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And that was it. He was my very first friend. It was that simple.
I look back on that pivotal encounter of ours often, and I always end up asking myself two questions.
Like most things in my life, they are at odds with each other.
Did that meeting save me?
Or did it ruin my life?
CHAPTER
FOUR
"Love is like war. Easy to begin, but very hard to stop."
~H.L. MENCKEN
PRESENT
Our layover was in San Francisco. It was only for twenty-four hours, just enough time to go out drinking and sleep before we hit the air again.
And boy was I going to drink.
It’d been a doozy of a day, and I was planning to throw one hell of a drunk.
And my girls were with me all the way. Leona knew more about Dante than the others, but Demi and Farrah knew enough to understand that I needed to go out and find some distraction.
San Fran was a bi-weekly stop for our static crew, and we knew just the bar to go to. It had cheap drinks, hot men, and was within staggering distance of our hotel.
The pilots insisted on going with us. They always did. Flight attendants were pilot catnip, and every girl on our crew was hot, so we were catnip times four.
Also, and much to my disappointment, Leona was dating the first officer.
She was young, only twenty-six, but just a little over two years ago she’d been through a really ugly divorce.
I’d gone through it with her.
And now she was finally dating again, but it was a fucking pilot.
Said pilot was with the captain buying us all a third round at the bar while we lounged on a long, red couch and blatantly scoped out the room.
It was packed with men, and even though we were in San Francisco, at this particular bar most of the men were usually straight.
“Never date a pilot,” I told Leona, for maybe the thousandth time, as I watched her not quite boyfriend smile at the female bartender.
“He’s a nice guy,” she defended. “I think it’s going well.”
“He’s totally into Leona,” Demi added.
“Of course he is,” I agreed. “Look at her. But it’s not about her or how he feels about her. He’s a pilot.”
Leona waved me off. “Time will tell. They can’t all be bad. There are exceptions to every rule.”
I decided to drop it. She wasn’t budging, and much as I hated it, she might just have to learn this one the hard way.
I nodded my head at a hipster dude at the bar. He’d gone so full-on hipster that he was borderline lumberjack. “I might give that one the time of day.”
Leona’s delicate nose scrunched up. It was pretty dang cute. Everything she did was cute. Normally I hated cute girls, but with Leona, it was just part of her charm. “You don’t like beards. You always say how they smell bad, how they’ve done tests on men with beards like that, and they always find shit in them. Literal shit.”
