“Yo Max!” Vinyl calls as Spike and I step out of the FBO terminal.
“Sweet ride.” I say ogling the Bentley behind her.
“Oh thanks. She’s Tavi’s though.”
“She has good taste. 8 or 12 cylinders?”
She doesn’t respond, but the sound of the starter and the throaty growl of the engine at idle tell me that it’s a V8.
This girl has a driving style to match her music, because as she gets onto I-95, she holds 60 as a pickup and trailer pass, then floors it gently, as the gearbox takes its time to catch two or three gears down.
The beast howls as we whiz up into the 100’s of mph. I smirk smugly as Vinyl does a bit of mixing and shuffling, to get into the left lane.
As we get off the freeway, my heart rate rises enough to make my palpitations palpable. I don’t know why, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m in pretty good company in Miami, and because I know that someone like Vinyl is a quality chick. She’s devoted to her craft and you can feel that in her music. If she wasn’t, like, into what I can only assume evolved into a partnership, or, if I was a little more romantically inclined, I would probably pursue her. I mean, she seemed more than cool with me when we first met, and we had some great talking points despite the apparent DJ vs. Band Geek dichotomy.
We enter their home to the sound of Octavia practicing in another room. Clearly they’ve invested in some soundproofing.
“Does she prefer acoustic or electric cello when you record?”
“Acoustic 99% of the time. She only recently got an electric cello, so she still has to get used to it.”
“Either way,” Spike butts in, “she always sets a great bass line for us.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Vinyl takes Spike up to their room so they can work, but she says, “make yourself at home! Does Pinkie know you’re here?”
“No, I haven’t told her yet. I was gonna surprise her.”
“She’s coming over tomorrow night. Party’s at my place this time!”
“She’s gonna be so psyched.”
“Max!!!” Pinkie screams giddier than I could ever wish and runs towards me. “You never told me when you were coming down!”
“Surprise.”
“Now that we’re all here, we can go get a bite to eat!” Spike says.
“Calle Ocho?” Pinkie asks.
“You wanna go back to Miami? ¿Quiere La Carreta?” I respond.
“Oh HELL yeah!” Vinyl exclaims.
Piling into Pinkie’s Nissan Kicks, as she can fit all five of us, we get back onto I-95 and head for Little Havana.
We get seated quickly, timing our arrival just off-peak. I’m hungrier than I realize, because it seems like I could eat a few of these items in one sitting for sure. I don’t want to seem like a pig to my friends (since they say you are what you eat, and I do love me a good Cuban sandwich), so I load up on Café Cubano, Cortaditos, and enough caffeine to kill a horse. That should give me some energy for tonight’s party.
Diluting the coffee with almost equal parts water over the course of the meal, I happily cover this tab.
At around 19:30, the first guests show up. I don’t expect any familiar faces outside of the hosts, so instead of shying away, I decide to indulge a little on the liquor I’ll happily replace after tonight.
As the music gets louder and inhibitions delimit, I dance carelessly but not recklessly in a distant corner outside the intense noise levels and keep my shots coming. After all the coffee I’ve had, I know I need to slow down, but the water I adore is keeping my body in check, by body-checking me on the inside.
Once I somehow overcome the adverse effects of about a half-liter of liquid courage intermingling with about 5 or 6 cups of Cuban coffee, I suppress every urge to splay and flail my arms about, seeing as it’s a pretty good turnout for a Friday night house party.
“Hey Max!” Pinkie calls only partway uninhibited. “Having fun??”
“Of course Pinkie,” I slur out, “I’m here to thank you and Vinyl and… Octavia,” attaching an -r sound to the end of her name, like a Brit. “S-qz me.”
As I stumble to the back porch, the crowd is as jumping as it was at the start, and with Vinyl off the table, I look for some water.
I grab a cup and open the spigot, filling it up. Desperate to cleanse my palate, I take a mighty swig.
Hang on.
Oh… shit.
Too in shock at the quickly spreading burn in my throat, I freeze in place and let the remainder of what is clearly vodka in my cup run down my face.
I quickly slam the cup down on the table and pat my shirt down feverishly to stop any remaining dribble. By this point, I’m about ready to lose my balance, so I decide to let one knee slip so I can try and reset my internal gyroscope.
“Alright Max,” a familiar voice grunts, “it’s time to get you upstairs.”
“Pee-yew!” Another voice says as I feel myself eased onto a bed. “You’ve had WAY too much to drink tonight!”
By those words, Asian flush is settling in, and quick.
