Soft music is played in the background. The sound of billiard balls hitting each other echoes through the bar. I hear the joyful exclamations of people who are playing darts and have hit the bullseye or beat their competition. I am sitting in the closest bar to base, where I will be at for the next three to four weeks depending on how much I fuck up while being here. I am surrounded by other military personal. Most of them are enlisted.
Sighing, I look down at the bottle of beer between my hands and start to turn it. Why was my father so set on getting me here? It doesn't really make sense to me. The orders stated that I would be an assistant instructor for the SFTI program or to most people known as "TOPGUN". I would be here to teach them dog fighting and defensive techniques against surface to air threats.
I go over the conversation with my father again and again, trying to find information that I might have missed. But I'm none the wiser. In the past twelve hours all my efforts to find out why I am here and what the purpose of it is, were in vain. I even stressed the point, that I haven't even finished the instructor course, but their opinion was, that I am ready for it.
In the end, I had no choice but to comply with the order. After all I am not the person right now, who can ask for things and get them granted. I am currently the black sheep in the U.S. Air Force. A pilot that isn't able to fly. Dead weight to the system.
"What is a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?", a man on my left says to me and I cringe inwardly. Really nice pick-up line dude...
I suppress a snark comment when I glance in his direction. He looks like he is a boy right out of high school, but the beer in his hand, tells me he must be at least twenty-one. He is wearing his NWU. Enlisted. Two green rows. Airman apprentice. This clearly must be a joke.
"Can I buy you a drink, gorgeous?" I notice him looking me up and down and at this point I regret not wearing my own uniform. However, if I had done so, there would be a big red arrow hovering over me with US Air Force officer attached to it and I would have gotten more attention than I would have liked. Drinking wouldn't have been an option as well as I am not allowed to consume alcohol while wearing a uniform off-base. Taking care of this guy might not be as bad after all.
"First of all, who says I am alone. Second, I don't want you to buy a drink for me, I am capable of that on my own. Third, leave me alone, I am not interested." Instead of walking away in defeat he leans casually against the counter and grins. That's all I needed. A soldier who doesn't understand no. What have the new ones been taught these days?
"Ah a woman with spirit. I like that.", he grins, and I take my thumb and point finger to put it onto the root of my nose to pinch it slightly together.
I particularly chose this spot to be as far off as possible from everyone else in this establishment. Until now I enjoyed myself in my solitude. I was able to think. But this guy gets on my nerves. Fast and hard.
"I think I have made myself clear.", I say annoyed, as he doesn't leave.
"C'mon don't leave me hanging. If we spend some quality time together, I might show you the aircraft I am working with.", he says with a grin and probably thinks he gets me with that. Some dumbass bimbo would have thought that he is implying that he is a pilot. Whereas I know that he is not.
"That's what you are here for, aren't you? You are looking to someone who will bang you senseless and get you the benefits of the military.", he continues, and I raise my left eyebrow in disgust. He is one of the worst soldiers I have ever encountered. Cocky bastards are nothing new for me, but this guy and his attitude are unsettling. I am about to give him two pieces of my mind, when I hear a deep voice behind me.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to finish some papers, or the captain would have my ass tomorrow." Confused about that statement, I turn my head from where the voice came, and a tall man stands to my right. He places one of his hands on the back of my chair.
He has blond hair that is styled to the precise guidelines of the armed forces. His blue eyes lock shortly with my green ones and then he looks at the other man. He has prominent facial features. I could describe it as a mix of a young Brad Bitt and Chris Hemsworth.
It's pretty hard to tell his age, but I would say he is in his mid-thirties. He has broad shoulders, and I can tell he is well trained. Have I mentioned he is tall? And I am not small with a height of 5'9", but he is probably at least a head taller than I am. Unlike most of the other soldiers here in the bar, he is wearing civilian clothing. Black jeans and a black t-shirt which accentuates his chiseled torso.
"Ah, I see Noah has kept you some company in my absence. He is one of our newer additions.", he continues as I look back at the airman. I notice that he has moved in a formal standing position.
"And you landed yourself a boots and utes PT training with me tomorrow morning", I hear the man behind me say and the soldier in front of me swallows loudly. Someone just royally fucked up.
PT itself isn't bad at least not in the Air Force but having to do it with part of you combat gear – especially the heavy boots, is a pain in the ass. Added to that we are in the desert... Let's just say he isn't in for a fun ride.
"Yes, Lieutenant Commander Johnson.", he says curtly and sounds a little bit perplexed. Heck, I was a confused as well. I am not mad at the LCDR for stepping in and giving that guy a punishment, but I could have dealt with this guy on my own. Do I look like a woman waiting for her knight in shining armor?
Without another word the airman leaves and walks back to his buddies in defeat. Fucking finally. Maybe I can enjoy my beer now. I take a sip from my cold beverage, but I can't get myself to relax enough as the LCDR is still standing next to me. I turn my head towards him and notice him watching me.
