“What was that all about, dude?” Digit asks. “You piss the big guy off?”
“Come on now. You know me, innocent as the day I was born,” I quip.
The guys burst out laughing.
“Yeah, and I’m a choir boy,” Bear rejoins.
“Yeah? I did not know that about you,” I joke back.
“Seriously though, Lucky, what did the commander want? Nothing I need to know about?” Knight asks.
Sighing, I grimace before replying, “No, nothing you need to know about. I’m not in trouble.” Rubbing my neck in frustration, I continue, “The base commander’s requested that I assist some author with research for a book they’re writing. No wiggle room for saying thanks, but no thanks.”
He nods. “So who’s this mysterious author then?”
“No idea. He didn’t give me a name, just a date, time, and address. I do have my suspicions though. I’ll just have to wait a couple days to see if I’m correct.”
“Who’d you think it is?” Gator asks.
“Remember the woman you saw me talking to that day at the courthouse that you guys ragged on me for?” The guys nod. “I’m guessing it’s her. I mean, what are the chances that two different people ask for the same thing less than a week apart?”
“Highly unlikely,” Dutch pipes up.
“Kinda pissed me off, you know? Not happy I said no, she had to go behind my back, all the way to the top no less.”
The more I think about it, the more it angers me. I hate when people walk over others for their own gain, regardless of who gets hurt in the process. And the worst of it is, as much as I want to give her a piece of my mind for being so underhanded, I can’t risk it getting back to the base commander. He’ll have my head in a heartbeat.
“That’s some shitty luck, bud. Definitely don’t want to piss the big man off,” Scooter joins in.
“Anyway, let’s change the topic. The more I think about it, the more I want to strangle her.”
At that, we turn our attention back to the brainstorming session we were busy with before I got summoned. Shoving the annoying woman and the situation to the back of my mind, I focus on what Knight’s saying.
We’ve been keeping an eye on the civil war currently raging in Ethiopia and gathering intel along the way. There’s been rumors swirling that we could potentially be called in, and we want to be as prepared as possible in the event it happens.
The rest of the day flies by, as does the next day. We’ve been so busy I’d forgotten about my meeting with the ‘mysterious author’, as she’s been dubbed by the others – I’m pretty sure I know who it is, until Knight reminds me on our way to our vehicles at the end of the day.
“I guess it sucks to be you, huh?” Dutch says when I groan at the reminder.
“Fuck you, asshole,” I reply. He just laughs. “The least they could have done was organize this thing for a weekday. Now I have to give up my Saturday to talk about shit I don’t want to talk about with someone I don’t want to be talking to.”
Knight slaps me on the shoulder. “You’ve got this. Besides, it’ll make you look good with the big man.”
“Yeah, doesn’t make me feel any better, but thanks all the same,” I reply before unlocking my classic 1969 Shelby Ford Mustang I’ve lovingly restored.
Starting her up, I drop the top while listening to the sweet sounds coming from under the hood. I decide to take a drive with the tunes cranked loud to work off my irritation. There’s nothing better for it. With a quick wave, I give her gas and exit the parking lot.
By the time I finally turn for home, I’m in a better frame of mind and starving. Not in the mood for eating at home alone, I make my way to my favorite taco truck down on the beachfront.
The following morning finds me standing outside the address Commander Hurt gave me. It’s a really nice-looking condo building literally across the road from the beach. Apparently, this mystery person isn’t hurting for money. Not sure how I feel about this fact on top of my already sour opinion, I push through the front door and go over to the reception counter.
“Good day, sir. How may I assist you?” a security officer asks.
“Hi, I have an appointment at three-oh-one for oh-nine hundr– sorry, nine.”
“No need to apologize.” The man smiles. Obviously catching the slip, he asks, “Active or retired?”
“Active.” Going with a gut feeling, I continue, “How long you been out?”
