Chapter 31

“That therapist is a fucking nazi. Don’t like that bitch. Look at Matty, sweating and almost screaming. She’s being pushed too much.”

“Mark, listen to me. This PT is exactly what the orthopedic surgeon wants. You were there, he said it would be tough on her.”

“Shit ... I dunno. Just doesn’t seem right, and don’t wanna see the kid hurting like that.”

“I know, Mark. It is painful just to watch. But that is because we love her.”

“Yeah? Whatever. Either way, I ain’t gonna leave the room when that nazi bitch is working on Matty.”

“I understand. Just do not interfere with the PT. I need to get to my office.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout a lip smash before ya go, Sandy?”

“Always, Mark. Always.”

Fuck that shit. I’m gonna punch that nazi’s running lights out if she pushes Matty much further. The kid’s being twisted like a pretzel. This is bullshit. Maybe I should just take the bitch out to the marijuana patch and...

“Mister Jackson? Do you not have your phone?”

“Yeah, I got it. It’s off. What ya want?”

Where the fuck does Sandy find these people? This ol’ gal is starting to be a pain in the aft assembly. Been sticking to me like flys on shit since we hired her. Too bad Sandy is now the big cheese, she was the perfect admin assistant.

“Mister Salik called, sir. He said it was urgent and requests an immediate reply.”

“Let’s try this one more time. One, I ain’t no ‘sir’. Two, call me Mark, or asshole. I’ll answer to either one. And, three, once we go into the residence wing, don’t forward any calls unless they’re on that list ... Also, don’t you ever go home? If ya need some time off, just let Tim or me know.”

“I understand ... uh, Mark. Did Miss Collins not tell you? Her requirement was that I live on-site.”

“Yeah ... Wait, ya got a ring, you’re fucking married? I’m gonna talk to Sandy about that shit. Ya should’ve told me...”

“No, sir. Certainly not. I am widowed, Mark.”

“Oh ... wow. Sorta stepped dead into the shit on that one. So what does the legal beagle want that couldn’t be done with email?”

“Unknown. But he did desire the use of a secure line.”

“Yeah? Whatever. I’ll call later. Not gonna leave Matty alone with that nazi ... Did ya send my redlines of Tim’s report?”

“It was compiled and sent at seven forty, this morning.”

“Cool. And the program that Tim and I wrote to format and download the logs, working okay for ya? Any problems?”

“The program is effective. There were no issues.”

“Cool. Uh, I was gonna do tacos for Matty’s chow. Want some?”

“Thank you, but I already have had lunch. Is that all, Mark?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Not bad for an old broad. She walks good, average tits. Wonder what happened to her old man ... What the fuck is that nazi bitch doing? No, no fucking way. And I got pics of this shit. We’re gonna talk to a doctor. This shit can’t be right.

“Hey! Stop! Did you fucking hear me!? I said to fucking stop ... Get away from Matty or you’re gonna go down hard, bitch ... Stand over there.”

“Mister Watson, I will not work under these conditions, and your language is not acceptable.”

“Fuck you. Get the fuck outa here. Fucking go!”

“Ya okay, girl?”

“Mark ... it hurts bad. Really bad.”

“This PT is bullshit. I’m gonna get another physical therapist. Sorry I took so long to stop the bitch. What a fucking nazi.”

“Sandy will be really pissed.”

“Yeah, probably. Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll find a way to calm her tits.”

“What’s for chow, Mark?”

“Tacos. Miguel gonna join us?”

“Yep, both Mickey and Missy.”

“Good, need to talk to the boy.”

“Mark? Don’t be mean to him. I’ll tell Sandy.”

“Damn, girl. You play dirty. I ain’t gonna do shit to the kid. Just wanna put a few bees in his bonnet.”

“This plate has habeneros and serranos in them. The other only has jalepenos. If ya flame out, just dose it with some sour cream.”

“They are very good, Mister Jackson. Missy, only eat these.”

“Let her try one, Miguel. Ya never know, maybe the kid will like ‘em ... and I saw that, Matty. Fine, Darcy sleeps in your room tonight. I hate his jalapeno farts.”

“Miguel. What do you think of your dad?”

“Uh, I love him?”

“Ya asking me or telling me? Do you see how your dad carrys himself? How confident he is. Have you noticed that there is not much that he can’t do? Why ya think that is?”

“Uh, ‘cause he’s smart?”

“Yep, he is. Mister Garcia’s mind is one part of it. The other part is his body. Ya ever look at that picture of Einstein in my office?”

“Yes. He was the really smart man?”

“Dude, the guy was a freakin’ genius. He, and a few others like him, made the world we live in today. Good or bad, they made this world the way it is. But what was he doing in the picture?”

“I don’t ... yeah, he was riding a bike.”

“Bingo. Physical activity. Ya gotta have a good body to house the mind. Ya know that many, maybe most, of this century’s scientists didn’t do anything important past, I dunno, maybe thirty five or forty? Look at all of the old geezers that were Einstein’s friends. They were doing important shit until they croaked. Ya know why? They had an active body to house an active mind.”

