Seawolf End Game (7 page)

Gardener wasn’t satisfied with a simple handshake and gave Brodie a hug, keeping his arm around Brodie’s neck as Kristen asked, “I wasn’t aware we sent officers to the Perisher Course, Captain?”

Gardener answered, pointing a finger in Brodie’s face, “You’re looking at him, Lassie. The one and only!”

Brodie was clearly enjoying seeing his friend again but shrugged off the attention. “Whatcha been up to these days?”

Kristen, recognizing the old friends probably wanted to catch up, extricated herself from the conversation. She joined her fellow officers, listening to their usual banter. But she couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between her captain, XO and their British friend.

“Still not married yet, Sean?” Alec asked.

“Nope,” came the curt reply from Brodie.

“I’d have thought by now you and that little Italian minx you were seeing last year would’ve settled down and started building that house,” Alec offered.

Kristen felt her face flush slightly as she tried to focus her attention on a story Terry was telling everyone.

“No such luck,” Brodie replied.

“Too bad,” Gardener replied. “That’s an awful pretty spot you picked out, Sean ol’ boy.” The Brit took a sip of his drink and then asked, “What’s the name of that damn mountain next to your property?” he asked innocently and then added, “You know, we went fishing up there last year.”

“Mount Olympus,” Brodie answered.

“You couldn’t have picked a nicer view, Sean,” Graves agreed. “The Pacific on one side and the mountains on the other…”

Kristen was no longer listening. In fact, she wasn’t certain she was capable of any conscious action at the moment. Images of the motorcycle ride with Brodie back in Bremerton came to mind, and the realization that he’d taken her to a spot he’d picked out for some future home was a startling revelation. He’d made no mention of owning land there with plans to ever build a home. He could have taken her anywhere, yet he’d taken her there… 

As Terry continued his story and the others laughed, she stood in silence, trying to make sense of it all. There was nothing between them. There never would be, and to contemplate the reverse was illogical and foolish. Two things she’d never been.

“You okay, Kristen?” Terry asked, jolting her out of her deep thoughts.

She hadn’t realized it, but she’d been standing motionless for several minutes and the doors to the banquet hall had opened. She looked at Terry dumbly for a few seconds, and then nodded. “I’m fine,” she lied.

He didn’t believe her, but nodded his head anyway. “All right, well…” he began, watching her carefully. “We can go in now.”

Kristen walked in, still struggling with what she’d just learned and with thoughts and feelings she didn’t want to consider. Terry led her to a pair of tables reserved for the junior officers from the
Seawolf,
with Graves and Ski seated not far away at a table with mid-ranking officers.

Despite herself, Kristen found her eyes wandering over the massive crowd, searching for Brodie. She expected to see him with Gardener, but the British captain was nowhere in sight, and the rest of his officers were at a table next to her own. She finally spotted Brodie near the end of the long line of officers entering the hall flanked by two admirals. Gardener was still with him, and the four of them were conversing intently as they entered.

There weren’t many mere commanders who had admirals actively seeking them out, but Brodie and Gardener were clearly two of the few, and she watched from across the hall as they stopped inside the doorway and continued their conversation as the rest of the guests entered. Kristen assumed the admirals were questioning them about what had happened off the coast of North Korea. Rumors about the
Seawolf’s
actions had reached the shore-based sailors despite their mission’s top secret nature.

She’d just managed to regain her composure and was about to take her seat when she heard a familiar voice behind her, “Krissie!”

Kristen turned and saw her dearest friend in the world rushing up to her from a few tables away. Kristen was caught completely off guard but held out her arms automatically. “Trish!” Kristen said with joy as they embraced, ignoring the crowd around them.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Patricia Young was a hair shorter than Kristen, had a wild side she never tried to reign in, and had—during her Naval Academy days—a wicked backstroke. Patricia and Kristen had met during their Plebe year, were both on the varsity swim team all four years, and had roomed together. But despite their mutual love of swimming and choice of college hinting they were of similar personalities, there’d seldom been more incompatible friends than Kristen and Patricia.

