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  “Misery makes good company. You don’t look so hot yourself.” Jason referenced the bruises and cuts on Vince’s face. “Game get a little rough after I left last night?”

  “Nah, fell down the stairs.”

  “Impressive, considering you live on the first floor.”

  Vince glared at him. Jason could take a hint. He was too hungover to carry on much of a conversation, but he was cautious. He didn’t trust Vince. The pair moved to the bench press.

  “So, Conrad,” he said as he gripped the bar, “where have you been all morning? I came by earlier . . . you weren’t around.”

  He told Vince about Kathy at the club the night before and his early morning wake-up. He explained his history with Bethany again. Now here she was, another man’s wife, wanting to reestablish a relationship.

  Vince commented throughout the story, occasionally adding quips and asking questions.

  “Wow, that’s a full morning,” Vince said. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. We’re meeting for dinner. I don’t know how it will turn out. This is going to drive me crazy all weekend, and I need to study. I’ve got a check ride Monday, so I’ve got to study tomorrow for sure. Whatever I do, I’ve got to decide tonight.”

  “Well, there are worse decisions to make. ‘Which babe do I want to keep?’ You’ve got a rough life.”

  Jason set his hands on his knees and leaned forward on the bench. He’d seen this in friends before. The shift in Vince’s disposition was . . . unsettling.

  20

  September 2, 1995

  * * *

  THE GRAVEL PARKING LOT along the front and sides of Chicaros lay empty except for two cars. Vince pulled his truck next to the front door and got out. The small rocks crackled under his boots as he walked to the door. At seven in the evening, the sun was still out. Too early for the Saturday night drinking crowd. As Vince entered, the darkness swallowed him. Sitting at a table in the corner, he signaled the bartender for a beer. The bartender brought the beer to the table in a large frozen mug. “You want something to eat?” the bartender asked.

  “Sure, I’ll take the barbecue sandwich,” Vince said, taking a sip from the frosty mug.

  The bartender nodded his head and turned to go to the kitchen. As he passed the bar, Kathy stepped out of the kitchen. Her shoulders sank, her lips pursed. Her half-open eyes scanned the room and she noticed Vince. When she walked over, they glimpsed at each other, saying nothing.

  “I know who you are,” he said softly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  “What?” she exclaimed. Vince was surprised at the sudden change in her demeanor. She looked like someone whose biggest secret had been revealed.

  “You’re a girl with a broken heart. How are you today?”

  “Not the best I’ve been in a while.”

  “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  Kathy shrugged her shoulders with a big sigh. “No, I don’t think so. I’m probably just imagining things.” Her eyes grew wide as she studied his face. “Oh, my gosh . . . what happened to you? Wait right here—let me get something for that.”

  Vince watched her as she walked away, like a hunter surveyed his prey. His options were numerous. Clearly, he had an opportunity to take advantage of a beautiful lady in despair. They were always the easiest kind. The question remained, how should he bring it up? The direct approach was too obvious. He’d give it time. An opening would present itself, and then he would move in for the kill.

  She returned to the table and treated his cuts with hydrogen peroxide. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” he said, shrugging off the attention. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  Vince sipped his beer, and the two sat for a few moments without speaking. Kathy broke the uncomfortable silence. “How’s the flying going?”

  “It’s been going great. I’m doing well in the contact phase. I love to spin the jet. There’s nothing better than flying upside-down. I’m still kicking butt on all the tests. I’ve got the highest average in the class. My instructor says if I keep it up, I’ll have a chance at getting a fighter.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re not too confident,” she said.

  “You’ve got to be confident to fly jets. If you doubt yourself, you’re dead. You’ve got to know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t want to fly in an airplane with a pilot who’s not confident.”

  She nodded in agreement. “I guess all you guys believe in yourselves. The hard part is for us outsiders to distinguish what is cockiness and what is confidence.”

  “You can’t. We’re all cocky. It’s the confidence part some of us lack, myself excluded.”

