Matchmaker 09: September

After my graduation from Stanford, George Bentley funded my development of the Peregrine and the new wing, advancing me money as I needed it, but he expected results and to be paid back in full with a comfortable profit. I was confident that my wing would revolutionize aircraft design and, if I could survive the inevitable patent challenges, would make me extremely wealthy in the process. But I was so tired.

I'd poured so much of my life into the Peregrine and winning my father and grandfather's approval, I had nothing left. I'd gone to Brooklyn for exactly that reason, using the last of my cash reserves from Grandfather's latest advancement in a desperate attempt to find some peace, and perhaps, some happiness.

Grandfather would likely rage and threaten to cut me off for wasting money on frivolous things, but I didn't care. If I succeeded, I wouldn't need his money anymore, and if I failed, I'd be cast into the role of a failure and disappointment for the rest of my life regardless. My future rode on this week, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to leave it all behind and grab what happiness I could while I could.

"It looks like an airplane," Azumi said as we walked across the hangar, our shoes squeaking softly on the polished concrete floor.

"Because that's what it is."

"Yeah, but I was expecting something crazy."

"Crazy? How?" I asked as I began pulling the cover off the plane.

She smiled, but she didn't have the same enthusiasm she'd displayed yesterday when I'd picked her up at the airport. "I don't know. Maybe bat wings, or that it would be a flying saucer."

"No, no flying saucers. Too unstable in flight. It's just an airplane."

"May I touch it?"

"Of course."

She ran her fingers down the side of the fuselage. "You said it was a jet?"

I nodded. "That's right."

"Where's the motor, engine, jet, whatever?"

"It's in its stored position, behind the cockpit."

"Inside those doors?"

"That's right. Want to see?"

She shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

I opened the acrylic bubble over the cockpit, turned the Master Power switch to On to energize the plane from the batteries, and flipped the switch labeled Manual Engine Override to the Extend position. With a series of bumps and whirs, the doors folded into the side of the plane as the engine rose and locked into place.

"That's it?" she asked when the hangar was quiet again. "It's so small."

"I hear that all the time," I joked. She grinned at me. "Yeah. It's a Raydyne TFJ100, the smallest composite fan jet engine available that's rated for manned flight. I chose it because it's small and light, only forty pounds or so, which makes it twenty percent lighter than a normal jet engine with the same power output and half the size and weight of a piston engine while producing a lot more power."

She touched the engine. "And you're the only one using a jet engine on a glider?"

"A jet engine with composite blades, yes. For now."

"Why? It sounds like it's better in every way."

I smiled. She was smart. "It's more expensive than a regular jet engine and both more expensive and delicate than a piston engine. Its fuel burn is a lot higher than a piston engine, but since its climb out is also much higher, I don't have to run the engine as long, so the fuel penalty is more or less a push compared to the piston engine. I think it's lighter weight and increased performance more than offsets its extra expense."

She looked the plane over, dragging her hand along its side before she stopped at the wing. "Why is the wing different than the rest of the plane?"

"In what way?"

She ran her fingers lightly over the surface. "It feels like there are scratches or something in it, and I can see lines."

"That's because the wing is made of thousands of small panels mounted to a bimetallic polymer matrix inside the wing that allows it to warp, depending on the load being placed upon it."

She looked at me. "I have no idea what you just said."

I smiled. "It means the wing isn't one piece, but thousands of tiny pieces all connected together that allows the wing to bend, flex, and change shape to be the most efficient air foil possible during all load conditions." I gestured to where the wing was affixed to the fuselage. "You can also see it has some blended wing elements, something no other glider has, made possible by the wing being able to warp."

"That's this part here?" she asked, pointing to where the wing thickened dramatically before joining the fuselage.

"That's right."

She walked all the way around the plane before she smiled at me over the top of it. "It's a very handsome and striking design. I think there's more art in this plane than you give yourself credit for." I smiled back at her, pleased with her approval. Words of encouragement, approval, and acceptance were rare in my family. The Peregrine was designed first and foremost for functionality, but that didn't mean I wanted her to be ugly. I shrugged but said nothing. "Aren't you going to ask me if I want to go flying?"

