We Lied And Paid No Price

Jake Lies To Me And We Both Get In Trouble

I quickly learned Jake was not friends with the farmer, but his wife. And by friends, he meant they had slept together a few times. And the farmer's name was Jack Carter, as in child of former president Jimmy Carter.

"But if I told you all that, you would have pussied out." Jake pointed out.

"You're all dick and no cock." I retorted. I still don't know what I meant by that, but it had the pleasurable effect of shutting Jake up.

Carter's wife, Eliza, let us borrow a plane after some sweet talking by Jake. Her husband was in DC for the month on official business. She was old, but pretty enough, I figured.

She greeted Jake with a nickname, "DA, it's been too long since this morning."

"DT, my darling, let us take the plane for out for a few minutes and then we can do whatever you want," Jake said, all drama.

She tossed him the keys to the hanger, crooning, "You only love me for my husband's planes."

My first concern was figuring out a challenge that could test our skills without totalling the borrowed plane. Jake scoffed at my "concern" because Jake, as I previously mentioned, is a psychopath.

We decided to play "war box," in which pilots try to avoid a laser pointer while staying within a box of airspace. The game took considerably longer than "a few minutes." We spent the rest of the afternoon arguing about what was above 500 feet and what was below 200, never allotting any uncontested points. Finally, I checked the time and immediately buzzed Jake, who was in the cockpit.

"Earth to Jake Seresin!" I said. We were using goofy radio talk, pilots pretending to be kids pretending to be pilots. Boys pretending to be men pretending to be boys who hate each other.

"My call name is Ace," Jake whined.

"I'm not calling you that, It's 5:56,"

Jake landed a foot from the hanger... and about ten feet from my head, "Hop in."

I hesitated, but complied, my fists balled up so tight they turned white.

Jake broke the tree line for a breath and dove back to street level. He used the Academy's driveway for touch down and stopped, four centimeters short from crashing into Top Gun's auditorium. Thirty seconds of flying and I realized that Jake is an entirely different level of pilot then anything I had witnessed before. Jake has a level of skill that can't be tested in practice or drills. He makes adjustments in the air that other pilots wouldn't even register. It's like he was born in a cockpit. He just flies, he doesn't think.

I was falling hard in love with his talent and bright eyes, his smirk and quick tongue, the smoke from his cigarettes...

General Kazansky called us into his office after the opening ceremony.

"With all due respect sir, we weren't late." Jake pointed out, "And we were using a private plane, so Navy rules regarding the minimum flight altitude don't apply."

"No, Navy rules don't apply. Civilian rules do. You two broke at least twenty federal regulations regarding aircraft use and LANDED A PLANE ON NAVY PROPERTY WITH NO CLEARANCE."

I studied the grains on his wooden desk, running my fingers along the edge.

"Ahhh, I see." Jake said.