Forgive & Forget (Love in the Fleet) (5 page)

Operations Specialist Second-Class Randy Davis sat at his computer terminal in the Combat Direction Center—CDC, or simply “Combat”—on the O-3 level of the USS
Blanchard
, contemplating another boring day at his job. When the ship was in port, the OS’s job pretty much consisted of mustering in the morning, tidying up their personal area, cleaning off a couple of radar screens, and then playing online solitaire for the rest of the day. The fun stuff—operating the radar systems and identifying friend or foe was only done underway. Not a lot of bogeys in port, but he knew that would change once they arrived in the Middle East.

While the
Blanchard
had been in overhaul for almost a year, it had sucked a big, wet one. Randy thought he’d spend the whole time attending schools, completing refresher courses, and studying for his next rating exam. Instead, he and most of the OS Division had been assigned to paint teams and fire watches, which was bullshit for a second-class petty officer. The little bit of training he got was a couple of simulation exercises done in classrooms on shore.

Randy had planned to use the year they were in dry dock to go to school. He and his wife had been talking about starting a family and he had truly wanted to do whatever it took to improve their circumstances. Getting some college in seemed like a good start. He really had wanted to do something important with his life. Leave his mark.

But then the problems had started and now she was gone. And gone were his dreams. Nothing mattered anymore. So fuck those goals and dreams. They were all crap now. Although he still liked the idea of leaving his mark. Oh, yeah. He was taking a crash course in becoming famous now. The Navy wouldn’t be forgetting OS2 Randy Davis for a long, long time. He’d make the fucking headlines. He could just see it in print. Well, he wouldn’t actually see it in print. He’d be dead. But it would be there for every other one of these assholes to see. Actually, he didn’t really like what they would see in print, because they’d use his real name.

Ralph.

The memories of being called Ralphie socked him in the stomach and fire spread through his veins as he wiped down radar screens. Maybe it had been funny in elementary school, but many of those kids had teased him all the way through high school—about that and other things. Wouldn’t he just love to get his mitts on a couple of those pricks today with the power he now held in his hands.

Thank God the jerk-offs he worked with here in Combat didn’t know his real name because he’d never hear the end of it. They already gave him enough crap about everything else.

“Randy” worked just fine and had gotten him through the last four years. Until now. Because now he wasn’t even Randy anymore. He liked that his sadiqs, his new pals in the Middle East, called him Rashid.

That was a man’s name.

And that’s how he would sign everything he left behind for the assholes in the U.S. Navy to read, which he knew they would do. 

Right after they finished picking up the pieces.

Chapter 5

“Cowboy? You had that fucking hat on, didn’t you?” Sky laughed so hard he choked on the words. “That why you don’t talk much, pardner? Because you’re too busy doing other things?” He waggled his eyebrows at Philip, who pretended to blow on a pistol and tuck it back into a holster.

Hallie had invited Philip for dinner on Tuesday, but said she’d be studying the rest of the week, so he was free to meet Sky for a brew.

Bill Gates and the Skylark had met their first day of Plebe Summer at the Naval Academy and had been best buddies ever since, even though they were as different as night and day. Sky was a wild-ass party boy and Philip was, well, Philip. He had always been there to bring Sky back down to earth with his common sense and advice. Sky worked overtime to bring Philip out of his shell, and introduce him to fine—and not so fine—young ladies.

Philip was thrilled when Sky received orders to a helicopter maritime strike squadron across the river at NAS Jacksonville, but even more pleased to learn that Sky’s squadron would be deploying with him in July. The two planned to spend their free time during those long days and nights at sea on the
Blanchard
playing cards, watching movies, and working out. And they looked forward to raising some hell together in the liberty ports. Rather, Sky would raise hell and Philip would drag Sky’s sorry ass back to the ship before curfew.

“So you had her all day in a bikini on the boat and then?”

“And we sailed. And swam. And…”

“And?”

“We did a little kissing.” Philip’s lips curved into a self-satisfied smile.

Sky pushed his beer aside and set his forearms on the table, eyes eager. “And?”

“A little sunscreen application.” He drew out the words for Sky’s benefit.

Sky slapped the table and flashed his signature grin, complete with a space between his two front teeth. He leaned back and slid his fingers through his blond crew cut. “Oh, yeah, now we’re getting to the good stuff. Then what?”

“That’s it.”

Sky jerked back in his seat. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, Sky, I’m not an asshole around women like you are. That’s it.”

“Ah, Lieutenant Integrity speaks. Okay, but let’s say her bikini top had, like, fallen off. Would we be talking oranges or cantaloupes or—?”

