In the Unlikely Event... (38 page)

“Sure,” Lacey said. “I mean if we’re going to promote a sexually charged fatuous experience why not sell erotica while we’re at it?”

“Perfect,” Graciela said, squeezing Lacey’s shoulders.

“You could still have a few seminars,” Chase said.

“Yeah, dude, there will always be those serious lesbians and some of them actually have girlfriends who might want to sit by the pool and have a fruity one while Ms. Save-the-World goes off to learn how to facilitate it,” Graciela said. “It’s a definite win-win.”

“This isn’t how my dream was supposed to go,” Lacey said and sighed heavily.

“But think about the money,” Graciela said.

“It was never about money,” Lacey said. She took a swig of beer.

“With the money you can start a Save-the-Lesbian fund,” Chase said.

At this Lacey’s eyes lit up. “That is a fabulous idea. I would be providing a safe environment for lesbians to have fun, and I could use the profits to help underprivileged lesbians,” Lacey said.

“We’ll all help with the changeover,” Bud said. “I think we should set a target date of May fifth. Cinco de Mayo is the perfect party attitude.”

“What would I do without you guys? You are my guiding force,” Lacey said.

Graciela popped up. She patted Lacey’s shoulders. “Things happen for a reason. Maybe you were meant to make people happy and relaxed, instead of all uptight looking for revolution and spoiling for a fight. Now, let’s put the feed bag on, I need some serious sustenance.”

“You staying for dinner?” Chase asked Lacey.

“Sure, we can celebrate,” Lacey said in a tone not exactly full of excitement but trying for it.

“That’s the spirit,” Graciela said, slapping her on the back.

Bud squeezed her hand. “You’ll get used to the idea.”

Chase gazed at Bud. She was such a wonderfully intuitive child.

“I hope so,” Lacey said.

“What do you mean? The gala opening party alone is worth it all,” Graciela said, scooping Bud up, which was no small task, and dancing across the front yard with her.

“Maybe we can skydive into the Gala Night Extravaganza with each of us holding the end of an enormous banner,” Lacey said.

“Now, that’s the spirit,” Chase said. It wasn’t until later that night in bed that it occurred to her that Lacey already had a title for the opening ceremony—The Gala Night Extravaganza. She just hoped Lacey had been kidding about the skydiving.

Lacey wasn’t kidding about the skydiving. On Cinco de Mayo the new Fearless Chase found herself sitting on a bench inside a Cessna 208B turboprop airplane with a roll-up door. Bud had researched all about Cessna aircraft previous to Chase jumping out of one. Well, if one was going to die, doing it on a holiday at least provided a marker, Chase thought.

Their guide, Melissa, a rambunctious woman of twenty who looked exactly like the Disney version of Tinkerbell sans wings, squeezed Chase’s arm and smiled hugely. “You’re gonna love this!” she screamed over the roar of the plane’s engine.

Chase nodded and put on a brave face. She could do this. After all, she had a new job as a driving instructor. She had taken her fear of car accidents and turned her phobia into a lucrative second career. Her students scored the highest on both the written and driving parts of the exam.

Teaching a sixteen-year-old the basics of driving in a confident, yet safe manner was a daunting task, but she’d done it. Sometimes she had been frightened—like when Owen Hart had put the car in reverse instead of drive and floored the gas pedal. They’d ended up on the football field after hopping the curb in the high school parking lot. He didn’t hit the brakes until the fifty-yard line. She had, despite this ignominious beginning, taught Owen to drive in a safe, sane and successful manner. She had him recite her daily mantra and he’d taken it to heart. Now he was a damn good driver and wanted to become a traffic cop. Could life get any more rewarding?

Living through another day would be nice, actually, but she had given Lacey her word, and now here she was in this plane that was about to take off. This was technically her last chance to bail out. She stared at the still-open door and the huge white banner that she was responsible for holding one end of during the free fall. Could she really bail on her best friend—send her up in the sky alone to hold a banner that no one could read because she lacked a partner?

Bud had run the statistics for her and it appeared skydiving was quite safe. Her driving career had a higher risk factor than dropping out of the sky with an oversized piece of fabric as her sole means of survival.

They’d been having breakfast when Bud brought out the stats. “The average death rate for skydiving is one in every hundred thousand. Those are great odds,” Bud said. She took a bite of her marmalade-slathered toast.

Chase often wondered about Bud’s proclivity for Anglicisms. What kid liked marmalade? Was it all the Jane Austen novels they’d read together when she was three? Would tea and crumpets be next?

Gitana stared at her. “I’m still not crazy about you doing this.”

“Did you buy that million dollar insurance policy?” Bud said. She smirked.

“What!” Chase said, spilling her coffee as she put the cup down too hard.

“I’m just sayin’.” Bud said. “We’ve got the family assets to consider.”

“Myrna thinks it’s a great publicity shot,” Chase said, feeling like she suddenly had to defend her choice when two minutes before she had been reconsidering. She couldn’t really, though. She’d told Lacey she’d do it. They’d taken the classes and rehearsed how the banner worked, and they were taking a guide with them who was trained in this kind of endeavor. It was much safer than driving down the canyon with a hormonally challenged teenager.

“Most deaths occur from swooping,” Bud said.

“I am not going to swoop, I can tell you that much,” Chase said, refilling her coffee.

“What on earth is swooping?” Gitana asked.

“It’s when you start to land and you glide parallel to the ground. It can be very dangerous,” Chase said.

