"No, cocaine-dealing? Have you gone mad?" I exclaimed. It's been almost an hour since Dale began telling me his story, and after multiple glasses of rum he was still somehow sober. "Mad? Oh no, if you think I was mad then... well, you've heard nothing yet." he muttered, gulping down yet another drink. "And what about Wayne Anderson, 'The Master of the Butterfly Effect', that's just a nickname, right? Surely that can't be true!"

Dale looked at me humorously, "That's what I thought at first too." I rubbed my hands together anxiously, "Well? What happened next?"

***

Next came Dixie Lowe. Beautiful, young, free-spirited Dixie Lowe. Dale first met her at Ian and Julian's house, she had unexpectedly arrived on December 27th dressed in a rose trench coat and with a suitcase in hand. Dale had been over at their house that day, playing cards and drinking beer. Her had rung loudly across the whole house - "Knock knock, anybody here?" and even the sound of her voice was delightful - she was delightful. As though called upon by some magical power, Dale had risen from the sofa and scurried to the front door. She was light-skinned women with soft rosy cheeks and flirtatious bleach-blonde curls. Her large baby-blue eyes focused on him and she smiled, "Who are you?"

Dale felt his face starting to burn up, "Dale, Dale Fletcher-" Julian had walked in and Dixie's expression changed from cheerful to tense really quick.

"Dixie, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Paris?" he approached her and relieved her of her suitcase, "You've come to stay I see."

She swallowed, "I'm really sorry for coming Jul, my plans in Paris sort of crashed. I guess I'm too eccentric to be a model." Julian didn't seem too dazzled by her explanation. He sighed and looked at Ian, "Take her suitcase upstairs. She can have the room next to mine." Ian obliged.

Dale watched as Ian went upstairs and then turned to Dixie, "Can - can I help you with your coat?" she smiled again and tucked a strand of loose curls behind her ear, "Yeah, yeah I suppose you can."

And that was it for Dale Fletcher, he knew from that day forth that Dixie was the girl for him. She was the definition of perfection and more. The first time he took her out was on January 1st, 1980. He drove her to the nearby outdoor skating rink, and in some delusional fantasy he thought he could skate - and well, he couldn't. Neither could she however, so together they made the clumsiest skating duo. She wore her iconic rose trenchcoat and her hair was let free from those tight curls so they danced freely on her shoulders - "Dale I'm gonna fall!" Little did she know Dale was going to fall too, so when he failed to catch her and fell as well, Dixie laughed, "You're an awful skater, you know that?" he turned a bright shade of red and chuckled, "Well there is one thing I'm good at," he offered her his hand after clumsily pushing himself to his feet, "I can fly a plane." That was the moment when he knew that Dixie was just as passionate about him as he was about her, "Really? Can you take me? Pleeease?" and on a normal basis Dale would probably say 'no', but when he was with her, he was absolutely wild, "I'd love to take you."

***

"Wait," I said and frowned, "You took her on a plane? A girl you only met not even a week ago?" Dale frowned and thought for a bit, "I guess I did. I never really thought of her that way though, for us everything was timeless."

He signaled at the snifter glass and I poured him some more rum. He swirled the glass in his hand and then said, "You've forgotten an important part Gus, she may have been a free soul, but her brother definitely wasn't."

***

Dale promised to take Dixie flying after the snow had melted and it was safe to take-off and land. Even though he was getting increasingly confident with being a pilot, he didn't want to risk it. If anything happened, they'd both be dead - either from the crash or by the hand of Julian.

On January 6th, Dale waited for Julian next to the plane dressed in a dark-brown blazer and a white-collar shirt. He half-expected Ian to accompany them, but when the black car appeared only Julian stepped out. He wore his usual navy-blue blazer and this time with a cream-colored collar shirt. Dale waved to him, and Julian waved back. Together they quickly scurried onto the plane.

They were on their way to California, to meet Wayne Anderson. In the back of the plane they carried stacks and stacks of money - tens on thousands. At first the two of them were silent. Dale could almost feel the anticipation and uneasiness coming from Julian, this trip had to go right. If it didn't, they might never come back.

"I see the way you look at my sister," Julian said as though to switch the non-verbal topic, "I may not show it, but I care for her very dearly. You get what I'm saying, right?" Dale swallowed. Of course, I understand, anything happens to her and I'm dead meat. You've made that pretty darn clear. "Yes," he responded with certainty, "You have nothing to worry about." The steering wheel was now coated with sweat.

