Chapter 98

This is Texas in October, temperatures range from, Oh, fuck oh dear, cold in the panhandle to Good Lord ... it’s hot in Brownsville ... on the same day. Almost one thousand miles from the northernmost corner to the tippy toe of land across from the Chuviscar River in Mexico. For all it’s October it’s still Summer in Austin ... and has a pretty good chance of being Summer until December.

‘I’m freezing,’ probably relates more to the air conditioning in operation at the Anthropologie Boutique than the actual outside temperature. I ... again ... suffered from erect nipple ... with considerably less reason.

Elif said... “Nope. No underwear ... the lines would show.” She thought about it, snapped her fingers and said, “A necklace ... no ... pearls, a triple twist. (One strand long enough to twist and wrap three times and still almost rest in my navel.) The dress? That had that much cleavage ... and slightly less back.

“Perhaps, I should just go nude.”

“Not until date seven.”

The pearls, dress, shoes and tax came to just under ten thousand. I wasn’t done ... but responsibility took over.

“Lets go ... before I spend REAL money.”

I handed in my titanium card. Elif ran it. The phone didn’t ring and the police didn’t come. The register computer printed out the receipt and my outfit was boxed.

Elif said, “About sevenish? I have your address on the copy.”

Two said, “Yes. Bring hot-tub wearables for after.”

The ‘34 navigated home.

I fired up the Spad and parked it in-front of the hangar. Then came moving the woodshop and vacuuming the floor. The dust and wood shavings soaked up what little oil the Skyraider leaked.

Alice came home after the work was done. I might not have that right ... Alice showed up after the chores. She may have been home ... but watching.

Alice was tizzied, “Where have you ... Simone Berger!”

Hugs ... real ... not air. Kisses ... real ... not air.

“What?” They might not have been twins ... but they were good friends ... and missed.

“You go first,” twins again.

“University,” “Me too.”

The conversation degenerated from there. I thought boys were bad ... girls love to talk about sex.

Sevenish and Elif called from the gate, “Miss Flintkote, please.”

“This is she.”

“I’m at the gate ... the sign says Bud Field. Am I at the right place?”

“Yes ... I’ll come get you.”

I drove, unlocked the chain, let her through and locked back up.

“You live at an airfield?”

“Yes.”

“First time for everything, I guess.” She asked, “Isn’t it noisy?”

“There’s just one airplane ... everything else is helicopters. Follow me.”

There’s a rise between 969 and the runway ... it’s hard to tell what is going on at the field because the hill blocks the sound. If the windsocks were gone ... and the sign ... a person wouldn’t know.

At the crest of the hill, we met Bud. He was coming to the gate to let in a night charter.

“Hey, Tyche.”

“Hi, Bud ... working?”

“Yeah ... flight down to Houston. I heard the Sandy start...”

“Dance lessons on the patio.”

“Dance lessons?”

“Time Warp.”

“Oh god ... I love that movie.”

“If you’re here Friday ... it’s at the Union Auditorium at midnight.”

“I’m not a student.”

“Free admission ... public invited.” Elif said. “Tyche has a date and we’re going along to protect her.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“So far ... there’s 14 of us.”

“Fourteen?”

“Might be more, depends.”

“Depends?”

“Who else wants to go, Tyche is popular.”

I was shocked.

Bud went to the gate, Elif and I drove to the ‘dance floor.’

She said, “Now ... THAT’S a piece of yard art you won’t see every day.”