Blinded by the light, I’m greeted with wide open blinds, mild dehydration, and a sense of defeat. As I sit up in bed, I find a tall glass of water on one of the nightstands. I take a swig and slosh it around to coat the driest areas of my mouth before I will myself onto my legs and gather my toiletries.
As I enter the bathroom, I lock the door and splash my very oily and splotchy face. While my hangovers are rare but quick, the Asian flush will last well into the next morning.
When I emerge from the bathroom, I dry off and head downstairs. I pull a $100 from my wallet to pay for what I might have damaged last night as I enter the kitchen to the sound of sizzling.
“Good morning, Sir Max.” Octavia greets as she flips a burger patty.
“Top’a the [morning.]” I respond in kind. “Is that a burger I hear?”
“Yes indeed.”
“Veg?”
“Boca [as] a matter of fact.” She responds as she slides it onto a toasted and mayo’d bun. “Vinyl was waiting for you to wake up. I’ll go get her.”
“How much trouble am I in?” I ask rhetorically.
“Dude, you went HARD last night!” She calls a few moments later.
“I remember some of it. How much?”
“You took out half the Jack! Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Well, I’ll replace it. I think I broke something too, so here.” I say as I give her the Benjamin.
“Uh, you didn’t break anything.” She says refusing the money.
“Still, this is for letting me crash here. Is Pinkie gonna pick me up?”
“Yeah. She’s booked solid for the week though. Might be better if you stay with us.”
“As long as you’re okay with it, I imagine Pinkie would understand.”
“She will, but as soon as she’s free, I know she’s gonna snatch you right out of our hands.”
“I don’t wanna burden you. You’ve got that project with Spike to work on.”
“True, and I wouldn’t want you feeling left out.”
“We can always meet up for food or something.”
“Oh of course.”
“Hey Pinkie. I’m awake now. Vinyl tells me you’re gonna be swamped with work all this week? Whenever you can, let me know what’s happening, because Vinyl said she’s more than willing to host me. No pressure, but I know you did want to see me.”
“If you need anything,” Vinyl then calls after I send the text, “you know where the studio is.”
“Yeah.” I respond as I grab a glass and enjoy some water, knowing that even if I don’t feel it, I really need it.
As the rest of me starts to return to normal, I use the bathroom before I find the three musicians chilling out by the pool.
“Come on in, the water’s fine!” Vinyl says as she returns to sunbathe on a lounger.
Spike is very clearly enjoying himself in the hot tub, so I say “screw it” and get my feet wet, sitting on the 2/3 width Baja shelf so my feet don’t dangle.
“Did you not pack swimwear?”
“No. I’m not much of a swimmer.”
“Didn’t you used to live in Hawaii?”
“And I surfed.“
“Whatever. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“No sweat.”
“But you are.”
“I sweat all the time.”
After I dry off my legs, I ask Vinyl if I can borrow a car to make a food run.
“I’m coming with you. Plus, you have pockets.”
“No argument.” I say as she opens her garage door.
“Sweet ride.” I say as I approach a McLaren 720S.
“Got a good deal on it.”
“A few years past the current model but otherwise basically brand new?”
“Pretty much,” she responds as she ducks low and climbs in. I follow suit and close my door right after she does.
Firing the thing up and putting her in reverse, she asks, “where do you wanna go?”
“Wasn’t thinking anything specific. I was just gonna drive around and let the spirit guide me. Do you need petrol?”
“Half tank.”
“Are you an optimist or a pessimist?”
“Neither.”
“Free petrol on my tab.”
“We’ll let the spirit guide us then.” She says as she approaches a stop sign, then guns it as we join the main road.
“She’s got some pulling power.” I quip dryly.
“Yeah, yeah. Says the one who turns on the jets for living.”
“Do you have a comeback for everything I say?”
“No. I’m just getting lucky.”
“Well good, ‘cause I’m craving nothing in particular.”
“Seafood it is then!”
“How’d you know I was on a see-food diet?”
“I didn’t. Sometimes, the English language just works in one’s favor.”
Once we get seated, I’m relegated to the DD role as Vinyl starts the afternoon off with a Cape Cod.
“So, Vinyl,” I ask fighting the awkwardness, “you and I are pretty cool with each other, even though we’ve only met once before, and yet we’re bantering like we’ve known each other for much longer(?)”
“Thank Pinkie. She talks about you a lot. Secretly, I think she was trying to coax me into chartering you.”
“I see. Well, you and Octavia have a profile. Depending on how things go, you may be assigned an aircraft exclusively for you, and if that becomes the case, you can outfit it as you see fit (pending design approval).”
