He raised his eyebrows, reminding me we were standing in front of the Ops Desk. “Oh, I mean, yes, Sir.”
“Your twelve hours good?”
“Yeah, I’m cool there.” He was referring to the twelve hour “bottle to throttle rule” – meaning you can’t fly within twelve hours of drinking.
“Top notch,” he said with his signature thumbs up.
I glanced toward the squadron admin – she always knew everything going on at Nellis. “Oh hey, Steph, are things…okay today? I mean have you heard anything about me?”
“You mean your club performance, Whaler?” she answered with a bored snicker.
“Yeah, that,” I answered quizzically. Had the universe turned on its side? Was Rachel watching over me like a guardian angel?
“I think it’s cool.”
“Cool?” This was seriously odd.
“Yeah, um, talk to Danno or whatever, but I don’t think there’s any worries about it at the Wing. It always gets crazy when the Panthers are in town.” She never even looked up from her screen – and Stephanie Lawson knew everything that went on.
“Bullshit,” I said out loud. Done hiding from life, I was taking the virtual bull by the horns.
“I’d tell you, Whaler. You’re like my favorite and stuff.” She looked up at me from behind her glasses.
“Only because I bring you lattes.”
“Well, that and the whole bedroom eyes thing.”
I grinned at her. “Let me know if you hear anything, okay?”
She winked at me. “Should I text you? Ya know, like around midnight?”
I winked back, always a flirt. “Sweet of you, but I have like a thing going on. Lattes tomorrow, though, I promise.”
“And croissants?”
I nodded. “With extra butter.”
“Deal.”
I knocked on Danno’s door, bracing for the heat I was about to get.
“C’mon in,” he said absently from his large oak desk.
He looked up at me, his face turning red for a second before he gestured toward a chair. “Ah, Major Jones. Can I help you with something?”
I turned the chair backward, obstinately, and plopped down in it. There was a bandage across his nose – an obvious sign of damage from my drunken, enraged fist the night before. So I hadn’t exactly imagined the “commotion” of the night prior.
“Sorry ‘bout your nose, Boss. I got carried away.”
“Big time. But you know, tempers flared. I’ve given you a hard time lately, and I’m hoping there are no hard feelings.”
No hard feelings? Carried away? This guy had been out to get me from the day I showed up in the squadron.
“What gives, Danno? You’re not pressing this? A hundred people saw me clock you in the club last night.”
He flinched, his fingers instinctively caressing his damaged nose.
“Bygones, Whaler. Just tell your little minx to stick to her word, and we’re good.”