Patriotic Duty (9 page)

“Having a good time?” he
asked me as he brought me a vodka and cranberry from the bar.

I nodded as I took a long
pull from the straw. “Yes. This is a fun place.”

It looked like your
typical country bar, large dance floor, dark corners, tables everywhere, and
country music posters on the walls. The bar was a bit on the small side, only
two bartenders behind it. The club itself did not look much like Cowboys, but a
bit more authentic and rustic, like it had been there a long time.

We danced to a few slow
songs, drank a couple more drinks, and chatted. About an hour later, our
attention was turned towards shouting as we saw two guys throwing punches at
each other. A table was knocked over, and then some chairs, and I heard a glass
bottle break and saw another fight break out right next to the one we’d just
seen.

“Time to go,” Riley said,
grabbing my drink and setting it on a nearby table. He grasped my hand and led
me towards the door, which unfortunately was blocked by the fights. “Damn,” he
muttered.

Security soon came and
began to try to break up the fights, and Riley attempted to snake us through
the melee and out the door, but was blocked by a large guy in a cowboy hat. He
had a huge wad of dip in his bottom lip and he was taller than Riley by a good
four inches.

Riley fixed the guy with a
hard stare. “Excuse us.” I could see his jaw clenching and I knew he was trying
to keep his cool.

“You with these guys?” the
big guy asked, pointing towards the now dispersing fighters.

“No,
man.”

The cowboy looked Riley up
and down. “You sure look like it.”

I glanced over once more
to the fighters and just now noticed they all looked like military guys, all
had similar haircuts to Riley’s.

“He’s been with me the
whole time,” I interjected. “We don’t know those guys at all.”

The guy laughed at me then
looked at Riley. “Your
bitch do
all your
speakin
’ for you?”

Riley reared back his arm
and punched the guy square in the jaw. He stumbled backward a few steps before
tripping on a downed chair, landing flat on his ass.

I stood there in shock,
staring at the guy, then back at Riley. His eyes were swimming in fury and his
jaw was still clenching. He shook his hand out and growled, “Let’s go.”

He yanked my hand harder
than necessary and I followed him out of the bar. We walked quickly to my car
and got in with him driving, and when I looked behind me, I couldn’t see the
guy he’d punched, only police cars arriving and a chaotic mess of people.

I turned to look at him.
“Why did you hit him?”

He shot me a sideways
glance. “He called you a bitch. In fact, he insulted us both in that one
sentence. I don’t handle disrespect well.”

I grinned. “Well, I’m sure
he’ll think twice next time he opens his big, ugly maw.” And after what I’d
just seen, I was sure of it.

Once we got back to the
room and Riley had calmed down, I thanked him for his chivalrous actions with
my mouth.

CHAPTER 12

“Oh,
my God, how was Reno?” I heard Miranda’s voice squealing at me through the
phone I wearily held against my ear. It was Monday morning, and way too early
for her chipper ass.

I smiled weakly. “It was
awesome.”

“Well, we’re taking a long
lunch today, since I didn’t get to take you out on your birthday.”

“Um, okay.”

“Meet me in the parking
lot at eleven!”

“See you then,” I replied,
and then hung up. I had a mountain of paperwork sitting on my desk but I didn’t
feel like doing any of it. I made some coffee and sipped it, staring into my
computer screen when I heard a knock on the door. I looked to the door’s window
and motioned in the female inmate.

“Anderson, what can I do
for you?” I asked without affect.

She took a seat in the
vacant chair next to my desk, her green khaki shirt and pants muted against the
brown chair. She brushed a strand of long brown hair behind her ear and put her
hands in her lap. “Ms. Reid, I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

Oh,
great,
gonna
have to call the psych or the chaplain,
I
thought.

Inmates often came in just
to talk, which I did not have time for, nor was I paid for, but still I
listened when I could, because most of the time, the problems were petty. There
were times, however, when they weren’t, and if they were serious, I had to
report it. Most of the time, they just wanted to tell on each other. Females
are famous for this. You’ll never catch the male inmates snitching on each
other.
Ever.