“You are such a tool.” Philip shook his head in disbelief. “Sorry, but Hallie’s body is none of your business.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’re gonna make it
your
business. Okay, forget the fruit, Cowboy, but come on, give me some details. This is the Skylark, king of the skies and the bedroom. Your alpha male wingman, your head coach. I have to know what the playing field’s like if I’m gonna give you any pointers.”

Philip smiled like the cat that just ate the canary. “I’m doing fine on my own these days, thank you very much, pardner.”

“Come on. Use the scale. Give me a number. I can’t get a visual on this girl unless I have a number. Just one digit and I won’t ask another question. One to ten.”

“Thirty-five.”

Sky howled. “Damn, I wish you could see yourself sitting there with a shit-eating grin on your face. You got it bad, Billy Boy—or is that ‘Billie the Kid’ now? When can I meet her—or are you afraid you’ll be like yesterday’s newspaper once she sees the Skylark in a flight suit?”

“In your dreams, asshole.”

“Got a picture?”

“Nope, but trust me, she’s gorgeous. With an incredible body to match, and she’s…” He drifted off with a dreamy look on his face. “…awesome.” Sky rolled his eyes as Philip waxed and waned about Hallie’s virtues. He told Sky about her dreams of being a newscaster and how she handled the sailboat and how smart she was.

“I had dinner at her cousin’s last night. And it was pretty funny, because we were kissing on the couch while they did the dishes. And Jeopardy was on, and Hallie kept pulling away to answer the questions. And she got them all right.”

Sky whooped and slapped his thigh. “A nympho-brainiac!”

“Shut up, Sky.” But Philip laughed right along with him.

“Okay, okay.” Sky had to catch his breath. “But why were you watching television and playing kissy face at the cousins’ when you could have been upstairs doing the horizontal mambo? That’s so seventh grade.”

“You were smooching on the couch in seventh grade?”

“I was a gifted student, buddy. In all advanced classes when it came to lovin’.”

Philip chuckled in spite of himself. “You are so full of shit. Look, I’m not stupid. I invited her up, but she said she had too much work to do.”

“Excuses, excuses. So, Billy Boy, you think you’ve found the mythical perfect woman?”

Philip sobered a bit. “Pretty much, even though there’s something I can’t place. She’s got an edge to her.” He focused on picking at the label on his beer bottle. “She goes somewhere in her head sometimes. She gets this haunted look in her eyes, like she’s got some baggage. Some secrets.”

“Maybe she’s doing a clandestine study of the mating rituals of nerd lieutenants. Was she wearing a wire?” Sky failed to keep a straight face.

“No, seriously. She’s got a few issues. Her dad was never a part of her life and she lost her mom a couple of years ago. And she was uber-sensitive about me having a nickname. She even mentioned something about being bullied in high school. I never thought about pretty girls getting bullied. She didn’t tell me the nicknames guys called her but it’s not hard to figure out. Probably ‘McBabe’ or something.”

Sky spewed his beer across the table. “McBabe!” He grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I sure hope you get Happy Meals!”

“Shut up, Sky.” Philip shook his head again and pulled out his wallet to pay their tab. “Look I gotta run. Hallie said she’d call if she got her work done early.”

“Oh, man. Look at you. You are so whipped. But it’s nice to see you with that big old grin on your face. I’d like to meet her if we can get together before we ship out.” He raised his hand in a stop sign. “And I promise to behave. But remember, once we leave on cruise, I’m your number one date in all liberty ports.”

Philip fist-bumped Sky, then socked him lightly on the shoulder. “Until something better comes along, right?”

“Damn straight.”

Philip climbed into his SUV. “Keep your powder dry, buddy.”

Sky waved as he jumped into his truck. “Giddy-up, Cowboy!”

If Hallie McCabe had balls, Sarah “Trixie” Williams had them in spades. In addition, rumor had it she’d slept with half the Atlantic Fleet—the male half. Naked, she was a work of art. Literally. You’d think a nineteen-year-old girl, who was barely five-feet tall and weighed maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet, wouldn’t have the square footage or life history to be the proud owner of six tattoos, but she was. When Trixie walked through berthing in a bra and a thong, it was like an advertisement for Strut Your Stuff, Ink.

There was the snake draped around her neck, with its forked tongue pointing the way down into her cleavage, the twisted vine of red roses and barbed wire around her navel, and the words “Unplumbed Depths” in fancy script above her soon-to-be plumber’s crack. But everybody’s favorite was “Your Name” tattooed on her left butt cheek, visible to everyone present when she was only wearing a thong.

