Chapter Eight

It was one of those perfect, sweet dreams that came too infrequently. The sound of the ocean rushing to the shore. The gentle surf kissing your feet, tickling as it runs up a bare leg. The occasional call of a gull. The warm breeze brushing against bare skin. The feel of coarse sand giving way beneath your body. The agonizing pain in your head… She opened her eyes immediately regretting it as the early morning sun bore holes through her, causing her to reclose them quickly and let out a low groan. What the hell happened?
Six bodies laid strewn about the beach, some prone, some dorsal, one in the fetal position.. The thumping in her head became more prominent, causing her to continue lying face down with her head turned in the warm sand.
“Sound off people…” A lazy voice half-heartedly called from the prone figure of Hotseat, a bit higher up on the beach.
“Melendez” Zap said softly through gritted teeth.
“Brown.” Fast Draw answered, adding a low moan.
Heavy Metal took a couple of deep breaths before adding a quick “Guderian”
“Krieger.” She mumbled.
“Mmmmm” from Ripcord. She opened her eyes cautiously to check on him. He was a little further into the surf than her, face down and bare-chested, clutching his t-shirt as the waves cascaded over his waist. She noticed he protectively had his bad arm outstretched, keeping it further away from the tide.
“I’m getting way too old for shit like this.” The old tanker groaned, causing her to chuckle slightly. “Somebody get me a Goddamn wheelchair.” More restrained laughter could be heard from the five other soldiers lying hung over on the shore.
Zap was the first to be brave enough to sit up, holding a heavy head in his hands. “Does anyone remember….. anything?” He asked. She went to shake her head no, once again letting out a low groan, deciding it was better to just lie there motionless.
“Little bit.” Heavy Metal replied. She rubbed a hand across the back of her skull. He should. She couldn’t remember him doing shots of… what were they doing shots of? She barely remembered tequila, Fast Draw, Ripcord and Zap showing her how to first pour salt on her inner wrist, lick it off, down the shot, then suck on a lemon wedge… Lick it, slam it, suck it, they’d said. Then there was the Blue Hawaii shots, and something about a margarita pool… after that things went blank.
“Didn’t I have a shirt?” She questioned, sitting up and staring down at the bra top of her bikini. She’d remembered wearing a sleeveless tie above the waist button down that matched her short floral skirt. Without a word, Ripcord’s arm shot up, offering the familiar black 82nd airborne shirt she’d grown accustomed to. Fast Draw also shot up to a sitting position, prompting a “Don’t give yourself whiplash, Hotshot” comment from her as she pulled the cotton Tee over her head. “What happened to your shoulder?” She questioned, as Ripcord retuned his arm to its place of rest on the beach. For the first time he raised his sleepy head, eyeing the large white bandage covering his shoulder. Cautiously he pulled the dressing back, revealing a fresh tattoo, two playing cards, one in front of the other. A king of hearts peering out from behind the Ace of Spades.
”Huh..” He said, nonchalantly returning his head to the sand and again closing his eyes. “Just like last time.”
“Dio Mios…” Zap cried, his voice sharp enough to feel like a knife in the skulls of the other hung over soldiers. “My wedding band!”
“Check your pockets.” She mumbled. “Married guys always put their bands in their pockets or wallets when they go tramping.” Sure enough that’s where he’d found it. The Hispanic soldier visibly paled.
“You took it off to ride the mechanical bull.” Heavy Metal reminded him.
“There was a bull?” Three soldiers questioned simultaneously. Heavy Metal nodded.
“Yeah.” He said matter of fact. “The same bar that had the karaoke machine. You know. The one we hit right after the hula contest?” She covered her face with her hands. That could not have been good. "Don't worry." He told her. "You took second." She held her head a little tighter, this time letting out more of an embarrassed groan and sigh.
"I lost?"
“C’mon people…” Hotseat said, finally getting up himself. “If we’re lucky, this won’t come back to bite us too hard in the ass. No need to keep littering the beach.” The older tanker started walking off, only to be called back by Heavy Metal.
“Other way, Sarge!” He called, making Covergirl slightly chuckle once again.
“Right.” He said, his pride slightly wounded. “I mean it, go clean up people. No need to make Uncle Sam look bad.. well, worse. Weems, let’s move it, son.” Still lying prone on the beach, he lethargically raised one arm, pointing forward and used an authoritative command voice to bark out his response.
"You heard Top people! Saddle up and get the hell off his beach!" Covergirl fell into another subdued giggling fit, the comment bringing a laugh even from Fast Draw. Only Hotseat found it humorless.
"I'm not jerking your chain, kid. Get your ass off this beach. All of you." She stopped giggling when she heard the sharpness in his voice, chalking it up to the hangover. Ripcord sighed, and picked himself off the sand, running a sleepy hand through his hair. Sand clung to the front of his jam shorts and bare chest, making the bruises near impossible to see. She had to smile. Even hung over, his strong build, his confident walk was evident.

