Chapter 11
Peter waited in a conference room for Mr. Lott to arrive. Lance Lott was real. He couldn’t be real. Peter didn’t want that to be true. Sydney had a boyfriend, and Peter was about to meet him. Could things get any worse?
“Peter, my boy, what’s wrong with you? Look like you ate a bug.”
“Sorry, Buzz. Must be that airline food.”
“Dammit, boy, you know better than to eat that chicken-liver-in-a-box. Get it under control. I don’t want your lunch all over the table. Unless this meeting goes south, then feel free to let the cavalry out.” Buzz slapped him on the back, chuckling.
“Not a problem.”
“Good.”
Just then, the door opened and a woman similar in appearance to his own secretary popped her head in. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. Mr. Lott has a phone call. He’ll be with you shortly.”
“Sure thing, missy.” Thank God Buzz answered.
Peter’s mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. Who was this Lance talking to? Sydney? Peter’s stomach turned. Why didn’t he believe her? Why hadn’t she mentioned it again? Sydney might think he was a Casanova, but Peter would never poach on someone else’s lady. He was sick with guilt over seducing Sydney.
He was lost when the door opened revealing his nemesis.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I’m Lance. My apologies for the delay.”
As they exchanged pleasantries, Peter took in Lance’s height, build, black hair and blue eyes, understanding what attracted Sydney to this man. He imagined Sydney in this man’s arms and felt immediately jealous. He needed to calm down if he was going to make it through this exchange.
“Lance Lott, that’s an unusual name.” Peter’s voice was courteous but patronizing.
“Yes. My mother has an unusual sense of humor.” Lance replied undisturbed.
“That phone call … was that about the stock?” he persisted.
“No, it was personal.”
“I hope everything is all right.”
“Everything is fine.”
Buzz’s own voice broke in, “Excellent. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Somehow, Peter made it through next half-hour of negotiations. At the end of it, Buzz slapped him on the back, congratulating him on a job well done. He could hardly believe it himself. He had to call Sydney. He needed to find out what was going on.
“Buzz, I’ll meet you back at the hotel. We’ll have dinner and head to Area 51 in the morning.”
“That sounds fine. I’ll be buying you dinner tonight.”
When Buzz left, Peter flipped open his phone and made the call to Sydney.
“Starving Artist, Courtney speaking.”
“Is Sydney there?”
“No, she’s out for the day. May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Peter.”
“Should I have her call you back?”
“No. I’ll call her tomorrow. Thanks.” That was a good idea. He would sleep on this and call her in the morning. It would be a new day, and Peter could look on this with a fresh perspective.
* * * *
The air show was huge, filled with old war birds, prop-planes and even some of the spacecrafts being built privately in the aviation industry. Apparently, Greg Kitan was giving a seminar on his recent flight attempt into space.
Peter was already feeling better. It was probably best that he hadn’t spoken with Sydney the day before. He was upset, then. Tonight would be the perfect time to straighten things out and maybe have a little make-up phone sex. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly make-up sex, since Sydney didn’t know he was upset. He liked the idea of a little phone play with her. His mood, among other parts, was already lifting.
Peter headed towards the war birds. They were his personal favorite, not surprising, since he owned a P-51 Mustang himself. As he walked through, he was looking at all the nose-art.
“Peter, my boy, over here!” Buzz shouted from across the field, “You have got to have yourself a look at this art.”
Oh, brother. If there was a type of nose-art that Buzz admired, it always involved the female form. Peter made his way through the crowd of people and ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. He finally arrived at the plane Buzz was gawking at. “Yeah?”
“Look at those titties!” Buzz spoke with admiration, staring into heaven.
Peter moved his gaze up. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw. His mouth went dry, his vocal chords locked up, and he couldn’t speak. He would’ve known that pinup anywhere. It was his pinup. Sydney Wagner was naked on the side of a war bird. She never told him that she posed as a pinup. They talked about her writing, her business, and her dreams of getting published, but not this! She’d never once said, "I pose naked for planes." How did she think she could keep this from him, a pilot!?
“What do you think, Peter, my boy?”
“I think they’re better in person.” He was numb.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t you know? That’s my latest bird.” His voice was cold.
“Well, I’ll be dammed. You are one lucky bastard, you know that?”
“I wish I could agree with you.”
* * * *
Sydney sat reading her manuscript and waiting by the phone. She missed Peter’s call yesterday. Today, she spent most of the day at the printer, getting flyers for the store and business cards for herself. It should’ve only been a half hour, but a systems failure on the copier took three hours to repair. Her whole day went wrong. Courtney told their mother, Valerie, about the baby. Valerie handled it in stride, with minimal cursing. Sydney was there for support, just as she had promised. It was one more obstacle down. When her phone finally rang, she couldn’t wait to answer it; here was her rainbow.
“Hello?”
“Sydney.”
“Peter?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded tired.
“Sounds like you had a rough day, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really, but I have to, since it involves you.”
“Really?”
“Actually, let’s not talk about it. Let’s just say that I won’t be seeing you when I get back.” He said it in a nasty tone.
“What?” She couldn’t calm the chill settling across her skin.
“You heard me. I don’t want to see you.”
“Why?”
“Why!?” His laugh was raw. “I’ll give you two reasons.”
“Which are?” She was getting irritated. She imagined two redheads, two blondes, a blonde and a redhead…
“You know.” The slur in his voice told her he’d been drinking.
“Are you drunk?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is that I met your boyfriend.”
“My boy…”
“That’s right. I met your knight, Mr. Lance Lott.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” She tried to sound calm, even though her heart was beating frantically.
“It doesn’t matter. I still have reason number two.”
“Which is?”
“I know about you.”
“What do you know?”
“I’ve seen you naked.”
“Peter, you’re not making any sense.”
“I saw your tits on the side of a plane!” He blurted out.
She was irked by his crude statement.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to see the woman of your dreams on the side of a plane for the entire world to see? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? How could you keep this from me?”
“Peter, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. Honestly, I didn’t think it would matter. I mean, you’d dated Playboy models, for Gods’ sake. I didn’t see a difference.”
“You want to know the difference! I’ll tell you! I never loved any of them.”
“You love me?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I wish to hell I didn’t.”
“Peter, this shouldn’t matter.”
“I’m sorry, Sydney. You have no idea the roller coaster I’ve been on the last few days. I can’t handle these secrets you’ve kept.”
“Peter I…”
“I don’t want to see you when I get back. Goodbye.”
Sydney heard the click. It was ironic that he would sound sober in his last statement. Raw and primitive grief overtook her. She didn’t know what to do or where to turn. Sydney simply hung her head and let the tears fall.