Chapter 36

Friday, July 9, 8:30 p.m.

The drive to Jacksonville and the search for a honky-tonk hadn't taken much time, and when Sam and Madeleine made their selection and ordered their cheeseburgers in the dark, noisy juke joint not far from Camp Lejeune's main gate, they were a little disappointed to observe that the joint wasn't really jumpin'.

Two beers later, however, things were definitely looking up. The juke box, formerly merely loud, seemed to have become deafening. The contingent of Marines on the premises had grown from considerable to formidable, and in all directions from their table -- at least for the six feet they were able to observe through the blackness -- there appeared to be in progress precisely the kind of uninhibited behavior that Madeleine had indicated she was seeking.

This was indeed, Sam observed, a dive.

The cheeseburgers had been massive, overcooked, and inordinately greasy; in a word, wonderful. The beer was, as Madeleine had specified, domestic, and a bit warm for Sam's taste. While it wasn't cheap, it tasted cheap. "All they need," Sam remarked, "is a stripper."

"Be patient," Madeleine answered, gesturing toward a nearby table. "I think there are some talented amateurs in our immediate vicinity."

Sure enough, Sam turned to see a buxom, Latin-looking brunette in a peasant blouse, seated with another woman in the company of two Marines. The women looked young, the Marines even younger. The Latin girl's Marine had his arm around her and his hand dangling down into her blouse and cupping her breast. Her other breast, unattended, peeked out from the blouse and fixed its one-eyed stare upon Sam.

Sam stared back.

"Well, Mad," he said, still admiring the bare breast at the neighboring table, "we've come a long way from Lindsay's Bayside Restaurant."

Leaning close to make herself heard, Madeleine spoke directly into Sam's ear. "Lindsay's was an absolutely lovely evening, Sam. I don't think I'll ever forget how sweet it was of you to take me to such a fine restaurant. I'd like to go back there with you again, sometime soon.

"But right now, Sam -- tonight. It's been another kind of fun, being with you here, at this place... whatever its name is.

"Right now, Sam, I think we ought to maybe find a motel."

The noise made conversation difficult. Sam wasn't certain he'd heard what he thought he'd heard. "Did you say you want to go back to your hotel?"

"Now, Sam, you know that's not what I said."

"Are you sure you haven't had too much to drink?" Sam asked.

Madeleine burst out laughing. "Wicks, you're a trip. I weigh 137 pounds. Do you really think a big girl like me can lose her inhibitions and get corrupted against her will on two warm beers?"

The Latin-looking girl at the nearby table was now on the table, arms waving above her head, peasant blouse gathered at her waist, and miniskirt pulled up to meet it; she was bumping and grinding to the beat of the blaring juke box. She had attracted a considerable audience of whistling and stamping Marines, but Sam, attentive enough a few moments earlier, missed all of it.

Madeleine and Sam lay naked in semi-darkness in the room's lone bed. Nestled in the crook of his left shoulder, Madeleine stared up at the pebbled pattern of the ceiling. Despite the room's overcooled temperature, both of them were covered with perspiration.

Neither had spoken a word. Not since...

"Jesus, Madeleine!"

For a moment more, she said nothing. Then, with an uncharacteristically small voice, she responded: "Yeah."

"Jesus," Sam said again.

They were quiet for a while longer, although Sam tightened his hold on Madeleine's upper arm and tried to draw her even closer to his side. Finally, she shifted onto her side, facing him, with her cheek nestled between his chin and chest. Reaching across his upper body, she grasped his arm and squeezed.