Chapter 2

HAZE GRAY AND HEARTACHE

“I feel ya, Tree,” Otis said sympathetically. He belched as he pulled another cigarette from the breast pocket of his worn coveralls. “I’m happy as hell to go with ya and the boy this weekend. Where we goin’ anyway? Out by the lake? Shur could use a couple of hours fishin’ on the shore, yessiree.” He paused long enough to light his cigarette, take a long drag, and exhale with a rush.

Chad sat beside his old friend and drank slowly from his beer can as he pondered his life. They sat out behind the garage that Otis had started nearly twenty years ago. Chad, a certified diesel mechanic, was always happy to lend a hand when his expertise was needed.

It was Thursday evening after Billy’s birthday party. Chad wanted to escape his bitter and dysfunctional family, so he went to Oty’s and spent the last hour baring his heart and soul to the other man. Despite their age difference, they were as close as brothers, with Otis being five years older. Chad looked younger than his 37 years, tall and robust, with the body of a wrestler and steelworker. Otis, however, looked decades older and walked with a stooped frame and barrel chest from years of tobacco use. His dark skin was wrinkled and sagged from his thin body, especially beneath his eyes and chin.

After a wracking cough, Oty hocked and spat a phlegm wad before pulling on his smoke again. “It really ain’t no never mind ta me see, but the missus and me has been watchin’ and wonderin’ about some goings on ova yonder at yer place lately,” he spat again and continued like he was discussing the weather. “Yessir, a trip to that lake sounds mighty fine to me. We bringin that young’un of yours too?”

Chad let his comments sink in as he nodded solemnly.

“Ya heard about that damn Lah-to-ree, Tree? They say three different folks won that cash! And so far, only two made claim to it.” He shook his head in wonder as he grabbed a beer, handed it to Chad, then grabbed another for himself. “How much ya think they all got when all’s settled with taxation and such?”

Chad grunted and popped his beer. “Dunno. How much was the pot?” He took a long drink.

“680 sum Mil-un dollah.”

Choking on his beer, foam shot out Chad’s nose, causing Otis to cackle.

“Holy shit!” Chad gasped as he recovered from his burning sinuses. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he laughed at his antics. “Goddamn, Oty! That’s... 225 million each. Minus what ... say 25%? That’s about 170 fuckin’ mill’!” He shook his head.

“Whowee!”

“What did you and Bea notice about my place, Oty?”

With a tired sigh, the skinny black man lowered his chair and fished out another cigarette. “Well, it just seems as soon as you head off to the fields to earn your keep, that Frank fella shows right up at yer door and makes himself at home.”

A cold chill settled over Chad’s shoulders as he digested his friends’ words. “Ya don’t say?” he muttered under his breath. Otis heard him and nodded.

“Yessir. If it ain’t him at yer door, it’s yer missus headin’ out for days at a time with the kiddos in tow. She’ll leave word with me or Bea ta come over and feed Elvis and let him out a few times a day.” He stubbed out the cigarette and finished his beer. “Ain’t mine ta say, boy, but sure smells ... if ya know what I mean.”

“Smells like what, Oty?” Part of his mind denied the innuendo as a coincidence. But he knew.

“Well, with ya gone all that time and Frankie-boy having all that money from his dead wife, God rest her soul.” Otis’ eyes suddenly opened wider, the whites showing a yellowish tint. He looked uncomfortable beside his friend. “Like I say, it ain’t mine ta say.” He swallowed nervously. “But it feels like yer woman be hangin’ with a new sugar daddy.”

As darkness fell, Chad lowered his chin to his chest and let the dreadful feelings wash over him. With a grunt, he rose from the chair and turned away from his friend. “I should get back home.”

Running off to join the Navy caused Chad and Molly’s parents grief. His dad pretty much disowned him for ‘abandoning the farm,’ and even though his mom supported him, she became sad and lonely. He and Molly had discussed their future, and she was excited about the steady income, housing (once they married), and free health care. But she cried as she saw him off on the bus to Great Lakes for boot camp.

Basic training aimed to break down and rebuild recruits into better, smarter, more disciplined sailors, ready to defend their country against tyranny and evil. Chad found it easy, compared to farm work and was amazed that some guys failed. He quickly learned to follow orders and adapt to the military mindset. In nine weeks, he breezed through boot camp, and with nothing to spend money on, he saved enough for Molly, her sister, and his mom to attend his graduation. Seconds after being dismissed to his first liberty, he caught a squealing black-haired beauty who struck every man’s eye.

After boot camp, he reported to Basic Engineering Common Core school for 14 weeks to train as a diesel engine mechanic. Halfway through, he got 12 days of Christmas liberty. He visited his hometown to collect his fiancé and headed to Vegas for their wedding. After graduation and earning his ECC rating, he was ordered to San Diego, where they moved into base housing, and he joined his first ship.

Eight months later, their first child, Bethany Jordan Hartley, was born at Balboa Naval Hospital. She had her mother’s raven hair and blue eyes, bringing joy to her parents. Three months later, with work-ups complete, Chad departed on his first deployment, initially set for six months but extended twice, keeping him away for nine months. During this time, Chad missed Christmas and the birth of their son, William Radcliff Hartley, born in July with the same hair and eyes as his sister. Despite the challenges, Chad was meritoriously promoted to E5 for outstanding performance during his first ‘WestPac.’ The money was good, and he enjoyed 30 full days of leave upon his return. Returning home to Iowa, family and friends welcomed his wife and children warmly. Chad felt overwhelmed and eager to return to the fleet.

Chad woke up on the couch early Friday morning with Elvis sprawled across his legs. He had slept in his old clothes, not bothering to go to the Master bedroom to change. Instead, he kicked off his boots and lay back on the sofa. God knows he had slept in worse places, like shipboard berthing. Nobody was awake yet, so he let Elvis out back while filling his dish with kibbles and starting a coffee pot. Quietly going upstairs, he retrieved some clean clothes and retreated to the main level to shower in the guest room.

He decided to keep to himself today and consider his situation. As the family began stirring, he headed to his truck, letting Elvis ride shotgun. He started it up and headed to the truck stop for breakfast. Ten minutes into the trip, his cell phone buzzed in the glove box. He ignored it and turned up the radio. Rolling down the windows drowned out interruptions but drew stares from motorists staring at the drooling Rottweiler.

“Lottery Commission officials still don’t know the third party standing to win over 225 million dollars. It’s uncertain why they haven’t come forward.”