It was the one that mentioned Roy’s brother-in-law as the errant mechanic. Jeff was right, it wasn’t my place to point fingers at anyone. Plus, I didn’t have any direct knowledge of what the man had or hadn’t done.
Roy joined us, looking better.
“Jeff, this is Mr. Tyro, my flight instructor,” I said by way of an introduction.
“Nice to meet you. From what I’ve heard, you did a good job keeping our Golden Boy safe,” Jeff said.
“Thank you.”
Jeff told us we should get started because someone needed to go to football practice. I think he didn’t consider this exercise in press relations necessary, but I kept my opinion to myself. Jeff was not above getting a scoop on his competition. I figured he’d rather be the only one to have the ‘full’ story.
I walked up and kicked the press conference off by introducing myself and Roy. Then I read the brief statement Frank had prepared. Next, I opened it up for questions. Of course, Jeff asked how I was holding up, knowing I hated the ‘how are you feeling’ type of questions.
After thanking him for his question, I started into a description of what had happened and how calm Roy had been. I think I might have called him a hero, to his horror.
I did learn that Roy had been in the Air Force and had flown the A-10 Thunderbolt, better known as the Warthog. It’s a close-support flying gun that specializes in busting up tanks. He’d flown missions during the first Gulf War and in Kosovo, where he’d earned the Distinguished Flying Cross for his heroism and extraordinary achievement during combat. That might explain why landing an airplane that was smoking hadn’t fazed him.
It did make me feel lucky that he was my instructor. I was sure there wasn’t much he hadn’t experienced in the cockpit. I could only hope that the next time there was trouble, I would be half as calm as he’d been.
◊◊◊
Brook had instructed me that I was to dress in nice clothes for date night. She specifically said, “no jeans.” Brook knew if she didn’t, I would show up in my vintage jeans with rips in them. They were designer ones, but she wasn’t having it.
Our destination tonight was the Thunderbird, aka T-Bird, a campus bar, so I didn’t plan to dress too formal. I smiled when I rooted in my closet and pulled out the sport coat I’d gotten in Japan with the graphic. I also wore an Abercrombie light gray button-up shirt under the jacket and charcoal-colored slacks with my oxblood-red leather tennis shoes. To finish it off, I wore my Japanese designer sunglasses. I wasn’t sure if State was ready for my fashion sense, but I liked the way I looked.
Paul sent me a text that he’d just arrived, so I ran downstairs. He was sitting behind the wheel of a Cadillac Escalade. I wondered where Paul had gotten it. I jumped in the front seat, and he drove us to pick up my brother Phil.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“You told Peggy to get something bigger for all the little ones. Caryn and your mom went with her to pick it out. They said Mr. Sullivan had gotten this back on a lease and gave them a deal.”
The odometer showed it had nearly fifty thousand miles on it. I would feel better about everyone’s safety in this beast as compared to the Jeep. My mom loved her Cadillac, and so did I. I was sure she had some input on the final decision to lease it.
I sent Phil a text to have his butt outside when we arrived. When we pulled up, I got out to get in the back, took one look at Phil, and shook my head. He had on his football jersey and the jeans he’d worn to school today. I stopped him before he got into the SUV.
“Go change,” I ordered.
He looked at me and shook his head.
“I’m fine. You, on the other hand, look like some Hollywood wannabe.”
“If you don’t change into something nicer, you can call Jill and explain why I left you here at the curb,” I said, raising one eyebrow.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.
I love Paul. He put the car into gear, and it began to inch forward.
“Stop! I’ll go change.”
“While you do that, I’ll go pick up Jill,” I told him.
Jill lived only a few blocks away. I knew that because I’d dated her sister, April. When we pulled up, she darted out of the house and was in the car in a flash. I looked at her and sighed. I knew exactly why she’d run out like her pants were on fire. When Carol got older, I could hear myself saying what was about to come out of my mouth.
“You’re not going out in public like that.”
Jill looked at my getup and raised her eyebrows. Teenage girls who try to look like they’re 21 should not dress like they think a 21-year-old would because they always overdo it. It was just asking for trouble, especially if you were as good-looking as Jill was. I would bet a beach house that she’d snuck out before her mom or dad saw her. Her skirt was so short you could see her frilly panties. While I’m a fan of a girl not wearing a bra, her silk blouse shouldn’t advertise that she may have the biggest nipples most guys had ever seen.
“Why not? You got dressed up,” Jill complained.
