Trouble Triangle (Tyler's Trouble Trilogy) (3 page)

A lump in my throat nearly choked me as we drove onto the base. The Arizona Memorial lay in the distance. It served as a reminder that I was there on serious and potentially deadly business. A great sense of pride and sadness swept over me.

I checked into the barracks and saw Mark Richards' name on the roster. Mark was my friend from technical 'A' school. We had spent three months together in San Francisco and we got on well. I saw my name on the list alongside his for room 321.

I walked up the outside but undercover concrete staircase to the top floor of the three-story tan and brown building. A large open-air lanai served as the walkway to the dorm rooms. I entered the room and found Mark sitting on one of the beds with his back toward me. Inside were two metal frame beds, a couple of brown wardrobes with matching chests of drawers, and a table with two chairs.

"Geez," I sighed, "this is supposed to be a high-class place, but they just let any old riff-raff in here, don't they?"

Mark turned around. "Tyler! How
ya
doing, buddy?"  He came over and we hugged. His square jaw and dark brown eyes blessed him with movie star good looks.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

He ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair. "A couple of days. Got assigned to the flex-hose shop. Great shop, easy work."

"Flex-hose shop? What's that? We didn't learn about that in 'A' school."

"They use flexible hoses around machinery that moves a lot." He interlocked his fingers and moved them in a wave-like motion. "The hoses flex and take the stress that would crack regular pipes at the weld. Anyway, have you seen the hot babe in admin? Man, oh, man. I'd buy her a bike if she promised I could lick the seat after a ride."

"That good, huh?"

"Tyler, this chick is so hot she makes hell look cold. Brown hair, puppy dog eyes, tight ass, flawless face, and tits just the right size." He cupped his hand to about the size of a softball.

"Good inventory. No, I haven't met her. I'm going to check in to the division in a minute, though. I'll look her over. Maybe I'll even ask her out if she's as good as you say."

"Yeah, right." He slapped my shoulder. "She's a third class petty officer,
Fireman
Chambers. She's like a glamour model in uniform. Sorry, pal, you don't stand a chance."

"
Wanna
bet?"

"She outranks you. You can't ask her out."

"
Phbbt
." I put my hand on his shoulder. "A third class? That's like a glorified Fireman. That's only one measly rank above me. Besides, she's still enlisted. It's not like she's a commissioned officer or anything, and I paid careful attention to the rules on fraternization in boot camp."

He rubbed his jaw. "I missed that class. I had my wisdom teeth pulled and was in bed all day."

"Well, as long as she's not in my direct chain of command, she's fair game. Frowned upon, but not illegal. And you said she's admin, so she's like a secretary."

"Okay, fifty bucks says you won't get a date with her. I'll even give you a month."

"Done, but if she's a dog, the bet's off." We shook hands. I cleaned myself up before heading over to the admin section of the division to check in.

#

I climbed up the outdoor metal staircase and pushed open the door which identified the space as the 'R-1 Division office'. Numerous photographs of submarines dotted the walls and the customary flag fluttered from the breeze of the open window. A door labeled 'Lieutenant Johnson' remained closed next to the lone desk in the room.  A vision of outstanding natural beauty sat behind an immaculately tidy desk, typing. She looked the perfect specimen of female anatomy. If only I was a cop and could shout the term, 'Spread '
em
'. She would give the phrase a whole new meaning and vision.

She looked up as I stood in front of her desk. Her brunette hair was feathered in the front and tied up at the back. Brown irises filled most of her eyes, not leaving much white around the sides. She had a small nose that sent out the 'cute' message, high cheekbones and perfect 'kiss me'
lips.

"Fireman Chambers, reporting for duty." I handed her my paperwork.

She took my orders and flipped through the papers. I admired her stunning good-looks as she searched through the folder. "Everything appears to be in order," she said. "I'll just see which shop you'll be going to."

"Any chance of going to the welding shop?" I asked.

She rustled through her papers. I eyed her name tag above her left breast. 'Knight'. My tongue inadvertently moved across my lips.

"Like, there's no opening there. I'll assign you to the flex-hose shop."

"Thank you, Petty Officer Knight. Any chance of you showing me where it is?" I gave her my best smile.

"No chance. Escorting service is not in my job description." She handed me a base map.

"Too bad," I mumbled. "That's cool. But what about the bar on base? That's important, right?"

She glared at me.

I clasped my hands behind my back. "I thought maybe I could take you for a drink for being so helpful. Not to mention that I need to know where it is for future reference."

She scooted her chair back and stood up from her desk, staring at me. She was only about three inches shorter than my six foot height. She pointed to the third class insignia on her arm. "E-4," she said. She pointed to my blank sleeve. "E-3."

She looked down at my paperwork. Pointing back to herself, "Like, twenty-one." Pointing at me, "nineteen," she said. "Kind of a gap on two counts. I might be a little out of your league, don't
ya
think? Like, way out.”

Okay. So she likes herself. She's still hot and if I can get Mark to pay me fifty bucks to have sex with her, well, that kind of makes me a gigolo. The challenge has been set and I was up for it. A little stroking of her enormous ego and she'd be eating out of my hand. I cleared my throat. "I happen to appreciate older, more sophisticated, higher ranking women. Not to mention gorgeous. You don't happen to have a bike by any chance, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Why?"

I had a job to keep myself calm at that revelation. "It's just that I used to repair bikes before I joined, in one of my dad's shops. If you ever have any trouble with it, let me know." I checked out her shapely legs below her skirt. "You
wanna
make sure you get those long legs fully extended. Could give you back problems if you ride it wrong. Might need to have the seat adjusted to make sure you get it right. I'll be happy to have a
lic
—, uh, look if you like."