“Sounds like a pretty sweet deal. I haven’t been much into going on the road, and I haven’t had any big gigs outside of South Florida. Farthest I’ve gone is Key West.”
“Well, if you feel the need to support a friend, no pressure, I am available.”
“I do appreciate that, thank you.”
“So, I have to ask. What are you and Octavia? Are you together, engaged, married?”
“We are together officially, but we don’t have any plans to advance anything. Life hasn’t been the easiest on either of us, what with having a tough time finding work.”
“I understand. I don’t want to pity myself, but I too have been struggling to find work. I just bought another airport, so I’m hoping I can attract a little more business.”
“I hope you can.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” I smile back just as our food arrives.
After I pay the bill, we head for their local Costco to take advantage of petrol prices. Filled to the brim with high grade once again, we return home to the sight and smell of Spike and Octavia in the kitchen.
I skip dinner and instead pour myself a shot of tequila, slamming the glass down and high-fiving Vinyl in the heat of the moment.
“You two would make quite the couple.” Octavia teases.
“Isn’t that your own girlfriend you’re talking about?” I respond in surprise.
“Oh, don’t worry. She says that all the time.” Vinyl reassures.
“Well, if either of you need to travel for a gig or just Wanna Get Away, I’m your man.”
“I’ve been hoping to visit my parents.” Octavia says semi-rhetorically. “I’m sure they’ll probably convince me to move back in with them though.”
I only chuckle just as my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi Max! Pinkie Pie here! Where are ya?”
“Vinyl and Octavia’s.”
“Are you in the middle of something?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to pick you up?”
“I don’t want you coming all the way up here though.”
“Pfft. That’s not a problem.”
“Aren’t you booked for the week?”
“I’ve got a free day tomorrow!”
“Well, I can make myself available. You’ll have to claw me out of Vinyl’s hands though.”
“Told ya she’d like you!”
“I think you just told her to.”
She gasps.
“Max, how could you think that?”
“It was a cheap shot, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Can I grab you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything planned here. I imagine they’re just gonna be working on their collab, so it could be just you and me.”
“Well let’s get to it!”
“See ya tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll text when I get there. Bye Max!”
“Later Pinkie.”
As some sound leaks out of the studio, I wish I had iPad with me so I could play some games, but it’s dead and charging.
*Call from Atlanta.*
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mr. Scimitar?”
“Speaking. Max is fine.”
“Okay, Mr. Max. I’m calling with Delta Air Lines. How are you doing today?”
“I’m doing well. Yourself?”
“I’m not doing too bad. I’m actually calling to schedule the appointment about our retiring fleet.”
“Yes, yes, of course!”
“When is good for you?”
“Um, the earliest available time I have is maybe two weeks, hopefully at the end of next week, pending some errands and other commitments.”
“Okay. You’ll be talking to my boss, so I’ll have to send him a tentative schedule. Can you give me your earliest available times?”
“Starting two weeks from now. Any day of the week.”
“Okay. What time of the day will work best?”
“Are we meeting in Atlanta?”
“Yes sir. I’ll send you all the information once we schedule something.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“Oh, my boss just got back from a break. One second please.”
“Hello?” A different voice calls just a few moments later, “is this Mr. Scimitar?”
“Yes sir. Max is fine.”
“Ok Max. You said you were available in two weeks?”
“Yes sir. Any day of the week, and any time of the day.”
“Okay… give me one second, let me transfer you to my line so I can look at my schedule. One second.”
“No problem.”
*hold music*
“Hi, Max?”
“Yes sir. I’m here.”
“Perfect. Alright… uh, would it bother you if we met on like a Friday afternoon after all of my appointments are complete?”
“That won’t be a problem. I’ll book the Ontario nonstop.”
“Perfect. You’ll get in right before my last appointment finishes up.”
“I love it when the stars align.”
“What’s that?”
“I love it when the stars align.”
“Likewise.”
Your flight to Atlanta is booked!
“I just booked the flight. That flight arrives at 19:15.”
“Yes, yes. Perfect! I’ll see you at 19:15 when you arrive.”
“I look forward to it.”
“So do I. Good night, Max.”
“Good night, sir.”
“Bye now.”
“Bye.”
I then set the calendar and corroborate it by adding the flight to it. I’m so excited. If this deal goes through, I could be looking at almost half of Delta’s soon-to-be former fleet in my hands. I’m kind of losing money by acquiring their T-tail aircraft, but I see a valuable life for most of them as freighters, so hopefully they’ll find a worthy operator.