"I could have handled him on my own, you know."
"I am sure you could have, but this was a chance I couldn't miss. He already pissed me off today."
"How so?", I ask him with interest and change my sitting position completely, so it would be easier to talk to him. Casually he sits down next to me and leans his arms on the counter. His left wrist sporting a nice but not too expensive watch. This man has taste.
"I don't want to bother you with boring stories from work.", he says after ordering himself something to drink.
"Nothing can be as boring as that one professor in one of my lectures. All I can say is, that I might have fallen asleep after a few minutes."
Well, it wasn't a professor per se that made me fall asleep. It was the exhaustion from learning for one of my last exams. The chuckle next to me lets me focus back on the officer. He shakes his head with a smile on his lips.
"I had one or two of them as well. Anyways what brings you to this God forsaken town, if you don't mind me asking."
"Nah, I don't mind. But first you need to tell me what he did." I take the beer from the bar counter and lean me left elbow on it to then support my head. Sighing I take a sip from the cold liquid.
"I can't tell you in full detail what happened. I can only tell you, that I picked up a plane outside from Vegas, because some douche from the Air Force crashed a plane and needed one here.", he starts, and I already now, that that douche he is referring to is me. However, one of the two statements is false, and I have to bite my tongue, not to correct him.
Yep, I have crashed a multi-million-dollar jet only six months ago.
Nope, I don't want to be part of this program.
"Anyways I was in the process of maneuvering the aircraft to the assigned holding area when he directed me to the place where my actual aircraft is always placed. When I got out of the plane, I could hear him saying something stupid to one of the members of my crew.", he continues to explain, and I shake my head in disbelieve, because I don't get, why he would have to write a report about that.
"So, the papers you were referring to earlier, is the statement you had to write, because you that guy lead you to the wrong spot and said something stupid?"
"No, I had to write a report about the damage on the aircraft as it now has a dent and a few scratches. I am most certainly sure, that it must have happened either at the landing or the take-off. There may or may not be a handful of people working on fixing that plane again. But enough of me, you owe me an explanation, because there are only two things that could bring you to Fallon, Nevada."
"And that would be?"
"Either you are visiting someone you know, or you are in the Navy."
"Maybe I am just on a road trip somewhere.", I tell him, and he starts to laugh.
"You don't look like that kind of person", he chuckles and takes a sip from his drink. I notice how his Adam's apple moves in the process and it immediately reminds me of Liam. Forcing myself not to think about him, I shake my head and then focus my eyes onto his face. Fortunately, there is no resemblance between the man in front of me and him. That is the last thing I would need right now.
"All kidding aside, I am here on business."
"I think I have already given away, that I am an officer at the NAVY.", he says humbled and proud. He doesn't even say he is a fighter pilot and I like that, because it shows me, he is not one to brag.
I have encountered numerous officers and pilots over the years of my service and during the academy. Most of the officers were cocky bastards who tried to think less of me as I am a woman and because I am in the Air Force. To be honest, no one likes the Air Force. We get paid better than the rest. We have the nicest barracks and housing on every base. We don't really have to practice shooting with guns and that much of PT. We are the lucky ones, I guess.
Well and then there are the pilots. Some civilians might not now that only one branch allows enlisted personal to fly and that is the ARMY – however they are restricted. In every other branch of the armed forces, you need to be an officer to fly an aircraft. It doesn't matter if it is a helicopter, an airplane or a fighter jet. So, some pilots can be a brick, but usually people like that get washed out rather quickly.
"So, what do you do? Generally, I am good at figuring that out, but with you I am lost", he asks as I take the last sip of my beer. I place the empty bottle back on the bar.
"Then make a guess. If you get it right, I will pay for your drink. If you can't figure it out, you will pay my tab."
"That doesn't seem fair. I just told you, that I don't have a single clue and then I should pay your tab. Who knows, maybe you bought a round.", he says with feigned indignation.
"And I thought pilots never back down from a challenge." I raise my left eyebrow at him and then mouth a quick thank you to the bartender who places a new beer next to me.
"Sales representative." It is more like a question than a statement. It makes me draw my eyebrows together. It is not the first time, that someone tries to figure out what I am doing. However, I have never heard that. A first one for me.
"No."
"Journalist."
"Nope."
"Lawyer."
"Very cold."
"Nurse."
"You wish.", I tell him, and a smug grin is appearing on his face, but he shrugs his shoulders.
"Okay... You are really a hard nut to crack.", he says and sits up straight on the chair. He cracks his fingers and studies me with intend.
"Do I get a hint?"
"Where would be the fun in that?" After this question he shoots one profession after another at me, but he is not even getting close.
"The last two and then I am giving up." I nod at him and wait expectantly. He said some professions that I was more than surprised to hear and he did well, even though he hasn't figured it out.
"Teacher." I almost spill my beer. Where the hell does he get an idea like that?
"Definitely not. I am not patient enough to teach."
