“She’ll dot his ‘i’ if he does,” Lee muttered. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if he puts his hand on her ass so I can go kill him first, alright?”
“Sorry bro, but no can do.”
Lee whipped around to leer at his friend.
“I will promise you this, however,” Danny rushed to add. “If he puts his hand on her ass, and she doesn’t look like she wants it there… then I’ll tell you. Not before.”
Lee shot him a wounded look. “Thanks so much, friend,” he sneered.
“Sorry, Lee, but as you so accurately put it, oh… 30 seconds ago—it’s none of your business.”
“Hold on,” the other protested. “What happened to all that ‘you two are meant to be together’ crap you were pushin’ two weeks ago in the mess hall? Why all of a sudden the tough love?”
“Hey man, I’ve said my piece on this whole situation plenty of times,” Danny declared, “whether you wanted to hear it or not. But until you step up and tell that girl how you feel about her—the way you and I both know you do—she’s got every right to do shots, dance, and get a little wild with whomever she pleases… and you, my friend, have absolutely no right to sit there and play alpha dog about it.”
Irritated at Danny’s stance, not to mention his empty glass, Lee threw an angry hand toward Bruce.
“Look, Lee,” Danny gestured to the dancing couple behind them. “I’m sure that’s nothing. Lord knows we’ve seen her play this game with overly-flirty guys a million times over the years, but even if it’s not, the fact still remains that the ball’s in your court. Listen, you’re one of the single most cerebral people I’ve ever met. You think everything through to the nth degree. Be it a grocery list for a party, a date with a girl, or a multi-faceted invasion plan involving half the friggin’ fleet, no detail escapes you. That’s just how your mind works and it’s what makes you so good at what you do. But there comes a point in time when there’s nothing more to analyze, bro. No factor left to weigh, no logic to be determined, no possible outcome left to measure. If you want something bad enough, you’ve got no other recourse than to take your shot and hope like hell for the best because in the end, that one, single ill-advised decision—risky as it may be—is all you have control over.” Danny took another slug of his drink and stared at Lee. “Bottom line, brother: welcome to the crossroads, where the only game in town is ‘put up or shut up.’ The question is, are you finally ready to play?”
Watching Tino’s hands around Mac’s waist, Lee couldn’t deny to himself that his weak attempt at indifference really had been nothing short of total crap. The truth of the matter was, he hated this, and yet in spite of the nausea that accompanied seeing her with someone else, he also knew that Danny was exactly right. He had no right to feel that way. At the moment, she was his friend, albeit his best friend, but his friend regardless—no more, no less—and until recently, he’d been perfectly fine with that. His life had been such a tumultuous mess the last few years that the idea of a real, lasting relationship, with her or anyone else, had been the furthest thing from his mind. And yet here he sat—miserable, alone, and a little inebriated—watching another man court the one woman who meant everything to him.
But if he did this, what would that mean? How would she react? Was it worth the risk to a friendship that was nothing short of priceless to him?
On a more personal note, was he even ready for something like this? Only in the last year had he managed to begin putting his life back on track, and if he did this… if he crossed this line and it backfired for whatever reason… there was little doubt that the emotional fallout would be earth-shattering, more so even than his divorce. Plus, there was the group to consider. What would a split do to their relationships with the others?
But what if it did pay off? What if she did feel the same way as he did, and she was merely waiting for him to find the right time to tell her? Granted, outside of her normal mouthy demeanor, she hadn’t exactly given him any reason to suspect she felt that way, but it was also very much in her nature to keep her feelings and needs to herself when one of her friends was going through a hard time. So it very much stood to reason that, considering everything she’d seen him through, she would’ve given him his space to work things out before saying anything. That’s assuming, of course, that she did in fact feel that way about him to begin with which, unless he opened up to her, he’d probably never know whether she did or didn’t.
Lee’s head pounded with all of the unforeseen possibilities, and reaching for another beer—as if that would make things simpler—he cursed his incessant need to be so overly analytical.
