Chapter 8

“Yep, he’s my Dad,” she said.

Holy shit, I was standing there chatting up the First Sergeant’s daughter! I looked around furtively and leaned towards her.

“Jesus, if your father sees us talking, he’ll castrate me with a dull knife,” I whispered.

“Nah, Daddy is a big old Teddy Bear,” she said.

I knew she was crazy when she said that, and I was looking to escape when she spotted him standing by the grill. He was with an attractive Asian woman and three other girls. She grabbed my hand and dragged me over to where the First Sergeant was chewing the ass of the cook manning the grill. The unfortunate cook had stripped off his uniform blouse because of the heat and there was hole in his t-shirt. The frightened PFC looked as if he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind when Tonya interrupted Blakemore in mid-harangue.

“Johnny, you know my Dad, right? This is my Mom, Lin, and these are my sisters Teresa, Tessa, and Tina,” she said.

I took Missus Blakemore’s proffered hand and nodded to the sisters. Blakemore’s daughters were like stairsteps, probably about two years apart, thirteen to nineteen maybe. They were all cuties and Missus Blakemore looked more like another sister, not their mother. I didn’t dwell on the women though because my full attention was on Blakemore. He looked at me as if I were something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“I am seeing entirely too much of you lately, Pulaski,” he growled.

Before I could defend myself, Tonya stepped up to her dad and hugged him.

“Don’t be mean, Daddy,” she said, “Johnny got me a soda from the cooler, and I brought him over here to meet everyone.”

As soon as Tonya hugged him his demeanor changed.

He patted her on the back and an actual smile cracked the face on which a scowl normally resided.

“Okay, Princess, sorry,” he said contritely.

“Can Johnny show me and Teresa around? We’d feel safer with him nearby.”

I couldn’t believe my ears as she wrapped him around her little finger.

He nodded and gave me a significant look.

“Of course, Sweetheart,” he replied, “I know Specialist Pulaski will be a gentleman.”

Oh, hell yeah, I would! I interpreted his look exactly as the death threat he meant it to be.

With Tonya on one side and Teresa on the other we started walking around the small lake on the shores of which the picnic was being held. There was a swimming beach on one side of the lake and a walking trail around it. When we strolled down by the beach Teresa whipped off her t-shirt to expose, I swear to goodness, a yellow polka dot bikini top. Her loose t-shirt had been hiding a nice sized set of breasts. Then Tonya doffed her UGA t-shirt. Her sports bra encased breasts were smaller than her sister’s, but she had six pack abs, and she was seriously ripped. I reckoned Tonya had zero percent body fat.

I was feeling studly when a beautiful Blakemore each took my arm. I felt a small connection to Tonya but a dangerously strong one with Teresa. I tried to dial it down but what slipped through revved the younger sister up. I knew that when she made sure her large firm breast rubbed my arm with every step. We made conversation as we walked. Tonya was a sophomore at the University of Georgia a few hours away up in Athens. She was at UGA on a gymnastics scholarship. Tonya came home at least once a month. Teresa was a seventeen-year-old senior at a local high school.

We walked halfway around the lake and stopped on the opposite bank to watch the Zodiac CRRC (Combat Rubber Raiding Craft) races. Eight Rangers with oars manned each of the rubber inflatable boats. The Navy and Marine Corp used motorized versions of the craft, but we Rangers eschewed noisy motors for stealthy oars. So anyway, the teams rowed to the middle of the lake and purposely capsized the rafts. Then they righted them, climbed back aboard, and continued rowing. They did the same thing going back. The team with the best time was from Alpha Company. They flipped the boat back right side up in about ten seconds.

We continued our walk after the race, and I delivered the girls back to their parents safe and sound. The First Sergeant gave me the stink eye when he saw his daughters in bathing suit tops, but Missus Blakemore took me off the hook.

“Your young man has excellent manners and showed your daughters respect, Lawrence, so be nice,” she scolded.

I understood the First Sergeant better after meeting his family. The poor guy was drowning in estrogen at home, so he had to be a prick at work!

The four of us going to the Dining Out met Thursday night in my and JP’s room. We went through the preparations that each of us was responsible for. Vic handed us our tickets and Brad said he had six bottles of good champagne from the Class Six Store in the mini fridge in his room. JP had gone all out on flowers with both corsages and small bouquets for each of the women. He was going to make sure the florist had everything Friday afternoon. I showed the guys the brochure for the ten-passenger limousine I’d reserved. Per the plan, the limo would arrive at the barracks at 1745, we’d pick up the ladies at 1830 and arrive at the Convention Center at 1900.

I also had good news for them ... and a warning.

“Gentlemen, tomorrow night we are meeting the ladies at the Hilton’s bar, so we won’t be strangers Saturday night. From the minute you meet them, to the minute you see them safely home after the Dining Out on Saturday night, you will treat them with respect. Don’t get drunk and show your ass and keep the cussing under control. Who knows, conduct yourselves like gentlemen and this might happen again,” I said.

