Page 109 of Forbidden
“That’s not helping!”
“No, way!” I yell.
“If you want in my pants again, you do it!”
No one has ever talked to me like that. It’s disturbing but refreshing. Finally, someone who stands up to me. But now, and fucking here?
I quickly, control my frustrations, and stabilize the chopper.
The cold winds don’t help, but I slide us fifty feet to the side.
In the back, the crazy woman clips into the safety harness, and she quickly checks the electronic winch. She peers below, and it looks like she’s calculating the high-risk rescue.
Her planned selfless, act will likely have her walk through near freezing water to rescue the animal.
No one I know, would give saving the near dead falcon a second thought, and especially in this situation. And certainly, no woman I’ve ever dated.
No one has Storm’s level of integrity.
And no one has her moxie.
I suddenly realize, I love her for it, and I hate her for it. In equal measures.
“Look, I hear you,” I say, trying to control her wild side, and the chopper. “But it’s too far. You could freeze to death,” I say through the headset.
“Stop wasting time!” she yells back, loud, and fast.
I cuss, as I rotate the chopper on the spot in the winds. I’m having to hover far enough away from the falcon, but not too far. Too far will mean Storm drowns, or Storm gets too exhausted in the icy waters, and can’t make it back out.
It takes me a full extra minute to perfect our position in the winds, before I lower us straight down. Finally, I hover feet above the island swamp, as the winds buffers us, and the water ripples below.
“Pick me up in ten,” Storm yells, before she rips off the headset, and leaps.
She runs with gear she has found in the back, it looks like a tarpaulin, pliers, and safety goggles of all things. She trips, staggers up, and runs without looking back.
I lift the loud chopper, and for safety, I pull away without blasting her and the falcon with too much wind.
How the hell she expects the wild predator to not claw and shred her face, hands and arms, is beyond me.
I’ve not seen anyone risk their life for a wounded wild creature in some time.
My job investing in entertainment, is all about risk. But it is also based on logic, and rooted in control. This, here and now… This is not me, even if it’s maybe, the old me.
The real me.
I then have a crazy thought, that maybe, just maybe I’ve become too selfish, too controlled, and I only focus on business. And maybe I’ve stopped caring.
Caring about others and caring about the needy.
As I try to keep the chopper in one place, and above her, I check the fuel gauge. My stomach sinks, it’s as if I’ve been punched hard in a boxing ring.
I did not expect such heavy winds to burn fuel on the trip and the fuel gauge is extremely low. If we do not get out of here in a matter of minutes, the chopper will drop into the near frozen water.
And Storm, I, and the falcon will all die here.
I make a mental note to protect my down-side more in the future, and if we make it out of here alive, I will build a life with Storm.
Whatever the cost, and whatever the consequences.
