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Shelby grabs me tight. “What in the ‘Sam Hill’ is that noise?”
“This is going to be fun.” I laugh and lead them all out to the waiting aircraft.
“No, no chance, no way.” Shelby digs her heels into the ground. “I’m not getting on that thing.”
“You are because you’ll love where we’re going, and it’s the best way to get there,” I order and push her forward. “Lena, you go in the front, and Shelby, you go between Max and I, to even out the weight distribution.”
Lena has traveled on a helicopter with us a few times before, and she happily climbs on board and straps herself in. Max gets in the back first and moves across to his seat.
“Shelby?” I motion for her to get in.
“I’m scared, Eaton. I didn’t enjoy the plane journey here. This thing looks even scarier.”
“It’s safe. I wouldn’t travel on it if it wasn’t. Trust me.”
“Okay,” Shelby reluctantly agrees and climbs aboard.
I strap her in, and we all put on headphones.
“We wear these because it gets very loud in here,” I explain to Shelby. “The headphones allow us to talk while in flight.”
The pilot starts the rotors. And we lift into the air. The gentle see-sawing motion is comforting to me, but the fact Shelby grabs my hand tight and digs her nails into it tells me it’s not the same for her.
“Let me off. This isn’t natural. Let me off. Please, Eaton,” she begs.
“Relax, it’ll be fine.”
“It won’t be fucking fine, Eaton. That’s a bunch of fucking crap. This thing is fucking dangerous. Shit balls. Fucking asshole. I hate you. Put me back on the fucking ground now!” Shelby glares at me. Her nostrils flaring with anger, but her eyes are wide with fright “Shit, shit, shit,” she repeats as we bank left and head away from Vegas toward LA. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she repeats, over and over again.
I can see the smirk on Max’s face. He’s enjoying the show as Shelby tries to clamber onto my lap. I must admit it’s pretty funny. I can’t stop the smirk that crosses my face.
“You asshole! You’re laughing at me.” Shelby slaps me across the chest.
I grab her hand when she goes to do it again.
“Turn the mikes on for just Shelby and me please,” I instruct the pilot. “And off for everyone else.”
He flicks the communication switch just as we get up to top speed in the helicopter and zoom out over the desert. The weather for the journey today is good, and I’ve been told it will only take an hour and half to get to our destination.
“Shelby, listen to me.” I pull her face so her eyes are looking into mine. “As much as your swearing is growing on me, there is nothing to be afraid of. I travel this way often. Relax and look out the window. When do you ever get a view like this? You can see all around you. Look below us. That’s the Indian reserve of the Mojave people. Keep watching, and you’ll see as the barrenness of the desert gives way to the richness of the Angeles National Forest. You can’t get these views anywhere else.”
Stretching over me, Shelby looks out of the window.
“It looks like a giant sandpit. There’s nothing around. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“We really are.”
“You can see patterns in the sand—shapes of different things.”
Shelby gradually calms down as she starts to point out what she sees in the landscape, and apart from a small period of turbulence, her language is less that of a well seasoned sailor and more suited to the beautiful, young woman she is. I hold her in my arms and enjoy capturing more of her firsts.
As we approach our destination, the helicopter begins to descend, and Shelby looks eagerly out of the window.
“Are you going to tell us where we’re going?” she questions.
“Keep looking.”
The helicopter glides lower, and our destination comes into view.
