Page 7 of French Escapade

Then there are the midnight deployments…

“You’re a Presidio graduate?” she asks, interrupting my memories of the most recent mission.

The question takes me by surprise, and the water goes down the wrong pipe. Few civilians know about the Defense Language Institute. Located on prime real estate in the middle of Monterey, California, DLI is where the Department of Defense teaches foreign languages at record speed. Students get 24 to 64 weeks to learn a new language. It is also where Jimmy, Mouss, and I met.

I nod while catching my breath.

“I do love Monterey,” the flight attendant adds, with a dreamy look on her face. If I could afford it, I would live there all year long.”

“How do you know about the school?”

“A few years back, I met a guy on the beach …”

There’s nostalgia in her smile. She shrugs as if chasing away a memory. The wound isn’t completely healed, it seems. She looks up to me and asks, “Are you coming to Paris to practice your French?”

“No. I’m not stopping there, I’m going to Cannes.”

“What a pity,” she says. Paris is so lovely in the spring. “But then again, so is Cannes. It’s the best season to go there, you know, before it’s crowded with tourists.”

Other passengers walk toward us. As the end of the flight approaches, impatience gets to us. I’m not the only one who needed to stretch his legs. I wave goodbye and go back to my seat.

She seems to be a nice girl. She could be good for Jimmy … physically she’s his type. Hell, if he grows tired of Los Alamitos, he could land a sweet spot at DLI as a military liaison instructor. That might make him the ideal man for the pretty little stewardess.

I shake my head to derail that train of thought. This is what happens when one raises a teenager. Too many romantic comedies have fried parts of my brain.

As of now, no more sweet movies. I’ll make her watch documentaries on human trafficking and women taken into slavery; that should set her straight.

I glance at my watch. Another two hours before we reach Paris. One hour to go through customs and catch the next plane. We’ll be in Cannes early in the afternoon. We'll grab Madison, and tomorrow we’ll fly back.

And should Arkady even think about standing in my way, I will be happy to let him know what I think of him. With my fists.

Nothing would make me happier than showing him that those who think violence doesn’t solve anything are just idiots who have yet to learn how to throw a good punch.

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