by Jack Ambraw
“I’m headed to T’s Tavern,” Mo said. He looked at Hack. “Wanna tag along?”
“No, I’m going to Leeandra’s.” Hack glanced toward the corner. “Gotta find a ride.” He turned to Decker and Vega. “What about you two?”
Vega slipped her arms around Decker’s waist and looked up at him. “We have dinner plans.”
“I bet you do,” Mo said, with a smirk as he turned on his heel to head toward his favorite dive.
Decker laughed. “Unfortunately for me, it’s not like that,” he called out, but Mo waved his hand in dismissal and just kept on walking. Decker turned back to Hack. “Before we say magandang gabi, let me introduce you to the best trike guy in the islands, and he’s right here at your service.”
At the corner of Gordon and Magsaysay, a Filipino wearing a red Chicago Bulls t-shirt and faded jeans leaned against the seat of his tricycle, a red Honda four-stroke 125cc motorcycle with a metal-framed, plastic-covered sidecar, One of the most popular, cheap, and prolific modes of public transportation in the islands, trikes swarmed the streets by the hundreds .An old navy baseball cap sat on the man’s thick crown of brown hair and he lit up with a wide smile when he saw the group walking toward him.
“Hack, I’d like to introduce you to my number one pare, Rusty Ramiro.”
Rusty shook hands with Hack. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hack. Decker is a good man. He helped my family. A friend of his, is a friend of mine.” He turned to Decker. “Emil can see everything now. We feel so fortunate.”
Decker smiled and put his arm around Rusty’s shoulders. “We’ll talk about that later. Hack, if you ever need a trike, Rusty’s your guy. I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve been stationed here.”
“I need to get to 501 Jones Street,” said Hack.
Rusty cocked his head towards his trike and as Hack folded himself into the sidecar, he kick-started the engine and put the bike in gear, sending a cloud of exhaust fumes billowing from the tail pipe. Decker watched the trike disappear down the street among the dozens of other motorcycles. Vega tugged at his arm, and looked up at him. He gave her a squeeze and the best smile he could muster, trying to put Kippen and the subject of black market shenanigans out of his mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
2054, Friday, December 27
Hack gripped his seat with one hand and clamped the other over his mouth to avoid breathing the noxious brew of dust, humidity, and exhaust fume as Rusty zoomed through the side streets of Olongapo weaving in and out of traffic clogged with trikes tailgating each other. They finally came to a stop near the corner of Jones and 12th streets, where Hack saw Lee standing inside the courtyard of her apartment complex talking to her landlord, an elderly Filipina in a flowered nightgown. Hack climbed out with a grunt of thanks and flipped Rusty twenty-five sentimos.
“I’m happy to drive you anywhere, Mr. Hack.”
“I’m just glad I arrived alive,” Hack mumbled as Rusty roared off.
Hack and Leeandra Mansfield had first met at the bookstore on base when he stopped in because of the air conditioning. The bookstore was halfway between the ship and Main Gate, a perfect place for a pit stop on the way to town. Lee was there to buy a magazine, and they crossed paths at the checkout counter. They’d had lunch a few times, then dinner and drinks and dancing one night at the Sampaguita Club on base. Hack could’ve done without the dancing, embarrassed mostly at his clumsiness, but the evening couldn’t have gone better. They’d been dating ever since.
Hack unlocked the courtyard gate and walked towards the two women. Lee had on baggy green gym shorts, a white t-shirt, flip-flops, and a bag slung over her left shoulder. The thick brown hair he loved to run his hands through fell just below her neck, and he imagined tracing his fingers down toward her collarbone and beyond. Unwilling to wait, Hack walked up and put his arm around Lee’s waist. She cut short her conversation with the old woman, and turned to greet him with a kiss.
“Welcome home, sailor. Christmas wasn’t the same without you.” She took a step back to get a good look at him. Hey, what’s wrong? You look sea sick?”
“I’m fine. I think the exhaust fumes must’ve gotten to me.” He slid the bag off her shoulder. “Did you just get home from work?”
