I glanced over at Jayce. He was sipping his drink and trying not to smile. Flop continued his speech as if he’d been rehearsing it and waiting for someone to tell.
“Now, they changed the designation from HU-1 to UH-1 in the sixties… hrmm. Was it sixty-two or sixty-three? I don’t remember, so don’t ask. But despite the change, the nickname Huey stuck. Now, I was lucky enough to fly the Bell UH-1N, which was the twin-engine variant that came out in sixty-nine. You know why you want two engines instead of one? ‘Cause if one goes out, you’ve got a backup! Don’t get me wrong; a Huey can’t do much flyin’ with only one engine. But it’s enough to get you out of danger and maybe put her down gently. I didn’t join the Army to crash-land no Huey into the jungle, no ma’am I didnot.”
He had bottomless lungs and so much enthusiasm that I couldn’t help but smile while I drank my beer. “So your nickname…” I said gently.
“Right! I was gettin’ to that. Back in sixty-nine, I was ferrying this Sergeant Major from one base camp to another. We were nowhere near the front line, so we thought we were safe. I was flyin’ real low, just over the tree tops ‘cause that’s safest from these new missile launchers the North Vietnamese were using to shoot down our Hueys. If you’re a thousand feet in the air, you’re a sitting duck. Flying low over the trees, you’re safer. But it exposes you to small fire. And that’s where I got into trouble. A dozen Vietcong were waiting, and they opened up like a can of tuna fish on my Huey. Tore it up like Swiss cheese. By some miracle I didn’t get hit.”
I signaled for another beer and said, “Lucky you.”
“Not so lucky for the Sergeant Major,” Flop said while fetching me a fresh beer. “Took a round in the foot.”
“Ouch.” The beer hissed open and was cold in my hand.
“Although that’s the only wound he took, and I wasn’t shot at all, Charliedidmanage to hit one of my engines. We lost most of our thrust from the rotor disk in the blink of an eye. Brought her down in a clearing as best I could. We bounced once, and the rotors became unstable. Whole thing tilted sideways until the blades hit the ground, digging up more dirt than a monster truck rally. Tore the blades all to hell, and bent the rotor mast beyond repair. When the rotor finally stopped spinning, the helicopter fell over.” He demonstrated with his hand making a karate-chop motion on the bar, and then falling flat. “Didn’t blow up, though! I got that Sergeant Major out and away, since he couldn’t walk himself. Still get Christmas cards from him every year. Least I did, ‘til he died a few years back.”
He nodded to himself as if that were the end of the story.
“But… the nickname?” I asked. “Flop?”
“Oh! Right. So we radio’d the boys for pickup. We weren’t far from base, so they sent three jeeps over with grunts. They get there and help the Sergeant Major into the jeep, and one of the boys looks at my Huey and asks what happened to her. So you know what I said? I told him,it just sort of flopped over! I didn’t mean it as a joke, but boy, the Sergeant Major laughed harder than a crazy person. Slappin’ his knee and everything. Granted, it might’ve been the morphine they gave him, but when a Sergeant Major laughs, a bunch of privates laugh with him.” He spread his hands. “They told that story all over base for the next week. And the nicknameFlopjust sorta stuck.”
“Ahh,” I said. I was a little underwhelmed by the story, which could’ve been summed up withit was a nickname from the war when my helicopter flopped over. But listening to his long-winded story had taken my mind off of my own troubles, and for that it was worth the hassle. Plus, he reminded me of my uncle. The one I actually liked.
I raised my beer. “To Flop. Best helicopter pilot in Eastland.”
He grinned as if it was the best praise he’d ever gotten, poured himself a shot of bourbon, and toasted with me before knocking it back.
My phone buzzed with a text message.
Jayce: You’re lucky. You got the short version of the story.
Charlotte: It wasn’t so bad! I like him.
Jayce: You like everyone.
Charlotte: I didn’t like you, at first.
Jayce: So you’re saying you like me NOW?
Jayce: Damn, Peaches. You’re gonna make me blush.
I glanced over my shoulder. Jayce was grinning widely at me. I gave him a playful glare as thunder boomed outside.
Flop patted the bartop in front of me. “Don’t let me do all the yappin’. How’s your night going? Seen you all over town this past week, but it’s the first time you’ve come by for a drink.”
“First time I’ve needed one,” I admitted, ignoring all the beers I’d been drinking in my motel room.
“Tell old Flop your worries. I can’t promise to fix ‘em, but I can listen, and sometimes that’s just as good.”
“I don’t want to talk about my problems,” I said. “I came here to forget them.”
“Come on now. What’s made you crawl out of that crummy motel to have a drink at Flop’s?”
I gave in and told him the abridged version of my story with Scott. Just the highlights: the “break” he wanted to go on, continuing to live and work together, finding out he was seeing someone else, and then the phone call tonight when he asked me for money. Flop’s face was a theater of surprised gasps and bitter curses for my benefit. Although Jayce pretended to be reading something on his cell phone in the corner, I got the sense he was listening.
Flop whistled between his teeth when I was done. “Exes are the worst. I’d damn near kill myself if I had to work with my ex-wife.”
A stout woman with a grey ponytail stuck her head out from the kitchen. “Thefuckyou say about me, Flop?”