"I would, but..."

"But what?"

"But there are too many eyes around at the moment. Tomorrow the event begins, and as I'm sure you noticed when we drove up, there are lots of planes parked outside. Lots of planes means lots of pilots, and I'm keeping the Peregrine quiet until I reveal her on Tuesday."

"And these pilots, they would know the... Peregrine?" she asked. "Peregrine is the name of the plane?" I nodded. "So these pilots would know the Peregrine isn't your run of the mill glider?"

"Instantly."

"That's why it's in here, instead of outside with all the other planes?"

"That's right."

She huffed. "But you'll take me flying in it at least once?"

I nodded. "At least once. How about Tuesday afternoon after the grand reveal? You can be the first person to fly in her, other than me. You can take my car, drop me off in the morning, and then come back in the afternoon."

She tipped her head slightly sideways as she looked at me. "You don't want me here?"

"You're welcome, of course, but it'll be kind of dry."

"Dry how?"

I grinned. "After all the oohing and ahhing is over, I'll get into the technical aspects of the design, discussing things like wing loading, glide ratios, stuff like that, and how my new wing impacts those areas."

"You're right. That sounds as dry as burnt toast. You actually enjoy talking about stuff like that?"

"Not really."

She flashed a smile. "So why do you do it?"

"I have to do something, and designing an airplane is way cooler than designing a better cathode or building computer models to simulate fusion, don't you think?"

She grinned. "Much."

"Then there's the money."

"The billions of dollars you said you'd make?"

"Yeah, if I can hold onto my patent. That's a pretty good incentive as well."

She studied my face a moment. "Do you really think this plane could be worth billions of dollars?" she asked, waving her hand at the Peregrine.

"The plane, no, not even close, but the idea behind the wing? Yes, I do."

"And if someone wants to buy the rights to build the Peregrine, you'd sell it, after you put so much work into it?"

"In a heartbeat. It's just an airplane."

She paused in thought. "I guess I don't understand. Why wouldn't someone buy the rights to the airplane and then get the wing for free?"

I smiled. "Because if you want to build this glider, you'd still have to pay me royalties for the wing design. Honestly, other than the fact the plane has a jet instead of a piston engine, the only thing special about this glider compared to any other is her wing."

Azumi grunted. "And you don't think anyone will want to build this plane?"

"Not and have to pay for the wing design too, no."

She twisted her lips to the side, a little of the Azumi I met at the airport peeking out. "I'm still not happy with you working this week. You're supposed to be wooing me. I want to be wooed."

"I'm sorry."

"You'll take me flying in this wonder plane of yours?"

"After tomorrow, we can go every day if you like."

She looked at the plane. "How should I dress?"

"Dress? Dress for what?"

"If I'm going to be here when you unveil the plane, how should I dress?" She cocked her hip and struck a cheesecake pose. "Should I wear something sexy, like at the car shows?" She frowned. "Never mind. Scratch that. I'll freeze my ass off."

I grinned. "Well, I wouldn't mind seeing you in something sexy, but you don't have to do that."

"I want to. If the Peregrine is this new wonder plane, I want to be able to say I was there at the beginning. It'd be like when Henry Ford unveiled his Model A."

"I think you mean his Model T."

"Whatever," she said, waving away my correction. "You know what I mean."

"You're sure? You wouldn't rather go shopping or something?"

"I'm a clothing designer, remember? I don't clothes shop."

"Oh, right."

"Yesterday was a special case."

I thought about it a moment. Having someone here would be helpful. "Would you be willing to wear a suit?"

"We'll have to go shopping again."

"A small price to pay to have such a lovely assistant."

"Now you're just trying to flatter me."

"No I'm not." I paused. "Is it working?"

She smirked. "Maybe a little. So, if I'm here, what exactly would I be doing?"

"I don't know. What would you like to do? Want to talk about the performance specifications of the wing? I'm sure everyone would much rather look at you than me."

"Oh, no! That's your deal. Maybe I'll just stand around, look pretty, and pull the cloth off the plane."