  The corners of her mouth crept upward. “You’re right, I can’t tell the difference.”

  “Oh, she smiles! What a pleasant change. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “No, silly, I’m working.”

  “I can see your working hard. Can I get you a stool to prop up your feet?”

  “Very funny, flyboy.”

  Vince could tell he was gaining Kathy’s trust. He would need to be subtle. Getting her too upset would defeat his purpose.

  “Look, not everybody in the program is the same. Everybody has different strengths and weaknesses. Take Matt, for instance. He’s cocky, but he’s not very good. Lenny is good, but he lacks confidence. I don’t think he cares much about being here. He’s got the talent, but his desire to be a pilot isn’t there. Then there’s Jason.” Vince let the name sink in for a moment. He saw the despair overcome her. Pretending not to notice the change in Kathy’s composure, he continued. “Jason has a lot of heart. His desire is there. He’s confident he can do it—he just sucks.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t mean he sucks in a bad way. He just doesn’t have the skill to finish the program in the time they want him to. These guys out here can teach anybody off the street to fly if they had the time. They just don’t have time to teach Jason. He’s slow.”

  Vince analyzed how his last remarks affected her. Kathy was upset, anxious. It’s time.

  “I’m sorry, he’s probably a bad subject to bring up.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, I thought you two had . . . parted ways?”

  “What? I mean, I haven’t heard from him today. But—”

  “Well, with his ex-wife in town and all . . .”

  Kathy paused at that comment. “She’s here?”

  “Sure, the two of them had lunch today. I guess they hit it off. They’re going out to dinner tonight, reconciling.” Kathy stared at the wall. Vince continued to play dumb for several more moments, and let the information sink in. “You didn’t know?”

  “No.” Her eyes began to water.

  Vince leaned across the table, placing his hand on hers. “Hey, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “How could he do this to me? I thought he would tell me about something like this. He seemed different. I thought he was honest.”

  “I’m sorry, Kathy, I don’t mean to sound rude, but he’s not they guy you think he is. Jason is self-centered. That’s why his marriage broke up to begin with. He ignored his wife and did his own thing. He used her for attention. He liked having a model for a wife. I’m afraid he would do the same to you.”

  She smiled but said nothing.

  “I’m only saying what I feel is right. I’m sorry. Jason is a friend of mine. I help him with his flying all the time, but I can’t tolerate how he handles women. Kathy, if I were him, I would never let you go.”

  21

  September 2, 1995

  * * *

  AFTER SEVERAL HOURS, Jason felt the effects of the alcohol start to fade away. The trip to the gym helped, and the nap didn’t hurt. His watch said seven-twenty, ten minutes before he was supposed to pick up Bethany. He had been late for lunch; he sure didn’t want to be late for dinner. But why should he care? Did he really worry what she thought about h
im? He had decided it wasn’t going to work between them. Or had he? Slipping on his Bass loafers, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. Jason pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste and quickly brushed his teeth. He finished and gargled with a generic mint mouthwash. Before leaving the bathroom, he added a touch of Polo cologne. He never cared much for the smelly stuff, but he had always worn it for her.

  Jason climbed into the canary yellow Mustang. He backed up his car and pulled out of the parking lot, still unsure about where they should go for dinner. There weren’t many restaurants in Enid, especially an elegant restaurant with the proper atmosphere.

  Bethany’s hotel wasn’t too far away. She stayed at the Holiday Inn on Van Buren Avenue, no more than a five-minute ride from the base. He pulled into the parking lot and parked in front of her room. Jason knocked on the door. It seemed, for a moment, as if no one would answer. When he started to knock again, the door opened.

  Bethany stood inside the doorway. “You’re late again.”

  “Fashionably late. Besides, I’m off-duty.”