"Okay, now my last resource as it is the somewhat obvious choice: you are in the Navy." The look he gives me could be considered hopeful, but when I shake my head with a grin, he presses his lips together.
"Nope. I am not in the Navy." If he would have said that I am in the armed forces, I would have said yes and would have considered him figuring out what I do. I would have paid for his drink.
"I guess this means I am paying your tab. Even though I don't know your name.", he says and smiles at me. He is not even mad at himself and wants to keep his word. Some would have given up earlier and might have started to argue with me, that I just want someone to pay my drinks. I am pleasantly surprised by this man.
"Taylor." I stretch my hand out. Quickly he takes it and I feel something that could be considered a spark when our hands touch. He has this big smile on his face that is contagious. I feel the corners of my mouth go up and I also start to smile.
I cannot deny that he is attractive. A little bit too attractive for my own good. But it's not only the physical attributes that caught my eye, it's the character traits I've seen so far that are the most attractive thing about him. He has a good sense of humor. He doesn't seem to get upset easily, even when he told me the story about what happened today, he was calm. I probably would have been fuming over that airman. He is patient and relentless, but at the same time humble. These are all good traits for a pilot as well.
"Ja-", he starts, but then shakes his head. He probably just wanted to tell me his call sign.
"David or Dave.", he quickly corrects himself.
"It is nice to meet you Lieutenant Commander Dave Johnson.", I tell him as he lets go of my hand and he puckers his mouth.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"Not really. It is weird when a civilian calls me by my rank." I nod in understanding as I don't like it either.
"I see. Well then, I will call you Dave and not by your rank, if that is okay with you." I am going out on a limb here as he is above my own rank. A LCDR is an equivalent to a major in the Air Force. I am a captain which is a rank below. Simply put, I shouldn't have offered this.
"I insist." Well, I am fucked if we met on base, and he sees me in uniform. However, I can worry about this later. I survived screaming at an Admiral less than twelve hours ago, didn't I?
"Jabba!", someone says with a booming loud voice from behind us, and Dave gets a big slap on his shoulder by someone. He is Jabba? I know the name. Everyone in military aviation knows this name. It is feared and praised at the same time. He is the pilot my father always talks about whenever he can. The golden boy of the Navy. The one who could never do anything wrong.
"Hyde, what can I do for you, man?", Dave asks the guy and then looks at me apologetically. There is nothing to apologize for. This is not a date. We are practically two strangers talking in a bar. And I need to get out of here as soon as possible.
"It's Swift, Jabba.", Hyde says, and I am surprised to hear my call-sign.
"I know. I flew the aircraft here, remember?"
"It was his? But I thought he was dead? Not dead dead, but we all know he doesn't get into an aircraft anymore. Basically, he is a dead pilot for the Air Force."
I am not mad at him thinking that I am a man, but I am mad at the fact how he talks about something he doesn't know shit about. He wasn't there. He doesn't know what happened six months ago in the Middle East. I put the bottle with beer back on the bar. I grab my bag from the back of the chair and get my wallet out.
"Don't be an asshole, Hyde. I don't get why you are so invested in that story and trying to find out who Swift is. I mean we never heard of that person until six months ago.", Dave says and shakes his head at Hyde.
I guess I can thank the Air Force for that as they have never really made it official in which missions, I had a part in. How many places I bombed. How many people I killed while air strike attacks or close air support. When someone would have looked up my name up six months ago, nothing really would have popped up. But now a tragic story is attached to it. You could almost call it a failed mission.
"Taylor is a gender free name. Look, her name is Taylor.", Dave continues and points towards me to emphasize his point.
I can just hope he doesn't put one and one together and concludes that I am Taylor "Swift" Wilson. Yep, my peers were very creative with this one... But call-signs are not to like. Everyone I know hates theirs and I got off somewhat easy as most people thing it is a reference to the singer Taylor Swift.
We don't necessarily share similarities other than both being born in Pennsylvania and having blonde hair while mine is more leaning to a dirty blond or dark blond. However, in my case SWIFT is an acronym which stands for See What I Fucked up Today as there wasn't one day at Operation Red Flag that I didn't fuck something up or got a lecture by one of my superiors.
"Did you finally get yourself a girl?", Hyde says as he looks me up and down and contorts his face into an approving gesture. A mischievous wink is thrown in my direction.
"At least not me. I think it's time for me to go. Maybe I'll see you around, Jabba", I tell Dave and get up from my seat.
"Taylor, wait!", he says after I put some bills on the counter that should clear my tab and his drink as well and I am about to leave. I turn around and look at him.
"If you are in town longer, I would like to meet you again. Would you mind giving me your number?"
"I don't think that it would be a good idea. But as I said before, see you around." Well at least I hope that I don't see him around. If so, I would have a lot of explaining to do.
"Crashed and burned", I can hear the loud voice of Hyde saying as I leave the bar. What a douche bag.