Chapter Twenty One
Irene boarded the Bikini-Bus the next morning at nine. Bev was already in the co-pilot’s seat studying a clip board. She was wearing oversized mirrored aviator sunglasses, large enough to be fashionable, not practical. “How we making out?” Irene asked.
“Ground crew is just about done. We just need to do the flight-check. There’s only Scirocco and his guests flying back and they’re waiting to board.” Bev eyed Irene’s dark blue skirt but said nothing.
“Okay,” Irene took her place in the left-hand seat, “let’s get on with it. Maybe we can get to the beach early.”
They were well into it when the intercom chimed. Bev picked up. It was Alex reporting from the back: “Guests are all onboard and I’ve got them seated. Anytime you’re ready.”
“How many? Bev asked.”
“Scirocco p
