Riordan walked in. The look on his face suggested he wasn’t thrilled to be interrupted for this. His dress shirt was open at the neck, sleeves rolled up. Nikki thought it was yesterday’s shirt, and yesterday’s circles under his eyes. He took one sweeping look at the uniformed mannequins and sketches laid out on the conference table. “D’you have to wear drag to get in here?”
Jewel stepped into the room behind him. She looked at the uniforms casually, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Bob,” he said, poking at one of the gold buttons running up his chest. “I’m not sure whether you’re going to fly a plane or lay down and feed your puppies.” He frowned at the sketches, then at the flight attendant committee. “What the hell is this? Gimme a navy blue suit. Put some skirts and slacks and blouses together. The fanciest thing I wanna see is a vest. Jesus, this shit looks like a fucking Cher concert!” He pointed to the tan suit with the filigree and shoulder boards. “Who the hell is that supposed to be? That guy looks like a friggin’ Iraqi general.”
He turned and left the room. Jewel pulled the door closed behind them both. “Do they have bad taste or what?” Riordan could be heard saying as they walked away.
“Okay,” Nikki said, breathing a huge sigh of relief. “Back to the drawing board?”
“What’s the point,” Reese said angrily, slapping her notebook closed with an angry snap.
Nikki stood up. “The point, I believe, is uniforms for a professional airline crew. Let’s keep that in mind. Hmm?”
Thirty new pilot hires were assembled in a leased training facility in a hangar at the airport. The first two days of their training was orientation, during which time they would hear a list of speakers from the roster of corporate officers, including Joe, Bob and Nikki. Then ground school and aircraft systems would begin in earnest for three weeks, followed by two weeks of simulator training.
Until Danny could hire a full-time teaching staff, he’d get help from Nikki, Eric and consultants.
Nikki had to go to ground school, too, as did Riddle. She’d also be teaching some of her own classes, which her degree and experience definitely qualified her to do. In the meantime, she was up to her eyeballs in work that had a very short deadline. Riddle had saddled her with the emergency-procedures manual, and she was trying to get ready for proving flights. And while there was a flight scheduler to plan the movement of the airplanes around the system, there was no crew scheduler as yet. She could do it—three airplanes, thirty pilots, sixty flight attendants. But when would she sleep? And there was the Med Link rep coming in for a meeting; that onboard communication would put a crew member in direct contact with a physician in the case of an ill passenger during flight. Nikki considered getting this contract high priority.
And the aircraft lessors were at the door. So many planes were scattered around the country, sitting idle, costing their owners millions. When a new airline started up, the leasing companies competed for business, and they wooed prospective clients with golf, fancy dinners and gifts. Riddle was taking on most of that, with Nikki’s total good wishes; she simply couldn’t fit any superfluous entertainment into her schedule. But it did feel as if his job was fine dining while hers was the hard work of getting an airline certified.
And the closing on her house was drawing near. Next week, she hoped. Thank God for Carlisle. Feeling more secure and safer now, he had thrown himself into helping the kids shop for their bedroom furnishings. The closets, as well as every inch of floor space, were filling up with new purchases from towels to bedding to kitchen items. How in the world she was going to find time to move into the house was beyond her. She desperately needed a wife.
Loaded down with accordion files, Nikki passed Crue’s desk. Bob’s office door was open, the light on, but no Bob. And Crue’s desk was, as usual, neat. She appeared to be working at her computer at a leisurely pace.
Nikki stopped and looked at Crue until the woman turned her head. Nikki was unconsciously frowning, deep in thought. Crue gave an impatient snigger and Nikki shook herself. “Where did you work before coming here?” she asked. “TWA?”
“US Airways. TWA before that.”
“A secretary?”
Crue shook her head but didn’t offer anything more.
“Well? What?” Nikki pushed.
“Scheduling.”
“Aircraft?”
She shook her head. “Cabin crews.”
Nikki started to chuckle. She went around the corner and ducked into the conference room. Sitting down in a chair with wheels, the heavy files resting in her lap, she scooted out the door and down the hall until she sat right in front of Crue’s desk. “You’re going to wear me out with all that chatter,” she said. Crue did not crack a smile. “Come on! Cripes.” She sighed. “Crew scheduling at both airlines?”
Crue nodded.
“In what capacity?”
“What difference does it make?”
Nikki leaned a little over Crue’s desk. “I need help.”
Crue looked back at her computer, her fingers drifting to the keyboard. “He has someone in mind.”
“What?”
“He said he has someone in mind for that job.”
“Well, he hasn’t told me that. In what capacity were you scheduling?”
“I was a manager at TWA, and after they folded I worked as a scheduler at USAir, then got laid off after 9/11.”
“What systems did you use?”
Her lips pursed, as if she was getting angrier and angrier. But she answered, “Years ago it was a computer program made by SDI, then the Bornneman system, and…Well, there was pencil and paper.”
Nikki grinned. “I’m only checked out on pencil and paper. You…ah…real busy with Bob’s work?”
She took her time on that one. “Positively worn out,” she said.
