It wasn't a surprise, though; she knew we were doing it."

"Was she impressed?"

As soon as I asked that, I regretted it. My impulsiveness might have just ruined this flight. I should have held back and waited to see if he offered up the answer to the original question on his own or other information about the last time he took a woman for a night flight. AUGH! I had just pushed the matter. Would he think I was an insecure bitch! AUGH! Stupid, stupid!

Did I even want to know what he was doing up here with another woman? What is my freak'n deal?!

It took a few seconds before he replied, "I think so, but you could ask her next time you talk to her."

He was now looking at me, studying my face in the dim cockpit lighting for my reaction to his response. What does that mean? I could ask some random woman I didn't know? I shook my head slightly.

"Nah, I was just curious whether this was a patented move of yours or not." I tried to giggle, but it felt forced. I'd laid out and stepped in this pile of shit; I was hoping he'd let it go. Please, please think I was just trying to be cute and funny, not bitchy or something else.

There was another uncomfortable pause, followed by, "My mom... I took her up right after I moved out here and bought into this plane."

Augh... My stomach dropped again, but it had nothing to do with the flight. "Your mom?"

"Yeah... She was cool with flying, but not so much at night. I think in the end she enjoyed it, though."

His mom... Crap! Why did I even ask about him up here with another woman?! Is he going to think I'm clingy, jealous, petty, or need his dating history? I'm so stupid! Did it matter to me if it wasn't his mom? Shit!

"Good for her," I said, hoping that was going to be the end of this conversation.

"Do you have a question you really want to ask?"

"No... I was just wondering if this was something you did often," I replied, not really sure of myself or my answer. Change the subject and ask him a question. "Is the airspace around the strip protected?"

Good one! I'm not sure where I pulled that question from, but I hoped it did the trick.

"No, but there is usually a pretty crowded sky over the city with tourists trying to get a better idea of the city's layout or going on scenic flights. We're going to be swinging around here in a minute and heading south, then east over the strip."

"How high are we?" I asked, trying to permanently bury any more talk about other women.

"We're just clearing seven grand."

"And we're going higher, like to twelve thousand?"

"Yeah... See out that way," he said, pointing straight but a little left. "See that faint glow? Know what that is?"

I was straining to see any glow, faint or not, but I guess I saw something -- maybe.

"Ah, I don't know. Is that... Isn't there a big dam around here? Hoover dam?"

He chuckled, "The Hoover Dam is behind us by about thirty, forty miles. No, the curvature of the earth makes it possible, when the weather is good, to see light bouncing off the atmosphere, clouds, and whatever else. That glow of light is from," he paused for effect, "Los Angeles..."