  Jason stepped into the hotel room as she closed the door behind him. Bethany, of course, was not dressed yet, and wore a Devonshire satin robe with a floral design and terry cloth lining. Her makeup—perfect; her hair meticulously set. Stockings and high heels completed the ensemble.

  “Jason, do me a favor,” she said, walking back to the vanity mirror by the sink. “Open the bottle of Champagne and pour us a glass.”

  His eyes shifted in her direction. “Sure.”

  Champagne. The last thing he needed, but he’d have a sip or two with her. He lifted the bottle out of the bucket of ice. Water dripped off the sides and splashed on the table. Finding a towel, he wiped the bottle off and proceeded to remove the foil packaging around the top. Cautiously, he removed the wire cage that held the cork in place. He glanced toward Bethany; she watched him in the mirror. She smiled as she brushed her hair. With the wire off, he barely touched the cap, “POP!” the cork flew across the room, and the cool bubbly flowed out of the bottle. Jason reached for the Champagne glasses and poured them a drink.

  “Hooray,” Bethany said. She set her brush on the counter and bounced toward him. He handed her a glass, and she eagerly took it in both hands. “A toast,” she said, raising the glass. “To new beginnings.”

  Jason raised his glass and wondered what she referred to. Bethany downed the drink and grabbed the bottle for a refill. She didn’t seem interested in dinner. Walking across the room, she sipped on her Champagne and placed a cassette in her portable tape player. The erotic sounds of Enigma filtered through the room with its slow, rhythmic beat.

  “Bethany, we should probably be going soon.”

  She finished the second glass of Champagne and filled a third. Her movements about the room were sporadic; she intentionally wasted time and Jason enjoyed watching her. She even looked gorgeous in a bathrobe.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be a few more minutes,” she said. In a few more minutes, she’ll be plastered. He knew how she acted when she drank: amorous. She continued waltzing around the room, absorbed in the music, giving Jason flirtatious looks.

  She was beautiful. Desirable. Obvious. Jason shifted in his seat, his nervousness started to show. He fixated on her, and she knew it. It was a game to her; a game he was losing. She was in control. He observed her intently, wantonly, his Champagne only half-finished.

  She had his attention now. Slowly, she positioned herself about ten feet away, her back to him. Looking over her shoulder, she seductively untied the robe, and let it fall to her waist. Her long blond hair bounced against the tanned back. Bethany briefly paused in this position, then let the robe fall to the floor. She ran both of her hands to push back her hair, her head tilted to the ceiling as she laughed.

  Jason studied the finely sculptured flesh. His eyes took in the white high heels and moved up the long, shapely legs covered in white lace stockings held in place by a garter belt attached to a white lace bustier. Jason swallowed hard as she captivated him with the private show designed for his seduction. The music filled the room as she turned to face him. Slinking toward him, she appeared angelic. She was perfect.

  The smell of her perfume announced her presence. She stood before Jason and continued her exotic dance. All he could do was watch. Memories of the past raced through his mind—what it was like to hold her, touch her, make love to her. Bethany stole his heart many years ago, and she shattered it to pieces. Those things didn’t matter. This moment wasn’t about emotions . . . it was purely physical.

  She clasped his hands and pulled him up to her. Staring into her eyes, they stood inches apart. Her thinly veiled breasts lightly brushed his chest. He reached out and touched the base of her neck. Her soft skin quivered as he ran two fingers down her chest toward her cleavage. Pursing her lips, she closed her eyes. Jason’s hand moved past her breasts to her hips. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her toward him.

  The sudden movement caused Bethany to open her eyes. Their eyes met with blank stares. Jason pulled her toward him and kissed her, long, hard, and wet.

  Bethany wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his. He stroked the small of her back, running his fingers along the elastic band of lace around her hips. She dragged him toward the bed, and together they collapsed in a wild embrace. Jason rolled on to his back; Bethany straddled him. She pulled Jason’s shirt out of his pants and unbuttoned it. Her gyrations to the slow rhythm of the music drove him wild.

