6
Jessie
Shit day number two couldn’t get worse. Waking to cramps and finding out the best lay of my life hadn’t felt the connection I did the night before, then finding out I had to spend a few hours in his company—close proximity in my old Beaver—to take him out into the bush pissed me off.
Well, I hoped said bush kicked his a*s within twenty-four hours. I hoped his soft, rich a*s used to being catered to pussied out at the first howl of a wolf or growl of a bear. I hoped the lack of people, the lack of noise, and anything else to distract one’s mind drove him insane.
Literally.
My ragging a*s wanted to tell him to f**k off. Wanted to tell him to go find some other pilot to cart his royal hind-a*s around, but I needed his business. Telling him to take a hike would send him back to F
