Landfall - 3. Where The Hell Are We?

Yeah, I'm shocked at his kiss.

And, yeah, David is now dragging me by the arm toward the engine-running chopper. All I've got is the clothes on my back. He shoves me on board, then jumps in behind me, slams the door closed, we lift off.

“Where are we going?”

“We're flying out of Addison airport. It's close, and we'll be up and out of town quickly.”

“Where are we going, David?”

“Not telling ya, Barry. The less you know at this point, the better for you, and the safer for your boys.” The sonofabitch actually grinned. First time he's done that since I've known him, and it's a dazzling smile—his whole face lights up.

Land at the airport, directly beside a “Citation X”.....whatever that is. Jets idling. We board, again, armed security on either side of the drop down stair going into the plane.

Inside, it's nice. Big granite and some kind of exotic wood galley we walk past going back to overstuffed leather seats. Deep carpet. Flat screen TV on one of the bulkhead walls. First class on airlines looks like coach compared to this. All the shades over the windows are closed.

The plane is already locked up and taxing out to the runway. Flinging itself into a blue sky at an impossible angle based on the tilt of the floor since there are no windows open for a frame of reference—and leaving Frank behind. Barry is on board.

Seemingly seconds later, we've leveled out for cruise, quiet, smooth.

“I've always loved this little plane.” David tilts his seat back a little to accommodate his big frame, and toes his shoes off. “It only carries 12, but it's like the sportscar of the air. Right now, we're cruising just a little below the speed of sound—far faster than commercial jets—and flying about a mile and a half above them. Fast enough, we'll arrive in just an hour and a half or so.”

Still not giving away where we're headed.

“Ok, So you wanna tell me what happened back there at the elevator, David?” Keep the voice flat, emotions down, hear him out. I toe off my loafers, too, settling back. Waiting.

The man blushed. First time in years to see a grown man do that.

“Let's get drinks first, ok?”

“Sure, scotch and soda for me.”

David pads in sock feet to the galley, pours my scotch, him what looks like bourbon. Brings 'em back, gives me mine, plops down in the club seat across from me, and lets out a long sigh.

“Look, I was out of line back there, Barry. I just....well, I just felt like that was what you needed, and the best way to convey that I care about you. I've followed you for years. We've know about your rise in power for at least 10 years, and I was on the original team tracking you and your activities. We've watched you publicly and privately, and I feel like I know you better than damn near anyone else.”

I've been under surveillance for 10 years?

“And just how much do you know, David?”

“We know about the first bogus loan you did. We know about the women you've had along the way. We know about the funds you've got in the offshore and Swiss accounts. We know of the side deals you cut on some of those bogus loans, like the deal that got your boys a new Mustang and new King Ranch Ford truck, running them through the auto auction as though they were used beaters—all for a little leniency on their payments back to the bank. We know that your collectors were put in place not only to work for you, but to watch you and report back on you. Hell, we even know one of 'em gave ya a blow job—and got photos which your bosses are holding for use if blackmail were ever needed.”

Wow. I'm speechless. These guys have really done their homework. Even the blowjob? how'd they find out about that? And pictures?

“We also know you've been a standup guy, too. You never missed one of Trey's football games. You took Cory to the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History when he was in the 8^th grade, just him and you, to encourage him to pursue science. You always supported your wife, even helping her by getting in the dunking booth at school to help raise money for the band. You're known around town as a fair, good man, other than when working on those bogus and shady loans. You helped out your buddy with a cash gift when he was about to lose his house. And you arranged for the air ambulance for your wife's friend to do a couple of trips to MD Anderson in Houston when she was fighting cancer.”

“Shit, we were the ones who saved your ass a couple of months ago. Remember when you got bumped pretty hard in traffic downtown? Got pushed into that parking lot? Remember that tractor trailer rig that came barreling through the intersection, and hit the car behind ya? That was your driver today in that car. He saw the truck coming for you, bumped you out of the way and took the hit. The trucker was hired by your boss, Lee, because they were concerned that you had lost your touch, were getting too soft, and they were afraid you wanted out.”

Damn. First the tractor trailer rig as a miss—and I didn't even know about it—and then the miss a week and a half ago when they got Jackie.

A week and a half ago? More like a lifetime.

“I'll admit it. I've gotten emotionally involved with you. I know you too well. I see a good guy with some bad habits. I see a man capable of great love and giving. You aren't a monster. And, I've always prided myself on being professional, and today.....well, today..... was a major lapse of that. I just let my emotion of taking care of you run away too far, too fast.” He looked down at his half-finished drink, red-faced. Another blush.

“David, are you gay?”

Not moving his down-turned head, he looked up at me with those blue-blue eyes. “Yeah. And if you aren't comfortable with me anymore, I'll get you another handler and we'll...................” His voice faded off.

“Ok. Let's take this one step at a time. Does the Bureau know you're gay?”

He nodded. “We're here to do our jobs. I always have. It may seem at times like a raunchy locker room environment of guys and gals, but we're all professional—at least until we have a judgment lapse. And my bosses have always been cool with me.” He's mentally kicking himself. “I've actually worked with a number of folks in the program, both straight and gay. Haven't lost one yet. And don't intend to change that now.” His jaw is set, mouth in a firm line of determination. “You're the first I've.....”