“Go on,” I told her.

She wrung her hands
together. “Well, three of the girls in my room work out on the base, you know,
cleanin
’ the Army workers’ offices, and
paintin
’
curbs and stuff… well I heard them
talkin
’ about how
they were, um, doing stuff to the Army guys under their desks and stuff.” She
then went on to describe details about what her cellmates were talking about,
locations, and a few dirty details I really didn’t need to know.

I raised a pale eyebrow.
“Really now?
Care to give me their names?”

“Which
ones?
My roommates or the Army guys?”

I smiled. “Either.
Or both.”

She shook her head. “I
don’t know the guys’ names. And I’m in a four-man room so you really don’t need
me to give you names,
do
you?”

“Ah, I didn’t know you had
one of the coveted four-man rooms. Enough said. Thanks for the info, Anderson.”

She nodded, stood up, and
let herself out. I sat back in my chair and tapped my pen against the desk,
contemplating the problem. I quickly jotted down inmate Anderson’s full name
and register number and tried to decide how I was going to formulate my memo to
our internal investigators. I also planned on doing my own little probing…
starting with talking to Riley. I bet he knew something.

Female inmates and young
military men – I mean, that’s just a recipe for disaster. Yet, the need for
cheap labor on the bases outweighs the disastrous mix of female inmates starved
of male attention and horny, young soldiers who are most likely far from home
or just starting out in life and have trouble saying “no.”

Sex with inmates is a big
no-no for the staff. It’s drilled into us, we’re trained and frightened with
horror stories of those who have gone before us and done it and got caught,
humiliated, fired, and sometimes became inmates themselves. But these military
men don’t get this training. They get a quick, “Stay away from them and keep
your dick in your pants” speech and that’s it.

Oh yeah, I’ll be talking
to Riley later to get his take on it. I bet he’s seen plenty go on.

Oh, God I hope he’s not
one of the ones Inmate Anderson was talking about!

***

“Get in!” Miranda called
from the red Civic. I hopped in and she drove quickly off base, pulling up at a
Chili’s restaurant.

After we were seated and
placed our drink orders, she handed me a fat envelope.
“Happy
Birthday!”

I smiled and opened it. It
was a cute card depicting friends drinking wine together and talked about how
we’ll reminisce about all our past escapades when we’re old. Inside was a gift
card to Victoria’s Secret.

“Oh, my
God,
thanks!” I hugged her.

She grinned. “You go buy
your hot soldier man some sexy shit. It’s so fun to wear that stuff.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I bet. I
didn’t really wear it much with the ex.”

“Girl, one time, when I was
in San Diego,” she said (and most of her stories started off with that
sentence), “my boyfriend, Chris, he stripped me naked and poured champagne on
my body and licked it off. It was so hot!”

Laughing, I asked, “What
does this have to do with lingerie?”

“Oh
yeah!
Well, I was wearing this little sailor outfit and it
was actually lingerie. Before he poured champagne on me, he said, ‘That needs
to come off.’ It was hot!”

I shook my head and
laughed. “Yeah, I can only imagine.”

“So tell me about Reno!
What did you do besides screw?”

I smacked her arm.
“Miranda!
Be quiet.” I was laughing now.

“Well, I was just asking!”

“It was pretty low-key. I
hocked my wedding ring and got a hundred and twenty-five bucks for it.”

Her eyes got big as she
sipped her water.
“No way.”

“Yes way. Then he got me
this,” I said, pulling the necklace out from under my shirt. If I hadn’t been
wearing a shirt that buttoned all the way up, I wouldn’t have worn it. I
normally don’t wear much jewelry to work, but I didn’t want to take it off just
yet.

Miranda’s eyes got huge
and she reached over and touched it.
“Jewelry?
Diamonds even? This is getting serious.
Oh, my God!”

I nodded. “Oh! And then on
my birthday, Riley took me to that country bar – remember the one we went to
when we were there? What was it called?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I
remember the club. But wasn’t it called the rose something?”

