Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) (46 page)

“Speak for yourselves, kiddies… I’m just getting warmed up here.”

“Hey, you heard the man, Short Round,” Mac cautioned. “We’ve got way too much to do tomorrow to sit around and tie one on in here tonight.”

“She’s right, Link,” said Lee. “‘I just need you to keep your game face on while we wrap up flight school tomorrow and get through the FTX. After that, you can come back in here and try your hand with the local talent all you want, but it ain’t gonna be tonight, okay?”

“Oh, my game face is on, bossman,” Link replied, his eyes still fixed on the girls. “Don’t you worry.”

Just then, Hamish peered over Lee’s shoulder to see Chief Wyatt enter the room and scoop a food menu off the surface of the bar.

“
Chief!
” Hamish called out. “Get over here and have a drink with us, will ya?”

Visibly exhausted and covered in grime, Wyatt shook his head and waved him off.

“Thanks, guys, but I’m not staying,” he answered. “It’s been a long day, and I’m just here to grab something to eat since the mess hall has already closed for the night.”

“Like bloody hell ya’re not staying,” the Scot snorted, rising from his chair. “Where I come from, it’s an act of extreme personal insult to decline a man’s invitation to drink with him at the pub, and besides, it’ll take the boys in the kitchen at least a few minutes to rustle up yar meal, so there’s no reason why ya can’t have at least one little drink with the five people who are here to make all yar hard work and dedication pay off, alright?”

Swiping the bottle of Scotch and signaling to Bruce for an extra glass, Link stood up to follow his friend to the bar.

“Yeah, Chief, stick around,” said Link. “We’ve got a little something here from back home that you’ve just
gotta
try!”

Watching the duo parade through the crowd as if they owned the place, Lee chuckled alongside Danny and Mac over the extreme familiarity of it all. For all their loud brashness and oftentimes obnoxious behavior, if there was anything about those two you could count on, it was that they knew how to have a good time. But moreover, they knew how to make those around them have a good time too, and in the case of someone like Wyatt, who’d been through so much in recent months, Lee wondered how that could be anything but a good thing.

“Oh, Chief,” Mac whined, watching Hamish coax a glass of the mysterious alien beverage into Wyatt’s hand. “You have no idea what you’ve just stepped into.”

Then, acting on Lunley’s assurances that the drink was harmless, Wyatt took a deep breath and fired back the glass, instantly igniting his tastebuds with the Scotch’s patented burn.

“
Look at that, lads!
” Hamish bellowed, slapping the Chief on the back and pouring him another as the poor man coughed profusely. “The first one is always a killer, and ya took it like a champ! There may very well be a wee bit of Scotsman in ya after all, ma friend!”

“Lord help that guy,” Danny sighed.

****

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite newbie,” called a cocky, familiar voice, and Lee’s eyes tightened upon seeing Tino enter the bar, flanked by Layla and Scar from his squad. Saying hi to a group of crewmates at a tall-top as they entered, the trio made a quick pass by the bar, where Link and Layla exchanged mutually contemptuous glances while Bruce poured their ales.

“Hey you,” Mac said playfully, lifting her glass to gesture them over, though Layla and Scar opted instead to join some friends at the billiards table.

“I didn’t expect to see your gorgeous little probie self in here tonight,” Tino said with a slick smile, sliding into the chair next to her. “It must’ve been fate.”

Feeling his stomach turn, Lee saw Danny shoot him a look from the corner of his eye.

“Must’ve been,” Mac simpered. “What brings you guys in tonight?”

“Nothing terribly huge, just needed to stretch my legs for a while,” Tino responded, leaning in to inspect the dark brown liquid in her glass. “What do you have there, anyway?”

Intrigued by his curiosity, Lee perked up.

“This? Oh nothing,” she smiled. “Just a little something from where I come from. I highly doubt it’s anything that would interest you.”

Tino looked offended. “Is that so?” he chortled. “C’mon, sweetie. It’s bad manners not to share with your instructor.”

Lee and Danny choked back chuckles, for Mac’s classic “bait and humiliate” tactic was officially underway.

“Listen, Tino, with all due respect,” she added, pointing to his ale. “I sampled that stuff you’re drinking when I came in and this is… well, it’s a little stronger than you’re probably accustomed to. But hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, we’ve got a big day tomorrow, and I don’t want to hammer down tonight.”

His pride now completely in question—and possibly his manhood—Tino sat up straight in his chair, his expression turning indignant.

“That sounds an awful lot like a challenge to me,” he said to Lee and Danny. “Guys, did that sound like a challenge to you?”

“Oh yeah,” Lee rushed to respond.

“Most definitely, bro,” echoed Danny.

“I thought so too,” Tino returned to Mac. “Listen, sweetheart, let me put it to you this way: I can pretty much guarantee you that there’s nothing you can dish out—in any form or fashion— that I can’t handle. Feel free to take that however you like, by the way.”

Mac’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

“And game, set, match,” Danny murmured into his drink.

“Well,” she chirped, signaling the bartender for two fresh glasses. “If that’s the case, let’s make it interesting, shall we?
Hey Bruce! What do ya got in a tequila?
”

****

“Looks like Hollywood over there has quite the thing for our doe-eyed little Mako pilot,” Danny said as the pair sashayed off to a private table in the corner.

“Gee, ya think?” Lee grumbled, watching Mac shoot down her first round, only to have Tino follow suit. “Man, that kid is gonna hate himself in the mornin’ though.”

“He’s not the only one,” Danny noted, glancing down the bar at Wyatt, who barely flinched at his fourth shot of Scotch while a crowd of his friends, led by Hamish and Link, cheered him on. “Looks like the chief’s found his sea legs too. You ever seen a perfectly good bottle of $600 Scotch whiskey get killed that fast?”

“I suspect not,” replied Lee, tilting his glass toward Danny. “But it ain’t our bottle of $600 Scotch, so cheers!”

Feeling somewhat greedy for occupying a table for six amid a max capacity crowd—and usually happier at the bar anyway—Lee and Danny relocated to a pair of stools, just in time to catch Bruce on the fly for another round of ales.

The duo chatted for a while after that, making small talk after small talk; though inevitably, Lee’s eye found its way back over to the quaint little table for two where Mac—laughing aloud and apparently enjoying herself—clinked her glass to Tino’s and raced to pour another round. Annoyed, Lee flicked a peanut off the bar with his middle finger, while Danny jabbered on from the stool next to him.

****

“… And that’s why when we get back, I plan to break into the Chinese embassy, steal the Mona Lisa, and sleep with your sister while Ben Hill Griffin Stadium burns to the ground.”

“Huh?” Lee stammered. “Oh yeah, right…
what?
”

Danny heaved a breath and rolled his eyes. He’d been talking for the better part of 10 minutes now without so much as an acknowledging peep from the conversation’s other half.

“She’s fine, Lee,” he said. “Relax already.”

“I know, I know,” Lee defended. “I don’t care, it’s none of my business who she has drinks with. Really… doesn’t bother me—”

“Yeah, because I get that about you,” Danny blurted.

Just then, Lee looked up to see Mac cutting through the crowd toward the dance floor, leading Tino by the hand.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” he droned. His nerves relaxed a bit, however, when Tino, now visibly intoxicated, wobbled hard, nearly tripping over a chair.

“Well, looks like another one bites the dust,” Danny chuckled. “Think he hurls on her before it’s over?”

“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?”