I grinned. She certainly had the 'look pretty' part locked. "We have a day to talk about it. If nothing else, it would be a huge help if you took business cards, handed out my contact information and the technical spec sheets, stuff like that. That frees me up to focus on answering questions."

"I think I can handle that."

"Want to help me cover the plane?"

"Sure."

I returned the engine into its stowed position, then working together, we quickly had the Peregrine covered again, Azumi tugging out the last few wrinkles. "Not hard to guess what's under there," she commented as she stepped back.

"No, but what else would it be at a glider show? They do this with cars all the time. You know it's a car under there, but until the cloth is pulled back, you can't see the details."

"And the devil is in the details."

"In clothing design too?"

"Especially in clothing design. Selecting the wrong button, making a pleat too wide, or having a pattern meet at a seam in an unfortunate way can destroy everything you were trying to achieve."

I put my hand in the small of her back and steered her toward the hangar door. She didn't object to my touch, and I smiled to myself. I escorted her out of the building and opened the passenger door for her, shutting it behind her after she hiked herself into the seat. She already had her phone out as I slid under the wheel.

"What are you wearing Tuesday?" she asked as I started the Range Rover.

"I have a suit, and I'll bring a change of clothes."

"Why?"

"Well, I'm not taking you flying wearing a suit. That's just wrong."

She smiled at me. "Okay. Home first, then shopping. I want to see this suit of yours so I'll know what to buy."

I didn't understand what my suit had to do with her, but I didn't question it. She was still thawing toward me, and clothing was her area of expertise. "I'll be glad to have your help, but you know you don't have to do this, right? I'd planned to handle this on my own."

"You're sure you want me there?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I'll be there. How long is this going to take?"

I shrugged. "Two, maybe three hours, depending on the number of questions. This is just an announcement. The really deep, technical discussions of how the wing works will happen later. Remember how I told you in a couple of months I hope to be flying around the world?" She nodded. "That's when I'll be in a room with a bunch of engineers defending my claims." I smiled at her. "Want to join me for that? It'll be a lot of math, physics, and flow dynamics. Massive fun!"

She snickered. "No, I think I'll pass on that. I don't mind helping you whip a covering off something, but that rocket science stuff, I'll leave that to you."

I smiled at her. I wouldn't mind her whipping the covering off something either.

I stood beside the door, handing out folders that contained a brochure and a thin packet of technical data to the men and women filing into the hangar while thanking each of them for attending. I'd talked Roger out of wearing a suit today. After looking through his clothes, I'd selected a dark blue, short-sleeved knit shirt and paired it with tan pants. It had warmed up considerably since I'd arrived, with today's high predicted to be eighty-two, and I was certain the more casual dress would play better with his audience. Though the men outnumbered the women at least five to one, I knew Roger's style of dress would be a hit with the women, the shirt stretched across his broad chest and hugging his well-developed arms while his pants displayed his ass perfectly. Since he was no longer wearing a suit, I wasn't wearing one either, and I had likewise dressed in blue and tan.

Monday we'd arranged a hundred rented folding chairs in a semicircle facing the Peregrine, and he'd set the two boxes of folders inside the door. He said there were two hundred fifty folders, and I'd already emptied the first box. There were only a handful of open chairs available even with many of people milling around, and people were still filing in. Roger hadn't rented enough chairs so this would be a standing room only event.

Roger was clearly a smart guy and unquestionably good looking, but he had no sense of drama. He'd planned to have the engine in the operational position at the beginning of his presentation, but I convinced him that if the Peregrine really was the first glider to use this fancy new engine, then he needed to surprise his audience with that. He thought it was all puffery, a funny word, and the important part of his presentation was his wing, but I stood my ground and he finally gave in. I didn't know if he'd relented simply to please me, or if he'd finally realized I was right, but it didn't matter because I knew I was right.

Once he agreed to keep the engine stowed, he showed me how to open the canopy and raise the engine into its operational position. It wasn't hard. Flip two well labeled switches, and the engine rose into place.

