There Was This Girl 6 - Tiffany

I was just on the way to pick up a new plane. New to me anyway, and I didn’t want to mess around with the aircraft service center when I left for home, so I stopped in at the Safeway just down from the airport near Fountain Road and Murray and ran in for some goodies. I’d spent the night in the hotel, flying in from Lambert the night before, which was Monday. It was already Tuesday. Time flies, right? Anyway, I went into Safeway, getting ready to veer left into the deli area.

There was this girl.

She was standing there, a tear in her eye, just staring out the door.

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

“No, my boyfriend just told me he had another woman and asked me if I’d be interested. I told him to fuck off. No, mister, I’m not all right.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’d like to help and I’m in a really, really good mood. Wanna have some fun?”

“God, no. Get away. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Good. I’m not that kind of boy. I’m buying a new airplane in about a half an hour and flying home with it. Call in sick to work and come with me, you can call them and him from the plane. Tell him you met a multimillionaire that thinks you’re cuter than a button and deserve better than his sorry ass and let him eat his heart out.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Yes, usually I am, but I’m grabbing snacks for the ride home now. What kind of potato salad do you like?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. If you are over seventeen, I’m serious as a heart attack. I don’t want to get picked up for kidnapping a girl against her will or anything.”

“I’m twenty. The baby red potato stuff.”

“Cool. Me, too. I see this relationship going somewhere. I’ll bring you home in a couple of days. There’s a hotel up the highway from my house where I can put you up. You can stay there until you want to come home. Come on. Fried chicken?” She nodded.

We picked through the deli, hit the wing credenza, or whatever they call it, the hot table with the different wing flavors on it, paid for our snacks, and left for the airport. She smiled. She had to be scared out of her ever living loving mind, but she smiled. I didn’t do anything to keep that smile at bay, or stop it, either. I signed for the plane, then waited while they made sure the bank draft went through. After it did, I went over it with their ground crew, did the preflight by the book, then strapped her in next to me, still dumbfounded, got myself hooked up, and headed for home.

When I pulled back on the yoke, and we were airborne, I’m pretty sure she said, “What the fuck did I just do?”

“Sorry, your name, please? I’ll need it for the manifest and log.”

She laughed, heartily. “Tiffany. Tiffany Williamson. Yours?”

“Charlie. Charles Constant. The third, if it matters.”

“Of course it does, Mr. Constant. Someone went to the trouble to put that there, let’s celebrate it.”

“Tiffany, can you just call me Charlie? Just call me Charlie, for now, Okay? Mr. Constant seems a bit formal for this little getaway.”

“OK. Charlie. You said I could use your phone?”

I took it down and handed it to her. It was an old-style corded satellite phone. Definitely an afterthought in this plane, and I was replacing it soon. “Dial the whole number, you don’t need the one in front, then push that green button. It should go through. If not, try again.”

“Hi, Daddy. (Pause.) I have no idea. In the air over… somewhere. It looks like antelope country. (Pause.) No, someone else’s. You were right about Fred. It took almost a year, but you were right. (Pause.) Another woman. He wanted me to meet her. (Pause.) I told you, I don’t know. I told Fred to leave me alone then I stood there, pissed, staring out the window, trying to decide whether to call you or walk home, and the next thing I know, I’m picking out stuff from the deli at Safeway then getting on a plane with a cute guy I thought was giving me a line of bullshit. (Pause.) No. So far, he bought my favorite potato salad, claims it’s his, too, and we’re heading east in a little jet. No lies so far. (Pause.) Settle down, Daddy. He seems nice. He can’t do anything Fred hasn’t done at this point except make me smile. He’s cute. Did I mention that?”

She looked over at me. Ut Oh. “He wants to talk to you.” Shit. I didn’t expect the Daddy call. I thought maybe she was beyond that.

“Yes, sir. Charles Constant here.”

“What exactly are you doing, young man?”

“Making your daughter smile?” I looked at her. She smiled directly at me. “She was crying when I saw her at Safeway, and now she’s smiling. I don’t mean to be flippant or disrespectful, but I see that as a win. She’s cute, and she’s cuter when she smiles. Your daughter is a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you, I’ll tell her mother you said that. Right after I tell her you kidnapped her, are crossing state lines, in an aircraft, and… I’m thinking of at least six federal felonies here.”

“None, actually, sir. She came aboard willingly after I tempted her and lured her onboard with the baby red potato salad. The girl knows what she wants. Look, sir, I’m putting her up at a hotel in St. Louis, a suburb, anyway, and I want her to call this Fred jerk and tell him what she’s doing. I’ll have her home in a couple of days. I have a board meeting tomorrow, I plan to take her out for dinner tomorrow night, go shopping or sightseeing, or both, make her smile some more on Thursday, and if you and/or she insist, I’ll bring her home on Friday. Sound like a plan?”

“Board meeting?”

“Yes. Dad is turning the company over to me this week and since he’s not going to be around much longer, wants to get it over with. Personally, I hope he bugs me for another sixty years, but he and God, from what the doctors say, have other plans.”

“That Constant, huh? If you hurt my daughter, I’ll kill you. Let me talk to Tiff.”

“Yes, sir, but if it is really me that hurts your daughter, sir, I’ll let you.” I handed her the phone without saying goodbye. He was being a typical father. The kind that daughters love for more reasons than sons will ever know.

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