Playboy Pilot

When we pulled up to Maria Rosa’s, Carter cut the engine then turned to me. “Is there anything you

want to see tonight? Anything you want me to show you before I take off tomorrow?”

“No. I think I’d just like to have some dinner and hang out tonight, if that’s okay?”

“It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I’d like to do, too.”

THE MOOD HAD DEFINITELY shifted from this afternoon. Dinner was good, and although Carter and I talked the entire time, it felt like there was a giant elephant in the room neither of us were mentioning. When we were done, Carter asked if I was up for a walk on the beach.

We both took off our shoes and left them near the boardwalk that led to the sand from the parking lot. I really loved that Carter took my hand as we started to walk.

“Do you know where you’re flying to tomorrow?”

“Dubai. I checked my schedule while you were in the shower before.”

“They don’t tell you until a few days before?”

“No. They plan months ahead of time. I just don’t like to know.”

“You don’t like to know where you’re going?”

He shrugged. “Eventually, I know. I mean, I have to know before I get into the cockpit. I guess there’s just no reason to check in advance.”

“Don’t you ever want to make plans ahead of time when you know you’re going to be in a certain city?”

“Not really.”

“That’s odd, Carter. You know that, right?”

“Never said I was normal.”

We walked for another fifteen minutes, eventually coming across two random chairs set up at the water’s edge. There was no one around. Carter pulled my hand over to them and repositioned the chairs so that they were facing each other.

“They were set up to watch the water.”

“I know. But why would I look at the water when I have you to look at?”

We both sat. At first our feet were right next to each other in the sand. But as we started to talk, Carter rubbed his feet up against mine. The pad of his foot massaged my ankle. It felt good, so I returned the favor. Our feet stayed intertwined as we chatted.

“So tell me, Kendall Sparks. Why are you on this trip? What is it that you are trying to find?”

I was embarrassed to admit the truth. I didn’t want Carter to know how shallow and desperate I was. How much control money had over my life. “If I told you, you would think I was horrible. That I needed therapy for what I was likely going to do.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t.”

“You would.”

“Would not.”

“We’re all fucked up in some way. All have secrets to keep and crosses to bear in life.”

I scoffed. “Maybe. But I’m more fucked up than most.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well I’m more fucked up than you. You have a great job, own a place in Florida, and know how to enjoy life.”

“Is that what you think? That your story is more fucked up than mine and you’ll look bad?”