“Just giving the girls some sun. It will be good for them. When else can I this cruise?”
“But that guy over there!”
“The Filipino kid? He’s gay. How else do you think he got this job? Look.” Psycho lifted her arm, and the boy jumped up immediately and began to walk toward them. Stunned, Olive watched him approach. None of the other women seated around the pool seemed to take notice.
“Yes, miss!” The pool boy gave Psycho a huge smile.
“Hi.” Psycho smiled back and said, “Could you please bring me a towel?”
“Yes, miss!” he responded as he smiled again and bowed.
Staring at his nametag, Psycho asked him, “What is your name?”
“Homobono, miss.”
“Homo-bono… What a lovely name!”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss!”
The boy spun to retrieve a towel, and Psycho turned to Olive with a smug smile. “Ha,” she giggled, “he has the perfect name, too. And he didn’t look at my boobs once.” Psycho then shimmied her back into the lounge chair for full effect.
Olive realized that, despite the fact she was older and a more experienced pilot than Psycho, up here in the glorified air of Dubai, her junior roommate was, in fact, the flight lead. She settled back into her own chair and thought, Yes, Psycho will be the perfect “wingman” for tonight.
CHAPTER 31
With a surgeon’s steady hand Psycho placed the false eyelash on Olive’s left eyelid. “Ohhh, girlfriend, they are gonna be creamin’ their jeans when they see you up there.”
Next to the bathroom counter covered in make-up and hair products, Psycho worked on her roommate while she sat on the toilet seat.
“And I love your dress. Where have you been hiding it?”
“In my locker… been there the whole time.” Olive said, eyes closed while Psycho applied the finishing touches.
“You’ve been planning this…”
“Yes.”
“Are the hajis going to freak when they see you in it?”
“No, I’ve seen local women wear minidresses here. So long as the shoulders are covered and there’s not too much cleavage — not that I have to worry about that. Hey, why don’t you go get yourself a minidress at the boutique downstairs.”
“Nope, I’m the wingman tonight. This is your run through the target-rich environment of Carrier Air Wing Four. I have skinny jeans and a cami top, a jacket, and some heels to dress it up. The best outfit to kick in the balls of any dickhead who hits on me. But tonight I won’t have to worry about that because they will be rolling in on you.”
“Hardly.”
Psycho pulled a handful of Olive’s hair into the curling iron. “Who are you going for tonight?”
Olive thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe Crusher, if he’s there.”
“Ohh, I’d love those big Marine Corps arms around me! Look, I’m going to find him and keep him occupied before you come out so that hobitch from the Knights doesn’t get close to him. Don’t even need a reason to kick her in her balls.”
“He can have her.”
“No! Listen, fighter-goddess, you told me to never give up in a guns situation. You haven’t even turned at the merge, and you offer your throat to that skank. Here’s what we do… I sweep the bandits ahead of you and then you schwoopenhousen in for the kill. That dress, those shoes, those legs… you have a full weapons load out, and I want to see them expended!”
“Thanks, wingee.”
“And this voice of yours… it’s the siren song. You want me to spend the night in the lobby?”
“No!” Olive turned her head in protest. “Oww!” she then cried as Psycho’s grasp pulled on her hair clamped to the iron.
“Relax! I know you are a nice southern girl. How are you going to snag him?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.”
“Just unbutton an extra button and laugh at their stupid jokes. Works every time.”
“That’s not me, and I need every button I can.”
“For once, Olive, can you not be an officer and a gentlewoman? Look, right now, there is no wash-khaki material within miles of us. You’ve got silk and lace tonight, and if you don’t know how to use them with these guys 5,000 miles away from the Oceana groupie-sluts, you are never gonna get laid.”
Olive stared ahead and said nothing in an awkward silence.
“I’m sorry,” Psycho muttered. Unspoken between them was what they both knew. Olive was plain, and while the makeup and clothes helped at the margins, they had their limits. And her businesslike personality didn’t help matters.
“It’s okay. I’m going out of my comfort zone for tonight. I’m glad you are here to help me.”
“Me, too!”
The officers turned some heads as they clicked through the hotel lobby. Psycho stuffed wads of dirhams into the hand of every bellman who held a door open for them. The bellmen figured the tall woman in the short dark dress was a famous movie star accompanied by her personal assistant. After the women stepped into a waiting cab, the bellmen argued among themselves in Hindi as to who she was.
It was a cool but pleasant evening in Dubai as the cab departed the hotel and entered the wide boulevard. “The Highlander my good man! How many doo-dahs?” Psycho asked the driver.
“Thirty-five dirham,” the Pakistani driver replied.
“Thirty-five!” Psycho exploded. “No, no, twenty.”
“No, no! Thirty-five, but for pretty ladies, thirty.”
“Thank you, but do you know who this is? Ms. Jolie is going to be upset and may not make her next movie here. Twenty-five,” Psycho said as she playfully flinched from Olive’s jab to her side.
The driver inspected Olive through the rearview mirror as he navigated the traffic through the canyon of tall buildings. His dark eyes burned a hole in hers before she turned away.
“Twenty-five and Ms. Jolie gives a big tip if you get us there in 10 minutes.” Psycho could not be stopped, and was picking up the bargaining thing quite well. Olive rolled her eyes.
“Okay, okay. Twenty-five and big tip, I get you there safe and fast.”
“Thank you, sir,” Psycho replied. She then turned to Olive and added, “Ms. Jolie, everything will be fine ma’am, and you won’t have to worry your pretty little citizen-of-the-world head.” Psycho was having too much fun to stop.
“Would you shut up?” Olive muttered as she suppressed a smile.
“I have been to the United States,” the driver said suddenly. The women froze.
“Where?” Olive asked, sensing the jig was up and attempting to salvage what little dignity she could.
“Orlando. Disney World. I took my wife and son. Very nice place.”
The women did not know what to say. Olive wondered how a third-world cabbie could afford that, and even converse with them in English. Maybe he was pulling their legs.
“Disney World is very nice,” Olive volunteered.
“I’ve never been,” Psycho added wistfully.
Minutes later they pulled up to the Highlander nightclub and Psycho put two 20 dirham bills in the driver’s hand, the promised big tip for their Ugly American conduct. When she turned toward the entrance, Olive spotted some air wing guys walking up to the door.
“Hide me!” she ordered Psycho under her breath.