Page 13 of What is Lost

Right before takeoff,a member of the flight crew came around, doling out foam earplugs held together on a single string. Roni waved the corporal away then frowned when John accepted a pair. “Where are your buds?” Then she saw his face. “Oh, John, you didn’t. Youlostthem?”

“I just put them down for a second.” Actually, more like thirty seconds. Okay, two minutes, but he wasn’t going to quibble. He’d gone to the men’s room and, before entering a stall, put the earbuds down on a shelf over a sink. Habit, something he did in his apartment because wear those suckers when you were taking a leak and then look into the bowl—because all guys looked, it’s just what they did—and all of a sudden, you were flushing your buds before you realized what you’d done. (He was speaking from experience here.) Anyway, he’d hurried to get out of the john and back to the plane and so forgot all about the earbuds until it was too late to go back. That was also assuming no one had already pocketed them. “I’ll be okay.”

“Except those foam things are useless.”

“Don’t mince words, Doctor. Tell me what you really think.” Had their instructors ever gone over this stuff in DCC? Was there a specific section in the manual:Bring noise-canceling earbuds because Army kit is crap?“How do you know they’re useless?”

“My dad. He reads a lot of books, and he’ll pitch the ones that aren’t accurate.”

“And he read about earplugs?”

“I guess so. His favorites are thrillers about this ex-Army guy who wanders the country and makes like Simon Templar.” At his blank look: “The Saint?A character in novels by a British writer? I forget his name, but there was a TV series.”

“Did we ever see it?” When they were both on-call, they booted up an old show or movie to watch while he practiced one-handed surgical knots and Roni knitted or embroidered. He frankly didn’t care what they watched. Any time stolen with Roni was well-spent. “Don’t remember that show,” he said.

“Because we never watched it. Roger Moore starred.”

“Wasn’t he one of the Bonds?”

“Yup, but before that he was Simon Templar. Nice suit, debonaire. Ran around helping people, taking care of bad guys. Anyway, the Army guy in the books my dad likes is the American equivalent only with muscles and jeans. Tom Cruise playedthe character in a couple movies, but he’s too short. Not my kind of guy.”

“Oh.” Washetaller than Tom Cruise? He thought so. They had never talked about her kind of guy. Yeah, they kidded around—and he sensed asizzle, something hot and steamy, a flame that needed only a tiny bit of coaxing. One night she’d dozed off in the on-call lounge and, before he knew it, her head rested on his chest, just below his collarbone. One hand cupping the back of her head, he’d gently slid his free arm around her waist. They stayed like that for the rest of the movie. Bogart and Bacall inTo Have and Have Not, as he remembered, and when Bacall drew back from that second, steamy kiss, he mouthed the line:It’s even better when you help.The temptation to kiss Roni awake—nuzzle her neck, that perfect shell of her right ear—was so strong, it was almost a relief when his pager shrilled, and she startled awake. Although she did say he looked a littlepainedas he got up from the couch. He couldn’t tell her that it was veryhardto walk with a hard-on.

Now, he said, “Books any good?”

“If you like that kind of thriller. I once heard an interview where someone asked the writer how he knew all about our military, even the classified stuff, because he’s British, right?Hesaid whatever he doesn’t know, he makes up.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded. “He claims that if you want people to believe you, write with enough authority, and they will.’”

“You mean, bluff.”

“Or outright lie. That’s what novelists do for a living. They make stuff up.”

If he was any good, this writer could probably make the Joint Chiefs, no sweat. Maybe even the presidency. “I’ll have to read him,” he said, trying to squish a foam plug into his right eat. A hopeless task, like trying to ram in a Nerf ball.

Dragging on a wool watch cap, Roni watched him struggle. “We can share.”

“No use us both going deaf in one ear. It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but he didn’t want to feel more foolish than he already did because he’d also forgotten his watch cap. He even knew where it was: right next to his bug-out bag where he would be sure not to forget it. If the rumors were true about just how cold the transport was going to get, he’d be cryo-preserved by the time they landed.

Roni cocked her left eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“One might suggest you lack faith in my abilities.”

She arched the opposite eyebrow. “Color me skeptical.”

“You know, you’re very good at that eyebrow thing.”

“I practice a lot when I’m alone.”

“Wait,” he said, as the C-17’s engines spluttered to life. “That’s a line fromLove and Death. You know something I don’t?”

She grinned then leaned in as the engine noise swelled. “Seriously, John, we really can share earbuds and trade off. I don’t mind.”

“No, it’sfine!” he bellowed over the transport’s shudder and shake. His teeth were vibrating. “Besides, I don’t think you want us sharing precious bodily fluids!”

Which was a total lie. Doing precisely this with Roni was something about which he often daydreamed.

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