Surrender (35 page)

CHAPTER TWO

The sun's rays pierced through the overcast sky as the rain began to subside. The now warming pavement produced wafts of puffy steam as the sun beat down on the well-traveled Seattle roadways. Cars disturbed the steam into a faint torrent as each one of the morning commuters passed over the asphalt. Although it was later in the morning, the commute in Seattle lasted from about seven until usually eleven.

The light at the busy Broadway intersection turned red as
a head-turning silver Porsche 911 came to stop just shy of the crosswalk. The car was driven by a less than humble airline pilot by the name of Robert, who was on his way to the SeaTac airport.

Although punctual as ever, Robert was once again in a mad dash to get to work early. He seemed to assume the airplane needed his special attention and there’d be no flight for the day if not for his presence. Not too long after Robert stopped, a dark blue BMW M3 pulled alongside him at the intersection. Giving little thought, he glanced over at the driver of the BMW to notice the passenger window rolling down.

Robert knew he’d recognized the car. The driver was a fellow pilot and friend. He and Frank shared the same amount of arrogance and hot-headedness, but didn't share the same need to be punctual. Frank was routinely late, and since today was no different, he wasn’t in a hurry to get to work.

“Are you still driving that grandma’s car, old man?” Frank shouted over the sound of his revving engine. Not amused, Robert wasn’t about to break his punctuality by racing Frank.

“Not in your lifetime.”

Frank made an “L” with his hand and placed it on his forehead.
“Loser, Loser,” Frank taunted, waiting for a reaction from Robert. It seemed that Frank always had something to prove. He wanted to beat Robert at anything he could and the sibling-type rivalry was very apparent, as well as his immature attitude.

Robert, now frustrated with Frank, felt his ego taking over his decision making process.

“Fine, you want to find out what this
grandma’s
car can do? You’d better prepare yourself for defeat.” Robert quickly ended the conversation as he rolled up his window. He could see the excitement on Frank’s face, and heard the rev of his engine as Frank gunned the motor in anticipation of starting.

The two men watched as the traffic on both sides of the street began to slow, indicating their light was about to change. Both cars surged forward, only held back by their feet on the brakes, as they prepared for the first sign of a green light. Time seemed to stand still as the light finally changed.

In an almost simultaneous motion, Robert and Frank dumped their clutches and stomped on the gas pedal. With a roar, their cars leapt from the white line. The sound of squealing tires and the smell of smoke filled the air as both cars sped off.

Robert glanced at his speedometer, climbing quickly to 65 miles per hour as they barreled down the city streets. Their cars darted in and out of morning traffic, getting everything from the middle finger to honking horns. Robert knew in the back of his mind that he’d seen police officers on this road, but his boyish arrogance would never allow him to slow down.

Frank made a sudden attempt at a pass, while Robert responded with a sharp maneuver to block him. The sound of Frank’s engine down shifting could be heard as Robert watched him in the rearview mirror. He started to gain a lead, thinking,
what a wimp
, as he pushed his Porsche even harder.

Robert knew Frank well enough that the man would do anything to win. He’d raced him before and had learned a few of Frank’s tricks and strategies.
Come on Frank, make your next move,
Robert silently taunted as they approached the on-ramp to the freeway.

Although the traffic was somewhat heavy, the open expanse of the freeway was a golden opportunity.
This is your chance, Robert. Give it all she’s got.
He quickly shifted into third gear as he turned onto the ramp, looking back to see Frank only inches away.

The cars surged up the ramp, both engines growling as they were pushed to their limits. Robert weaved in and out of traffic as he crested the top of the ramp. Honking horns could be heard as the annoyed drivers let their disapproval be known. However, none of it fazed Robert as he accelerated past one hundred miles per hour.

Roberts’s confidence about his upcoming victory was quickly squashed by the sight of Frank’s shiny grill in his rearview mirror. Deciding it was time for some dirty tactics, Robert cracked an evil smile as he noticed a large truck with its turn signal on, moving into his lane. Without hesitation, or fear, Robert shifted into fourth gear and hammered down on the pedal. The sound of gravel could be heard under his car as he swerved around the merging truck and slightly into the median.

Try that on for size, ha!
Robert could see Frank and his blue BMW swerving from side to side while attempting to find a hole. He sped off, taking full advantage. After a couple minutes he figured he’d won, free and clear.

Glancing in his mirror, Robert could no longer see any sign of Frank.
Looks like you gave up too easily my frie…what the…
Robert could see a blue car fast approaching from his right side, like a bullet fired from a gun. The glee on Frank’s face was as clear as if Frank was sitting in the back seat taunting Robert as he drove. His heart now pounding harder and adrenaline filling his veins, Robert pressed his engine as hard as it would go.

His focus turned back to the road in front of him in time to noticed the distinct sky-blue nose of a crown Victoria protruding from the vegetation lining the median. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a run-in with the local police department. He was very familiar with their cars.

To prevent a catastrophic ticket, and another mar on his driving record, he quickly down shifted and applied the brakes. With a slight chirp of the tires, he slowed to just five-miles-per-hour over the speed limit just in the nick of time.

He looked back at his rival and sometime friend as the gap between them began to close at a quick rate. Robert noticed Frank wasn’t slowing in the least as he moved to the left lane to make his victory pass. Knowing Frank didn’t need any more stressors in his life, Robert did all he could to point out the police cruiser. He soon realized his warnings were going unseen as Frank kept on speeding, his focus too narrow to care.

You fool, couldn’t say I didn’t warn you,
Robert thought as he watched Frank’s brake lights glow and his tires smoke in what looked like a panicked deceleration. As suspected, the police cruiser lit up with flashing red and blue lights and pulled out, maneuvering behind Frank’s car, heading for the shoulder. Having avoided any detection and feeling a sense of accomplishment, Robert took the next exit to the airport.