Next morning, I get ready and pack up just in case Pinkie takes me hostage, which is okay, since I’d probably just be lounging around anyway.
As I lounge around waiting for Pinkie to communicate, I go outside for an e-cigarette or a few. As they’re all nicotine-free, I feel less impacted by it, but I know that even though I’m only addicted to the motion and the dragon’s breath, I don’t think I’ll have the girls’ full respect until I put them away for good.
Speaking of, two honks from a large SUV precede Pinkie’s arrival. I wave to her then head inside. I make sure I have all my stuff then head up to the studio.
As the recording light is on, I wait until it extinguishes before knocking. When it does, I enter and tell the three Pinkie’s here, so with handshakes, hugs and waves goodbye, I head out to see what little miss cotton candy hair has in store for me.
“Hey Max!” She says as she leans across the center console for a hug.
“Hi Pinkie.”
“How’s your life?”
“Ominous, but hopeful. Scary, but hopeful. Unsettled, but hopeful. Unsettling, but… ah, who am I kidding? I feel stuck.”
“But you don’t even have your seatbelt on.”
I can only roll my eyes and belt up before she puts her car in drive.
“So why do you feel stuck?”
“I haven’t had any hires since Crystal Prep. Normally at this time, I’d have at least two or three trips a month. Not like I expected it. I know that there’s a small decline in air travel but that’s not quite the issue.”
“Well, if it helps, I have pointed some people in your direction.”
“Really? I haven’t received any inquiries since last we met.”
“Well, I mean we did see each other a couple days ago.”
“Come on Pinkie. I’m being serious.”
“Sorry.”
“I know I got worked up about you doing exactly that last time, but I appreciate you doing that now. I haven’t flown in a long time, so I guess I have cabin fever. Proverbially.”
“I’m really sorry things haven’t been easy for you. I wish there was something more I could do. How can I help?”
“Well, I am here to see you, and Vinyl and Octavia did set the bar pretty high.”
“Good thing I’m hungry.”
“Going to the bakery?”
“Of course! I’m actually just about to go on a delivery run. Care to join?”
“As long as we get to spend time together.”
“Hooray! It’s just to a couple of places, then we can do something.”
“Alrighty.”
Plugging addresses into her GPS, we head for the first delivery in nearby Davie. A quick chat and contactless payment send us to the next address in Doral. Following there are drops in Hialeah, Coral Gables, and Opa-Locka before returning to the bakery and enjoying treats for ourselves.
As the business reaches a daily lull, both of the twins sit down with us to chat.
“You both remember Max, right?” Pinkie asks to start the conversation.
“Were you the one who fell into the pool?” Pumpkin asks.
“Yeah!” I laugh. “Were you there that night?”
“I heard all about it the next morning. Poor Pinkie got all worked up thinking you’d drowned.”
“No I didn’t! I knew he was breathing!”
“Well, you had a good time, and that’s what counts.” Pound adds.
“Aye, I did. And from what Pinkie’s told both of you, I’m happy to see her happy.”
“Aww,” Pumpkin responds, “Pinkie’s so lucky to have such great friends.”
“As am I. I’m not afraid to admit that I was afraid Pinkie was gonna be a bit too much for me, but somehow, we work.”
“How sweet.”
“Pound, Pumpkin?” Mrs. Cake calls from he kitchen. “Can one of you go help your father?”
“I got it.” Pound says as he finishes the last of his drink.
“So, what’s your story?” Pumpkin then asks me.
“Well, where do I start?”
“What got you into what you do now?”
“Well, I always had dreams to go to the airlines. Decided to leave for a few reasons. I amassed a small fortune and started with a couple ex-airliners to launch my own operation. I became popular for shipping and some occasional passenger shuttles and kept a relatively low profile. Most of my clients praised my ability to stay connected with them over the status of their package, granted I’m a significantly smaller operation because I had the ability to do so, and because I only had so many packages at once. It was nice, and then I met the mother of my daughter through her soon-to-be fiancée, and from there I began my first real expansion. I grew in popularity by getting in touch with old colleagues to see if I could find some extra work, and from there, I became popular in more than just my small circle. Fast forward to today, and Rarity was the one who introduced us. She’s the reason I’m close with Pinkie and all her friends. I’ve been very lucky. I don’t think I would be where I am now without them.”
“That’s nice. Speaking of shipping, if my brother has his way, he might want to bring Sugarcube Corner into more than just a local favorite. If he’s still for the idea, we might be able to contract you for some goods shipping.”
“You would need to get in touch with delivery driver services. I don’t have that available.”