“I think I understand. So dad is smart because he has a healthy body?”

“Yep, that’s the big idea here. Ya might wanna do more than play that fiddle or horn, or read books. They’re good for your mind, but ya need a healthy container for your mind. Think about it.”

“That’s why you run and lift weights all the time?”

“Yep. Although most people say I don’t got a healthy mind.”

“Mark, what will we tell Sandy?”

“That shit is all on me. When Sandy comes in, I’ll do the talking. You just act the innocent victim. Anyway, no problema, kiddo. There’s a bazillion therapists floating around out there. We’ll find ya another.”

“I miss building your airplane, Mark.”

“Yeah, miss having ya help me. That’s why we’re gonna get ya better. I don’t care if I have to hire a fucking squadron of physical therapists. We WILL get ya better.”

“Oh crap! Incoming at twelve o’clock, Mark.”

“Matty! What are doing in Mark’s office? Do not answer that, I know why. Mark!? You freaking threw the therapist out? What is wrong with you? Do not answer that. This is not...”

Damn. The woman is really pissed. Her tits must be gettin all maternal over Matty. She keeps waving them arms around and she’s gonna go airborne or somethin’. Nah, she can keep doin’ that, keep them tits bouncing. Now she’s cryin’? What the fuck for? Now she’s yelling again?”

“Mark! You are not listening. This is important! You can’t just high-jack Matty whenever you want to go out and play your juvenile games. We have responsibilities ... Get out! Just get out! Don’t you talk to Matty or anyone in this house. Get Out! I will call the police if you do not leave!”

“Dude, thanks for getting Nyota. Ya got both of my numbers?”

“Yeah. Don’t know what the fuck you did, but Sandra is major-league pissed, man.”

“I canned the physical therapist. The nazi bitch was fuckin’ up Matty.”

“Mark, how do you know that the therapist was doing something bad to Matty?”

“Matty was screaming, in pain, like 120dB. Matty was crying, sweating, and looked liked she was ‘bout to pass out. Look at these pics...”

“I don’t know shit about this stuff, but this does not look right, it looks fucking medieval. Did Sandra see this?”

“Nah, she was so pissed she didn’t want me to say shit. She even threatened to call the cops on my dumb ass.”

“That’s too much shit in one place ... You know what, send me those pics, I know a retired corpsman back in Memphis that was a physical therapist guy. How ‘bout I send him these images?”

“Good idea, Tim. But no names, and no locations.”

“Should I give the admin your destination?”

‘Nope, she don’t need to know. She got one of my numbers, anyway. Dianne probably already knows, but give her a SITREP. Keep the admin assistant working on all of those log reports. That will keep Jonathon and Major Stewart from crawling up our ass.”

“Damn, just when our shit was starting to look good.”

“Yeah, Life sucks, then ya die. The shipping people will be here in two days. Ya wanna supervise them loading all of my shit outa this hangar?”

“No problema. You really quote Scotty way too much.”

“Whatever. Help me get my bird outa the barn.”

“Mark, there is no way I can support this schedule.”

“This ain’t brain surgery, Jane. Hire another CFI. If ya don’t wanna do the rotary wing instruction, hire or sub-contract it out.”

“I do want to do this, but I have only about one hundred ninety hours rotary time. And it would take me another sixty hours to get the two additional endorsements.”

“Yeah? So find me an egg-beater CFI. I need to knock that shit out first. So what about the four Type Ratings?”

“Assuming we can lease them, I can only do the 400 and 500 series. Will probably have to do that out of Scottsdale.”

“Whatever. Did your legal guy review the contract? Any problems?”

“I will only sign the first phase. I cannot obligate my company to programs that we could only do as a part 141 school.”

“Good enough. How long ya gonna need before we start?”

“At least ten days.”

“Okay, Ya got my number. See ya in ten days, Jane. Be cool.”

Shit, here it comes. He’s sounding all like a shrinkologist. Ya would think that Jonathon had better things to do than be my shrink.

“Mark, that is not a healthy attitude. She has admitted her mistake. Sandra is shouldering an extreme, for her age and experience, amount of responsibility.”

“Yeah, whatever. To use business-dweeb terms, I’m doing risk mitigation, so no contact. Did ya know that the woman actually called the cops on my ass?”

“I had not been informed of that.”

“Actually I didn’t know until Tim told me last week. If she hadn’t been a high-power corporate exec, they would’ve laughed her outa the county. She fuckin tried to get me arrested for yelling at the therapist. Tell me that ain’t unhinged.”

“I want you to at least talk to the child.”

“She told me not to talk to Matty.”

“I did not know that either. But Sandra does want you to return.”

Why’s he feeding me this bullshit and calling it a steak dinner?

“No can do. Anyway, got, at least, another two months here before I can take the last two check-rides. Do ya know why the major wants me flying all this different shit?”

“I do not. And it does have me a bit concerned.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Your primary asset is your technical and organizational skills. Pilot skills are ancillary. We were looking at bringing in another pilot, or perhaps training William Hats.”

“Yeah? Training Bill would be cool. Do it. If the major says shit about it, I’ll pay for it.”

