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“No sir,” I said. “That’s not what she did.”
“How do you figure, young man?”
“Because, I’m not a random guy, although I appreciate the implied compliment.”
"Well, then who the hell are ya, if you're not some random guy?"
"I'm your co-pilot, Mr. Stevens. At least for the next couple of days, I am. I've been looking for you."
“Shit, son!” Fred exclaimed. “You should have let me know that a little earlier. What’s your name, anyway?”
“It’s Drew, sir. Drew Larson.”
“Have a seat, Drew, and for Christ’s sake, stop calling me sir. You make me feel like I’m a hundred fucking years old.”
I nodded that I understood and sat where Fred Stevens indicated. He didn't like being called sir because he felt like it made him old. I got it, but looking at his face, I wondered how old he might be.
In my mind, there were roughly two different kinds of pilots. There was the buttoned-up kind that took everything almost too seriously, and then there was the kind that pushed everything in life to the edge. Just a perfunctory look at Fred Stevens told me he was probably the latter kind. It was why I couldn't get a handle on how old he was. He had the look of a man who had partied a hell of a lot more than he should have. The only thing I couldn't yet be sure of was whether or not the partying was still happening.
“So, you’re going to be the new guy now, huh?”
“For the next couple of flights, at least.”
“Replacing that last fucker, huh?” he asked, shaking his head. “Thank Christ for that. That one was a stiff, you know? Total stiff. No two ways about it.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I never met him.”
“Don’t have to meet him,” Fred said, taking a puff off his cigar. “You can take my word for it. Guy was a fucking square.”
Some of the other pilots around the table laughed, but I didn’t.
“I guess there’s a lot of us, huh?” I asked.
“Us?” Fred asked with a frown beneath his drooping mustache. “Aw, shit, us? So then, you’re one of them, huh? One of the stiffs, I mean. The squares.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think of myself as a square, but that’s just me.”
“I should’ve known you were. Pretty boy pilots like you are always stiffs. You know it, just the same way as I do.”
Why the hell was he thinking about stiff pretty boys? I kept the question to myself. Things were already off to a rocky enough start.
“I don’t tend to think of myself as a pretty boy, sir,” I said.
"I told you! No sir, all right? Stevens. Just call me Stevens, and we'll get along just fine, square or not."
"All right, Stevens,” I said, nodding. “Whatever you say."
"Whatever I say, huh? Well, I say you're a pretty boy, and I've got the proof."
Despite his weird obsession with complimenting my looks, I didn't like this man. I had only spent a short amount of time with him, and already, I knew I didn't like him.
He represented a shining example of the kind of man I hoped not to become after another dozen or so years on the job. He was a little bit too loud, a little bit too out of control, and a little bit too full of himself.
I had no patience for men like that. My lack of patience wasn't enough to keep me from looking at his so-called proof, though. When I turned to glance over my shoulder, I smiled a little. The Pilots’ Lounge wasn't just for the pilots; it was for everyone who worked on the flights, including the crew and the flight attendants. At the moment, there was a gaggle of women all dressed for a flight standing several feet behind where I sat with Stevens. Several of them were looking in my direction.
There was the proof of the pretty boy thing. It wasn't my favorite nickname, but when it got the attention of chicks as good-looking as these, I found myself minding it a lot less.
There was one, in particular, a little blonde thing with the kind of curves a man could really grab onto. She caught my attention immediately. If this chick was on my flight, things might be looking up. Along with a fantastic set of tits and hips that made me get half hard just looking at them, she had the kind of long, blonde hair I would have loved to pull. Her eyes were wide, blue, and innocent, which only made her hotter, and her smile was enough to make me want to talk to her.