Trixie had collected plenty of free drinks in bars after challenging strangers to bet that she remembered them so well “I even had your name tattooed on my ass.” Not that she’d ever bared it on the ship, except in berthing, but the entire crew was privy to the stories of her baring it in bars. The sailors always baited her by saying, “Trixie, how well do you know me?”

Trixie was a Navy fireman apprentice from the streets of Lowell, Massachusetts. She’d been in a gang since the age of fourteen and had joined the Navy when a recruiter came to her high school. “He was hot, so I told him I’d join up.”

Since Hallie pulled the duty on Thursday that week, she stayed on board for the night. She and Gina happened to be in berthing when Trixie debriefed about her day. “You should see Bill Gates this week. He’s so much in love he’s, like, walking into bulkheads and shit. The man is definitely getting some. Or maybe he’s just taking happy pills because I can’t imagine any chick wanting to do it with him. What a geek.”

Gina caught the look on Hallie’s face—pretending not to listen, but obviously taking in every word—and she put two and two together. Hallie and this Bill Gates were both so much in love they were walking into bulkheads and shit. So were they in love with each other?

She shot Hallie a look across the space and Hallie’s knee-jerk reaction confirmed that Hallie was “the chick.” She caught her eye and mouthed out the words “Bill Gates?” Hallie blushed crimson. Fortunately, Trixie didn’t notice.

“Oh, Hallie. He’s adorable!” Gina cried as best she could, considering they were whispering in the female head just outside Public Affairs Friday morning.

Hallie had conceded to letting Gina go down in the hole on the pretext of seeing where Trixie worked. Trixie was only too happy to give Gina a tour of the engineering spaces and an introduction to her geeky boss, Bill Gates.

“She took me into his office and you were right. He did have his BCGs on, but I could tell he was gorgeous behind them. And God, what a build. So he stands up, takes his hard hat off, and shakes my hand. How nice was that? I mean, I’m just a peon second-class.”

Gina planted her feet and smiled, just getting started with her report. “So he shook my hand and said, ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Marini. Welcome to Shit Central.’ You know how guys look at you when they meet you? Basically look you up and down and check you out? They don’t know that we know it’s all in their eyes, even when their eyes aren’t moving. But he didn’t do that. He was very polite and decent. You’re right. He’s a gentleman.”

Hallie nodded approvingly as Gina explained how Philip said Trixie could show her around, everywhere but the nuke spaces.

“So Trixie says, ‘Well, I’m not allowed in those spaces anyway. Gee, I wonder why the Navy doesn’t want me around a fucking nuclear reactor.’ And he said, ‘Language, Williams,’ like you just knew he tells her that all the time. And she said, ‘Oh, sorry, sir. I forgot there was a fucking lady present.’ So he sat down and pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then the back of his neck, and said, ‘See what I endure all day long?’ Oh, Hallie, he was so hot when he took his glasses off. I totally know what you’re talking about now. I still say you need to tell him the truth before you get yourself in too deep.”

Gina stopped, out of breath.

“Thanks for the advice,” Hallie said, “but I’m still trying to figure out what to do. The UCMJ says he can’t get in trouble as long as he doesn’t know I’m enlisted, so at least he’s covered while I figure it out. I mean, there’s no way I’m going to try to fake it through the cruise. But we could have a month or so of bliss before we leave. Rebecca and her husband have been on me all week to tell him, too. They said they’re not going to cover for me. It’s just that every time I get ready to tell him, I picture him walking away and he is, like, the greatest guy I’ve ever met in my life.”

“How have you avoided him so far on the ship?”

“Well, first of all I’m hiding in plain sight. He’s not expecting me to be here, especially in the same uniform everyone else is wearing, and he’s not used to seeing me with my hair up. I’m always on the lookout when I’m in the passageways. And since snipes wear plain blue coveralls on board, he’d be easy to notice. Plus, they stay down in the hole and hardly ever travel higher than the mess decks. And I know his hours. He leaves really early in the morning and uses the Officers’ brow to get on the ship.”

“Oh, man, this is like a spy movie or something.”

“And I make sure I get to the ship after him and sneak on board right before muster. He usually works late, so I leave as soon as liberty is called. Even then, I don’t mess around going down the brow or hanging around the pier. I just get off the ship and book it for my car.”

“What about on the other end? What if he changes his routine? I doubt you’d want him catching you in uniform in The Towers parking lot. What are you going to do? Start changing in a McDonald’s bathroom on the way home?”

“Good idea.”

“Hallie, no freaking way. You gotta tell him. He’s too nice.”

“I know. I know.”

“What are you doing about duty nights?” Gina asked.

“I thought it was fortunate we’re on the same duty schedule. But even that’s a problem, because he asked me to dine with him in the wardroom when he had duty last night.”

“So what did you tell him?”