Airman To The Rescue. Heatherly Bell
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be.”
Matt refused to comment on the grounds his answer might incriminate him.
“Look.” Stone threw up his hands. “I don’t care what you and my sister do behind closed doors. Between two consenting adults.”
Matt held up one hand. “Hey—”
“Don’t even try it. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like I said, consenting adults. None of my business. Doesn’t mean I want to hear about it.”
“Understood. But nothing’s going to happen. I have no free time. Plus it’s my last chance with this kid and he’s not making it easy.”
Stone stood and went for the coffee. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s a tough age. I was a dick. I’m sure you were, too.”
While Matt hadn’t been the wild kid Stone had reportedly been, he’d hardly been the good kid his father described. Matt had excelled at more than academia. He’d achieved a level of discreetness rarely seen in a teenager. His father didn’t know the half of it and never would.
Matt spent the rest of his morning piloting two chartered flights, one a hop to San Francisco to drop off a couple of businessmen and the other for a couple he recognized from the supermarket tabloids. He was to land them at LAX because they’d missed their flight on their equally wealthy friend’s private jet. LAX was the kind of airport made for former Air Force pilots. The air traffic was intimidating to most but Matt loved the challenge. However, the turbulence he ran into came from the couple behind him, not the weather.
“If you hadn’t been too busy staring between that woman’s giant ass and your stupid phone, we wouldn’t have missed our flight,” the woman said.
“Can I help it if I like a nice ass?”
“No, apparently not. And I obviously like an ass, too, or I wouldn’t have married you.”
“Funny. Maybe if you stopped your constant yo-yo dieting you’d also have an ass.”
“Sure! Let me go ahead and eat like you do so you can just call me fat again.”
“You gained forty pounds, and it didn’t go to your ass.”
“I was pregnant!”
Apparently Matt became both deaf and invisible when he put on his headset. This was what he hated about people who possessed no filters. Simply because Mcallister Charters signed nondisclosure agreements, it didn’t mean he wanted to hear all this.
He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
“Yes? Is there a problem?” the man demanded.
Your mouth. Your existence. “There could be.”
“You idiot!” the woman whined. “Why did you make me take this little plane? Now there’s a problem.”
“Shut up,” the man said to his woman/wife/verbal whipping post.
“No problem,” Stone said with his most authoritative tone of voice. “But there could be. I need absolute silence to land this plane. I have to concentrate.”
He could land this plane in his sleep, but after a sharp intake of breath, there was not another sound from either of his passengers the rest of the trip.
By noon, the entitled celebrity couple long out of his mind, Matt sat in the high school’s office lobby waiting for Hunter and Joanne. They were both late.
“Matt Conner,” said a voice he recognized. It was none other than David Cross, his former Calculus teacher and a good ally should Matt care to have one.
Joanne would love this.
Matt stood up and shook the man’s hand. “Good to see you, Mr. Cross.”
“And you. We’re waiting on Hunter and...and...”
“His mother. Joanne. Joanne Fisher.” They’d never been married. Matt had dutifully offered but Joanne had refused him. Didn’t want to be a military wife. Lucky him.
Matt followed Mr. Cross into his office. “I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” He drew his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. Ten minutes late. Shit.
“I’m glad we have a chance to catch up. I heard you’ve been overseas for years.”
Matt nodded. “True.”
“I was shocked to hear you’d enlisted. I never had a chance to tell you how sorry... I mean, after graduation you enlisted so quickly. There wasn’t time to...”
The typical awkward stammering happened whenever he ran into someone from his past. Someone who couldn’t reconcile Matt Conner from the Principal’s Honor Roll with the Matt who had knocked up his girlfriend. Correction, not girlfriend. Date. Matt glanced at his phone again. Had Joanne planned this? He didn’t want to rehash the past with Mr. Cross right now.
Hunter’s frame darkened the doorway of the office. “They said for me to go in.”
“Hunter.” Mr. Cross pointed at the seat next to Matt’s. “Your father’s here on time so we’ll just get started.”
Hunter grunted and wouldn’t make eye contact with Matt, which was fairly typical.
Joanne arrived as Hunter was taking his seat. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m sure you remember Matt, Hunter’s father? Lieutenant Conner, I mean.”
“Just Matt,” Matt said with a tight jaw.
“He was in the Air Force,” she said, sitting between Matt and Hunter. “A veteran.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. Mr. Cross smiled. Matt said nothing, but gripped the armrest of his chair tighter.
“As you all know, there was spray-painting done on the fence and our cameras caught Hunter and two of his friends in action.”
“And Hunter’s so sorry about that,” Joanne said.
Matt stared at her, trying to silently communicate that she should let Hunter talk. Helpfully, she then tapped Hunter’s shoulder. He gave her a look that could kill and said nothing.
“Where are the other kids and their parents?” Matt asked.
“We met with them earlier in the week, but Mrs., uh... Miss Fisher kept rescheduling. So here we are.”
“All I did was paint a fence. It’s not like I killed someone,” Hunter finally spoke.
Matt had to give it to the kid. When it came to Hunter, what you saw was what you got. No subterfuge whatsoever. If it wasn’t for the fact that Hunter was Matt’s dead ringer, he’d have to wonder if the kid was his.
Joanne hit his shoulder again. “He doesn’t mean it. Actually, I blame myself. He grew up without a father.”
“What?” Hunter and Matt spoke at once.
“Let’s discuss our options,” Mr. Cross said. “We were able to keep this out of the police’s jurisdiction. I like to handle these matters, much as possible, in house. The other parents paid for the damages.”
Hunter snorted. Joanne tapped him again and then started rifling through her purse. Presumably for the checkbook.
“But someone will have to paint the fence.” Matt leaned forward.
“Yes,” Mr. Cross said. “We’ll hire someone.”
“How much?” Joanne already had her checkbook out.
Matt reached out to stay her arm. “Hold on. Why doesn’t Hunter paint the fence?”
Mr. Cross didn’t speak for a moment. “It would have to be after school is out for the summer.”
The kid stared at him, jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
“I’m not sure if...” Joanne