He glanced at his large aviator watch as he pulled into the airport employee parking lot on time, since his street racing session had ended with little cost to his normal commute. He pulled into his usual spot and stepped from the car with his uniform in impeccable form, designed to fit his body to perfection.

Catching the first employee shuttle bus he could find, he sat quietly with his flight bag and suitcase positioned neatly beside him. Since he’d been flying out of the Seattle airport for the better part of six years, he knew the ins and outs and had his daily routine down to a science.

It was almost a choreographed event as he showed his identification, passed through the screening checkpoint, and headed for the upstairs coffee shop where he was to get his daily shot of caffeine. He grinned in anticipation, hoping the attractive barista was working. His day seemed to start off on a better note when he managed to get a reaction from her.

He’d been trying to charm her since she’d started, each time failing miserably. It was a first for him and he found he liked the challenge. He crested the top of the escalator, straining to see into the cafe, while hoping to catch a glimpse of his mocha-making crush.

***

Monica had just signed into her register when a man in a clean–pressed, button up shirt, impeccably tailored even to the most stringent of military standards, walked into her field of vision.

His gleaming gold pilot's wings adorned the left side of his broad chest with a bright name plate boldly stating, “Captain Gallo, Trans Pacific Airlines,” located just above his right chest pocket. This pilot stood about six-foot-two, with piercing blue eyes. He wore a captain's hat, embroidered with gold leaf and his airline insignia centered above the visor.

Peering out from the underside of the visor and on the visible side of his temple was jet black hair, well-trimmed and styled. His skin was slightly darkened, perhaps a hint of a Mediterranean heritage. His face was clean shaven, showcasing his incredibly full lips.

His physique was a sight to behold, with broad shoulders and a muscular, well-defined chest, and arms filling out his tailored dress shirt. Monica’s eyes followed the natural progression of his impressive physique, dropping to the black belt fitted perfectly at his hips.

She’d been drooling over him for months, though she was pretty sure she’d maintained a cool façade, not letting him know of her obsession. He was just too good-looking, but like all the other pilots, and she wasn’t under any delusions of why he flirted with her. Still, it would make any girl feel a bit giddy to get his undivided attention, even if she knew he probably did the same thing with every female in the airport.

“Wow, you don’t look so hot.
Rough night? You might get a better night's sleep if you laid off the booze and turned the fellas away once in a while.”

“What? Excuse me!” Monica gasped as she looked at Robert. It took her brain a minute to compute his words. Did he really just say what she thought he’d
said.

“Oh, don’t try to hide it, it’s written all over your face. I haven’t seen you this beat-up in a while,” said the airline captain, grinning and clearly impressed with his attempt at friendly humor. He was failing if he thought he was funny.

Monica, now fully offended, let her frustration be known and decided to strike back and shock the arrogant pig at the same time. “You’re just jealous that it wasn't with you.”

Monica was stunned once the words popped out of her mouth. It was only because she couldn’t figure this pilot out. He came in and flirted, or she assumed it was flirting, though he wasn’t doing too well at it, and then was back again a day or two, sometimes three, later. She alternated between wanting to flirt back and wanting to smack the smug look off his face.

One thing was for sure, though, he was drool-worthy, although she was sure he knew that, which took a bit of his appeal away. Her face began to heat and she felt her lips slightly quiver as her eyes gazed deep into his and she attempted to verbalize her next response to the comments of the brash and dangerously handsome pilot.

“Um...well...um…” Monica stuttered as her mixed emotions were confusing the words in her head.

“While you're trying to re-learn the English language, can you get my coffee started?”

Monica's scattered thoughts now became one, and anger gave her words a voice. It was a bad enough day and she’d about enough of Captain Gallo. She looked him up and down, trying to find a negative fault in his looks so she could return the rude favor.
Nothing. She could find absolutely zero faults with him, which infuriated her all the more.

Monica continued looking for
anything,
when her eyes were drawn to his nametag. “Trans Pacific Airlines? I thought they went out of business, or do you just like to prance around SeaTac pretending to be a pilot? That sounds more like it. Are you like that one kid, you know the one who forged all the money and traveled the world because he was that good at getting pilot gear? You know,
all
of you guys are the same – egotistical jerks. Keep it up and you’ll be wearing a fresh batch of cold brew to whatever Timbuktu place you're flying off to, if indeed you’re flying anywhere!”

Henry, her supervisor, observing the exchange, jumped from his office chair “Monica! What are you doing! How could you treat a customer this way?” Her supervisor had wanted Monica fired since day one when she’d shot his come-ons down in a matter of seconds. He had a high-pitched, nasally voice that was like nails on a chalkboard. Henry was known as
Mr. Customer Service
and took any opportunity he could to insult the girls in front of the clientele. It was his petty form of vengeance for being turned down left and right.

“Henry, I’m–” Before Monica could even finish, Henry interrupted.

“Sir, I’m so sorry, this one is on us!”

“No, no, it’s quite alright, she’s clearly having a rough morning and maybe she just wasn’t getting my sense of humor. I figured by now she’d have recognized it as I come here for my coffee once a day, nearly every morning.” As Robert responded to Henry, his eyes never left Monica, as if to apologize for the entire scene he’d helped to create.

“Nevertheless, your coffee’s on us. Monica, when you’re done with Captain Gallo, please see me in my office.”

Monica’s heart sank to her stomach. Her day had just gone from bad to worse. She had zero doubt she was about to get fired, and on the same day she’d been evicted. What was next, getting struck by the lightning still streaking across the grey skies outside? As her mind began to come to terms with the gravity of her situation, images of living on the streets or staying at a women’s shelter while getting turned away from every new job application began to circle in her mind.