That night I huddle around the black marble countertop in the kitchen. The kitchen is filled with sounds of laughter as Harley, Holly, Ivy, Wildcat and I stare at the computer screen. Harley clicks more keys showing everyone scenes of Capri. Our itenarary is to depart tomorrow evening. We were going to book a flight when Bruce insisted that we take his private jet. Holly ewwh's and ahhh's at the pictures of Campagnia. We are set to land at the harbor area of Marina Grande. Wildcat starts to light a cigar when Ivy points to the roof. He shrugs and heads to the stairway.
** flight departure**
We board the spacious Cessna marked Wayne Enterprise. I can't help but gawk at the plush leather and wood grain. This jet could be a person's home. Harley jumps up and down and giggles and Wildcat whistles a wolf call in approval. "Holy shitake!" Holly screams and Ivy says demurely "Nice taste !" as we are escorted to our seats by a Maxim magazine covergirl of a stewardess. She asks if we would like anything to drink. I eyed her up and down and said "yeah. A white russian hold the cream and make it a double!" The group add their own orders as I huff staring at her short skirt as she sashays to the bar.
I turn to see Ivy and Harley busy talking. Holly is texting her girlfriend one last time before take off and Ted is looking for the stewardess with anticipation. I snatch my drink from her tray and slug it back.
The radio announces our take off . I spit most of my drink on the perfectly formed stewardess and her perfectly pressed blue uniform. The captain says "good evening folks and welcome aboard. We are preparing for departure so please buckle your seat belts, turn all cell phones off and have your seat in the upright position for flight. Have a pleasant trip."
Bruce was a pilot? Bruce is our pilot? I should have known that he would master the skill of aviation to his neverending feats.