"Thank you for coming," I said quietly as I handed out another brochure and information packet. I was well into the second box of folders, confirming there more people in the hangar than there were available chairs. I quickly glanced around. Every seat was taken, even with a large group of men and women standing beside the shrouded plane talking to Roger. There was still fifteen minutes before the scheduled start, and people were now arriving in small groups.

"I guess we should get started," Rogers called promptly at ten as he paced in front of the Peregrine. "I'm sorry there aren't enough chairs for everyone. I didn't expect such a large turnout. Can everyone hear me okay in the back?"

A rumble passed through the crowd as I continued to hand out packets. I gave away the last one I had in my hands and quickly crouched to retrieve more from the box. The second box was nearing half empty. I stood and quickly handed out packets to clear the backlog of people waiting at the door. There had to be over a hundred fifty people in the hangar, with more arriving.

Roger spent five minutes talking about what he wanted to accomplish with the Peregrine and the fact that the glider had a radical new wing, a wing unlike any aircraft flying today. That was my cue to get ready for the big reveal. People were still arriving, but I couldn't continue to stand by the door and hand out information. During a lull in the arrivals, I emptied the second box, placed the remaining folders on the floor, stacked the two boxes, and placed the packets on top. The two boxes came only to my knees, but it was the best I could do.

I handed a folder to a straggler as I finished stacking boxes, then hurried to the plane, standing on the opposite side from Roger, pasting a fake smile on my face. Until now I'd thought he had no sense of drama, but I was wrong. In his five-minute preamble, he had everyone, standing and seated alike, almost leaning forward, eager to see what was hiding under the silky blue drape.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the RBG Peregrine!" he announced loudly, stepping away from the plane.

When he said RBG—Roger Bentley Glider—I began pulling the covering rapidly to me, puddling it in the floor at my feet. As the plane became visible, there was initial silence, quickly followed by a murmur that turned into a smattering of applause that rose in volume and intensity as those seated rose to their feet. Whether it was a standing ovation or people simply wanting to get a better look at the Peregrine, I didn't know, but my fake smile became genuine. I couldn't wipe that stupid smile off my face if I tried.

As Roger talked about the Peregrine, I had a few minutes, so as unobtrusively as possible, I folded the drape and placed it under the plane. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, understood maybe one word in fifty if I took out all the normal words, like 'the,' 'different,' and 'wing.' Drape folded, I stood at the nose of the plane, waiting for my next cue. When he started talking about the glider being 'self-powered', I opened the canopy and flipped the two switches to more applause that rose in volume as the engine appeared.

He'd said his presentation would last an hour or so. I didn't want to look bored by checking my phone for the time, but as he began wrapping up his talk, I thought he was cutting his presentation short and I didn't know why. I'd be ecstatic if people were looking at my clothing with the same interest and enthusiasm as they were his glider.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming," he said, then waited until the applause quieted. "Any questions?"

I snickered as nearly every hand in the room shot up. As Roger took questions, I surreptitiously checked my phone and was surprised to see he'd spoken for an hour and twenty minutes. I was also slightly surprised to discover there were a couple of reporters in the room, near the front, and while Roger answered their questions, he also wouldn't let them dominate the room.

The question and answer session was even worse for the technical jargon, and I understood maybe one word out of a hundred, so I watched the crowd. There were some skeptical faces, but far more faces were eager for information. Roger handled every question with confidence and verve, his answers often leading to even more questions. His presentation took a little over an hour, but the question and answer session took almost twice that. A few people trickled out of the hangar, all their questions apparently satisfied, but most stayed.

"Any more questions?" he called, as the questions finally died. I found it funny that he ignored the two reporters as they held up their hands again. "Again, thank you so much for coming. I'll hang around for a little while if anyone has any more questions. And please, you're welcome to come up and take a closer look."

The applause was enthusiastic to say the least, and many people crowded around, eager to see the Peregrine and her new wing. More than a few wanted to ask me questions, but unless they wanted to ask me its color, which was white, they were out of luck, and I referred them to Roger. I was also handed three business cards with an accompanying invitation to dinner.