Still, what if it did work? What would that life be like? With her? In that way? What if…
****
Spotting a flash of red in the corner of his eye, Danny turned on his stool to see Madisyn Reynolds enter the OC. Dressed plainly as always in her light blue scrubs—her long, red hair pulled back into a ponytail—she rubbed her weary blue eyes with the heels of her hands and took a seat at the far end of the bar. For a moment, he actually considered inviting her over, though that thought was interrupted in mid-stream by the dull clank of an empty pint glass against the bartop beside him.
“Leeeee?” Danny asked, seeing his friend rise from his stool with the look of a man who was about to do something either really brave, or really stupid. “Whatcha doing?”
“Nothin’, Danny. Just got an itch to play some tunes on the box is all.”
Danny’s expression widened with approval. “Ruff, ruff, bro.”
****
Weaving through the crowd, Lee arrived at the aforementioned access terminal and extended a nervous finger to the touchscreen glass. Toggling into the “arts” heading, he navigated into the “music” folder then proceeded through a series of sub-folders until finding the one marked “Reiser: Personal.”
“Good grief, Doc,” he mumbled, directing his finger past the sub-headings for “Classic Folk,” “Italian Opera,” and more than a dozen forms of jazz. “Where’d you find time to listen to all of this stuff, anyway?”
Eventually locating the folder tabbed “Classic Rock,” Lee opened it and began scrolling through the hundreds of artists and albums inside. Zeppelin’s IV, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, the Beatles’ “white” album, Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon…
“C’mon, Doc,” he muttered. “Tell me ya got it.”
Rush, The Who, Black Sabbath, The Eagles…
“C’mooooonnn…”
Then finally, after several nervewracking seconds of searching, there it was.
Taking a deep breath—his mind overflowing with the same jumble of thoughts that’d confounded him for more than a decade—Lee closed his eyes and quietly summoned every ounce of confidence he could muster.
“Please, God,” he thought, hovering his finger over the button. “Please don’t let me screw this up.”
****
Standing in front of Tino on the dance floor, Mac’s expression shifted abruptly when the redundant thump of the current dance song gave way to the smooth, soulful sound of a lone piano, and the familiar bluesy opening of the Allman Brothers’ “Please Call Home.”
“Thanks, Tino, I’ll take it from here,” Lee said, smiling wryly and sliding between them.
Staring in bewilderment, the boy hiccupped and wobbled back to the bar.
“This is… unexpected,” Mac observed, feeling his hands wrap around her waist as they began to sway. “You know, I consider myself to be pretty intuitive.”
“Is that so?” he quipped.
“Yeah, that’s so,” she rebutted. “I can usually see most things coming. But slow dancing my way through outer space… with Lee Summerston, no less? Yeah, not so much.”
Lee grinned. “So I guess this means you’re talkin’ to me again?”
Mac threw him another smirk. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she conceded. “You’re off the hook. Nice touch with the Allmans, by the way. I can’t believe you remembered that story.
I mean, that was what? Like, nine years ago or something?”
“It’s been a while, alright,” Lee agreed. “Still, walkin’ in on Evelyn McKinsey—the self-proclaimed Queen of Metal—croonin’ it up to a southern rock tune?” He laughed. “Well, that’s kinda like seein’ a Sasquatch in the woods; you tend to remember those things.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, you really didn’t just compare me to Bigfoot, right? I mean seriously, that didn’t just happen….”
“No offense,” he offered.
“Plenty taken,” she fired back.
Snickering, Lee glanced over her shoulder to see Tino, obviously trashed, fighting to stay upright at the bar.
“Man, Mac, you really did a number on ol’ Flyboy over there.”
Her head fell back with laughter. “That’s right. Another one falls into the clutches of the big, bad, black widow bartender,” she crowed. “Don’t worry, hero, you saved him from his grisly fate!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lee wondered aloud. “I figured I was savin’ somebody, anyway.”
Struck by his candor, Mac leaned away from him and cocked an eyebrow. “I see,” she said foxily. “So you were worried about me, then. Was that it?”