"Good. That's all I wanted to know."

*

They landed in the California desert. Dale opened the door and immediately he could feel the warm breeze ruffle his hair. It was a nerve-racking flight, and now it was showtime.

Julian stepped out behind him, straightened his trenchcoat, and looked down at his watch, "We're 10 minutes early." Dale didn't respond. He could feel the nervous jitter building up in his gut.

A red Ferrari pulled up on the road, leaving a big puff of sand-dust when it pushed on the breaks. Four men got out, three dressed in black blazers and one dressed in a red one. He whispered something to one of the blue-blazered men and then fixed his gaze on Julian, "Julian Lowe I presume? Lanny mentioned you." a smile rose on his face, revealing one gold tooth on the bottom row. He was a tall, brawny, middle-aged man with short, shaggy rusty-colored hair and chartreuse eyes.

"That's me," Julian responded stiffly, "And this is Dale Fletcher, he's the pilot."

The man's gaze turned to me, and I suddenly felt sick in the stomach. Don't throw up.

"Anderson sir," one of the blue-blazers talked, "He's awfully young. Both of them are. Are you sure... they're a good fit for us?"

Wayne Anderson glared back at him, "Are you questioning me? You think I'm some sort of idiot?" Dale could see the fear rising in the man's face, "N-no sir." he stammered out quickly in response. After a few moments of anticipation, Anderson started to laugh, "No of course you don't!" The man forced out a nervous laugh.

Then Anderson suddenly stopped laughing. So did the blue-blazer. He took out a handkerchief, and who knows if on purpose (probably not) he 'dropped' it and it swayed in the wind. The wide-eyed blue-blazer who was still recovering from the recent event ran after it, "I'll get it!" he called out. "Oh that you will." Anderson responded, drawing his attention back to Dale. But Dale couldn't keep his eyes off the flying handkerchief and the blue-blazer, who now caught it and was returning back to his original position when a wind of sand blew the handkerchief into his face. He cursed something under his breath and tried to pull the handkerchief away from his eyes - yet it was too late. He had already lost his balance and stepped onto an uneasy patch of sand that immediately gripped at his legs and started pulling him in.

Anderson sighed, "Quicksand is a tricky one." they could hear the man call for help, but everyone stood still. Dale was still fixated on the man, who was slowly sinking away into the sand... he'd never forgotten the sheer look of horror on his face.

"Bring out the money," Anderson said as though there wasn't a man screaming in the background, "Tomas and Kevin bring out the product."

Julian, who was stone-cold and pale nodded. He looked at Dale and signaled him to follow, together they entered the plane and bag by bag they carried out the money. They remained dead silent. Just like that man probably was.

*

The way back home was pretty quiet, it wasn't even the fact that they had bricks on bricks of cocaine in the back of the plane, it was the fact that 'The Master of the Butterfly Effect' was real.

"We'll be making big bucks now Pilot," Julian muttered quietly, "Now don't you do anything stupid around him, understand?" Dale made out a weak 'Yes' and they went quiet again.

***

"Are you sure they didn't pull him out? Maybe it was for show." I felt as though my blood just ran cold. Surely they couldn't just let a man die like that.

"For show?" Dale laughed, "Oh no, in our world nothing's for show."

***

It may have been surprising, but things were more or less smooth after that. For a while. Dale would make one trip to Anderson every 2 weeks, fly back to Nebraska where Julian's men would cut the cocaine to make more batches and seal it into bags. Then Dale would take the bagged-cocaine and fly it to different states and sell it for a slightly higher price than it was actually worth. Julian was right, cocaine made them loaded. Dale's pay grade was more than tripled, and he was a millionaire before even the age of nineteen.

In March of 1980, Dale kept his promise to Dixie and took her flying. They had already moved in together (Dixie really didn't want to live with Julian - "He's my brother and I love him, but jeez he's so tough." and Dale was more than happy to let her move in). Every morning Dale would wake up with her, his arms wrapped around her perfect, dainty body. He'd kiss her good morning, and she'd playfully push him away - "Dalee let me sleep!" he'd smile - she was so sweet in the morning. When Dixie would finally wake up and sheepishly stumble out of their bedroom in one of his t-shirts, Dale would've already prepared breakfast and made her favorite coffee. She'd let out a long, just-woke-up yawn and stretch her arms up to the ceiling. Then she'd smile and wrap her arms around Dale's neck and kiss him - "Good morning my love," his hands would naturally slide onto her back and pull her in. He'd breathe in her sweet rose perfume that was tainted by the Ivory-smell of his shirt - "I made your favorite breakfast darling." they'd sit on the balcony and enjoy breakfast together that turned into brunch, that sometimes turned into lunch - this was of course when he didn't have to fly.

