Ozzie knew he was taking out his frustration on this woman, but he couldn’t stop himself. The power felt good. He looked up into her face, ready to say more, but then he stopped. Those saucer-shaped eyes. They stared at each other. It was the woman to whom he had given the medicine in the village.
“You will regret it by the end of the night.” She turned, but he brushed her arm again.
“We’ve met. The medicine for your papa.”
She blinked. “You Americans are all the same,” she hissed, and then huffed off.
Ozzie threw back the shot of brown liquor. He didn’t even know what was in the shot, but it felt good coating his chest. Once it had settled, he felt awful about his encounter with the woman. He had treated her the way the white troops treated him, and she didn’t deserve that. He got up to search for her, eventually spotting her at the side of the bar, restocking her drinks tray. Ozzie had to squeeze between patrons to get to her.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I told you, it is cheaper by the bottle.” She drilled her gaze into him.
“Then give me the bottle and come have one with me, please.” He placed his hand to his heart.
She looked at him long and hard and then walked away. Ozzie found the toilet. When he returned, the waitress stood with the liquor and two shot glasses next to his table. She popped it, poured, and held her glass up to him.“Prost,”she said.
“Cheers,” he said, and then downed his.
While she gathered the glasses on the table, another girl nudged her, said something in German, and they walked away.
Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol, but Ozzie felt like the music was pulsing all through him. A shapely woman with rosy cheeks walked by him, and he patted her arm to dance. She smiled at him, and he let her lead him onto the floor. When Morgan saw Ozzie dancing, he gave him a thumbs-up.
Satchel bumped him. “Welcome to the party, my brother. The view is good from here.”
Ozzie pressed against the rosy-cheeked woman on the dance floor. She was the first lady he had held since being deployed, and she smelled like he had imagined white girls did, kind of like strawberry shortcake. They swayed. When the song ended, everyone clapped, and Ozzie was thinking about getting another shot from his bottle. He moved through the crowd back to his table.
“What, I am good enough to drink with but not to dance?” the waitress said.
“I looked for you.”
“You did not look enough.”
He liked the direct way she spoke to him. No-nonsense, with her soft German accent.
“Want to dance now?”
“No,” she said, and then marched off. Although she was slim, she managed to have hips, and the way she swung them sent a spark pulsing inside him.
The next morning, Ozzie woke up with an awful hangover, but it was the most fun he’d had in the six weeks since arriving in Germany. When the same guys mentioned they were going out that evening, Ozzie was in. When he stepped into the Federal Eagle Club, he found himself scanning the room for the saucer-eyed waitress. He didn’t see her. Fats Waller’s “Your Feet’s Too Big” was playing, and once again Ozzie felt right at home. Morgan and Satchel wasted no time sidling up to two single women. All the tables were full, so Ozzie leaned against the wall, scanning the crowd.
“You came back for seconds?” she asked. She wore her hair loose around her shoulders, and a little smile played on her face. Had she been looking for him too? Without giving it a second thought, Ozzie took her hand and led her to the dance floor just as the music slowed down several beats. She wore another simple dress open at the throat, and Ozzie thought that she had a lovely collarbone.
As his torso moved against hers, the sweet, fruity fragrance of her overpowered his senses.
“You do not even know my name.”
She was right. “Excuse my manners.” He leaned back so that he could see her eyes. “My name is Ozzie. And you?”
“Jelka.”
He pulled her back to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jelka.”
“What kind of name is Ozzie?” Her “what” sounded like “vhat,” and once again he found her accent endearing.
“It’s a nickname.”
She looked up into his face, confused.