“Oh… no,” he stammered, suddenly feeling a bit exposed. “Well, yeah… I mean, I know you can handle yourself. But—”
“But what?” she pressed, seeing him on his heels.
Lee looked away and heaved a sigh. “Listen, the guy’s obviously got a thing for you, and I just don’t trust him, is all.”
Mac shook her head. “Don’t worry about Tino, he’s harmless,” she assured him, “and believe me, I know. I see dozens of guys like him come into my bar every night. He’s not a bad guy, just a tenacious flirt with a pair of wings and a call sign. Take the flight status away, and that guy couldn’t close a soccer mom in a midlife crisis.”
Lee chuckled at the image, feeling as if he’d just dodged a bullet.
“Still,” she amended, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say that sounds like a hint of jealousy there, Lee.”
He winced. “C’mon,” Lee defended, “it’s just that when one friend sees another friend in a weird situation, that friend feels a sense of obligation to help the other friend out of the bind. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” she rebutted, seizing on the chance to stay on the offensive.
“Yeah, that’s all.”
“Because friends totally c-block a perfectly good play by a cute guy on the dance floor to cue up a sentimental favorite on the jukebox for an innocent slow dance through quite possibly one of the single most romantic settings of all time?” She gestured to the stars behind them. “That’s what friends do?”
“My keen sense of sarcasm detects that you’re insinuating somethin’ here, Mac,” Lee said, hoping to preserve what he could of his platonic facade. “I was just in the mood for a little Allmans, and considering the fact that no one else in here has a clue what they’re hearin’ right now, I just figured my good friend would like to dance. If you like, I can go get Hamish.”
“Oh god!” she howled, as a handful of other couples joined them on the dance floor. “These people think we’re freaks enough as it is. No need to outright scare them.”
As the song rolled through its second verse, the two continued to sway, both of them sensing that there was the definite potential here to step into an area that neither of them were sure they were ready for.
“Hey Lee?” Mac began, resting her head on his shoulder. “You ever miss home?”
Not sure where she was going with this, Lee proceeded with caution. “Sure, all the time,” he answered. “I mean, livin’ on the beach is great and all, but everything I’ve ever known is back in Tally. Granted, it’s only two and a half hours away, which is an easy enough drive for a weekend, but there are nights that all I really wanna do is meet up with you and Danny for a drink or a cup of coffee, and I can’t do that from Jax, much less with you in Athens.”
Mac frowned as he went on.
“I miss being able to share my day with you, and not over the phone, or in some stupid video chat, but in person, face to face.”
“Yeah right,” she murmured. “So, do you think you’ll ever come home? You know, like really come home? For good?”
Lee considered this for a moment. It wasn’t as if he’d never given thought to the idea, but he’d always stayed at LSC for the paychecks—peanuts as they were. Now with Reiser’s company at his disposal, however, all of that had changed. He could go wherever he wanted, and for that matter, so could she. They could move cross-country if they wanted, where he could teach (if he so chose) and she could build her own record label, hiring and firing whomever she pleased. Or, they could stay closer to home, setting up shop anywhere from Miami to Nashville. They could go where they wanted. They could do what they wanted, how they wanted, in Tallahassee or anywhere else. They could… They…
Lee’s mind swirled with the possibilities.
“Ya know, home sounds like a pretty good place to be lately,” he admitted, breaking back to reality. “So yeah, it’s on the table.”
Mac smiled and slugged his shoulder. “Nothing like being able to kick back a cold one with your friends whenever you want,” she exclaimed, keeping things light. “That’s as good a reason to come home as any, to be sure.”
“True,” Lee hesitated, feeling a touch of boldness come over him. “But I can think of a few other good reasons.”
Mac’s emerald eyes glistened like the stars themselves as she stared back at him, completely understanding of his meaning.
“Yeah…” she said with little more than a whisper. “Yeah, I can too.”
As the revelation of her thoughts dawned on him, amid the explosive crescendo of soul-filled organ, thunderous percussion, and soaring slide guitar, the world around Lee Summerston fell away as he drew her to him and leaned in.