March 4th was the day Dale decided to surprise her. In fact, he had two surprises in mind - apart from taking her on a plane ride, he also stopped by at the jeweler the other day...

"Morning darling," he gently shook her awake and before Dixie could oblige he whispered, "Let's go flying." Those three words were enough to get Dixie dressed and ready in less than twenty minutes.

*

"May I?" Dale offered Dixie his hand. The wind being propelled by the airplane in front of them was blowing her hair in all sorts of directions - the pink ribbon was useless at keeping it down. Dixie placed her delicate hand into his, "Oh yes you definitely may!" she beamed. Her eyes were wide with elation, she gripped his hand, "C'mon, let's go already!" she exclaimed and pulled him onto his own plane. He sat in the captain's seat, preparing for take-off while Dixie wandered around the cockpit, looking through the windows and examining the shelves that contained snacks and books that Dale hid from Julian. She ran her fingers on the fairy lights that hung above their heads - Dale had put them up there last night, he knew she'd like them. "It's perfect..." she breathed, "Where are you taking me?"

A mischievous grin rose on Dale's face, "Sunny-beach of California." Dixie squealed and did a little jump, her halter dress swung flirtatiously just about her knee. She hopped in the seat beside mine and exclaimed; "Ready for takeoff!"

*

The flight was the shortest two hours of his life. The whole way they laughed and joked and told stories - "Ian almost set the house on fire once - no, no laugh I know it's funny." The most difficult part was not getting distracted by Dixie. He constantly had to remind himself that he'll have all the time in the world to watch her when they landed. Dale knew she was the one, she had to be the one he'll marry, the one he'd raise children with. He wanted to grow old together - he could imagine them laughing the same way as they laughed now in sixty years, in seventy, hell, when they were dead!

When they landed it was only 10 am. That day was the best day in Dale's life, the day he'd remember when things got hard. He took her for brunch first - to a lovely restaurant located beside the beach. They ate and they laughed - "Have you tried the scones? Try the scones Dale!" Then he took her on a walk. They walked on the paved roads through the town and talked about anything that came to mind - "I've always wanted a cat, my brothers are allergic so I never got a cat." she told him. He slid his arms around her waist and promised to buy her a cat - un chat, as Dixie taught him. Dixie had lived in France last year where she worked as a model. The only thing she liked about it though was the French language - "It's beautiful, tres beau!" but for the modeling part... well, she said it was 'too restrictive' - "How am I supposed to stay away from macarons in Paris?" and she just didn't fit in - "Those girls wanted fame and they would kill for it! All I wanted was to live, to fly!" Dale would smile and kiss her, and tell her that she's beautiful and that he could fly her all she wanted, and buy her all the cats and macarons - "The sky's our limit darling."

When the sun was slowly starting to set, Dale led Dixie to the beach. It was practically empty - with the exception of a few seagulls. Large rocks that were topped with moss-lined the perimeter of the beach, hand-in-hand they walked down the stone steps that led down to the cool, platinum sand. Dixie kicked off her heels and ran towards the shoreline, dipping her feet into the still-warm California Ocean, "Come Dale!" she yelled out, her bleached locks looked golden in the setting sun. Dale kicked off his shoes too and ran towards her, he hugged her and lifted her off the ground. She giggled playfully when he spun her; "Put me down Dale!" he gently set her down on the shore again and kissed the top of her head. Dixie drew him into a tight hug and rested her head on his chest, "Tell me we'll do this again."

Dale stroked her hair, "Of course we will -" this was the time, "-Dixie," he took her hands and smiled, "Every time I see you I can think of a thousand things I love about you," he reached for the small box in the pocket of his shirt, "Will you-"

"Yes! Yes! Let's get married!" she broke him off and jumped into his arms. Like an ocean wave, Dale felt a sense of relief go over him - they were going to spend the rest of their lives together... or at least they should've.