The next evening at 1830 we loaded up in JP’s Ford Explorer and cruised down to the River Front Hilton. We had a table for eight in the dining room reserved for 1930 and were meeting the ladies in the bar at 1900. We pulled up a few minutes early but Mikayla and her friends were already occupying high backed stools at the bar. They were facing away from the entrance, so they didn’t see us walk in. I quietly moved up behind Mikayla.

“Hey, Baby, new in town?” I asked, trying to be funny.

She spun the stool around and looked me up and down. I swear, her sneer of derision was up there with Blakemore’s.

“Why yes, we are,” she said coquettishly, “we’re looking for some manly sailors. Do you boys know where we can find some?”

We all burst out laughing, the ice instantly broken.

Mikayla introduced her friends to us. They weren’t all models, but they were all very attractive. Camille (call me Cammie) was a singer and dancer on Broadway. She was currently rehearsing as a member of the chorus of Cats. She was a medium tall, brunette. Malia was a makeup artist for Mikayla’s modeling agency. She was a petite and vivacious Hawaiian woman who reminded me of Cindi Frazier. The third woman was a plus sized model and Mikayla’s roommate. Her name was Lana, she was Romanian; and she was the poster girl for big, beautiful women.

Mikayla and I watched in fascination as the couples paired up. It did not happen even close to how I envisioned. I thought that Vic Torres, who was well over six feet and two hundred pounds, would be perfect for Lana. Instead, Vic and Malia got cozy. I thought my roomie and Cammie would gravitate towards each other because they were both native New Yorkers. JP, however, was instantly smitten by Lana Swistak, and Lana acted as though that was just peachy. Lana was a couple of inches taller than JP and twenty pounds heavier, but that didn’t seem to bother either of them. That left Brad and Cammie. They made sense as a couple I guess because Brad was a very coordinated martial artist and Cammie was a graceful dancer.

So anyway, Mikayla and I made sure they were getting along and then we excused ourselves. Amongst much good natured ribbing we headed up to her suite to get reacquainted. When we returned an hour later, the group had moved to a circular booth. Malia was sitting in Vic’s lap and Lana was snuggled up to JP. A doe-eyed Lana was looking at my roommate as he talked, her substantial breasts surrounding his left arm. Brad and Cammie were carrying on a reserved conversation in the center of the booth.

Mikayla and I pulled up a couple of chairs and listened to JP talk. JP had missed his calling because he could have been a standup comic. In addition, he was a natural mimic and could imitate anyone. We Rangers had heard it all before, but it was still funny. The women, though, were laughing their asses off. It was a great night, and I drove three happy, slightly inebriated squad mates back to the barracks. I had to listen to JP go on for an hour about how wonderful Lana was.

“She is the future Missus Pettis, Johnny, I swear it,” he averred.

The next day we executed the plan. At 1745, four sharp looking Rangers in dress blues were standing in front of the billets when a white stretch limousine pulled up. We cooled our heels in the Hilton lobby for fifteen minutes waiting on our dates. Four Rangers in dress uniform holding flowers drew us some curious looks. We forgot about all being self-conscious when the elevator door slid open, and four goddesses walked out. The ladies graciously accepted the flowers and took our arms. A few of the staff and guests in the lobby actually gave us an ovation as we departed.

The limo ride to the Convention Center was a lot of fun. I even had a glass of bubbly and no one busted my chops for not being twenty-one. I think only Mikayla and JP knew how old I was, anyway. We arrived at the venue at 1910 and a crowd of mostly single guys was milling around the entrance. The driver pulled us up to the door and we exited the car as we had rehearsed earlier. First, Vic and Malia got out and stood to the right of the door, then JP and Lana exited to the left side. Brad and Cammie went right, and then I ushered out my date. Conversations paused as JP and Lana led us into the lobby to the tail end of the receiving line.

As karma would have it, the Blakemores were right behind Mikayla and me. Using the manners drilled into my head by my Nana, I made introductions.

“First Sergeant and Missus Blakemore, this is my friend Mikayla,” I said formally.

Mikayla turned a megawatt smile on them and said, “His girlfriend Mikayla, and call me Mickie, please.”

Then she leaned down and whispered conspiratorially to Lin Blakemore.

“I swear he is obtuse, was yours this hard to train?”

The First Sergeant shot me a look and I just shrugged. I had no idea what they were tittering about. The two women talked as we moved forward. Blakemore and I stood stoically at their side as they gabbed. I wasn’t about to risk putting my foot in my mouth and Blakemore had nothing to add other than his usual glower. It was a relief to reach the front of the line without Blakemore chewing my ass.

The first person in the Receiving Line was Lieutenant Odom, the Battalion Adjutant. Odom had been in Ranger school with me.

“Good evening, Specialist Pulaski,” he greeted me.

He turned to Mikayla, “and this is Miss...?”

“Miss Delong,” Mikayla replied.

The Adjutant turned and said to the Battalion Commander, “Specialist Pulaski and Miss Delong.”

Lieutenant Colonel Pappas shook my hand, told me to enjoy my evening and passed me along. It wasn’t until Pappas let go of my hand that I noticed the guest of honor was Jake Turner in uniform. Colonel Turner smiled at my surprised face and shook my hand.

“How are you, Johnny?” he asked.

I gulped.

“Fine, Sir,” I stuttered.