“Hey Courtney, You ready?” He called through the thick wooden door. “One sec!” She replied, running one more splash of cold water over her face. He’d left her to go to his and Zap’s room, catch more of a nap and a shower before spending the afternoon together doing some sight seeing. She opened the door and smiled. He was in a fresh pair of gray board shorts with a light blue and gray paisley patterned Hawaiian shirt that he’d bought when they first arrived. It fit him well, not just physically, the subdued colors in sharp contrast with his red hair. She gave him a quick once over, a smile crossing her face at the sight of the young paratrooper. She’d chosen simply to wear a pair of cut off jean shorts and white tank, her strawberry blonde hair pulled back by her wire framed sunglasses.
“Shirt looks great.” She told him, flattening the collar where it had slightly upturned. He shrugged his broad shoulders.
"Figured I might as well use while I can.” He said with a small laugh. “Not like I'd wear it anywhere else."
"You could pull it off." She said with a reassuring smile. "All we have to do now is make it through the lobby undetected, and we're good to go." His eyes turned boyish as an “I-have-a-plan” smile crept over his face. She groaned slightly.
"Last time I saw a look like that, it ended with me falling 28,000 feet." She said cautiously "And with the hangover I have going, I don't think I'd survive, Wally." He smiled as he walked over to the small balcony of the room, sliding the door open as he stepped out.
"I'll help you down." He said, with his same devil-may-care grin. She smiled. At least it wasn’t 28,000 feet.
He held her wrists as she slid over the balcony railing, stretching to find the railing below with her feet. She kicked for a second or two, wishing she had a few more inches and height, and feeling like if she’d stretched much longer, she would gain those inches. Finally her feet touched the ledge as he’d leaned a bit further to lower her down. She quickly swung herself to the lower balcony before he’d hurt his ribcage any further. She watched as he first climbed over sitting on the railing before turning over and sliding himself downward, holding on. She grabbed his ankles as soon as his feet came into view, helping guide them to the railing. One more to go and they were home free. She climbed up on the railing, he again grabbing her wrists and sliding her downward. The sound of a screen door opening caused him to stop short.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The room’s occupant, a bald, stocky middle-aged man asked as he stepped outside. She quickly dropped to the ground, watching him swing his legs over the side, making a single leaping motion to the ground below himself.
“Stupid kids!” The man yelled, prompting laughter from both Courtney and Wally as they slipped out of view. They’d taken a boat to the smaller island of Waikiki, where they’d rented a white Jeep Eagle for sight seeing. After the fifth waterfall, the sights, although beautiful, were becoming boring. Ripcord instead opted to find a deserted looking beach for a little four-wheeling, pulling donuts on the white sandy beach. Both laughed and shot war cries, her quickly overcoming the sick hang-over feeling as he tore the rented vehicle down the coast, a light spray of salt water kicking up to mist the pair. At one point he’d turned too sharply, causing a small wave to crash over them. He raised his arm protectively, but the wave crashed high enough to land on his shoulder, flooding his new tattoo.
“Sonuvabitch,” he mumbled, not stopping or slowing down as he glanced at his still sore arm. She laughed slightly as a boyish grin again over came his face, causing him to drive even faster through the shallow surf.

“What’s on the plate for tonight, compadres?” Fast Draw asked, seeing his teammates gathered in the lobby.
“Poker game.” Zap told him. “Grabbing one of the tables out on the beach”
“Great.” He said, sliding next to Courtney. “Is it Strip poker?” he raised his eyebrows towards sCourtney, tugging slightly downward on the tail of her tank top “I lose, you lose, we both win.”
“You lose, we all lose.” She told him, wind milling his arm off. The game was Ripcord’s brainchild. Hotseat wanted something to involve the entire team, less Repeater of course, without involving too much trouble. She’d groaned initially when he mentioned there had to be beer involved.
“Not me, not tonight, Not ever!” Zap told him, mock clenching his stomach.
“I don’t want this getting out of hand.” Hotseat chimed in.
“Beer? I’m all for it.” Fast Draw shot out, not wanting to be outdone.
“C’mon, Top.” Ripcord said, as he began getting a campfire set up. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Somewhere between the mechanical bull and Karaoke machines, son.”
“I’ll go.” She volunteered. “ There’s an IGA not far from here, passed it jogging.”
"I'll take the walk with you babe."
"Oh great. I feel sicker... I mean safer already." She said sarcastically. From the corner of her eye, she saw him shoot a quick 'you-gonna-be-alright?' glance in her direction. She nodded in response, giving the hand sign for 'I can handle him.' He shook his head in agreement, then went back to building his fire.

