"My point, Jake," she told him, "is that the mistake he made was the equivalent of you or I forgetting to turn the oven off after taking our food out of it. A very small oversight, something that anyone can do. And this fuel diaphragm thing is only one of maybe a million little oversights that an aircraft mechanic can make. Throw in air traffic control oversights and pilot oversights and it's a wonder that these fucking planes aren't dropping out of the sky two or three times a day." She shook her head. "Sorry, but I'm through. I'm not getting in any aircraft where I don't know who is flying it and who worked on it — and the less complex the fucking thing is, the better."
Jake thought that she would come around on this point of view at some point, but so far, that point was nowhere in sight. For the time being, if Jake wanted to travel somewhere outside the limited range of a propeller driven private aircraft, he would be traveling there alone.
Another thing that had changed about Helen — partly for the better, partly not — was her attitude toward Jennifer Johansen, the psycho stalker who wanted to cut her throat, bash in her teeth, and gouge out her eyeballs. As promised, Jake's people had installed a state of the art security system at her house, complete with cameras, security lights, and alarm receptors on every window and door. Helen used this security system faithfully and to the best of its ability, locking everything down and alarming the house at all times, whether she was home or not (twice now Jake had accidentally set off the alarm by walking outside to get something and forgetting the alarm was on.) Jake figured she was safe enough from everything but a full out surprise assault in the manner of Friday the 13th, but the very fact that she now had to live like this had created a subtle, but very real sense of resentment toward Jake. She often made snide little remarks under her breath about how she was now living in a prison. Jake let these remarks roll off his back the best he could but they were starting to become more frequent and annoy him a little more with each repetition.
Tonight, the night of Matt's party, was actually the first night since returning from Boston that Helen seemed like the woman he had fallen in love with. She was actually smiling a lot and seemed almost relaxed. As they put down their first drinks of the night and chatted with Sammy Hagar and his wife about the first few months of the Bush administration, she was animated and lively, even getting in an extended discussion with Hagar about the up and coming NFL season.
"Are you gonna barf if I try to kiss you?" Jake asked her after someone snatched Sammy away from them and as they headed to the bar for a fresh round.
She smiled. "I don't know. Why don't you give it a try?"
He did. She didn't barf or even hiccup.
"I'm starting to get over it," she told him. "Not enough to pound down a beer or anything, but enough to tolerate your lips on me again."
"Tolerate?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
She giggled. "You know what I mean," she said, giving a little punch on the shoulder.
"Yeah," he said. "I know what you mean." He kissed her again and then ordered their drinks.
"I'm sorry I've been such a... you know... a bitch lately," she told him as they waited for the bartender to construct them.
"It's okay," he told her, rubbing her back where her bare skin met her top. "You've been through a lot. It's not all glamour and fun dating a celebrity, is it?"
"No," she said. "I think that whole weekend made me realize that. First some psycho bitch draws a picture of me with my throat cut and then we almost die in a plane crash. And then, I come home to find that I'm living in a house that's wired up like Fort Knox." She shrugged. "It made me kind of wonder just what I'd gotten myself into."
"And did you figure it out?" he asked.
She nodded. "I think I did," she said. "Loving you has a price, Jake. I wasn't sure I was willing to pay the price for a little while."
"And now?" he asked.
"I guess they can keep billing me for now," she said.
They kissed again, a longer, sweeter kiss this time. Jake began to feel that maybe everything would be all right after all.
They took their drinks and made their way back over to Matt, who was whispering sweet nothings into Laurie's ear while Kim surreptitiously rubbed her breasts up and down Laurie's back. The young GGCI waitress was glassy-eyed and flushed, her nipples protruding through her top.
"Shouldn't we... you know... give them some privacy?" Helen asked doubtfully.
"Naw," Jake scoffed. "They're just warming her up."
Matt did indeed stop his flirtations when they approached (Kim didn't, she continued to rub herself against Laurie and took over the whisperings).
"So how long you two gonna be in this new flight school gig?" Matt asked them.
"The classroom portion is almost done," Helen told him, trying not to watch as Laurie and Kim shared a brief, yet lustful open-mouthed kiss right next to her. "We have... uh... another twenty-four hours of that."
"What happens then?" Matt asked, completely ignoring the women.
"We start building up hours with the instructor," Jake said. "That will be pretty much at our leisure. Since we're gonna hit the warehouse pretty soon I'll be lucky to get in six hours a week."
"And when you're done, you're gonna buy a twin-engine plane?" Matt asked.
"I've already got Jill looking into it for me," Jake said. He chuckled. "Much to her disgust."
"Yeah," Matt said with a grin, "them fuckin' accountants are all alike. Mine are still giving me shit about those hotel rooms I trashed over in Europe." He shook his head. "I swear to God, you pound a few holes in a few walls and they act like you pissed on the fuckin' Mona Lisa."
"You never did tell me why you tore holes in hotel walls, Matt," Helen said.
He shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do at the time," he explained.
From out of nowhere, Steve Crow, their National Records A&R rep, suddenly appeared. Unlike everyone else at the party, Steve was dressed in his signature custom-tailored three piece suit, his dark sunglasses perched upon his nose.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Jake whispered as they saw him coming toward them.
"I invited him for comic relief," Matt whispered back. "Later on tonight, when he's drunk, me and a few of the guys are gonna grab him, carry him down to the beach, and throw him in the waves, suit and all."
"What if he drowns?" Helen asked, a little shocked.
"Then they'd have to get us a new A&R guy," Matt replied.
Crow arrived before Helen had a chance to find out if Matt was serious or not. He was grinning his usual grin and was as glad-handed as he normally was. He hardly seemed to notice that he was more than a little overdressed for the occasion.
"Jake, Matt, good to see you guys," he said, shaking with both of them.
"Always a pleasure," Jake said sourly.
Crow knew well that every member of Intemperance despised him with every fiber of their being, but he acted as if he didn't. "And Matt," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "It's good to see that incarceration didn't get the better of you. How bad was it?"