An Unforgiving Desert – Chapter 10

In the middle of the night, I wake and stare at the life pod’s ceiling. The storm is still raging outside, and Kalvin’s light, regular breathing indicates he’s dead asleep.

How in the hell did I get here?

Oh, yeah. I chose to go to flight school again.

What was I thinking?

Months ago, I could have changed my mind…

I tossed another pair of socks into my duffel bag and sighed. Packing for flight school felt like packing for a prison sentence. A voluntary one, but still.

The Lee home ship hummed around me, a constant reminder that I wasn’t on my ship. It had a different resonance, a different timbre. Something I never got used to. The Amagi was in pieces at the shipyard, undergoing repairs after our little adventure with the military. I missed her like a phantom limb.

A knock at my door interrupted my usual frank but necessary brooding. “Miss Skylar? May I come in?”

Marcelo. Right on time, as always. I swallowed a groan and pasted on a smile. “Come in!”

The door slid open, and Marcelo stepped in, looking like he’d just stepped out of a fashion catalog. His suit was crisp, not a wrinkle in sight, and his shoes shone bright enough to signal passing ships. I loved him, but he was the last person I wanted to see right then.

“Ah, I see you’re nearly finished packing,” he said, his eyes scanning the room. “How exciting for you, Miss Skylar. Your first day of flight school is almost upon us.”

I grunted in response, shoving another shirt into the bag. “Exciting isn’t exactly the word I’d use, Marcelo.”

He tsked, moving further into the room. “Now now. This is a wonderful opportunity. A chance to further your education, make new connections, and set yourself up for a bright future. Getting your Class Three license is a big deal, and it will open up doors for you that otherwise would be closed. As always, I think it’s a brilliant idea for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You sound like a recruitment vid.”

Marcelo chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Perhaps. But recruitment vids rarely offer personalized advice. Speaking of which…”

I groaned. “Let me guess. You’re here to give me the ‘behave yourself’ speech?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you don’t need it?”

I merely sighed and returned to packing.

“Miss Skylar,” Marcelo said, his tone gentle but firm, “your behavior at flight school is of utmost importance. Not just for your academic success, but for your future.”

I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Marcelo, I’m not a kid anymore. I know how to behave.”

He sat beside me, careful not to wrinkle his suit. “I’m well aware you’re not a child. However, your… past indiscretions have given me cause for concern.”

“Indiscretions?” I laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Marcelo sighed. “Your romantic entanglements, Miss Skylar. They’ve been, shall we say, numerous and brief.”

I held back a groan, a mix of embarrassment and defiance. “So what? I’m young. I’m supposed to have fun, right?”

“There’s fun, and then there’s recklessness. Your actions have consequences, especially now. You’re not just Skylar anymore. You’re the future of your family’s business.”

I sat up, facing him. “I know. I’m… I’m doing my best.”

“I know,” he said softly. “It’s the reality of your situation. And part of my job is to help you navigate it.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” I asked, crossing my arms. “How do you expect me to stay celibate at flight school?”

Marcelo chuckled. “I don’t. But while you’re at school, it’s crucial that you focus on your studies. No distractions, no scandals, no… entanglements. If you need… stress release, then you let me know, and I’ll handle it. I have connections who will be discreet.”

“You’re asking a lot, Marcelo.”

“I’m asking you to think about your future,” he countered. “Your relationship network will be important to your success. But that network needs to be carefully cultivated, not haphazardly thrown together based on fleeting attractions.”

I thought about the string of guys I’d been with over the past few years. None of them lasting more than a night or two. None of them meaning anything beyond a good time and a brief escape. They all had good points, but none of them were enough to consider for a long-term relationship.

“What if I don’t want a network?” I asked, voicing a thought I’d had many times but never dared to say out loud.

Marcelo’s expression softened. “Miss Skylar, a well-chosen network isn’t a burden. It’s a support system. People who will stand by you, help you grow, share in your successes and your struggles.”

I snorted. “You know that’s a fairy tale.” I thought about my mom and her husbands and consorts. They were a burden, nothing more. And the wrong men could completely sink my business.

“It’s not,” he insisted. “I’ve seen it work. Vivian, for example. Her network has brought her strength, love, stability.”

“I’m not Vivian,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I was sooooooo not Vivian. She was tall, handsome, strong, magnetic. People flocked to her because her personality was like honey. Me? I was a pile of shit in the backyard compared to her. I pissed people off, stole their booze, and left them with the bill.

I was not even remotely desirable.

Marcelo leaned forward, his eyes meeting mine. “No, you’re not. You’re Skylar Kawabata. And you have the potential to build something truly remarkable. But you need to give yourself the chance.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “And that means no fun at flight school, huh?”

“That means focusing on your studies, building meaningful friendships, and avoiding any… compromising situations.”

“You’re killing me, Marcelo.”

He chuckled. “I assure you, you’ll survive. And you’ll thank me later.”

“You’re not going to, like, send spies to keep an eye on me, are you?”

Marcelo looked offended at the very suggestion. “Of course not. I trust you. You’re intelligent, driven, and capable of making good decisions when you put your mind to it.”

His faith in me was touching, even if I wasn’t sure I deserved it. “I’ll try. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but… I’ll try.”

He smiled, a rare, warm expression that made him look younger. “That’s all I ask. Now, let’s finish packing, shall we?”

As we folded and packed the last of my clothes, Marcelo offered more advice. “Remember, your focus should be on your studies. Make friends, of course, but be discerning.”

“What if I meet someone I really like?” I asked, only half-joking.

Marcelo paused, considering his words carefully. “If you find yourself genuinely interested in someone, take it slow. Get to know them as a friend first. And always ask yourself if it’s worth potentially jeopardizing your goals.”

I nodded, zipping up my bag. “No wild parties, no one-night stands, no scandalous affairs. Got it.”

Marcelo turned serious. “I know you’re joking, but please understand. Your actions at school could have long-lasting consequences. Not just for you, but for your family’s reputation.”

How many times was he going to repeat it?

Enough that I would actually listen.

I sighed, the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. “I know. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He squeezed my shoulder gently. “That’s all I ask. I’m always here if you need advice or support.”

As we carried my bags to the door, I felt a sudden wave of nervousness. “Marcelo? What if I’m not good enough? What if I fail?”

He set down the bag he was carrying and turned to face me. “Listen to me. You are more than capable. You’ve overcome challenges that would have broken lesser people. This is just another step on your journey.”

I swallowed hard. I never cried, but this would have been a good time. “Thanks. For everything.”

He smiled, warm and genuine. “You’re welcome. Now, go show them what Skylar Kawabata is made of.”

As I watched him walk away, his perfectly polished shoes clicking on the metal floor, I oscillated between determination and dread. I could do this. I would suck at this. I could prove to everyone — to Marcelo, to my family, to myself — that I was more than just a pretty face with a knack for getting into trouble. I would fail miserably.

I was either going to ace this flight school thing.

Or it would kill me.

Which, given my track record, it just might.

Was I flying towards something, or just running away?

I wasn’t sure.

I really wasn’t sure.