Read Online Club Helix: The Power Games by Brynley Bush - Free Book Online
Authors: Brynley Bush
Tags: Contemporary
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but there’s a small smile playing at his lips.
“What if I’d been afraid of heights?”
“Then I’d have talked you through it,” he says matter-of-factly, as if he has the power to banish all my fears by the sheer force of his will. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he does.
The pilot shakes hands with Roman and introduces himself to me before giving us headphones to wear that will allow us to hear and talk to him and each other. Then we’re taking off, slowly rising vertically off the ground. We hover for a moment before tilting forward slightly, and then we swoop into the air. It’s like riding on a roller coaster, and I instinctively grip Roman’s hand, needing something to hold on to. His fingers close around mine, and he smiles at me, sending warmth spreading through me. He has a nice smile. It’s the kind of smile that transforms his entire face and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.
Once we’re airborne, it feels like we’re floating, and I stare out the window, mesmerized by the sight of the Hoover Dam sprawling beneath us as the pilot tells us about the history of the construction of the dam. It’s amazing to see the ever-changing landscape below us from the bird’s-eye view of the helicopter; however, nothing could have prepared me for the magnificent grandeur of the Grand Canyon. As we hover at the rim, I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of something beautiful and ancient and beyond comprehension, and I get goose bumps, the hairs on my arms standing up in primordial recognition. The beauty of the vast canyons cracks something in me, and some long-buried emotion swells, filling my senses and overwhelming me. A tear spills down my cheek, and Roman leans over to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, an odd expression on his face.
Without taking his eyes off mine, he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks the tear away. He holds my gaze for a long minute. Something passes between us, and then it’s gone as he points out landmarks among the towering buttes and rugged cliffs—the glass Skywalk that extends out over the Canyon itself, the Dragon’s Corridor, and the Colorado River that has carved this vast majestic wilderness.
We descend slowly, privy to amazing views of the ancient rocks before coming to a stop at the bottom of the canyon. Roman helps me out of the helicopter, and I glance down at my watch, surprised to see it’s one o’clock. The pilot hands him a wicker picnic basket and then takes the controls again, and I watch as the helicopter slowly climbs up and disappears from sight, leaving Roman and me alone on the floor of the canyon, the red walls towering on either side of us.
Roman unfolds a picnic blanket and spreads it on the ground, and we sit down as he unloads the hamper. There’s cheese and crackers, caviar, grapes, strawberries, slices of cold roast beef threaded onto a skewer with bleu cheese, and a bottle of champagne, which Roman expertly uncorks and pours into two crystal glasses.
He hands me a glass and then clinks his with mine. “To winning,” he says.
I smile. “To winning.”
The food is delicious, and we talk while we eat. I ask Roman more about his company, and in the process I find out that he’s the oldest of three kids, has two younger sisters who live in Boston where he’s originally from, and loves to travel. But for all that he tells me, there’s more that he doesn’t, and I can sense a darkness, maybe even a sadness, about him.
“Tell me something about you,” he says.
I concentrate on the last strawberry on my plate. “Like what?”
“What else makes you feel as deeply as you did when we flew over the rim into the canyon?”
I look into his gray-blue eyes that see far too much. I think hard, trying to conjure up something—anything—that has broken through the walls I’ve built around my heart. Has it really been so long since I’ve allowed myself to feel anything?
Noticing my hesitation, he says, “Okay, if that’s
“What if I’d been afraid of heights?”
“Then I’d have talked you through it,” he says matter-of-factly, as if he has the power to banish all my fears by the sheer force of his will. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he does.
The pilot shakes hands with Roman and introduces himself to me before giving us headphones to wear that will allow us to hear and talk to him and each other. Then we’re taking off, slowly rising vertically off the ground. We hover for a moment before tilting forward slightly, and then we swoop into the air. It’s like riding on a roller coaster, and I instinctively grip Roman’s hand, needing something to hold on to. His fingers close around mine, and he smiles at me, sending warmth spreading through me. He has a nice smile. It’s the kind of smile that transforms his entire face and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.
Once we’re airborne, it feels like we’re floating, and I stare out the window, mesmerized by the sight of the Hoover Dam sprawling beneath us as the pilot tells us about the history of the construction of the dam. It’s amazing to see the ever-changing landscape below us from the bird’s-eye view of the helicopter; however, nothing could have prepared me for the magnificent grandeur of the Grand Canyon. As we hover at the rim, I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of something beautiful and ancient and beyond comprehension, and I get goose bumps, the hairs on my arms standing up in primordial recognition. The beauty of the vast canyons cracks something in me, and some long-buried emotion swells, filling my senses and overwhelming me. A tear spills down my cheek, and Roman leans over to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, an odd expression on his face.
Without taking his eyes off mine, he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks the tear away. He holds my gaze for a long minute. Something passes between us, and then it’s gone as he points out landmarks among the towering buttes and rugged cliffs—the glass Skywalk that extends out over the Canyon itself, the Dragon’s Corridor, and the Colorado River that has carved this vast majestic wilderness.
We descend slowly, privy to amazing views of the ancient rocks before coming to a stop at the bottom of the canyon. Roman helps me out of the helicopter, and I glance down at my watch, surprised to see it’s one o’clock. The pilot hands him a wicker picnic basket and then takes the controls again, and I watch as the helicopter slowly climbs up and disappears from sight, leaving Roman and me alone on the floor of the canyon, the red walls towering on either side of us.
Roman unfolds a picnic blanket and spreads it on the ground, and we sit down as he unloads the hamper. There’s cheese and crackers, caviar, grapes, strawberries, slices of cold roast beef threaded onto a skewer with bleu cheese, and a bottle of champagne, which Roman expertly uncorks and pours into two crystal glasses.
He hands me a glass and then clinks his with mine. “To winning,” he says.
I smile. “To winning.”
The food is delicious, and we talk while we eat. I ask Roman more about his company, and in the process I find out that he’s the oldest of three kids, has two younger sisters who live in Boston where he’s originally from, and loves to travel. But for all that he tells me, there’s more that he doesn’t, and I can sense a darkness, maybe even a sadness, about him.
“Tell me something about you,” he says.
I concentrate on the last strawberry on my plate. “Like what?”
“What else makes you feel as deeply as you did when we flew over the rim into the canyon?”
I look into his gray-blue eyes that see far too much. I think hard, trying to conjure up something—anything—that has broken through the walls I’ve built around my heart. Has it really been so long since I’ve allowed myself to feel anything?
Noticing my hesitation, he says, “Okay, if that’s
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