But when I flip on the lights in the kitchen, the table is covered in cosmetics. Ugh. The last thing I want after a working a long-haul flight is to have to clean up after my daughter. I see powder scattered about, as well as a number of colorful pots and palettes. There are two sets of purses on the table, both with their contents spilling out onto the surface. Strange. Maybe Faith’s best friend Bella is over? But if so, they both turned in early because I don’t hear a thing.
Why didn’t the girls clean up though? This is fucking annoying. In my daughter’s defense, I wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow morning, so maybe she figured she’d get up early and tidy up before I arrived. Yeah, right. How many teenagers really get up at the crack of dawn to clean the house? More likely, she won’t be up until noon.
Frowning, I push the mess over to one side and quickly scrub the cleared-off portion of the table. Then, I pull some eggs from the fridge and whip myself up a quick middle-of-the-night breakfast. There’s bread for toast and some microwavable bacon in the fridge as well. It’s not the healthiest meal, but it’ll tide me over until morning.
As I cook my eggs quietly on the stove, my eyes wander over to the fridge where there’s a picture of Faith and Bella from their graduation in June. They have their arms around one another, smiling into the camera, cheeks pressed together. Their futures lie before them, and the girls make kissy lips as they sparkle with happiness.
“God, she’s gorgeous,” I say in a low voice, but I’m not talking about my daughter. It’s Bella who’s caught my eye. High school graduation was the last time I saw the curvy brunette in person, and she was absolutely stunning. After the ceremony, Bella whipped off her gown to reveal a tiny dress that showed off her assets. Sure, it was a demure floral print, but the vee between her breasts was daring, and the hem was so short that a flutter of wind would have revealed her panties. I don’t know how her parents let her out of the house wearing that. Honestly, I wanted to drag the pretty girl into an empty classroom and bend her over a desk, but I didn’t. I was my usually reserved self, and Bella did nothing but waggle her fingers in hello before walking off with a switch to her step. I shudder, my staff growing slightly hard just at the memory.
Suddenly, a burning smell fills my nostrils.
“Oh, shit,” I exclaim before quickly pulling my pan from the stove. “Fuck!” My eggs are starting to crisp at the edges, but I rescued them just in time.
Sighing, I plate the eggs and then sit at the table to eat. It’s kind of sad to be eating dinner alone so close to midnight, but that’s my life. Hopefully, I didn’t wake anyone up with my cursing.
Fortunately, upstairs is still quiet, although I’d love to have some company. Actually, my daughter can stay where she is because I’d prefer for her friend to come down and join me for my midnight breakfast wearing nothing but a tiny tank top and shorts. What are they called? Oh yeah, booty shorts. The thought of Bella in a pair makes me shake my head again. I’m such a dirty old man, but I can’t help it. My thoughts simply keep running wild this late at night, and I’m too tired to try and control them.
Resigned to the silence, I dig into my meal. The eggs are a bit bland, but with the grease from the microwaved bacon and the crunch of the toast, the whole thing works. I’d much prefer something heartier, like a juicy steak paired with mashed potatoes and fries, but a man has to make do. Maybe I’ll fire up the grill tomorrow. The girls can have hamburgers, or steaks if they’re feeling the vibe.
Leaning back, I stretch a bit. Long flights take their toll on my body these days. It used to be easier when I was in my twenties and thirties, but now in my forties, the hours make me stiff. The leg from here to Dubai wasn’t bad, but Dubai to India and then back again was pure hell. Plus, I did it in about sixty hours of flight duty, which is the maximum time-in-air allowed for a pilot.
Oh man, I sound like an old man. When did the years creep up on me? Well, I suppose with a daughter who’s an adult, it just happens. I seriously need to up my work-out routine to address this stiffness though. Generally, I spend a lot of time in the gym, but as a pilot, your schedule can be totally thrown off. Night is day, day is night, and then it’s time to board the plane again. I grimace. Well, it’s never too late to make an attempt. First thing tomorrow, I’ll hit the gym.