“Sort of,” she said. “I worked late and then went to the gym.” She patted her flat stomach. “I have to work hard to keep it this way.”
“Mmmm,” Hack said and put his hand over hers.
Lee giggled and then made a pouty face. “Hey, I saw you walking with Decker on base. You were across the gym parking lot from me. I tried to yell.”
“Were you spying on us?”
“Of course I was.” She rested her hands on his chest. “I always want to know what you’re up to. Especially when you’re with Decker.”
“He’s not a bad guy.”
“He’s a jackass.” She smacked him lightly.
He bent and kissed her below her right ear. “Maybe so, but underneath the jackass exterior, I think he means well.”
Lee ran her fingertips down Hack’s chest. “Well, just be careful. He just seems like trouble.” She looked up, her mouth set in a straight line, her expression serious. “I heard about Kippen.”
“Yeah…”
“Everyone was talking about it at the supply depot. What a freak accident. I met him a few times when he’d come over to check on parts. He used to call us a lot, too, about high-priority stuff. He seemed like a nice guy.”
“He was nice,” Hack said. “Everyone liked him.”
“He must have been clumsy to fall off the ship like that.”
“I don’t know about clumsy. It might have been suicide or—”
“Suicide?” Lee interrupted.
“His girlfriend broke up with him last weekend. He was apparently upset.”
“You said ‘or’… or what?”
“Or he had help going overboard. Kippen mentioned missing parts to Decker, and Vega thinks it might be part of a black market operation.”
“She thinks someone pushed him off the ship because of that?”
Hack shrugged. “I have no idea. I think it’s just talk.”
Lee frowned and leaned into him, gazing up into his face with inviting blue eyes. “Oh well, let’s forget about that.I hope you can stay tonight.”
Hack didn’t reply but unloosened her arms, picked up her bag, and walked with her up the stairs to her doorway. As soon as she put the key in the door the power went out. A regular occurrence in Olongapo once the clubs cranked up for the evening and drained what little electricity there was coming through the lines. Tonight, it would be no air conditioning, and no television.
Lee unlocked the door and tried the lights out of habit. No luck. “Angie should be home,” she whispered to Hack. “Angie, honey, nandito ka ba?”
“Oo, nandito ako sa kuwarto,” came a soft voice through the darkness.
Angie came out of her bedroom holding a candle, and wearing jeans and a deep blue T-shirt with the word “Navy” printed in white across the front.
Lee took a sack out of her bag and handed it to the maid. “Here, I brought you something.” Angie lit another candle on an end table and walked into the kitchen,
“I try to help her out with meals,” Lee whispered to Hack in the darkness. “She buys her food at the local market, but I know she enjoys American food, so sometimes I bring her food from the supply depot cafeteria.”
Lee took the candle from the table and led Hack to the bedroom. “Let’s let her eat. She’s shy.”
Lee set the candle on the dresser while Hack fell back on the bed. She lay on the bed and cuddled up next to him “What do you want to do? We could go out, but the bars are always crowded. We could stay here, if you don’t mind the heat.”
“Let’s stay in,” Hack replied. “It feels good to be away from the navy for a night. I have duty tomo
rrow, though, so I need to wake up early.”
“Good,” Lee sighed. “I didn’t feel like going out anyway.” She leaned over to give Hack a kiss, running her hands through his blond hair. “Mmmm. You’re maganda.”
“What’s that mean?
“Beautiful. Pretty.” She gave him another kiss. “You look very maganda lying here in my bed. My maganda Mahárlika”
“Thanks, I think. And what’s Mahár…? I can’t pronounce it.”
“Mahárlika. It means noble warrior. I heard it from a guy at work.” Lee tickled him along his midsection with her left hand. “And I have some news.”
Laughing and squirming, Hack grabbed her hand. “It’s never a good thing when someone starts a sentence like that.”
“It’s a good thing this time, but there is some bad news.”
