Chapter Five
The Girl from L.A.
Amy Cavanaugh climbed out of the co-pilot’s seat. Opened the airplane’s cabin door to blazing Key West sunlight. Behind her, John Willis put the Altair to bed, being thorough, running deliberately down the factory check-list. Outside, a fuel truck pulled up on the apron beside them. Willis looked out the cockpit window, saw Amy settling the white straw, Resistol rancher’s hat she favored onto her head, long dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. Animated. Talking to the driver through the truck window.
The fuel guys scrambled. Both of them were young, one less so. Got busy paying out hose, ready to do pretty much whatever she asked. Pump gas, jump through hoops, and give up their first born. Whatever. Amy had that effect on people. Especially men. Willis