“Where is he?”
“Over at the airport, with the pilot class.”
Nikki looked at her watch. “Damn. I gotta get over there. Quick—why’d you take this job if you’re a scheduler?”
“Lashawn is nine, Lincoln is eleven. And like I said, he has someone in mind for scheduling.”
“Ha! Me,” she said, standing. “Will you help me?”
“Will you pay me extra?”
“No. But if you do a decent job, I’ll put my head to the task of trying to utilize your skills more effectively than this.”
“And then he might just say he has someone in mind….”
“Look, I have thirty more seconds to screw around with this. You want the chance, or you want to do this forever?”
“Okay. But don’t tell him,” she said, tilting her head toward Riddle’s office.
“Why not?”
“Don’t make me say why. Just don’t.”
“He’s not giving you a hard time, is he? He seems good with employees, especially women.”
“He’s not giving me a hard time.” She held out her two very large, capable-looking hands. Nikki leafed through the stacks of files and found the one for crew scheduling. “Where’s the manual?” Crue asked.
“I’ll have Dixie scare it up for you before the end of the day. Thanks, Crue. Maybe if we churn this up a little, we can make butter.”
As the workday drew to a close, Dixie organized her desktop and prepared to leave. The airline offices were beginning to quiet down. The receptionist had left and was no longer fielding calls—only those people with the direct numbers would get through. She took a fistful of messages to leave in Nikki’s office, along with an updated list of the background checks she had completed. Nikki was simply amazing—spending all day teaching her own aircraft-systems training, leaving to have dinner with the kids, then back to the office to catch up on work that had accumulated during the day while she was in training.
Of course, Dixie’s contribution was even more necessary now. And Dixie had surprised herself; she hadn’t realized the extent of her capabilities. She was virtually running Flight Ops in conjunction with Nikki. She didn??
?t need anyone to tell her—she was doing a great job. This was just the shot in the arm she needed.
She answered the ringing phone one more time, after which she’d switch it over to voice mail. To her absolute delight, it was the Phoenix real estate agent—Dixie had a buyer for her town house! A very interested buyer who wanted a fast closing. Now she could get about the business of house-hunting here in Las Vegas. She’d been in that town house for ten years and it was going to turn a nice little profit.
Before leaving the office, she visited the ladies room. On her way back to her desk, she was slowed by the sound of male voices, male laughter.
“Have you seen her? She’s gorgeous!”
“Yeah, I’ve seen her. I heard we got her from Aries.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard, too. She’s in pretty good shape for being manhandled by those morons,” came a third voice, followed by laughter. There must have been three men standing around her desk. “Just leave her a note, Sam. We can stop by tomorrow before training.”
“Yeah, okay. So, how old you think that little honey is?”
“That I couldn’t tell you. She’s got a lot of miles on her, though.”
“Who cares? I can’t wait to get my hands on her.”
“Yeah? Well, get in line. I’m senior to you.”
“I just wanna get inside her. I’ll bet I can make her purr like a kitten.”
“You?” More laughter. “Yeah, right. You need help to find your zipper.”
They moved away from her desk and down the hall. Sam was the only name she recognized; she didn’t even know who the others were. But Dixie felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Tears stung her eyes and she walked weakly to her desk. Through clouded vision she looked down at the note on her tidy desktop. “Dixie—what’s the procedure for recommending a pilot applicant? Sam Landon.”
Sam, joking with the guys about getting his hands on her? She’d thought he was such a gentleman. But that was the way of it—they always seemed so much nicer and more honest than they turned out to be.
She should have known her reputation would follow her. Airlines were just like small towns. Everyone knew someone who knew someone who had heard something. It was a business in which you either heard a rumor by noon or were required to start one.
Dixie sniffed, a deep and ragged sniff. Oh, God, she was so filled with regret! She could hardly breathe. It felt like a lifetime ago that she was at Aries, falling in love all the time and love never working out. She hadn’t even realized how often it had happened, how many men she’d had, until the episode with Branch, when her supervisor pointed out her many failed relationships.
But Dixie had always practiced total fidelity. Never had there been more than one man in her life at a time. And yet she was clearly considered a slut. A tramp. I heard she’s got a lot of miles on her.
She couldn’t keep from crying. Not just crying, but snuffling and hiccupping, too. Tears were pouring out of her eyes, her nose began to run, and it was too late to stop. She grabbed a box of tissues out of her bottom desk drawer. No way was she going to hide in the bathroom and be found by one of the secretaries or, God forbid, Shanna or Crue. And she couldn’t go back to the suites inn and face everyone there with a red nose and puffy eyes.
Sneaking around the corner, past Nikki’s office door, Dixie let herself into the Flight Ops conference room. There wouldn’t be any meetings tonight. She closed the door behind her and sat in the corner, in the dark, her purse and tissue box on her lap, and wept.
Just when she thought her life had changed for the better, she found instead that her old life had simply followed her. It hurt so deeply. Burying her face in her hands, her sobs muffled by tissue, she let it all go.
