Streamline (39 page)

Audrey leaned in eagerly.

Matt shot her a withering look. “It’s going well, thank you.”

“Sounds like Jason’s quite the matchmaker,” Mr. Shale said.

Mrs. Scott beamed. “My son has many hidden talents. Just think, Matt — Jason would’ve never met your girlfriend if he hadn’t committed a crime. And then he got to know Amy even better because of James hurting Le — ”

Mr. Shale broke the ensuing silence. “Jason sure knows how to turn a negative into a positive.”

“Ah, Mary?” Matt asked. “What
is
James up to these days?” She sighed. “He keeps calling me, wanting to talk. But I — ” She glanced at Audrey and paused. “Audrey, honey, would you maybe take a walk outside for a bit?”

Audrey frowned.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I-- — I want to talk about parent stuff without burdening you. You certainly have enough to worry about these days.”

Audrey sighed as she rose from her chair, and Matt grasped her arm before she left. “While you’re walking, how ’bout you figure out what you’d need to split to go under two minutes in the IM?” Audrey strolled around the parking lot, miffed. In his emails, Leo had been asking her what was happening with his parents, and she’d have nothing to tell him again.

Following Matt’s instructions, she calculated times for each fifty of the individual medley as she walked the perimeter of the lot. She kept her head down and was startled when suddenly a man blocked her path. She looked up and gasped as she found herself staring into cool hazel eyes.

CS’s voice was smooth. “You look deep in thought.”

“Yes, Commander. I-I’m working out some swimming times in my head.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great at FSU. Better than you did at the state meet, anyway.”

Her cheeks flushed.

He winced and opened his mouth, then closed it. “How’s Leo?” he finally asked.

“He’s good. He, he likes it at the Academy.”

“I knew he’d thrive there.” He nodded. “But I wish he’d write me.”
And
I
wish you’d go away.

“So, you’re having dinner with Mary?”

“Yes, sir, Matt and Mr. Shale are here too.” His eyes narrowed. “Marcus Shale? What’s
he
doing here?” Audrey squirmed. “I, I don’t know? Mrs. Scott wanted to thank people for helping Leo.”

CS looked over Audrey’s shoulder, and his jaw clenched.

“Evening, Commander.”

Audrey turned to find Mr. Shale right behind her. “Audrey, we’d like you to rejoin us at the table now.” CS clutched her shoulder, and she wriggled beneath his firm hold.

“No need to rush out of here,” he told her. “I want to talk to Mary.”

“Mary’s well aware that you wish to speak to her,” said Mr. Shale.

“I don’t think now’s the best time.”

CS’s hand brushed off of Audrey’s shoulder as he stepped forward.

“Stay away from my wife, Shale.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do.” Audrey’s heart fluttered. The air seemed to crackle with energy.

“When it comes to my wife, I have every right in the world.” CS curled his hands into fists.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” A cheerful voice rang out behind them, and Detective Easton appeared. “Kind of hot to be standing around outside, don’cha think?”

When the detective’s arm curled around her shoulders, Audrey finally exhaled. Detective Easton’s friendly smile did nothing to mask her forceful presence.

CS inched away. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here to see my wife.”

“I see,” Detective Easton said. “And did Mary invite you here, Commander?”

He looked away, visibly attempting to control his breathing. “No.”

“Do you know the legal definition of stalking, sir?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I suggest you go home and look it up. This is
not
the way to get on Mary’s good side, showing up unannounced and harassing her dinner guests. It’s not the way to get what you want. Can I count on you to leave now, sir?”

CS stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Will you tell Mary I need to speak to her?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said evenly. “If you leave now, I’ll tell her that as soon as I see her.”

“Fine.” He walked away, and Audrey’s shoulders slumped with relief.

When they returned to the table, Matt leaned over to kiss the detective on the cheek before they all sat down.

“So, you all ran into each other in the parking lot?” Mrs. Scott smiled warmly.

Mr. Shale’s gaze shifted over to Audrey. “We ran into one other person as well.”

Mrs. Scott paled. “James,” she whispered.

When Mr. Shale nodded she turned to Audrey. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The detective made him leave.”

“The commander asked me to tell you he wants to speak to you,” Detective Easton reported.

Audrey noticed Leo’s mom’s eyes dart over to Mr. Shale. “Do you think I should call him?” she asked. “Will that keep him away?” Mr. Shale glanced up. “Uh…I can’t answer that for you, Mary.

