Gust Front

CHAPTER 28 No-Name-Key, FL, United States of America, Sol III 0832 EDT October 5^th, 2004 ad

Mike carefully set the last case of hand-rolled Imperials on the stack. The cigars were in twine-wrapped bundles of fifty, a gross of bundles to the case. The stack of cigar cases and rum barrels made an awkward fit in the back of the SUV.

Honest John rubbed his face and grimaced. “Christ, I knew I shouldn’t dicker when I was drunk.”

“And never play poker with her, either,” Mike opined. “She’ll clean your clock.”

“She already did,” the trader bemoaned.

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Karen said. “You know how that wine-jerked venison will go over in Havana. Not to mention that muscadine brandy. You’re going to make a killing.”

The trader just snorted but then smiled. “It’s been a good visit, guys,” he said to Mike and Sharon. “You guys keep safe. Don’t bunch up.”

Mike turned from where he was securing the empty gas can and frowned at the trader. “What rank did you say you were?” he asked.

“A third class petty officer,” John answered. He smiled faintly and patted the pockets of his floral shirt until he found a panatela and a match. He flicked the match with his thumb and lit the panatela. “Why?”

“ ‘Don’t bunch up’ is not a Navy saying,” Mike answered.

“Musta heard it somewheres,” was the trader’s answer.

“Uh-huh,” Mike answered. “And didn’t you say they just sent you a recall notice?”

“ ’Bout two weeks ago,” John agreed, warily. “Why?”

“Oh,” said Mike, smiling. “Just wondering. Most of the notices went out last year. I can only think of one group that got recalled in the last few months.”

“What are you two talking about?” asked Sharon, frowning.

“Nothing,” said Mike, closing the back of the Tahoe.

“Guys,” said Harry, giving Sharon a hug. “You take care, ya hear?”

“We will,” said Sharon.

“Keep in touch,” said Karen, smiling. “Herman will want to hear about all your big adventures.”

“Okay,” said Cally, giving the woman a hug. “I’ll make sure to write him.”

“Well,” said John. “I’m not into soppy good-byes and I’ve got a tide to catch.” He hugged Sharon and Cally and waved at Mike. “Tell that big ugly bastard Kidd that Poison said ‘Hey.’ ”

“I will,” said Mike with a smile.

“And tell Taylor he can kiss my fat, white ass.”

“Okay,” said Mike with a snort.

“Keep your feet and knees together, snake,” he finished and walked towards the dock. He started to yell for his two missing crewmen but after the first wince thought better of it and just hopped in the dinghy, untied and started rowing towards the harbor opening.

As he was clearing the opening the two half-clad worthies, trailed by two swearing females, charged out of one of the abandoned bungalows and down the shore towards the retreating rowboat.

“What were those women saying, mom?” asked Cally, ingenuously.

“I think it was ‘See you later honey,’ ” Sharon answered, pushing her towards the back seat.

“Oh,” said Cally. “ ’Cause, you know, it sounded a lot like, ‘What about our money?’ ”

Mike laughed and shook Harry’s hand. “Thanks for having us.”

“Anytime,” Harry answered. “On the house.”

Mike nodded and smiled, then got in the Tahoe. He turned to Sharon and shrugged. “Ready for a long damn drive?”

“Sure. And this time let’s bypass my parents.”

“Works for me. Actually, if we go by way of Mayport, you can probably catch a shuttle from there. Then Cally and I will drive back to Dad’s. I can catch a shuttle out of Atlanta or Greenville.”

“Okay,” she answered with a sad smile. “And one last night?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “One last night. Until the next time.”

Sharon nodded. Of course there would be a next time. It had taken the highest possible command authority to pry them both loose for this time. And they were both going to be in the thick of combat. But, of course there would be a next time. Mike put the Tahoe in gear and they drove out of the parking lot, down the shell-paved path, wrapped each in mirror thoughts.