"In your dreams, Chambers. Now go to your shop." She shooed me
away with the back of her hand.

I left her office slightly dejected, but determined to get a date with her. Not just to win the bet, but also because  she was a fine example of a reason to lust. And she had an attitude. The chases were much more fun when a chick had a bit of spunk. I followed the base map she had given me
and located the flex-hose shop.

After I checked in to the shop, Mark came into the shop supervisor's office and offered to show me to my work station. He wore coveralls that looked cleaned and pressed, but were covered with black powder. The powder also dusted his face and blond hair. He looked like some dirty homeless kid.

He led me toward the back of the shop. "What did you think of her?" he asked as we passed bulky machines.

I gave a thumbs-up gesture. "Yeah, she was practically begging me for it, but I got a month. I'm going to string her along for a while. You know, play hard to get. Make her beg for it. Just make sure you have fifty bucks put away for me."

#

A few days later, I stepped outside the shop door for a smoke break around ten o'clock. A blonde-haired girl from the building next door came out and lit a cigarette. She looked to be about five and a half foot tall and had a petite build. When she glanced at me, I smiled. She smiled back.

She walked over and looked at me with her striking blue eyes. "You're new here, aren't you?" She was well tanned and her complexion had light acne scarring. Her bright smile and confident manner gave me the impression that she was a fun chick. I guessed she was mid-twenties and she had a mole just above her lip at
the right corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, checked in a few days ago." I offered my hand. "Tyler Chambers."

"Debbie Meyers. Aloha." Her soft palm touched mine. "Once you get to know which bars are sailor friendly, you'll have a great time here. Not all the locals are pleased to see us white people, or
haoles
, as they call us."

"Are you offering to—"

"Fireman Chambers." Petty Officer Knight appeared and interrupted us. She walked up with some papers. "You need to sign this. It's a form to let payroll know you're here so you can get paid." She handed me a form. Debbie glared at her. Knight looked the other way. I signed it and handed it back to her. She grabbed it and walked down the street.

As much as I wanted to chat to Debbie, I couldn't let an opportunity like this to ask Knight out slip through my fingers. "Excuse me a minute, Debbie." I patted the side of her shoulder and headed off after Petty Officer Knight.

I followed Knight down the street, calling out after her. She stopped and turned, waiting for me to catch up. She placed a hand on her hip and tapped her foot on the pavement impatiently.

As soon as we stood face to face, I felt a sense of nervousness pulse through my body. That wasn't like me, but her self-confidence and attitude of superiority was somewhat intimidating. I shifted my gaze from her beautiful brown eyes to the ground, then back again.

I shoved my hands in my back pockets. "Umm…Petty Officer Knight, I was just wondering, if you're not busy Friday night, would you like to go out with me? Maybe catch a movie or go see
The Action Men.
They're a band playing down at Bullwinkle's Bar in town. The drummer's a good friend of mine." If she wanted to meet the drummer I'd have to say he was off sick because I didn't have a clue who he was.

"Chambers, I thought I made it clear. I'm a Petty Officer, not a babysitter." She spun on her toe and walked off.

Ouch
. For crying out loud. She was only two years older than me. Who the hell did she think she was? I walked back to Debbie with 'babysitter' echoing in my head. A simple 'no' would have been enough.

Debbie took a drag off her cigarette as I walked toward her. Her eyes glued to Knight's back as she continued to walk down the street. She tilted her head upward and blew out smoke. "Bitch."

"You know her?"

"Yeah, Holly Knight. Bitch extraordinaire. She thinks she's God's gift to the human race. Give a girl a pretty face and a nice body and she thinks the world should stand in admiration of her. Stay well away from her. She's trouble."

#

After that first morning, Debbie and I made a point of meeting up for our smoke breaks. We always had a good laugh, and since Holly kept turning me down, I tried to charm Debbie out of her undergarments. She slapped me the first few times, but after that it was usually down to her rolling her eyes, which led me to believe that it wasn't completely a lost cause purs
uing her; just a minor setback.

We both left work one afternoon around four o'clock and I escorted her to her barracks in the warm sun shower. The light drizzle was refreshing and
relieved some of the humidity.

"
Ya
know, sometimes this Navy thing really sucks." She pulled out a cigarette and lit up as we walked.

"How's that?" I asked.

"I got tickets to the Pat
Benatar
concert coming up. My supervisor changed my duty day and now I have to work that night." She took a big inhale of smoke. "I begged him to wait until after the concert. You know what he said?" She stopped and faced me.

I shrugged.

She wrinkled her nose. "Tough shit." She resumed walking.

"I'll take '
em
off your hands if you want. Not quite the Rolling Stones, but
Benatar's
all right."

"I should charge a premium. She's been sold out for months,
ya
know?" She flicked her cigarette to the ground
and squished it with her foot.

"How 'bout I buy you a drink. Premium payment
kinda
thing."

"How about you buy me drinks all night?" She stopped and looked at me. "Only at Dolphin's. It'll be much cheaper if we stay at the bar on base."

"Deal."
We shook hands.

After we both went back to our rooms and showered, I stopped by her room and escorted her to Dolphin's. We walked into the bar and crossed the deserted dance floor as
Our Lips Are Sealed
by the Go-Go's played on the jukebox. Tables were lined around the edge of the dance area. Four pool tables
sat
off to the left, halfway into the club, with the bar off to the right. We stopped and got a beer and a Black Russian, and headed to the quieter section in the back. Laughter created a relaxed, happy atmosphere as cigarette smoked swirled in the air hanging over the fake tiffany lights.