The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,52

tail flaps up and down and moved the rudder side to side.

“Good! Time for the wings!” she chirped.

We walked together around the rear of the plane to the right wing.

“Same thing here,” she instructed.

“Make sure the flaps move but they won’t fall off?” I guessed.

She grinned broadly. “See? You’re practically a pilot.”

Under her careful tutelage, I checked the flap and aileron, the lights and wingtip, and the leading edge.

“Now climb up that step ladder and check out the top of the wing.”

I eyeballed the short ladder which was positioned close to the plane. “You’re really putting me to work.”

Hands wrapped around my waist and Anissa spun me around to face her. Her nose slid along mine and she brushed her lips against my surprised mouth.

“It’s gonna be so worth it,” she murmured against me. “I promise.”

I felt a little wobbly from her proximity. “O-okay.”

Her youthful grin returned and a firm palm found my right buttock. “Now, get up that ladder!”

I was thankful I hadn’t worn impractical shoes the day before in an effort to impress her. My canvas slip-ons tread easily up the three-step ladder and I stared across the expanse of the Cessna’s long, elevated wing.

“Check the fuel level while you’re up there,” Anissa called to me. “It’s that orange cap. It’s just like the fuel cap on your car.”

I looked down on her from my raised position. “Didn’t we just look at the fuel gauge in the cockpit?” I pointed out.

“I thought it was the flight deck,” she teased.

“Whatever.”

“We did. But you should always visually check, too, in case the internal gauge is malfunctioning. I’d hate to run out of fuel up there because of your laziness.”

“Okay! I get it!” I unscrewed the red cap, which was just like the gas cap on my car, and looked inside the opening. “We’ve got gasoline, Captain,” I confirmed.

“Ooh—Captain. No one’s ever called me that before. I think I like it,” she mused.

I hopped down the ladder rungs to solid earth. “You don’t want to be like the pilots I work with. They’re notoriously cocky.”

“Perfect. So am I.”

I rolled my eyes. “What’s next on your list?”

It took a few more minutes to inspect the tires, oil levels, fuel trainer, propeller and spinner, air intakes, struts, and other mechanisms. After Anissa convinced me it was safe to fly, I climbed back into the co-pilot seat.

I buckled myself in and accepted the headset she handed me. While I double-checked on the security of my safety harness and made the headset fit snugly on my head, I heard Anissa mumbling to herself while she went through her start-up instructions. Her thoroughness put me at ease even though I was admittedly still nervous about going up in a small aircraft.

Anissa inserted a metal key into the ignition and yelled out the opened window on her side of the plane. “Clear front!”

The propeller began to spin and the engine audibly sputtered.

“Come on,” she urged the engine. Her voice was right in my ears because of the headset.

The engine finally roared to life, loud despite the headset that covered my ears.

Anissa turned to me. “Are you ready for this?”

Her smile was disarming. I couldn’t image anyone refusing her. How the hell had I refused her?

I nodded and placed my nervous hands in my lap, worried I might inadvertently touch something I wasn’t supposed to. “Ready.”

The plane slowly rolled forward and Anissa guided the plane in the direction of the runway. We bumped along the paved surface; the blacktop looked freshly laid, but I felt every small dip and bump. The propeller spun lazily against the horizon. I could see the individual blades, so I knew it couldn’t be moving that fast.

“Why is the propeller spinning so slowly?” It felt like I was shouting. The volume of the engine and the headset were a little disorienting.

“Because we’re not flying yet,” came her common sense response.

I tried to breathe normally. I could do this. I’d been on hundreds, maybe even thousands, of planes before. Sure, they’d been big enough to carry two hundred people instead of two, but flying was flying, right? Or at least that’s what I tried to convince myself.

We paused at the end of the long runway and Anissa turned the plane around. The engine grew louder and the prop began to spin faster.

“Is that better?” she asked.

I swallowed hard and stared straight ahead, but I managed to nod.

“Don’t worry, Alice,” came her reassuring words. “I’m good at this.”

She fiddled purposely with a few more knobs