They were seated at the table when she and Fast Draw returned from the store, bringing a case and a half of beer and snacks. They’d made makeshift coolers out of the beer cartons and plastic bags, bringing ice down from the vending machines to keep the bottles cold.
Ripcord was the first to open a beer, seconds after the six were seated at the table, and cards began to be dealt.
“I don’t know how you can drink that shit after last night.” Hotseat said, lighting up the cigar which he’d bought for each of them.
He gave a boyish grin as he shuffled the deck. "Easy Top, if you stay hammered then you don't have to worry about realizing that your reserve didn't open either."
Almost immediately following Hotseats’ comment, Fast Draw reached down, grabbing a beer himself and opened it. “Yeah, Top.” He said, turning almost positively green as he took the first sip. “If you’re gonna do it, do it right.” Covergirl shook her head. Cards weren’t really her thing, just never had much of an opportunity to play, but no one seemed to be taking he game real serious anyway, except of course, for Ripcord and Fast Draw. Every hand seem to come down to the two of them, the more Fast Draw drank, the more he lost. He was trying to keep up with Ripcord, who was working on his 8th beer. Looking at him, you’d never know it. The paratrooper’s eyes weren’t glazed, and he maintained his usual demeanor unlike Fast Draw, who looked physically like he’d had enough. Even the way he’d played cards didn’t change. His “poker face” could rival any that even Repeater could set forth. As for Fast Draw, even before he started getting drunk, a novice like her could tell what kind of hand he had. Wide smile meant unless you had something damn good, you should fold.
She tried to maintain a cool demeanor as she was dealt the next round of cards. First two she received were the King of Hearts, and Ace of Spades. .She looked to her left towards Ripcord and grinned. He’d offered a quick wink, and smile in return until he noticed her staring not at him, but at his shoulder. His smile turned more into a smirk as he shook his head and chuckled. Next cards were equally impressive, she figured she may actually have a shot at winning, for the first time not folding. Ripcord put his cards down first. Three of a kind. She smiled. The 4 dollar ante was almost hers. “HAH!” Fast Draw called out, placing his cards down. "Fuck you, Skyboy” He slurred, pointing his finger. "Fuck you.” She looked at his cards and smiled. Full house. Queens and Eights.
“Nope.” She said, a slight air of condescension in her voice. Fuck you hotshot..” She put her Ace/King full house on top of the young soldiers cards, high fiving Ripcord as she claimed her four bucks.
“BULLSHIT!” He yelled, picking up a beer bottle and throwing it towards the beach. “This is just…. Bullshit!“ He drawled. “Seems to me someone’s BOYFRIEND was dealing from the bottom of the deck!”
“Lighten up, Brown.” She told him, throwing the single bills his way. “It‘s just a game. It’s four bucks.”
“That’s not the fucking point!” He yelled, his face visibly reddening as he swiped another few bottles from the table. “You cheated. Both of you.”
“That’s enough, big guy.” Zap tried, standing up and putting his arm on Fast Draw’s shoulder. Fast Draw shrugged him off violently, temporarily knocking Zap off guard where he fell backwards into the sand. Ripcord immediately shot to his feet, sliding behind Fast Draw and looping his hands beneath the young soldiers arms as Fast Draw rose as well, Ripcord still tenaciously hanging on, grabbing the man in an improvised "sleeper hold."
“Get the fuck off me!” He cried, throwing an elbow back towards Ripcord. After one more second of being held, he added a quick… “What’s the matter, Shyboy? No gun this time?” Ripcord didn’t change expression, didn’t grasp tighter, just held on trying to calm the situation. Unfortunately it wasn’t working.
“C‘mon, Amigo“ Zap tried, getting back on his feet, patting the man on his shoulder.
“Yeah, easy Hotshot.” Covergirl added soothingly, moving beside Zap. Fast Draw’s wounded pride now caused him to get even more agitated.
“Oh, fuck you” He slurred. “All of a sudden you‘re going to drop the bitch act..”
“Enough of this shit." Hotseat interjected, breaking the two men apart, stiff-arming Fast Draw to keep him from going after Ripcord. “Just go sleep it off, kid. Zap, Heavy Metal, make sure he gets back to the room okay.” He hadn’t taken his glare from Ripcord’s green eyes. Finally, disappointment crossed the face the old tanker as he shook his head from side to side, before slowly walking away.

“Forget him.” She said when the two had been left alone on the beach. Hotseat. He’d been cranky since the luau. Mostly towards Ripcord, she noticed, but just more short tempered in general.
“Already have." He said quietly with a smile, before placing a small kiss on her lips. He added some sand to the top of the campfire to douse it, before standing back up, offering a second, more passionate kiss. This time she near became dizzy, not from the usual butterflies that would form in her stomach, but from the overwhelming taste of beer. She was unsure of what to make of it. On one hand, he’d been behaving like… well like Ripcord. On the other hand, the amount of alcohol he’d consumed made her nervous. She'd counted near ten empty bottles near where he sat. She planted a small kiss on his lips herself, before adding a quick… “Goodnight, Superman. I’ll see you in the morning” as she turned towards her room.

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