Whereas Kristen was fastidious in her cleanliness and neatness, Patricia was a self-proclaimed slob. Kristen had entered the Academy with the unstated goal of graduating at the top of her class, whereas Patricia had broken every rule in the book and had almost been expelled for too many demerits. Kristen had wanted nothing more than to be in a submarine diving to the deepest depths, and Patricia had wanted to fly the fastest and highest soaring jet the Navy had. Kristen had been the consummate workaholic staying up late virtually every night in her dorm room studying, while Patricia had stayed up late planning pranks, sneaking off campus to visit the local bars, and having a good time. Although their personalities seemed to clash, inexplicably, they’d become the closest of friends.

Patricia had accepted Kristen’s relentless drive for excellence and had always gone out of her way to make certain Kristen felt welcome at any of the parties Patricia was always attending or organizing. Then, when Kristen started the relentless pursuit of her goal to serve on a submarine and the rest of her—so called—friends deserted her, Patricia had kept in touch and maintained their friendship even as their careers took them down two different paths.

Kristen loved Patricia for everything Kristen felt she’d never been strong enough to be. While Kristen had spent countless hours with her nose in a book, Patricia and the rest of the “Black Ns”—as the Naval Academy appropriately nicknamed a select group of the truly rebellious midshipmen who routinely maxed out their demerits—had sneaked out of the dorms to pull a prank or head into Annapolis for a party. Each time Patricia had invited Kristen to go on one of her adventures and Kristen had refused, there’d been a secret, rebellious voice within, prodding her to go. But Kristen had squelched the radical within her, knowing as a woman, she could never reach her goal if she let the secret rebel within herself out. So while Patricia had lived for every moment, Kristen had forsaken everything else for her goal.

“I was assigned to the
Nimitz
last month,” Patricia replied proudly as she thrust her ample bosom out to show off her golden aviator wings. “Check it out,” Patricia said proudly. “And what are you doing here?” she asked, hardly pausing to catch a breath as she slipped her arm through Kristen’s and led her back to Patricia’s table. “I heard you finally got on board one of those disgusting little sewage pipes.” Patricia rearranged a few place cards and repositioned Kristen next to her. Then, as usual, the fiery redhead immediately started talking, pummeling Kristen with a barrage of questions about life on board a submarine. “We heard rumors your boat was involved in an incident off the coast of North Korea,” Patricia whispered.

“I can’t really talk about where we’ve been,” Kristen responded with a soft whisper.

But the fact Kristen couldn’t talk about where they’d been or what she’d done wasn’t a problem, since Patricia’s favorite topic was herself. It was just another of the differences between them that worked to make them fit well together. Whereas Kristen was quiet and reserved, Patricia was outgoing and talked constantly. Her call sign, Kristen soon learned, was quite appropriate.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us, Gabby?” one of Patricia’s squadron mates asked using Patricia’s call sign and offering Kristen an appreciative smile.

“Forget it, Snapper,” Patricia replied. “I’d sooner introduce her to Jack the Ripper,” she added like a big sister protecting Kristen from a pack of college frat boys. Patricia then leaned close to Kristen and—always more than willing to give unwanted dating advice—explained, “You can forget pilots honey, they’re all the same. Big clocks but little cocks.”

“Trish!” Kristen nearly choked on a mouthful of water. Then, when Patricia motioned toward the assembled pilots around the table, Kristen saw that they were all wearing huge wristwatches, and she started laughing again.

“I told you,” Trish giggled as she drank her wine, never one to worry about drinking too much.

Kristen was thankful more than she could have expressed for the fortuitous interruption. Patricia was able to take her attention completely away from her recent revelation about Brodie. They caught up throughout the meal, with Patricia hoarding Kristen all to herself despite several attempts by other pilots to get Kristen’s attention.

Following the dessert course, a small quartet started to play music in one corner of a large dance floor. The pilots at her table, realizing there would be no action with Kristen as long as Trish was around, moved off, leaving the two old friends to catch up. And once alone, Trish did her best to pry out of Kristen everything she’d gone through since arriving on the
Seawolf.
Kristen had to be necessarily vague, but the information Patricia was truly interested in had nothing to do with military secrets. “So, tell me the truth, sweetie,” Patricia asked conspiratorially. “What’s it like being the only woman on a submarine with a bunch of horny-ass men?”