That’s for you to figure out.”

“Why is she asking you what to do, Marcus?” Detective Easton asked.

Mrs. Scott answered for him. “He’s a counselor. He gives good advice.”

“That’s not the only reason.” Mr. Shale squirmed in his seat before taking a moment to compose himself. “I understand what it’s like to grow up in an abusive home.”

Mrs. Scott patted his arm.

“It’s why I feel such a kinship with your sons, Mary,” Mr. Shale told her.

Audrey trembled, still feeling CS’s hand on her shoulder. She wished Leo could be here. She needed to feel
his
warm, strong arms around her. But she was also relieved to know he was miles away from CS. Leo was safe, no longer under his influence.

Leo whistled a happy tune as he strolled from the natatorium to his dorm room in Bancroft Hall, otherwise known as Mother B, he’d learned. When he realized he was whistling “YMCA,” he smiled so wide he had to stop whistling. Las Vegas was a crazy company commander, and her choice of blaring wake-up music that morning had made PT slightly more tolerable. Her allowing him to squeeze in a swim during letter-writing time made the day even better.

Though he’d only had time to pound out five thousand meters in the ninety minutes she’d given him, it felt wonderful to be back in the water after two weeks of Plebe Summer. The pool had soothed his sore muscles and given him some hope that he could make it through the punishing mental and physical demands ahead.

He was relieved not to encounter any upperclassmen on his journey, thrilled to avoid the endless professional knowledge quizzes.

As Leo entered his room, he caught Benito shoving something into a duffel bag, looking guilty as hell.

His roommate swiped at tears and appeared absolutely miserable — the lowest Leo had seen him.

“What’s in the bag, buddy?”

Benito sniffed. “None of your business.” Leo bit his lip, eyeing Benito’s shoulder. The sling was gone, but he still wasn’t back to one hundred percent, and their detailers still harassed him for his injury.

“It
is
my business if you have something illegal in here. Detailers inspect our room all the time.”

“You got nothing to worry about, Leo. They love you.”

“I’m sorry it’s been rough on you, but it’ll get better once your shoulder’s healed.”

When Benito let out a miserable sigh and released his stranglehold on the duffel bag, Leo pounced and grabbed it.

“Hey!” Benito rushed after him.

Leo yanked open the bag and swiveled around. Benito closed his eyes, defeated. “What the hell are you doing with a gun?” Leo whispered.

Benito looked away, his shoulders hunched. “I just like to have it with me. It makes me feel safe.
Dámelo.”
Reluctantly, Leo relinquished the bag. Benito tossed it under his rack and climbed onto the blanket. He hugged his knees to his chest.

Leo sat down on his own rack and waited for him to explain.

“I found out what MUFFIN means,” Benito said.

“Really?” Leo feigned ignorance. He’d heard the meaning of the Navy slang days ago but hadn’t had the heart to tell his roommate.

Even his fellow plebes called him MUFFIN now.

“Most Useless Fat Eff in the Navy.” Benito’s head dipped. “I’ll never get rid of that name. And I’m piling up punishments like there’s no tomorrow.”

Leo glanced at the dark space where the bag had disappeared under his rack. “You’re not…you’re, you’re not gonna use that gun on anyone at the Academy, are you?”

Benito looked alarmed, then a slow smile gradually spread. “Relax,
amigo
. No need to call the MPs. I’ve thought about it, though.” Looking off in the distance, he murmured, “I wouldn’t mind taking a shot at Whiskey.”

“Instead of a shot
of
whiskey?” Benito managed a guffaw.

They were stil laughing when Squad Leader Sour zipped into the room. “Inspection time, plebes!”

Leo and Benito clambered off their racks to stand at attention.

Whiskey looked down at Benito’s black socks. “Get some shoes on, MUFFIN!”

“Yes, sir!” Benito stuffed his feet into recently polished shoes and resumed his stance. After glancing at Leo’s side of the room, Sour’s gaze returned to Benito.

“What’s the motto of the Academy, Midshipman Dulce?” He rifled through the contents of Benito’s desk.

“Sir, the motto is
Ex Scientia Tridens,
meaning From Knowledge, Seapower.”

