The Hot Pilots by T. E. Cruise Read Free Book Online

was still, and people had their windows open, you could hear everything. Linda had said she didn’t mind, but then she traveled
     so much her apartment was more like another hotel room than home.
    Things would change when they were married
, Don thought as he reached Linda’s building, and made his way up the outdoor staircase to her second-floor apartment.
An apartment was no place to raise children
.
    He knocked on the door, and waited. There was no answer, and it seemed pretty quiet inside. He hoped that she hadn’t gone
     out during the time it had taken him to drive there, or if she had, that it was just for a moment …
    He decided that it made no sense to stand outside wondering about it, and used the key she had given him to enter into the
     dark vestibule. “Linda?” he called out uncertainly, groping in the shadows for the light switch. He found it and flicked it
     on.
    He wandered into the small living room, and saw her straw beach bag on the tan sofa, and a yellow and black garment of some
     kind lying crumpled on the peach carpet.
    “Linda—?” He went into the galley kitchen, and was putting the champagne in the fridge when he heard hushed murmurings. He
     went back into the living room. The whispering was coming from behind the closed bedroom door. As he stared at it the bedroom
     door opened and Linda came out.
    “Jesus Christ, Don!” she gasped. Her hair was mussed. She seemed flushed. She was wrapped in a sheet that left her shoulders
     bare. “What the hell are you doing here—?”
    “That’s a hell of a way to greet me.” He laughed, walking toward her, spreading his arms wide to give her a hug.
    His smile faded as he got closer. “Oh, Christ,” he whispered, recoiling as he smelled her within the warm, close confines
     of the living room.
A bitch in heat
, flashed through his mind, and then he glimpsed movement in the bedroom through the partially opened door.
    “Who’s in there, Linda?” he demanded fiercely. “Who—?”
    The words died in his throat as the door swung open and Steven Gold, wearing just a pair of bathing trunks, stepped into the
     living room.
    “Linda?” Don stared at her. Despite his rage he desperately hoped that she might tell him something to make this all right;
     to make everything not be ruined …
    “I’m sorry, Don,” Linda murmured, looking away.
    He nodded. “There’s some champagne in the refrigerator,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady as the waves of humiliation
     and loss washed over him. “You two enjoy yourselves …” He could hear the trembling in his voice. He looked down at his hands.
     They were shaking. It seemed that not only Linda, but also his own body was betraying him …
    “Look, Don,” Steven Gold said, taking a step toward him. “I want to—”
    “Oh?” Harrison cut him off fiercely. “You want to apologize for
being
here, or maybe for my
catching
you here?”
    “Don—” Steve began again.
    “I don’t want to talk to you,” Harrison said flatly. It seemed to take forever for him to make it to the front door, to open
     it, to step out, and to shut the door behind him. As soon as that door was closed he broke into a run down the stairs. He
     had his fists clenched, and was shaking his head, willing himself not to cry. It would be even worse if he let himself cry.
    He ran to his car, started it up, and pulled away, ignoring the outraged horns and squealing brakes of the drivers he cut
     off. He came around the corner onto Sunset on two tires, and then floored the Commodore, getting it up to fifty, wildly swerving
     to miss the cross traffic as he ran red lights, as if he could outrun his shame.
    And as he drove through the soft California night he saw clearly that it was Steven Gold who had stolen his girl. He knew
     that he could not physically compete for Linda with a man like Steve. He supposed that he should have known that all along.
     His father could have certainly told him …
    But there would be