Long pause. Waiting on me.

“Fine. So how long have you had this crush on me, David?”

He looks up. Face beet red. Can't tell if he's gonna laugh or cry. Finally, a small smile.

“Guess it started about a couple or three years ago. I saw how you cared for your family, how you'd accepted Trey after he came out. I saw all the good stuff you were doing in the community, without seemingly thinking about it. And, let's face it, you're a good-looking man. It just kinda happened—really didn't think about it, it just developed on it's own.”

My turn to blush.

I'm really just the guy next door, perhaps a little oversized compared to your neighbor, with my 6'1”, 225 frame, barrel chest, furry pecs. Other than that, you've seen me a million times—dark brown hair, green eyes, a nose that's been broken in a few college-years-and-after bar fights after football games. Blocky face, medium color skin, shadow line of a fairly heavy beard. Standard tan from running around shirtless or in trunks around the pool during the summer. Typical middle-aged guy (I'm 45). Good looking? Me? Never had a problem picking up women, but what do I know about good looks?

“Well,....uh......thanks, Dave. I appreciate your honesty.”

Comfortable silence.

“OK, David, you've been honest with me. Only fair I'm as honest with you. You know a shitload about me—hell, know me better than myself, maybe. So let's take the last one first. I appreciate your crush; doesn't scare me at all, in fact, it's kinda hot—don't think I've every had a guy crush on me. If I did I was stupid and missed it. And thanks for the compliment on my looks; just haven't ever seen myself that way.”

“I'll be upfront and say that I'm like most guys, I've played with a couple of guys a few times in college. Liked it, but kind of viewed it as experimenting. But, I've been with Jackie so long, I've considered that part of my life a closed chapter. Don't know that I'll ever have feelings back toward you, or any guy. And the reality is I'm still a mess, still dealing with Jackie's....loss. Not really equipped right now to think about anything else. That kind of thinking will hafta be way down the road, ok?”

He nodded. Still looked pretty grim.

“I don't have a problem that you're gay. Your life to live. And---and I'm not gonna request another handler. The Greeks used to think an army of lovers would fight better, just because they're protecting their partners. Figure you'll fight that much harder for me, and guess I need all the help right now I can get.”

Pause.

“Just next time, give me a heads up before ya kiss me. I might wanna kiss back, ok?” I grinned.

Dave's face lit up with a megawatt smile as he let out a deep breath. The joke broke the tension, again. “Ok. Thanks, Barry. Can't say I won't ever step out of professional character again, but promise I'll always take care of you. We good? Buddies?”

Fist bump seals that deal.

“Ok, Barry, let's go over your past.” Mr. Professional is back in full force.

“Fuck, no. You know all about the old me, and you've created a new me. Time for me to learn about you.”

He laughed. Need to hear that more often. He's more than just a pro at this---there's a real live human hiding behind that professional demeanor.

“Ok, ok, only fair. Grew up in Wyoming on a cattle ranch with my dad and 2 brothers. I'm the oldest. Small town, residents far outnumbered by livestock. Mom died of cancer when I was in 8^th grade, so it was up to me to help Dad, keep the place going and take care of my brothers. Rodeo'ed during summer and on weekends, played football in school, hoped to go to college on scholarship but I'd loafed through school and grades weren't good enough.”

“When I graduated, and with no money for college, enlisted in the Marines, got trained to be MP, then Base Security manager. Realized I liked security and law enforcement, got out of the Marines, went to college in Law Enforcement, and worked my way through doing an internship with the Bureau in San Diego. Hired on with 'em full time after finishing school in only 3 years. Got lots of extra training, and advanced to Senior Case Manager where I am now.”

He gets his “western sheriff” looks honestly.

“Personally, I've always been gay, even in junior high and high school. Horny boys everywhere, and like you, just wrote it off as “messing around”.” He laughed. “Somewhere in high school, realized women didn't do it for me. When I got to the Marines, there were plenty of guys to play there too. In fact, met my lover there in my last year. He was an MP, too. Tough to find time together, but we made it work. In fact, he followed me in law enforcement classes, and an internship with the Bureau.”

Dave's face goes stony.

“We'd been together a little over 7 years when Keith was killed in a shootout during a major mob drug bust. I was 27. That was 17 years ago. Buried myself in my job, and kinda kept my private life pretty much to myself. Haven't found the right guy yet. And yeah, I've sampled a few. But the guys in the Bureau have always known I'm gay, and I've been lucky enough to work on several cases where the clients were gay, so it was a good fit.”

“Guess I'm telling ya all this so you understand I know what it's like to lose someone ya love. And the only thing that saved my ass was having a couple of guys around, so when I needed to talk or needed a hug, I got it—no questions asked. I'm hoping you'll feel that way about me.”

“So any questions before we get back to work?”

There's that high voltage smile again. I shook my head. He checked his watch.

“Ok, Barry, We've killed our flight time. Let's go over your new background at the hotel, huh? Just kick back, relax, we'll be landing in 20 minutes or so. I need to finalize some stuff for our arrival, so I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Leaned back in the plush chair, and guess I napped for a few minutes. Woke up, Dave is still up front on the phone, so I lean over, pull up the closed shade.

We're over the ocean, dropping down to land with a sandy beach ahead.

Where the hell are we?