As he talked, describing the rescues that were going to be portrayed (particularly one unsuccessful rescue that would haunt Lieutenant Michael Andrews throughout the film [actors always spoke of the characters they were playing in third person]), Jake became aware that Helen was going out of her way to flash her smile at him whenever she could, to touch his shoulder or his arm, and to give him warm looks. She was most certainly sending out a vibe in his direction, a vibe he could read quite clearly.
It took until they were almost done with their breakfasts before Greg wound down enough that Helen was able to change the subject. “How goes the new albums?” she asked quickly when he paused to take a bite. “Greg told me you’re both working on them every day.”
“They’re coming along pretty well,” Jake replied. “We got the mothers on board and doing some really cool stuff for us. Dexter Price is blowing the sax for us like ... well...”
“Like someone who’s getting paid eighty-five an hour plus royalties,” Celia said.
“Right,” Jake said with a chuckle. “But I think we’re getting our money’s worth out of him. The only real downer is that we’re going to lose Ted and Ben, our drummer and bass player, at the end of next month. That’ll force us to find a new rhythm section for the actual recording.”
“We’re going to lose Phil too,” Celia said. “He’s our baritone backup singer.”
Helen was not musically inclined by any means. She could not dance, could not sing, played no instrument, and had absolutely no idea what baritone even meant. Still, she was polite as she listened to the explanation about Ted, Bill, and Phil and their band.
“Where do you find a bass player and a drummer?” she asked when the explanation was complete. “Do you just put an ad in the newspaper, or what?”
“No, you don’t put an ad in the paper,” Celia said. “It can be somewhat of a process. Hopefully it’ll be easier now that we’ve established ourselves.”
“It should be,” Jake said. “I actually have an idea of where we can dig up some good people.”
“Oh yeah?” Celia asked, interested. “Where?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Jake said dismissively. “A discussion for another time.”
“What about your girlfriend, Jake?” Helen asked suddenly. “The saxophone player. What’s her name again?”
“Laura,” Jake said. “What about her?”
“She’s out on tour, right?”
“She is,” Jake confirmed. “I believe they’re in Savanah, Georgia tonight. They’re working their way west across the south.”
“How long will she be gone?” Helen asked.
“At least until December,” he said. “Possibly even longer. The last time I talked to her she told me there had been some discussion of a South American tour. Bobby Z is apparently very popular down there.”
“That’s a long time,” Helen said. “Don’t you miss her?”
“Terribly,” he confirmed. “But she’s doing what she wants to do and I would never ask someone not to do that. Besides, I’ll probably be able to fly out to see her once we get our new rhythm section up to speed. We’ll be hitting the studio in Oregon on October 10th. Bobby and the group will be working their way through Texas the first week in October. I thought maybe I’d meet them in El Paso or Amarillo and ride the bus with them for a week or so.”
“Slumming, huh?” Celia asked with a laugh. “Didn’t you get enough of that back in the Intemperance days?”
“Well ... there’s something else I’m not getting enough of these days, if you know what I mean.”
This generated a laugh among everyone, even the camera guys. It also generated another very interesting look from Helen.
It was decided that Helen would fly the two camera guys back to Ventura with her and that Jake would fly Greg and Celia back to Santa Monica with him. Someone would have to go get Greg’s car the next day, but that was not an issue for him. He had people on his staff who sat around just waiting to run an errand like that.
“I call shotgun,” Greg said as they walked out of the restaurant and headed back toward the general aviation parking.
“No way in hell,” Celia told him. “The copilot’s seat is mine. Jake always lets me sit there, don’t you, Jake?”
“I do,” he agreed. “It keeps her from gripping the back of my seat in fear.”
“I understand that,” Greg said, “but I do have flight training now. Shouldn’t the more qualified person sit in the seat next to the pilot?”
“You have a freaking hour of flight time,” Celia told him. “I hardly think you’re ready to take the controls of a twin engine plane on a flight over the ocean.”
“It’s an hour more flight time than you have,” Greg countered.
“Not really,” she said. “Jake has let me take the stick a few times when we’re up in the air.”
“You have?” Greg asked, his eyes wide.
“I just had her do a few turns and banks,” Jake said. “Oh, and I let her take off a few times.”
“You see,” Celia said. “I’m actually more qualified to fly that thing than you are.”
“But I learned from an actual flight instructor,” Greg said. “No offense to Jake, but he’s not certified.”
“True,” Jake said, “though there are some who would say I’m certifiable.”
Helen was laughing and shaking her head at the conversation. “While you guys figure out the seating arrangement, maybe Jake and I can go file our flight plans?”
“Yeah,” said Jake. “Good idea.”
The two of them left the rest of the group standing by the aircraft while they walked back into the aircraft office. Business was slow currently and the clerk on duty was sitting behind her counter, watching an episode of Oprah on a small television set. She nodded at them and then returned her attention to the subject at hand. Jake and Helen went to a rack of flight plan forms and each pulled one from the stack. They carried them over to a table in the corner of the room where a cup of pens and a couple of air charts of the southern California region were sitting.
“I’m glad I got to see you today,” Helen told him warmly as she began scratching out her intended course on the form.
“Me too,” Jake said. “I’ve forgotten how much fun we used to have flying with each other.”
“We did spend a lot of time in the cockpit together, didn’t we?” she asked.
“It’s where I fell in love with you,” he told her.
“And me you,” she returned.
Jake looked away from her face—he was starting to get lost in it—and looked down at the air chart. He picked out the first VOR station he would be heading for and then wrote it down on the form. He then looked up to see Helen still looking at him. He gave her a brief smile. “Tell me,” he said. “Have you met anyone else? Any new boyfriends?”
“I’ve had a few dates,” she said. “I’ve hooked up with a few guys here and there. Nothing like what we had though.”
“That’s too bad,” he told her. “You’re a catch, Helen Brody. You need to get yourself out there and reel someone in.”
“Maybe,” she said. “You’re a tough act to follow though, Jake.”
“I’m flattered,” he said. “Remember though, it was you who broke up with me.”
“I remember it very well,” she said, scribbling something on her form. “I was as cool and calculated about that break up as I am about everything in life. I had a good reason to do it and I don’t regret the decision.”