****
“I’D LIKE TO MEET AN ADMIRAL, A SULTAN OR A KING!!!”
Rudely interrupted by the booming chorus behind them, Lee and Mac turned to see Hamish and Link presiding over a literal sea of raised glasses from atop the bar.
“AND TO HIS PRAISES, WE SHALL ALWAYS SING. LOOK WHAT HE HAS DONE FOR US—HE’S FILLED OUR CUPS WITH CHEER! GOD BLESS CHARLIE MOPPS, THE MAN WHO INVENTED BEER!!!”
“I guess it’s true what they say,’ Mac sighed to Lee. “You can take the boys out of the bar, but you can’t take the bar out of the boys.”
“Well, kids,” Danny said, strolling over to meet them. “If history is any indication, that’s generally our cue to call it a night, wouldn’t you say?”
Glancing back at Mac, whose cheeks were still slightly flushed, Lee shook off the feeling of unfinished business that dug at him with the knowledge that, after this week, they’d have all the time in the world—not to mention a little privacy—to sort things out between them.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good call,” Lee replied, turning his focus to the duo at the bar. “Hey fellas! Time to rock n’ roll!”
“Ah c’mon, Top,” Link protested. “It’s nowhere even close to closing time yet!”
“Aye, Lee’s right,” said Hamish, downing the last of his Scotch and shoving his glass across the bar. “We’ve got a big day ahead tomorrow, and we’ll have plenty of chances to get back in here before we leave.” Then, turning to a noticeably wobbly Wyatt, Hamish rested a hand on his new friend’s shoulder. “Chief, it was an absolute pleasure.”
“Yeah, Chief,” Link agreed. “Good times.”
Steadying himself on a stool in preparation for the vertigo-stricken walk back to his quarters, Wyatt smiled at the both of them.
“It really was, guys, thanks,” he slurred. “Hey Link, do me a favor and get with the mess hall to tell them how to make one of those sandwiches you were telling me about. What are those called again?”
“That’s a Philly Cheesesteak, my man, and I’m here to tell you, it’s god’s gift to the sandwich community. You’ll like,
trust me.”
Wyatt laughed again and started for the door. “Listen, guys, thanks for making me stick around tonight,” he said through a foggy expression. “It was a good time and… well, I appreciate it.”
“Aye, ma friend, the pleasure was most certainly all ours,” Hamish said in earnest. “And just so we’re clear; there’s plenty more Scotch to be had before we leave this place, and yar name is all over at least one of those bottles. So we fully expect you to help us with that, understood?”
Wyatt nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of missing it. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” And with that, he disappeared out of sight.
“Alright, folks,” said Danny. “We ready to—”
Danny lunged to the side as an explosive pool of chunky vomit pelted the floor beside him.
“Damn it, Tino… you primitive screwhead!” Bruce roared, slapping a towel onto the floor beside the demolished pilot.
“Holy crap, Mac, how much did you let that guy drink?” Link marveled.
“What do you want outta me?” Mac shrugged en route to the door. “The kid thought he could bring the noise. It’s not my fault it was more like a whimper.”
Chapter 25: Training Day
Feeling a little jittery upon entering the flight deck, in part because of nerves and in part because of the five cups of coffee he’d had with breakfast, Lee tried to relax as he and the others passed through the hangar. Giving a quick wave to Wyatt (who waved back) and Aston (who never did), Lee spotted Ryan, Reiser, and Reynolds heavily involved in what appeared to be a pretty serious conversation toward the back of the bay. Something was up, that much was evident… though before he could ask, the captain snapped abruptly to attention.
“TEN-HUT! Admiral on deck!”
Instantly, everyone within earshot dropped what they were doing and snapped a firm salute, as did Lee and the group.
“At ease everyone,” Katahl instructed, wiping the stress and exhaustion from his face to join Ryan up front.
“What’s goin’ on, Doc?” Lee whispered to Reiser who fell in line next to him.
Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) Page 37