“I knew it. What’s the bad news?”
“I called my detailer again last night.”
Hack sat up with a serious look on his face. “What’d he say?”
“Remember when I told you a couple weeks ago I’ll probably have to transfer? Well, he said I have to change duty stations,and there’s nothing available in Subic. They offered me something at the Pearl Harbor supply depot.”
“Did you take it?”
“Not yet. I told him I’d think about it. He also had something in Long Beach and Yokasuka, but I don’t feel like moving to Japan, and Long Beach doesn’t sound as nice as Hawaii. What do you think?”
“I think you ought to go where you want to. I could try to transfer to Pearl Harbor when my time’s up on the Harvey.”
“That’d be nice. They have plenty of ships home-ported there. I feel bad we just met, and now I’m going to be leaving.”
“So, what’s the good news?”
Lee sat up and pushed Hack onto his back on the bed. “Get undressed because I have a surprise for you.”
Hack smiled. “I like these kind of surprises.”
She jumped to her feet. “I’ll be back. Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”
Hack did as he was told, undressing and slipping under the covers with his eyes closed. He could hear Lee open a drawer, close it, and then leave the room. Five minutes later, he heard the door open a crack.
“Still have your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now open them.”
Hack opened his eyes and focused on Lee standing in the doorway in the dim candlelight. She had on a red silk babydoll and black fishnet, thigh-high stockings. He watched her walk slowly to the bed, her ample breasts swaying in the loose-fitting top. She slowly pirouetted, revealing that she wasn’t wearing underwear. She put her hands on her hips when he was silent. “You’re supposed to say I look maganda.”
Hack turned on his side, reached out, and ran his right hand along her hip. “You look amazing,” he whispered.
Lee climbed back on the bed straddling his midsection. “I’ll take that.” She leaned down and nibbled on his earlobe, her voice a husky whisper, “Now, where were we?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
1056, Saturday, December 28
Chief Fray threw the door open to Supply Support, causing Decker and Hack to nearly jump out of their chairs.
“Decker, what the hell are you doing here when you don’t have duty?” Chief bellowed. “A young guy like you ought to be out having fun on a Saturday.”
“I just woke up,” said Decker. “You’re the one at work on a day off.”
Chief hitched up his pants. “They called off the search for Kippen. Just got word of it. Why don’t you guys find somewhere else to grab-ass.” He scowled at Hack. “Wilson, aren’t there parts in Alpha to stow? And Decker, you’ve got about thirty seconds to get out of here before I put you to work.”
“I guess so,” Hack said, looking at Decker and pointing with his eyes towards the door.
Decker stood and clapped his hands together. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Chief strode to his desk and dropped heavily in his chair. “Just stay away from Supply Support. I’m on leave all next week. I’m heading out for Baguio City later today, and I’ve got some important work to do before I can go. I sure as hell don’t want to be disturbed.”
Chief bent over and started to unlock the small safe tucked under his desk.
“We’ll miss you terribly,” Decker said as he stood in the doorway.
Chief didn’t look up, concentrating on the lock’s combination. “You better miss me,” he grunted.
The two sailors walked out of the office and stood in the passageway. “This sucks,” Hack said.
Decker nodded. “It’s not like the news is unexpected, but I still held out hope.”
“Me too,” Hack agreed, turning to head aft towards Alpha storeroom. “Guess I need to get to work.”
Decker showered, dressed, and left the ship at noon. He left the shipyard strolling down Dewey Avenue towards the Main Gate. The walk was his favorite part of the base, picturesque, just as he’d always imagined a tropical island. A native Missourian, he had never even seen the ocean before joining the navy, but now, after a year at Subic, he preferred the towering palms swaying in the ocean breeze to the dense canopies of the old oaks in his yard at home, Despite the heat and the shipboard life, he was hooked on the laidback lifestyle that comes with living near the equator. Alone in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the maroon Thunderbird drive past him, turn around, then pull up beside him.
“Hey there! Excuse me, but you’re on the Harvey, right?” asked the woman behind the wheel.
