Page 33 of Good Friends
But following another restless night plagued by dreams of Gavin and of Dane, Porter started Tuesday morning, only his second day working there, having to also juggle the office phones and dealing with customers because their administrative assistant, Emily, was out with a kid sick with strep, and Kevin was out of the office because his sister was in a car accident over in Miami yesterday and was in the hospital. She’d make it, but she’d be in for at least a week, and she and her husband had three young kids. So Kevin and his wife drove over to help out.
Whata pain in the ass.Emily being out, not Kevin.
But it wasn’t like they wanted Emily in the office passing that shit around, even if she’d had someone else who could take care of her daughter for her today. Apparently, the disease was making its way around her daughter’s school, because quite a few kids were either out with it, or being sent home early. It also meant Porter wasn’t getting nearly as much done as he’d hoped today, he was still struggling to orient himself to the place, and he was having to people far more than was safe with his already strained patience.
A little before eleven, Jim, one of the mechanics, walked in. “Any idea where my part is? The sensor for the Skyhawk? FedEx was supposed to deliver it first thing this morning. Customer just called my cell and climbed up my ass, wanting to know why his plane’s not done yet. Flying up to a conference in Tennessee this afternoon or something. When we ordered it yesterday, they said they’d overnight it.”
Porter arched an eyebrow at him. “Why’d you give the customer your personal cell number?”
Jim laughed. “Because apparently I’m a dumbass. I’ve been working on the guy’s planes for years, though, even before I worked here.”
“Let me find out where it’s at.” He logged into Emily’s computer, where the business’ main e-mail account was checked, to get the tracking number. Plugging that into the browser meant…
“Dammit.” It showed it’d been delivered nearly an hour ago, but not to their address.
Jim was looking over his shoulder. “Oh, those stupid jerks. They did it again.”
“Did what?”
“I bet they delivered it to Addleson. You know, the helicopter place.” He waved his hand toward the north-east. “Over on the other fricking side of the property. Over in one of those buildings fronting Tallevast. What a pain in the ass. You’d thinkthosejerks would at least fucking call us. When we have a substitute driver, it never fails they end up with our stuff, or we end up with their stuff. Their street number is nearly the same as ours, last two digits are reversed. Happens all the time, but they usually call us right away, if we don’t catch the driver before they leave. We call them when we get their stuff.”
Except they hadn’t receivedanythingfrom FedEx yet today.
Porter glanced out the front window, where he could see US41. Between all the construction and snowbird traffic, it was at a standstill right now. It’d literally take him an hour to circle the damn airport property. “Dammit.”
The mechanic shook his head. “Take the Beast and use the service road. You won’t have to go out in traffic. It’s registered with the airport.” He reached over and snagged a set of keys from a hook under one of the shelves on Emily’s desk for the old, battered Ford company pickup they used to run errands. “Here.”
“Good idea.”
After Jim showed him on a map of the airport where he could drive, Porter grabbed a radio and headed out, making sure his name badge was facing out and visible.
With the driver’s window rolled down, he drove onto the service road and slowly made his way around to the other side of the sprawling property. At least with the company’s logo on the truck he didn’t have to worry about hassles from security. Just one quick checkpoint, where the guard verified his security badge before waving him through.
Not even five minutes from when he’d left, he was pulling up outside the building that housed Addleson Aviation. He took a deep breath at spotting two helicopters chocked and tied down out back by the hangar area.
Any time he saw or heard a chopper now, he automatically thought of Gavin. He couldn’t help it.
It’ll take a long time to get him out of my heart.
If ever.
Even if things weren’t fixable between them, okay, fine. At the very least he’d like to know what the hell it was Gavin thought he did wrong so he’d be aware of it and could apologize, or try to make amends.
Yes, Gavin had issues. Who the hell didn’t? Gavin had been through a shitstorm with his father, then his ex, and Porter understood Gavin had triggers and trust issues.
That’s why he’d done his level best, the closer they’d grown over the years, especially once they’d moved from friends to lovers, tonotdo anything that’d trigger Gavin.
Or so he’d thought.
Fuck.
He shut off the truck and got out, scanning the area. Not immediately spotting anyone outside, he headed inside through their front door, into the lobby.
On the floor inside the small lobby sat a huge stack of what looked like freshly delivered boxes. The elderly woman manning the front desk looked up from her magazine and smiled. “Hello.”
Porter immediately tempered and toned back his irritation. He pasted a smile on his face as he walked over to the counter and held up his ID badge, where it hung from a lanyard. “Hi. I’m Porter Hutchinson, from over at Sunbay Aviation, and—”
“Where?” She squinted up at his badge.