“Back to my original concern, will you return to Northern California upon completion of your training?”

Shit, was afraid he was gonna ask that. Gotta guess that he just don’t understand this shit about crazy woman and the law. Probably because he’s been married for a long time to a good egg. That’s it.

“I dunno. I really dunno. Jonathon, remember when I ask ya about trusting your wife a few years ago?”

“Yes. What does that...”

“Hold on. Think about what ya said. Ya said your woman had never given you any reason, not one fucking reason, to ever doubt her.”

“Actually that is not correct. I think that I said I doubted her driving. Do you realize that she has incurred at least one dent per year in her vehicles? But aside that, I understand, and will concede your point of comparative logic. In any case, the comparison is a non sequitur. Sandra’s level of responsibility, and the corresponding level of incurred stress, has no applicable comparison to that of the life that my wife lives.”

“Good point, sir. So ya saying that I’m being an asshole?”

“No, I am not. You do have good reason to be cautious. But, for the sake of the child, consider at least talking to Sandra Collins, as she has attempted to make contact; and there does not need to be any expectation of a reconciliation.”

Wait, total fucking bullshit. Sandy never tried to contact my ass. How the fuck I know that she really thinks that she did wrong? Where the fuck is Jonathon coming up with this shit? Is this some sort of set-up? Call him out? Nah, fuck it. Too much other shit to worry about.

“Yeah, I’ll think ‘bout it. I got shit to do. Talk to ya later.”

Yeah right. Sure, I’ll think ‘bout it; for about a microsecond. Little Miss Music and her manipulative, lying tits.

“Sounds good, Joe. Gonna put another half-mil in your account. My legal beagle hired a local to go after the first contractor, so don’t worry about that shit. Is the landing strip done?”

“Yes, and it is fucking art, man. The only thing not to spec is the parallel grass strip, it is less than 1200 meters. The hard-top lighting is perfect. The first hangar is up and ready, but no heating yet, and the runway alignment is perfect, you can approach from either end. Tanks for 100 low-lead and Jet-A are installed, but won’t get permitted for a week or so.”

“Sounds tits. Ya gonna move your 180 onto the strip?”

“Was going to ask you about that.”

“Ask me what? Joe, you are a certifiable dumbshit. Everything on that big patch of land is for all of us. Why the fuck ya think I spec’d a grass strip?”

“I know, but ... all this shit is too much; it’s still too weird, Mark.”

“Know what ya mean, man. Any other problems?”

“Nope. Uh, I’m not supposed to tell you, but Matty Edison called Jackie several times. The kid wants to know where you are.”

“Shit. Wonder where the kid got the number. What did Jackie say?”

Like I don’t fucking know. Jonathon is playing both ends against the middle. Gotta have Tim put a deep watch on his ass.

“Nada, man. Jackie is not a fool; not about to talk to a minor child that is non-family ... Mark, not my business, but are you going to do something about the kid?”

“Dude, there ain’t shit to be done. Sandy called the cops, threw me out, and has not allowed contact. My lawyer told me to stay the fuck away and don’t talk to Matty without Sandy’s permission and her being with the kid.”

“Wow. This shit does not make sense. And Johnson claims that Sandra is all upset and wants you to come back.”

“Jonathon Johnson is talking to Jackie? Dude, it’s all manipulative bullshit. Too big of a risk, it’s some type of set-up. And tell your woman to back off, or she’s gonna get her ass dropped into a pile of dog shit.”

“Will do. So you gonna come and see what’s been built so far?”

“No can do, man. I’ll let y’al know when I’m coming. Bye.”

Just fucking wonderful. Matty sure has got a lot of shit dropped on her in her short life. People try to steal her property, her mother bites the big one, now the evil step-mommy is asserting her bitchy tits ... Wha? What the fuck is this? Who the fuck gave Dianne this number?

“Yeah?”

“Mark? Are you okay?”

“Yep. Who gave you this number?”

“Tim did. Mark, you need to contact your lawyer ASAP. It is about Matty.”

“Matty? The kid okay? What’s up?”

“Not really. She called your lawyer about emancipation.”

“Say fucking what?! The kid’s only fourteen. She doesn’t even have tits yet. What the fuck is going on up there?”

“Matty and Sandra argue, almost every day, from what I see and hear. This is not good, Mark.”

“What the fuck is wrong with Sandy? It sure as fuck ain’t me. I’ve done everything she told me to do.”

“That’s part of the problem, Mark. It is my belief the she really does want you to return, but just will not say it.”

“Everybody’s a fucking shrink. Dinky, she ain’t said shit to me after she threw me out and told me to not talk to Matty. There ain’t shit I can do without getting my ass arrested.”

“Your legal risks are exaggerated.”

“Easy for ya to say, ya got a badge. I ain’t gonna say shit to no one or go near the palace, at least until we get that court order for my shit. But I do have one thing to say to you, if Matty is ever in any danger, and you do not step in to protect her, I’m gonna fuck up every last one of you assholes that keep telling me that I need to talk to Sandy.”