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Chapter Two
Since the accident I have wondered, quite a bit, about whether I care to keep living. But instinct is just that, and I feel my pulse stutter in my veins when Joely starts up the plane, then cackles with maniacal glee.
Irritated at being made to lose my cool, I shout at her over the roar of the engine as she taxies the small seaplane through the harbor, then lifts us into the air.
“It’s not that safe a decision that you made, you know. Sealing yourself off up here with a complete stranger. A man who’s twice your size, and probably twice your age.”
Though her eyes are fixed on the expanse of air in front of us, the slight twitch of the muscles in her face tells me she is rolling them.
“Be as big and old as you like, but I’m at the wheel or we crash, buddy.” She flicks a switch, adjusts a knob. “Kinda closes off your opportunity for extracurricular activities like murder or hanky panky. Plus, you’re not that kind of person.”
Her response takes me aback completely, and I find myself at a loss for words, which I never am. When I find my voice, it sounds as mortified as I feel.
“I’m not talking about raping you, girl. I am saying you shouldn’t make a habit of volunteering to fly a perfect stranger out to, as you said, the middle of nowhere.”
“I can take care of myself, and you just proved my point. You’re a decent guy. Giant chip on your shoulder, but decent. Anyway, even if you weren’t, you and I don’t go down that road.” She tilts the wheel, and I feel the plane turn in a slow, steady arc. “It isn’t meant to be.”
“How do you know that?” I should be insulted, perhaps, even though I know what I look like now. “Is it the scars?”
“No.” No quantifiers—just no. “And I just know.”
I mutter something under my breath about stubborn females as I move to return to my seat behind her, though the words have no heat. She replies, and I have to turn back to catch what she says.
“You’re not a beast, you know. You should remember that before you forget you’re just acting.” Her tone is matter of fact, like she couldn’t care less one way or the other. It’s a refreshing change, after leaving people who were never-ending founts of demands, of needs.
But she’s wrong. I built my empire on charm and sophistication. But now… with my face so scarred…
“I’m not acting. And you don’t know as much as you think, so stop talking and fly the damn plane.”
There hardly seems to be a point in trying to be something more than what I’ve become.