Page 48 of The Woman in 3B
My parents had brought my sister and me to the northern island on vacation when I was little, but I hadn’t been back since. Being an island, the only way of accessing the popular tourist destination was by small plane or ferryboat. Ferry service ended in winter when Lake Huron froze over, but braver souls could reach the nine-miles-around island by snowmobile.
Mackinac Island State Park covered eighty percent of the island. The remaining twenty percent was a small residential area in the center of the island, the airport into which we’d flown, and a picturesque Victorian Era-inspired downtown that hugged one side of the island’s coastal shore.
Towering above it all, built into the limestone bluffs, was Fort Mackinac, an actual fortified military outpost built by the British during the American Revolutionary War. I could remember visiting the living history museum with my family, gawking at the costumed interpreters in their military uniforms, and covering my ears when they shot their guns and cannon.
Anissa cut the engine and hit a few more buttons and levers on the instrument panel. When she removed her headgear, I took that as a sign to do the same. She unbuckled her safety harness and jumped out onto the pavement and I followed along.
Anissa stood tall and stretched her arms above her head. She took a long breath and loudly exhaled. “I totally love it here,” she approved. “It’s one of my favorite places. It’s a total escape from the hustle and bustle of my regular life.”
“How many other girls have you brought up here?” I questioned.
I didn’t feel like part of a routine, but this was the exact kind of showy thing you did to impress someone.
She winced at my question. “Would you believe me if I said you were the only one?”
I smirked. “Nope.”
“Well, a girl can try.”
I cocked an eyebrow and waited for a real answer.
“Okay, fine,” she relented. She shoved big yellow blocks behind the plane’s wheels so it wouldn’t roll away. “You’re number three.”
My posture softened. Three. That didn’t seem so bad.
“All the other girls I invited refused to go up in my tiny plane.”
My mouth fell open in silent shock and protest.
Anissa held up her hands like a shield. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” she squeaked.
I tried to shove her, playfully, but her arms wrapped around my waist and she pulled me tight to her. My posture remained defensive as I turned away from her like a petulant child.
Her lips went to my cheek. “I’m sorry,” she murmured against my skin. “I shouldn’t joke about that.”
“Typical pilot,” I scoffed.
I wasn’t really angry with her. I wasn’t even wounded. But it felt like the appropriate response to a situation in which I’d never found myself before.
The weight of her hands at my hips and the soft nuzzling of her nose against my cheek had my resistance swiftly crumbling.
“I’ll buy you ice cream,” she sing-songed.
“You don’t fight fair,” I grumbled.
“You have to forgive me. I’m your only way off this island.”
I couldn’t help my bratty response to her cheeky statement. “You assume you’re the only person I know with a personal plane.”
She pulled back slightly, with her arms still around me. Her eyebrows rose up quizzically. “Oh, really … and who are all these people?”
“Friends,” I huffed.
“Oh, I see.” She snuggled close again. “And do these friendsfuckas good as me?” she husked into my ear.
My eyes shuttered at her question and my body tingled all over. “How about that ice cream?”
I was amazed my voice didn’t crack.
