What a couple of squids are doing in devil dog territory, I have no idea, but my interest is definitely piqued. On further inspection, they both have giant watches strapped to their wrists. These aren’t just any sailors that have wandered into the Under Dog, these are SEALs. Color me surprised.
The guy smiles at me as he takes me in, and then he and his friend make their way to the bar, where I’m all but a memory when they’re greeted by the young cocktail waitress waiting for them there.
Feeling a little embarrassed that I was so distracted by a guy, I turn back to Hooter and Cinco and hope they didn’t see me almost fall all over myself for a dick with legs. Too bad I’m out of luck. My granny used to say that if I had any luck at all, it was probably bad, and she wasn’t too far off base here, because when I turn back to my friends, they’re both eyeing me with evil, shit-eating grins on their faces.
“All right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Get it over with.”
“Look at you,” Hooter starts. “Just like a real girl.”
“Screw you.” I laugh. “I am a real girl. I just have bigger balls than either of you do.”
“Gross,” Cinco says with a shudder, making me laugh.
There’s one thing you learn real fast when you’re a woman in a man’s world, you never let them see you sweat, and if they do, just give them as good as you get or better. I can hang with the big boys and everyone knows it even though I’m not one to rub my accomplishments in their faces. Hooter and Cinco, are my closest friends. They are my brothers in every sense of the word but blood.
“A dream is a wish your heart makes….” Hooter starts to sing and I groan because this is actually pretty embarrassing. Now if it was one of them, it would be hilarious.
“Fuck me,” I groan. “Would you shut up?”
“Fine, fine,” he says, wiping away a fake tear. He’s really laying it on thick over here. I hope no one notices.
“I hate you both,” I gripe, draining the last of my beer from the bottle and wishing it was something stronger, but I usually save the whiskey for when I’m home all alone and I can’t quiet my mind.
“No, you don’t,” Cinco says with a knowing smile. “We’re the only friends you have.”
If that ain’t the truth. Don’t get me wrong; I’m part of my team and I pull my weight. I have a family I love and adore, but other than my brother and his family in D.C., they’re all back in Texas. Not to mention our sister is who knows where. But these two idiots are the only friends I’ve made in years. Somehow, we just click and we have since day one of flight school. The three of us bonded immediately over an idiot who thought women didn’t belong in the program and liked to voice those opinions all the time including what he thought we were good for.
Hooter and Cinco wanted to take him on for me, but they didn’t need to. I proved my worth and the asshole washed out of the program. The guys and I became a tight-knit crew then, but I have never let anyone else in. It hurts too much when you discover that they didn’t deserve how much you cared for them or wanted their approval.
I’m lost in my pathetic observations when a tan, muscular hand with a watch the size of a sewer cap thrusts a beer under my nose, and I know exactly who these guys are and where they’re from.
“Buy you another round?” a deep voice asks from standing just beside me.
“Thanks,” I reply, sliding the cool bottle from his hand, and I try my best to ignore the zing that tingles up my arm when his hand brushes mine. I never feel that. In fact, I’m not sure I have ever felt an attraction like that before.
“Anything for such a beautiful woman,” he says, laying it on thick, and Cinco and Hooter smile wide at the sheer ridiculousness of it. I’m going to catch hell for this embarrassing encounter first thing Monday morning in the ready room for sure. I’m not exactly positive it’s going to be worth it either. If the chemistry wasn’t already off the charts, I’d put this guy out of his misery immediately. Guys like this want a woman ready to jump on their dicks and not one who can handle a state-of-the-art aircraft with confidence every day. When he realizes what he’s chasing, this guy will tuck tail and grab the first sorority girl he can find. After all, they’re all the same, right?
“So what brings you boys around here?” I ask, letting out my southern drawl. I’m from Texas, and not only that, I’m from deep East Texas, so deep that you could spit and hit Louisiana. So there’s a twang that’s like a bastard stepsister to a Cajun drawl that comes out every so often. My siblings have all but dropped theirs and replaced it with what I like to call “generic southern” but mine has hung on and, truthfully, I have no intention of trying to rid myself of it. It’s me. It’s part of my heritage and where I come from.
“We’re just a couple of pilots,” he answers and he clearly doesn’t read the room right because if he did, he might had tweaked his lie just a bit. I let his words hang in the air before I respond.
“You are, are you?” I ask. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“We’re new to town,” the big one adds. He sways on his feet just a bit and I’d think he was a little drunk if he hadn’t have just gotten here. To my knowledge, you can’t become intoxicated just by walking into a bar.
“And you’re pilots, you say?” Cinco prompts as he eyes them suspiciously. It was all fun and games when the guy was flirting with me, but now that they are blatantly lying, all bets are off.
“What?” the man asks startled, making me narrow my eyes. Goodness, they can’t even keep their story straight. “Oh right, yes. We’re pilots.”
“That’s fascinating,” I tell them with a wide smile before I set my trap. Aviation is a small network in any location and San Diego is no different. The boys and I know most pilots in the area and if we don’t, we know who runs their squadron. “What is it you fly?”
“The F-35 Lightning,” he replies and I barely hold in my disappointed sigh. He was fun to toy with, but now the game is over and it’s time for them to go. I am going to keep the new beer, though. I earned it after that load of bullshit he laid at my feet. What a letdown. I was hoping that his tall tales would be more creative, but they’re not. Sure, he couldn’t have known that he approached actual F-35 pilots in the Under Dog. There are all different MOS calls out of Miramar. It’s a huge base, but still. It’s an air base that houses the F-35. He’s a jackass and now it’s done.
“That’s lovely,” I reply, my East Texas twang taking over. It thickens and lengthens the words as they come out of my mouth.
“Oh shit,” Hooter says with wide eyes while Cinco just laughs. They know what the sounds of my hometown dialect can mean and it’s usually no good. “It was nice knowing you.”
“Why’s that?” the man asks. He clearly doesn’t know that he just stepped in it with me, but also, we’ve just met. We haven’t even exchanged names so he can’t be all that heartbroken when I walk away.