“I’m thinking that the whole thing is dangerous,” Gitana said, concerned.

“Not really. They now use the AAD system which takes care of one of the crucial aspects of flight failure,” Bud said.

“Do we have to talk about flight failure?” Chase said, her stomach flip-flopping. Did they have any Mentos in the house? she wondered.

Bud seemed to read her mind and dug around behind her on the chair where her backpack hung. She pulled out a pack of Mentos. “I stocked up. I thought we might need them.”

“You amaze me,” Chase said, popping two in her mouth.

“What’s AAD?” Gitana said. “Isn’t that the attention deficit thing?”

“I certainly hope not.” Chase winked at Bud. “ADD would be dangerous for a skydiver.” She pocketed the Mentos.

“No, it stands for Automatic Activation Device,” Bud said.

“What does that mean?” Gitana picked up the other roll of Mentos and opened them.

She really was nervous about this jumping thing, Chase thought. The closest Gitana had ever gotten to a Mentos was when they’d set off the Mentos and Diet Coke rocket. Gitana had been in charge of supervising the loading. That had been another Fearless Chase moment—being a rogue scientist exploring the explosive potential of Mentos. She watched as Gitana popped two in her mouth.

“Remember, don’t drink Diet Coke,” Bud warned.

Gitana stopped sucking on the Mentos.

“I’m just sayin’,” Bud said.

“It’s the backup parachute,” Chase explained. “It goes off at a certain altitude if the main chute has not been released to insure that one does not go splat.”

Gitana winced at the word “splat.”

Splat was a very phonetic word, Chase thought—it sounded exactly like what it did—a perfect example of onomatopoeia.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Gitana said, putting the roll of Mentos in her purse.

“It’s going to be fine,” Chase said, picking up the spritzer bottle of Holy Water that Jacinda had given her. She stood up and Bud sprayed her entire body. “See, I am completely at one with God and the Universe, although I do feel a little odd in a one-piece suit.”

“You look good. It’s very in character for what you’re about to do,” Bud said.

“I think so too.”

Lacey brought her back to the present moment by jabbing her in the ribs. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m reliving the last five minutes of my life so I’ll be ahead of schedule in the unlikely event of…” Chase trailed off.

“In case we crash. I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Lacey tapped her foot and looked terrified.

“Me? This was your idea!”

“Since when do you listen to me?” Lacey said, checking the straps of her parachute. “The one and only time you listen to me and now we’re going to die.” She trembled.

Chase had never seen Lacey scared. She was awestruck. “You’re scared.”

“Of course, I’m scared. I’m fucking petrified.”

“Are you ladies ready?” Melissa inquired.

Chase certainly hoped so as the Cessna’s engines jerked them forward on the runway. When was it too late to stop the insanity? Was now the moment? Could both she and Lacey get down on their knees and beg Melissa to let them go? Lacey looked close to evacuating the scene. Fearless Chase took hold. “We have to do this. We have trained, and we know what to do and people are depending on us, and I really think it will be fun once we get over the initial fear of going splat, which is not going to happen.”

“Don’t say that!” Lacey hissed. “You’ll tempt fate.”

They both crossed themselves.

“Here we go,” Melissa said, as the plane took off.

Chase squeezed Lacey’s hand and then smiled hugely. “This is going to be radical fun.”

“Wow, you’ve changed a lot,” Lacey said, sticking her pinky in her mouth and savagely chewing on a cuticle. Chase slapped at her hand.

As the plane roared skyward, Chase pondered what Lacey had said. She
had
changed a lot. She’d gone from a neurotic pre-parent, full of planning and precautions, to a parent who had to learn to “wing it”—she wondered where that phrase came from—to this new incarnation of herself, the one that wasn’t afraid to try new things, some of which were risky.

Always before the word “risky” in her lexicon had been accompanied by a set of flashing lights and a blaring siren. When Risk appeared now, however, she stepped in wearing an Ann Taylor business suit and carrying a portfolio of possible activities and a list of necessary safety equipment. Wasn’t that what life was? A set of risks that supplied challenges for growth? Chase thought perhaps Risk had gotten a bad rap. Risk wasn’t always about purported unsafe activities like auto racing, mountain climbing or skydiving—those things had built-in safety devices and, if done properly under supervision and with skills, were doable without harm. Risk in life, in the sense of taking a chance, learning a new thing, trusting another person, exploring an uncharted part of yourself, now
that
was risk.

****

They’d reached the appropriate altitude and Melissa gave them the all-clear signal. Lacey grabbed Chase’s arm. “I love you. If anything happens I want you to know I love you and that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and for the Institute. And I forgive you for the time you tried to run out on me.”

Or, Chase deduced, this was what Lacey had said. The roar of the Cessna 208B with its open roll-up door didn’t allow for conversation, but Chase was a decent lip-reader. She and Bud had perfected this skill because it afforded a secret silent language when social situations made it necessary. “I love you too,” Chase said.

“Okay, ladies, let’s rock and roll,” Melissa said. “Who wants to go first?” She intimated this with hand signals.

Lacey’s face was a map of terror. Chase knew if she went first, Lacey would be shamed into following. And if she wasn’t, Melissa would push her.

“I will,” Chase pointed at her own chest. Melissa handed Chase her end of the wound-up banner, which she tucked in her outside front pocket. It was neatly folded in such a way that one quick flick and it would open. Lacey took the other end. There’s no getting out of it now, Chase mused. Besides, at some points in your life pride does precede a fall and in this case it was literal. They’d set it up and they had to do it.