Without warning, the door flew open and the light flicked on. Danny didn’t see her as he entered in a rush. He walked all the way around the table to the credenza at the end of the room where a stack of paper and a couple of manuals sat, obviously left behind after an FAA meeting.
He picked up a manual and began paging through it as he headed out of the conference room. Dixie sat frozen, praying he would turn off the light and leave without ever noticing her.
But no. He glanced up from the manual and saw her there, so small and pathetic in the corner, her face streaked and red.
“Dixie?” he said. He dropped the book on the conference table and went to her. “What in the world…?”
That only brought a new flood of tears. “I…need…to be…alone….”
He crouched down in front of her. “No way. What on earth happened?”
“Please…” she begged piteously. She couldn’t remember ever crying like this before. Through all the breakups and broken hearts, nothing matched the pain she felt now.
Danny glanced over his shoulder at the open conference door and got up to close it. He then pulled a chair from the table and positioned himself directly in front of her, their knees touching.
“I can’t leave you like this, Dixie. You’re going to have to tell me what happened. Did someone die?”
A bubble of rueful laughter broke through her tears. “Just my reputation,” she said. “I guess it was dead a long time ago.”
A black frown covered his features. “What is this? Did someone say something mean to you?”
“I overheard,” she said with a hiccup. “I was coming out of the ladies’ room and there were some pilots gathered around my desk. They didn’t know I was there.”
Danny reached for her, grabbing her upper arms. “What, Dixie? What was said? Tell me.”
She shook her head. “Why? What difference does it make now? There’s nothing you can do.”
“We don’t know that. Maybe there is something. Just tell me.”
“They said they heard I’d come from Aries. That I had a lot of miles on me, but one of them couldn’t wait to get his hands on me. Then another one said—I couldn’t believe this—he said he couldn’t wait to get inside me and he could make me purr like a kitten. And then—oh, I don’t really remember—they were laughing. Said I was in pretty good shape after being manhandled by those morons at Aries.”
“Jesus,” he said in disgust. “That’s awful. Do you have any idea who they were?”
“One of them was Sam Landon, whom I thought was such a gentleman.”
“I thought so, too,” Danny said, perplexed. “You’re sure it was him?”
“I know for a fact because he left me a note. I think he was the one who said, ‘Well, get in line—I’m senior to you.’”
“He said that? In reference to what?”
“The one who couldn’t wait to get inside me and make me purr like a kitten.”
A dumbfounded look came over his face and he studied the wall behind her, thinking. Then his gaze came back to her face. “Dixie, did you hear any of them mention you by name?”
“No. But one of them said, just leave her a note. And the note was left by Sam.”
“And the note said?”
She shrugged. “What is the procedure for recommending pilot applicants?”
His face broke into a broad grin. “Dixie, I don’t think they were talking about you. I think they were talking about our new airplane.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. A sweet little honey that Aries dumped when they downsized. It’s been sitting in storage in the desert for almost a year—the lessor is giving her to us at an incredible price.”
“No way,” she said, and hiccuped.
“That’s the only way I can explain the comment about seniority. I mean, you don’t date by seniority, do you?”
“Very funny!” She blew her nose. “Is it possible?”
He nodded. “Dixie, I’m not exactly a charter member of the boys’ club, but I don’t know you to have a bad reputation,” he said. “Truthfully, I’ve never heard any but the nicest things about you.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not. It’s true—the men comment about you because you’re
very beautiful. But I haven’t heard anyone say anything disrespectful. You have to know I wouldn’t stand for it. What put this idea in your head?”
“Oh. It was probably what my supervisor at Aries said when she put me on suspension. Something about how I’d had far too many failed relationships for a nice girl…”
“That was a crappy thing to say.”
“I think she was trying to help.”
“Ah. She thought she’d help by saying something as demeaning as that. I’m sure glad she didn’t want to hurt your feelings or anything.”
Dixie laughed a little.
“You’re a mess,” he said. He wiped a tear off her cheek.
“Tell me about it. I don’t know when I’ve ever cried so hard. Not since I was a kid. High school, maybe.”
“And you’re probably tired. You’ve been putting in some long days here.”
“Everyone has…but it usually feels pretty gratifying.”
“Why don’t you go wash your face, blow your nose and let’s go get something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do that, Danny—”
“Yes, I do. I’m starving. And I have to come back here and work tonight.”
“I don’t know….”
“Go wash your face. Hurry up now.” He pulled her to her feet and gave her a little push out of the room.
Three hours later, when they were back in the NCA parking lot so she could hook up with her car, Dixie still didn’t want the evening to end. “God, what a night. First I cry harder than I’ve ever cried, then I laugh like a fool all night.”
“It felt good, didn’t it?” he said.
“It sure did, but it’s late. You were going to work some more.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, indicating Nikki’s car. “The boss is still here. I’ll go in and make a good impression.”
“Danny, thanks. You’re a really good guy. A good friend.”
“Aw. I’m just glad you feel better. I thought I was going to have to challenge someone to a duel.”