“It’s not like that,” Kristen replied with a shake of her head as she sipped her water. “They’re all very professional.”

“Sure,” Patricia rolled her eyes skeptically. “You just keep telling yourself that dear while they’re all thinking about humping your brains out.”

“Trish!” Kristen chided her friend, giggling at the same time. “Keep it down.” Kristen glanced back to her original table where most of her fellow
Seawolf
officers were still seated and hoped none could overhear her conversation.

Patricia leaned forward and studied the men at the table, giving each an appraising eye. “Is that them?”

“Most of them,” she admitted happily, liking pretty much everyone on the boat, even Ski whose obnoxious attitude had defrosted some since Korea.

Patricia screwed up her nose distastefully. “They look like a bunch of stiffs,” she said bluntly and leaned back in her seat, striking a dismissive pose. “Probably great with a slide rule but they’d have no idea where to stick it.”

“Trish!” She elbowed her friend easily. “They’re my friends.” Kristen was trying not to laugh out loud and hurting her side in the effort to stop.

“Well, the guy on the far right isn’t too bad,” Patricia said referring to Terry.

Kristen leaned closer and confided to her, “You would like him. You two have a lot in common.”

“You mean he’s a slut?” Patricia asked, her eyes now sparkling.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” Kristen chuckled and saw Jason Graves standing with two other commanders and motioned toward him. “Over there is our XO.”

Patricia looked at the three men about thirty feet away. “Which one?” she asked. “The fat one or the one with the sausage for a nose?”

Kristen felt like she might split her side open as she continued giggling with her friend. “No,” she corrected, “the tall one in the middle.”

Patricia’s eyes homed in on Jason Graves like a sidewinder missile locked onto an afterburner as a mischievous smile crossed her face. “Oh, yes. That’s more like it,” she offered approvingly. “Now we’re getting warmer.”

“He’s married Trish and has three kids.”

Patricia shrugged her shoulder in disappointment. “A man like that oughta learn to share all that lovin’.”  Patricia, now on the prowl, sat up like a prairie dog scouting the area. Someone caught Patricia’s eye, and she nudged Kristen and motioned with a slight nod of her head. “Tally-ho,” she offered hungrily, licking her lips slightly. “Inbound smoking hottie, three o’clock.”

Kristen shook her head, trembling with laughter as she turned and looked to where Patricia was staring and saw Brodie approaching the table where the rest of the
Seawolf
officers were seated. Kristen stopped laughing almost immediately. Seeing and visiting with Patricia had briefly allowed Kristen to think of something else. But upon seeing Brodie again, all of the thoughts and unwanted feelings once more thrust themselves to the forefront of her thoughts. She turned her head back to Patricia.

“Who’s that?” Patricia asked. “And can I please give him a haircut?”

Kristen forced an innocent smile on her face. “He’s my captain.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow, and her face registered her pleasant surprise. “Oh,” she said teasingly, “so that’s what you’ve been up to.” Patricia gave Kristen a gentle nudge in the ribs and whispered in her ear, “You little scamp. I didn’t know submariners came in that packaging.” Patricia stared across the room without any hint of modesty. “It kind of gives a whole new twist to the meaning of ‘going down’ if you know what I mean.”

Kristen shook her head a little more seriously now. “It’s nothing like that, really. He’s really good, probably the best in the Navy.”

“I bet,” Patricia giggled as her eyes sparkled with unhidden lust. “The question is do you have any proof?”

Kristen lowered her voice as she chastised her friend, “That isn’t what I meant, and stop staring, he might look over here.”

“That’s the whole idea, sweetie,” Patricia explained as if giving a class. “You have to bait the hook if you want to reel in the big one.” Patricia’s eyes smoldered as she followed Brodie across the room. “Oh, yeah,” Patricia offered hungrily, “he’s good in bed.”

“What?!” Kristen felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Afraid Brodie might walk over, Kristen tried to get Patricia to stop staring. “How can you possibly know something like that?”

Patricia looked back at Kristen with a capricious smile. “I have a sense about these things,” she replied as if there was no doubt about what she was saying. “Look at the way he moves,” she added pointedly. “Trust me, he’ll curl your toes for sure.”