Page 74 of Cockpit
“You’re an ass.” Devon laughs.
“And Dixie was a pig.” I think back to how much we harassed the shit out of Dev when the column came out. And when the subsequent correction was published the next day. Needless to say, someone overheard Dev mention how he couldn’t wait for his date with Dixie and misinterpreted it as a literal date. Too bad he meant his appointment to pick the piglet up for his mom and take her to the family farm. The town laughed for weeks over it.
“And you’re avoiding answering our question,” Dev says.
“Why do I come here for this abuse?” I ask, but I know full well that the abuse is deserved. What I don’t like is how the simple question about a certain golden brown-haired woman sends my thoughts straight back to Sidney and what happened and how I can’t stop thinking about it. Or her.
“Because you love us.” Jen shrugs and heads over to where she’s doing one of her thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles—there’s sometimes a lot of time between calls.
“Sometimes.”
“What’s this crap I hear about people thinking you’re a hot dad, anyway?” Devon says, but then he holds up a hand. “Wait, let me guess—you signed yourself up for the contest because you weren’t getting enough attention ‘round these parts.”
“That’s exactly right,” I say as I shake my head no. “My damn brothers signed me up, and now I’m stuck in it.”
“You’re stuck in something, all right. I hope she is at least worth the pain.”
My middle finger is raised back at him as I make my way down the hall toward Cochran’s office.
“Don’t worry, I’ll vote for you!” Jen calls to me.
“At least someone loves me,” I say as I stop at Cochran’s office door. His head is down, his fingers are typing furiously. I knock on the jamb.
He startles, but a smile spreads when he sees me. “Malone.” He nods. “I thought that was your voice out here.”
“Sir. Just checking in to see if you’ve heard anything yet.”
“I’ve heard, all right.” He chuckles, and it confuses me. “Getting a lot of phone calls at the station from women asking if you’re available to give mouth-to-mouth.”
“There’s no accounting for taste,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry about that.”
He shrugs and looks relaxed, when he’s typically anything but. “At least you’re being productive in your time off. Maybe your next photo should include one of the helos. Get us some added advertising with all this newfound publicity of yours.”
“You’re shameless, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, with High-Life setting up shop across town, we could use every little added bit of visibility.” He’s referring to the new medevac company currently encroaching on our turf.
“It’s taking that much out of our business?”
“Not the emergency side of it, no. But the medical transport side, yes.”
“That sucks.” And it does, because now my mind is full of worries about layoffs. If they needed to let people go, the guy who’s grounded would be the first one on the block. “Maybe it’s because you’re missing your star pilot.”
There is no shame in reminding him how much money I make him.
“That’s exactly why,” he says through his laugh. “They want you before the board in a week or two and plan to reinstate you by the end of the month. You just need to make them all the promises they want to hear.”
I lift my eyebrows. “I’ve learned so much about why we have rules while having desk duty in dispatch. I won’t take chances. I won’t save lives if risks are involved. I won’t, I won’t I won’t,” I say drolly as he shakes his head.
“Try it with a little more enthusiasm next time,” he says.
“Noted. Thanks.”
He nods and puts his head back down, letting me know the discussion is over. “Advertising, Malone. Make sure you mention where you work when you do whatever it is for this cockamamie contest you’re in. That might win you some favor as well.”
Fucking great.
“What’s up with you? I’d think you’d be dancing on the ceiling with how well this round of voting is bringing in page visits.”