“I’m sure some courier or delivery service would be willing to make pickups.”
“Here maybe. I also don’t want to have a lot of vehicle traffic at either, or any of my airports.”
“I understand. It would be a good opportunity to get some work, but alas, my parents don’t want to have to modify anything because they feel it’ll compromise quality.”
“Absolutely.”
“It’s too bad we can’t make it work. I would love to see Sugarcube Corner go national.”
“[go] Like a pro.” I respond instinctively, to which the three of us all burst out laughing.
“That was a good one.” Pumpkin then utters.
“Was there anything else by chance you wanted to do?” I ask Pinkie just as Pumpkin leaves the table to assist a customer with her mother.
“No. We can pop up to Lauderdale if you want to eat [the] orchids (Las Orquideas) if you want.”
“Since we had the cart on 8th (La Carreta - Calle Ocho) yesterday or whatever day that was, I’d be down.”
“I think the fact that you’re fluent in Spanglish makes life so fun for us. You’ve got a sense of fun about you.”
“I won’t argue.”
We decide to spend the rest of the day here. Pinkie as a part owner is obligated to offer her help, as this is her day job, though part time may be a little more accurate.
After the front door is locked, I help by cleaning the tables as the others clean up the counter and the kitchen.
When I toss the used cleaning rags into the designated bin, Pound grabs the bin and then puts it in their car. Once we complete their shutdown checklist, I get a small bag of goodies from the owners before we head home for the night.
Next morning, Pinkie wakes me up, so I jump in the shower and yelp internally when Pinkie is waiting for me in my bedroom.
“Pinkie?!”
“Hi Max!”
“Did you have a plan for today?” I ask grabbing my underwear.
“Conch Republic?”
“Yeah, alright. Can you give me some privacy?”
“You don’t trust me?” She pleads with beady eyes.
“I do. I’m just that self-conscious.”
“I won’t look.”
“Just don’t put it on the internet.”
“Eww Max! Why would I do that??”
“Some people.” I respond nonchalantly, grabbing my underwear and sliding it on, dropping the towel just as it reaches the area.
“Okay,” I then say as I slip my socks on.
“You don’t have flip flops?”
“You wanna go to the beach?”
“Why not?”
“Alright then.” I say discarding my socks and heading downstairs.
“Let me get you a towel.”
“I don’t plan on getting wet. I don’t have swimwear.”
“We’ll still need to mark our territory.”
“Fair enough.”
After about two hours of driving, I’ve managed to fall asleep, so when we reach Key West, Pinkie wakes me up by playfully jabbing me in the side.
“Hey!” I yelp out trying not to laugh at her attempt to tickle me awake.
“Come on, silly! Let’s go!”
I find a nice spot under the shade of a tree, watching Pinkie stroll down the sand to submerge herself in the water. Knowing I can at least work on my tan, I put sunscreen on my darker parts to try and even myself out, closing my eyes with only my head under the shade of her umbrella.
When I wake up, Pinkie is toweling off, so I flip onto my back and ask her to apply sunscreen to my darkest areas.
When I decide to call it good, Pinkie is sunbathing, hand holding mine. As my vision clears, I notice that she’s asleep with a smile on her face, so I close my eyes again.
Cut to Pinkie ready to go, holding hands, acting and certainly looking like a couple of lovebirds to anyone who’s watching.
Just as I put my seatbelt on, Pinkie leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek before starting the car. I can only smile at her antics because I really don’t want to get worked up about it. Pinkie being Pinkie, simple as that. That said, this is a side of her I haven’t really seen. I know she’s a touchy-feely type, and I don’t mind that (which took a bit of warming to at first), but I know Pinkie knows to respect my boundaries. She must have a sense for knowing when I’m vulnerable, but I also know she wouldn’t do those things unless she knew I’d be okay with it. I’m not going to criticize or make any judgments, because I appreciate the human contact.
When we return home, I immediately hop into the shower since some sand has been… lodged places. You’d be surprised at how much and where sand can end up, even if what you do at the beach could be described as minimal.
“Las Orquideas?” Pinkie asks.
“Why not?”
Exchanging some español with the waiter with questions about the menu, we get our food rather quickly, even for being the only ones here. Just as good as the last time, we eat slowly, but not really making any conversation.
No leftovers for the evening, we return home and tune a Heat-Pacers replay game, since we have nothing else of interest.
I sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ve had a pretty good day, and had pretty sweet company.”
“Awww!!!” She responds nuzzling up to me. “It’s great to have you back with us!”