Sour turned back to face him. “Too slow in your answer, MUFFIN. Both of you plank for a minute.” Leo narrowed his eyes as he dropped to the floor, holding his weight on elbows and toes. This was sheer cruelty, nothing more.

When Mr. Sour ordered them back up, Leo held his breath as Whiskey glanced down at the duffel bag.

“Your quarters are a
mess
, Mr. Dulce!” he hissed. He kicked the bag clear under the bed. “Since you’re too freaking weak to do pushups, I’ll have your roommate pump out your share too. Midshipman Scott, drop and give me forty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sour patrolled the room for contraband while Benito stood ram-rod straight and Leo finished his punishment. Then Sour kneeled and pointed at a black mark on the linoleum floor. “Is that shoe polish, Mr. Dulce?”

Benito tried to see the stain without breaking attention. “I’ll find out, sir.”

“Damn straight you will.” Sour rose and sidled up to Benito, grabbing him by the neck. “You’ll find out right now.” He pushed his head toward the floor, and Benito almost lost his balance. The section leader crouched next to him.

“Is that shoe polish?”

“I-I think so, sir!”

“That’s not an answer!” he screamed. “Is that shoe polish, Mr. Dulce?”

“Yes, sir!”

“You don’t have to be such a jerk, sir!” The words were out before Leo realized he’d thought them.

Whiskey glared at Leo, releasing his grip on Benito’s neck and honing in on his next victim. Benito snatched a towel and wiped the mark off the floor before resuming his stance.

“Do you think
you
know how to train plebes, Mr. Scott?” Sour asked.

“No, sir.” Dread prickled Leo’s spine.

“Really? ’Cause it sounded like you were telling a firstie how to do his job. High knees for a minute. You too, MUFFIN.” The squad leader stalked over to Leo’s desk as they jogged in place, high-stepping it. Up to this point detailers had ignored Audrey’s picture, but now Sour seized the frame and threw open a desk drawer, tossing it inside. “That’s another minute of high knees for displaying personal items, Midshipman Scott.”

Leo closed his eyes.

Glancing in the open drawer, Sour tilted his head. “What do we have here?” He pulled out the diploma holder. There was only the sound of their labored breathing as he read the document.

Please don’t hurt it
, Leo prayed.

“Stop the high knees.” Sour glared at him. “James is your father, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A Navy brat. I should’ve known. Did your father swim too?”

“No, sir.”

Tossing the diploma back into the drawer along with Audrey’s framed photograph, he slammed it shut.

Leo jumped.

“What else do you have hiding over here, Mr. Scott?” Unsure how to answer, Leo stood still as Whiskey hovered near his desk, looking into the built-in bookshelves. “When I was a plebe,” he said, “I hid things I didn’t want anyone to see in a special place.” Leo’s eyes widened as Sour stepped onto his chair and then his desk. He reached his hand over the top of the built-in bookshelf to a ledge behind it. Extracting the baby bracelet, he appeared intrigued.

Leo’s stomach clenched with fury.

Sour jumped down from the desk. “Scott,” he read, staring at the beads. “Did your daddy send you here with your baby bracelet for good luck, Leah?”

Leo gritted his jaw. “No, sir.”
If Sour so much as touched that
bracelet…

“I think somebody’s close to being fried,” he said. “You keep going at this pace, and you’ll be restricted to the Yard for August break, with no visitors.”

It was difficult now for Leo to maintain an impassive façade, and Whiskey seemed to sense him unraveling. He dangled the baby bracelet in his face.

“This contraband’s illegal, Midshipman Scott, and should be destroyed.” He tossed the bracelet on the floor. “Use that shiny black shoe of yours to crush it.”

An image of Audrey swam through his mind.
Someday, Leo, I
want to have a baby with you…when the time’s right.

“No, sir,” Leo said, straightening his back.

“Are you disobeying an order, Mr. Scott?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sour stepped even closer, grinning. Leo flinched at the crunch that accompanied the stomp of his shoe.

The next thing Leo was aware of was the smack of fist on flesh as his knuckles connected with Sour’s jaw. The punch seemed to catch both of them off guard, and the squad leader reeled while Leo stood in a daze, gawking dumbly at his balled-up right fist. He looked on with horror as Whiskey regained his balance and wiped the corner of his mouth, leaving blood on the back of his hand.

Sour’s face reddened with rage, and Leo steeled himself. He deserved it. A plebe simply did not hit a superior, and there’d be consequences.