First Post|Previous Post|Next Post
She considered him, pulling again on her cigarette so that the ember burned brightly. “Fuck names,” she said finally. “How long are you in town for, John?”
“Well, Candy, at least three days. My brig is in dry dock and they tell me they need at least that long with her.”
“You’re not telling me you command the Acrimony?”
“No, I command the Roth,” said Jack, realizing his mistake too late. Skippers’ names were all but public record.
“I thought Cahill had the Wrath.”
Jack laughed. “She has been called that, yes.”
A small frown appeared on Candy’s face, to be wiped away a moment later as their drinks arrived. Jack paid, and once the waiter had left again Candy pointed her chin over Jack’s shoulder. “That man has been giving me the eye all night,” she said.
Jack turned. “The fat lieutenant with the white mutton-chop sideburns? That’s Ol-”
“Him, too, actually, but no, the man behind him, in civvies.”
“Oh,” said Jack, recognizing his ship’s surgeon. “No, I don’t know who he is.”
“He gives me the creeps.”
Jack turned back to the table, noting that Candy’s glass was already almost empty. “Why don’t we go downstairs? We could escape them both.”
“Oh, good.” said Candy. “I half promised to to allow your fat lieutenant to buy me my next drink. Quick, before he looks again.” She took his hand and pulled him out of the lounge, their heads ducked low. In the elevator they burst into laughter, as if they had just escaped a scolding, and she clutched onto him for support. She continued to lean on him as they left they elevator, and Jack suspected that her martini had not been her first drink of the night. At his room he opened the door and she led him in, kicking off her shoes expertly before stumbling backwards onto the bed, pulling Jack on top of her.
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post
No comments:
Post a Comment