“Yes, I am,” said Decker, startled momentarily by the car alongside him. The driver appeared vaguely familiar, but a hat and sunglasses hid her face.
“I thought I recognized you, Elliott. I can give you a ride if you’d like,” she said.
Decker did a double take. A beautiful woman. Blonde. Pretty smile. Nice voice. Mrs. Doerr. The boss’ wife. Damn. He looked at the main gate complex two blocks in front of him. “Thank you, but I’m not going far. Just to the main gate.”
Piper Doerr lifted her sunglasses and leaned over to the passenger window. “I’ll save you a few steps. Get in. I actually want to ask you a favor.”
Decker started to once again decline the invitation, but his eyes locked onto Mrs. Doerr’s loose fitting top that exposed more than a hint of cleavage. “Now that you mention it, the gate is a long walk from here. I think I will take that ride.”
Decker picked up a slip of paper from the passenger seat, climbed in, and, despite his best efforts not to stare, found his gaze trailing the distance from her bright white shoes to the hem of her tennis skirt under which her sleek tan legs disappeared. Any other woman, and he would’ve been pleased with the situation. Play it cool, he told himself. Don’t look at her. Just small talk.
“Are you in a hurry?” she asked.
Decker shrugged. “Not really, ma’am. Just going to meet some guys for a beer.” He lied, but that was the first thing that came to mind.
“Well then, Elliott Decker, let’s go for a ride.” She shifted the car into gear and sped along the side streets towards navy housing. At a stoplight she turned to Decker. “First of all, call me Piper. Save the ma’am crap for the navy. And if you have a few minutes, I could use a hand with something. Bob is gone for the day, and I need to carry some stuff to the garage. I really want to take care of it today. Would you mind helping me? I’ll pay you.”
Decker breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. “Sure, but no need to pay me.”
“Then let me make you lunch. I’d feel bad if I didn’t do something.”
“Okay, lunch is fine. But I don’t even need that, if it’s a problem.”
“No problem at all,” she said as they cruised towards officer housing.
Decker spent the next few minutes glancing around the sedan’s inter
ior. The faded grey fabric in the seat itched against his back where the sweat from walking had soaked through his T-shirt. Dust coated the plastic dashboard, and the armrest had a sticky film on it that made Decker slightly uncomfortable. He glanced at the words and numbers typed on the piece of paper:
Boston -1100
Dallas +2300
Detroit +1800
LA -1200
On the back, Decker read “L2-50%” scribbled in pencil. “You need this?” he asked, holding up the note.
Piper glanced at the paper. “What is it?”
“Looks like cities with plus or minus military times.”
Piper grabbed the note out of his hands, looked at it, wadded it, and tossed it in Decker’s lap. “Sorry I haven’t cleaned up in a while. Bob’s always working and writing notes. I meant to vacuum this morning, but didn’t get around to it.”
Decker reclined the seat and absentmindedly pocketed the note. “It’s cleaner than my car back home.” He lied again.
“I’m living in luxury,” Piper smiled, noticing Decker scrutinizing the car’s interior. “You know the old saying, ‘my other car is a Mercedes?’ Well, we had a new Mercedes but had to sell it a few months ago.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Too many bills to pay.”
“I understand that,” Decker lamented.
Piper tapped the steering wheel and glanced at him. “It’s old, but it gets me around. As long it runs, I can live with it. It’s my reward for living in a place like this,” she laughed as she downshifted and came to a stop at an intersection. “Sorry about my rant. I get this way sometimes, and I usually don’t have anyone to talk to. Most of my friends are hardcore navy wives. You know the type. ‘Gung ho navy’, just like their husbands. They don’t mind moving around every two years, dragging their snot-nosed kids from port to port. Don’t mind living in godforsaken places like this. I grew up in Malibu, and now look at me! My only reprieve is an occasional trip around Asia or to the States.” She glanced at Decker and smiled. “Guess what’s going to happen January 13?”