  Again, their eyes met. Her blank stare said it all, as Jason searched the windows of her soul. It was not the appearance of a woman in love; it was an empty void of despair. An unhappy lady, trying to find happiness again. He could tell his gaze made her uncomfortable as she closed her eyes and tossed her hair from side to side.

  For Jason, the spell was broken. His body tensed, and he needed to end this charade. He pushed her to the side and rolled off her bed.

  “Jason, stop,” Bethany cried.

  “No, Bethany, I don’t know who I was trying to fool,” he said, buttoning his shirt. His head much clearer now, he gained control of his thoughts and actions once again.

  “But . . . I love you.”

  Jason whirled around to face her. He raised a finger as if to speak, then glimpsed at her face and stopped. The smile she attempted through the tears vanished when she saw the anger in his eyes. He moved toward her and held both of her arms above the elbow. His face, inches from hers; he looked her in the eyes, but she turned away. Her body convulsed in heavy sobs.

  “Bethany, does your husband realize you’re here?”

  No reply.

  “Talk to me, Beth. Does he know you’re here? Does he know his wife is in a hotel room, dressed in lingerie, trying to seduce her ex-husband? How do you think it would make him feel?”

  Bethany sobbed heavily. “I don’t love him. I’m thinking of leaving him. I wanted to tell you how I felt.”

  “Liar! Earlier today you said you were leaving him. Now you’re only thinking of it? Why, Beth? Why here, why now? Why not later, when you are divorced or even separated?”

  No reply.

  “I thought about it. I said to myself, ‘I should screw her. I should nail this guy’s wife just like he did mine.’ I want to ruin his life like he ruined mine. But I can’t do it. As much as I hate that guy and despise what you did, I can’t do it.”

  “Jason, don’t.”

  “No, Beth, I want you to hear this. You would never talk to me before, but now I think it’s time you just listened. I don’t think you have any idea how much I loved you. I would have done anything for you. What you did crushed me. It almost destroyed me.

  “Time does heal wounds, Beth. I always wondered what it would be like if we tried to make things work again.

  “I didn’t know what to think this morning when you showed up. When I saw you, it was easy to be excited by the good memories and forget the bad. I don’t mind that. But yo
u are married, Bethany. You are a married woman seducing another man. I could not live with myself if we were ever to get back together, wondering if you were faithful. I don’t trust you.”

  He turned and headed for the door.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” she said. The tears had stopped. She sat on the edge of the bed, isolated . . . defeated.

  Jason started to speak but caught himself. He shut the door behind him and marched straight to his car. Don’t look back—just get in the car and go. Once the car is rolling, you’ll be okay. The engine roared to life and the car peeled out of the parking lot out on to Van Buren and into the night.

  The ten-minute ride to Chicaros seemed to last forever. Saturday-night delinquents sped up and down the strip like they always did—honking horns, stereos blaring. Jason pulled into the crowded parking lot, and more cars arrived behind him. Jason walked inside and worked his way through the dense crowd to the bar. He got the attention of the bartender and ordered a Coors Light.

  “Have you seen Kathy?” he said as the bartender handed him his beer.

  “Yeah, hell, I let her go earlier because nobody was here. Now that she’s gone, we’re swamped, and I could use her.”

  Jason nodded his head. “Did she go home?”

  The older man thought to himself for a moment and said, “I think she left here with some fella. Maybe her boyfriend, I’m not sure. She doesn’t talk much about her private life around here. Well, you know, with the gossip and all.”

  Jason’s heart pounded. “Yeah, thanks.” He found a deserted table in the corner and sat in the booth.

  Left with her boyfriend?

  22

  September 4, 1995

  * * *

  THE EIGHT MEN SAT SOLEMNLY around the large oak desk as darkness fell outside. At the end of the table, the older gentleman shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Staring through his bifocals, Viktor Vasilyevich Kryuchkov leafed through the papers in front of him.