Chapter 49

19:05 Friday, November 15^th, 1991

Karl Strauss Brewing Company

1157 Columbia Street

San Diego, CA 92101

A white top, a new pair of bluejeans and a set of new white Nikes was all she needed from the Navy Exchange on the way off the post. A total of $67.89 on the Visa card later, Lenore was off to find the bar downtown, with Novotny, Lievano, and Cabrero in her rental car. She'd picked them up, and they waited outside her room while she showered and changed.

Lenore was wearing her ring tonight, there should be no mistake. Though it might act as a deterrent in her decoy role for other women, she figured it would be best to avert jealousy right off the bat. I can't believe I've agreed to try to get women to notice these men, either. What in the hell would Denise say if she heard me agree to this?

Cabrero pointed to the ring right away. "Cool," he said, and that was all.

"Four, please," Lenore said, and they were escorted to a table. All around them, the members of the Task Unit who had come were seated, pretending that they didn't know each other, until the section of the restaurant had been filled. It didn't take long for the wait staff to realize they were hosting a party.

"I'll take the check, up to nine o'clock," Lieutenant Commander Albright said. "After that, make them pay for their own beer," and the waitress nodded and left with an order for pitchers and potato skins for each table.

Julie Dyer was out with her two best friends, Suzie and Trina. They'd been friends since freshman year, gaining the 'freshman twenty' together, discovering what drinks, food, and music they liked together, and, since none of the three were the slenderest of girls, they didn't dance too often at clubs.

Brewpubs and darts were fun, calorie-laden, and considerably more 'real' than the bars closer to UCSD. This place had been open for a year or so, and it was quickly becoming a regular stop on the trio's rotation of places.

"Look at her go," Julie said, to the other two, somewhat cattily. "She's Little Miss Social, flitting around."

"Yeah," Suzie agreed. "I can't figure out if she's with any of them, though."

"Probably none of them," was Trina's guess. "Maybe one of them is her brother?"

"Where the heck are they all from?" Suzie asked, plaintively. "They're not Marines, and some of them are too old to be in college." The observation was a good one, as the three had seen a lot – too much, really – of Marines from Miramar MCAS in the La Jolla area bars and clubs.

"Maybe they're work-release convicts," Trina said, in mock-horrific tones.