“I think so. Anyway, a
huge bar fight broke out with some military guys and who knows what else. This
huge oaf in a cowboy hat thought Riley was one of them and wouldn’t let us
leave. He lost it when the asshole called me a ‘bitch’ and cold-cocked him. It
was awesome.”

“Wow, drama! That’s what
I’m
talkin
’ about!” She flipped her thick, straight
blonde hair behind her shoulder and looked down at her phone as it buzzed on
the table.

I lifted my water glass to
my lips and jutted my chin toward her phone. “Is that your homerun honey?”

Her fingers danced over
the screen and she smiled.
“Yup.”

“Where is he this week?” I
asked.

She hit one final button
and set the phone on the tabletop. “He’s home. Can’t you tell by the satisfied
smile on my face?”

“You are too much.”

The server brought us our
salads and we dug in.

“So when is Riley
leaving?” she asked.

I shrugged and swallowed
down a bite. “I don’t know,” I answered casually. “He doesn’t know, either.
Probably right after Labor Day.”

“Well, that sucks, but
it’s the way it is with them. Always a new place, a different city, another
assignment… it’s never ending, girl.”

I nodded.
“Yup.”

She measured me with a
serious stare from her amber-colored eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

I forced a smile.
“Of course.
It’s just a summer thing. We both know that.”

She nodded and smiled,
pointing at the necklace. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

Somehow I think she could
tell I was only half serious. She was my best friend, after all. I could only
fool her as long as I could fool myself.

***

The week passed quickly
and by Friday, I was more than ready to see Riley. We didn’t get to see each
other during the week very much, but sometimes I’d sneak over to his side of
the base and say hi. I tried not to intervene in his military job, but I just
missed him sometimes and wanted to see him.

We decided to go see some
military movie, a Hollywood version of things that went on during the Iraq war.
It wasn’t my first choice but I never paid attention to what movies were out so
it’s not like I could suggest anything. We arrived at the eight o’clock show
and settled in with popcorn and sodas. Riley held my hand and kissed it as the
previews began to play and I smiled at him warmly. God, he was so good-looking
I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to stare at him all night and not watch the
movie. But that would be creepy so I didn’t.

The movie was okay, kind
of heart-wrenching and sad – and gory in some spots, but I noticed Riley’s
demeanor change during it. He was in a great mood when the movie started, but
by the time it was done, he was not talking at all, and had an expression on
his face that bordered somewhere between worried and sad.

The car ride home was
quiet and I was wondering if I had said or done something. When we reached my
house it was late, but Riley said he wanted to take a shower. He smelled like
he had already taken one when I picked him up, so I wasn’t sure what was going
on.

“Sure. Knock
yourself
out,” I said.

He began to strip off his
clothes and I stood there unabashedly watching him strip as I sipped my soda.

He was down to his boxers
when he looked at me. “Why are you still dressed?” Stepping to the shower, he
reached in and turned it on.

I didn’t move. “Are you
gonna
tell me why you’re being so quiet?”

He paused in his removal
of his shorts and I was mad at myself for not waiting until they were all the
way off before I asked. “Nothing’s wrong.”

I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, Riley, if you don’t want to talk about it, then whatever.”

He grabbed my drink and
set it on the bathroom counter and grabbed my T-shirt and pulled it over my
head. “I
said,
get your fine ass in the shower.
Now.”

My eyes got big and I
swallowed hard. “Uh, okay.” Because really, who’s going to say no to that?

He got in and I was right
behind him. He put some soap on a sponge and began lathering up my body.

“Are you going to tell me
what’s wrong now?” I asked as he scrubbed me.

He shook his head. “It’s
nothing, Cara. I probably just should have picked a different movie.
A comedy or something.
It’s hard to watch that stuff. I’m
fine though. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

He had told me in an
earlier conversation some weeks ago that he had done a year in Iraq when he
first joined the military, so I have no doubt that movie brought out some
painful memories he probably had wanted to forget. It made me sad to think a
movie had brought him pain.

I smiled, not at his pain,
but at him opening up to me. “Okay. Now see, was that so hard?”

He grinned. “No, but this
is…” He turned the water off and grabbed himself, kissing me.