Page 144 of Forbidden
I fly the falcon north,up the coast, and I take a sharp hard line. I hardly avoid the terrain based obstacles. Enough time has been wasted.
Finally, I find the exact area I need, and I land on the safest ground nearby. I open the rear side door, and the falcon streaks out fast.
I feel good as the Peregrine heads off for its own family.
Only this fucking happens...
The falcon swoops back down, and it flies straight back in.
After lecturing the falcon, and trying to herd it out, I climb into my seat shaking my head. “Crazy fucking falcon.” After lifting my chopper off the ground, we bank and head south. “You will tire of me, just like her.”
The falcon cries out, defiantly, and I decide to unpack Falcon wanting to stay later.
For now, I need to get Storm back.
As I fly south towards The Hamptons, NYC, and the rest of the world, I think about what to say, to Storm, when I find her. I then think of all the places she may be.
I should be focused on the deal with Dante, and proving I have not lost my edge. Also, several movies in production. I’m distracted, and all I think about is her.
Until Storm and I are resolved, I’m no good, to anyone.
I have avoided calls, emails and messages for around thirty hours, and it’s completely unlike me.
The only thing I’ve done since returning from France, and losing Storm, is secure the deal with the Wall Street fund. That was critical, but only in buying me a window to last longer in motion pictures, and maybe prepare my exit from the business.
Something tells me, I am my work, and that’s likely a fail.
I love showbusiness, I love making movies, but maybe, just maybe I need to focus on me for once. Also, to work out how to get my act together.
I know the time away from my work is costing me, and likely millions a day. I am just not feeling it, and Storm is the center of my universe.
She is all that matters now.
As we comeinto land on my penthouse rooftop, I hesitate. It feels wrong. Suddenly, feet away, I yank on the primary column, and we drop down the side of the building. As we level out, I point the chopper’s nose south.
We skim over Central Park, and I know I will be fined for the break in flight paths.
Fuck it, and fuck everything.
As I head towards South Carolina, my cell chirps. It’s fed to my headset, and I hit accept.
“You’re a hard man to find,” Dante says. “How about you pick up your phone.”
“I’ve had something on,” I say. “Anyway, how can I help?”
I suspect Dante is also mid-flight, because I can hear some kind of droning.
“We’re here to kick your ass,” Ryan Remington somehow cuts in.
“Ryan?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I shake my head. “Look, I’ve got a little on,” I say when suddenly another helicopter banks around and flies alongside me. It’s too fucking close, and I don’t like it.
“Wakey wakey dipshit.” I look over, and Dante’s dark blue chopper is flying alongside over NYC.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, looking over. I can just make out Dante and Ryan, and I shake my head. There is no fucking way this is legal, and the flight plans approved.
