The Goodwill Gesture

by McKay, KC

  I took a shower and went to the berthing area to get dressed. I stood in front of my locker deciding what would be my best Friday night garb for going on the pull — a term I picked up by watching British TV on the ship, which meant picking up chicks.

  Billy Earl walked up as I stepped into my black Levi's.

  "Where ya going?" He stuffed a wad of chewing tobacco in his jowl.

  "Dunno. Town, I guess. Time to see what kind of women this place has." I slipped on a black knit sweater.

  "You want me to show ya the ropes?" He chewed his tobacco like a cud.

  "You're going to show me how to pick up women?" I smiled. Left to his own devices he'd probably head for the nearest farm.

  "Cousin Maisy says—"

  I put my hand up. "Can we just stop it right there? I don't really want to know what you and your cousins get up to."

  "Suit yourself." He spit a big hawker of baccy into a 7-Up can.

  A new thought hit me and the girls in town would probably be traveling in groups of two or more, so I figured it might be best to have a sidekick with me. Besides, next to Billy Earl, I'd look pretty hot.

  "Come on then, Hoss," I said. "Let's see what kind of fillies are out there."

  "Yee-haw." He slapped his thigh and we headed out.

  ***

  The taxi dropped us off outside Belinda's Bar. Several guys stood outside knocking back pints of beer and half a dozen girls in short skirts and high heels stood around smoking cigarettes.

  I nodded to the girls as Billy Earl and I walked past them and into the purple-lighted bar. Large mirrors on the walls made the place look bigger than it actually was. Girls around the room checked themselves in the mirrors and fiddled with their hair.

  The sultry voice of Tina Turner rattled through tinny speakers. Tina may not have needed another hero, but I hoped by the end of the night I would have found a hot damsel who didn't share that same sentiment.

  I pointed to a table in the middle of the room figuring we would attract the most attention there. The waitress came over and I ordered a pitcher of frozen margaritas. Although it was January and pretty chilly, I wanted to see if Scotland could live up to my high standards. If I couldn't get a decent drink, I'd go AWOL. In Hawaii, buying a girl margaritas usually led to her giving up her panties in return. It was worth a try to see if the Scottish women would honor the same tradition.

  The waitress returned a few moments later and set the pitcher down along with two salt-rimmed glasses.

  "What in tarnation is that?" Billy Earl gasped. "I ain't drinkin' that. It looks like a girlie drink."

  "Exactly. This is the kind of drink women like. This ain't the hills, Billy Earl, where you just give 'em a shot of moonshine and bend 'em over the nearest tree stump."

  Billy Earl sniffed his drink, held it up to the light and examined it. He shrugged, placed the glass to his lips and downed it in one gulp.

  "Hey, that ain't half bad—" He grabbed his head and rocked back and forth in his chair, stomping his feet repeating something about having an ice cream headache.

  Two women appeared and stood next to our table while McClure chanted like a Hare Krishna.

  "Is he going to be okay?" The curl of a Scottish lilt called my attention to the gorgeous brunette. I eyed her hourglass figure.

  I waved my hand dismissively. "Don't mind him. He's from Kentucky. He has this ritual he does when he finishes a drink."

  A blonde with far too much makeup on chomped a wad of gum, making a loud crack with it every now and again. "What a strange thing to do." She had large, round eyes, and her hair sprouted out resembling a barn owl. Perfect for Billy Earl.

  "Like I said, Kentucky. Would you ladies care to join us? I can get a few more glasses if you'd like a margarita." I extended my hand toward the empty chairs at our table.

  "Sounds good to me," the brunette said. They sat down and I motioned to the waitress for two more glasses.

  "Hi, I'm John, and this is Bill." I flipped my thumb in his direction.

  He gave a sour look. "It's Billy Earl."

  Blondie blew a bubble with her gum. "Why two names?"

  "Don't ask," I interjected.

  "Oh…" the brunette said, nodding her head like she understood what I meant. "I'm Cheryl, by the way." She gestured toward Blondie. "And this is my friend, Tammy."

  I poured a margarita for the girls and filled Billy Earl's glass again, then raised my drink. "Cheers." We all four touched our glasses together. The girls and I took a sip. Billy Earl gulped his down. His eyes circled like the blades of a windmill then he grabbed his head and bobbed.

  I refilled Billy Earl's glass.

  "You guys Navy?" Cheryl stated more than asked. Her Scottish accent was quite thick, but to me her question was the green light that she was fair game. I guessed she was around twenty, but she looked like she'd been around the block, which was okay with me. I didn't mind a few miles on the clock.

  "Yep." I looked at her legs and liked what I saw. Dark fishnet stockings disappeared under her red skirt. I looked at my watch. "Hmm… my magical watch says you're not wearing any panties."

  She leaned in. "Hate to tell you this, but your magical watch is wrong."

  "What?" I shook my wrist. "Damn thing. It must be an hour fast."

  Cheryl laughed. "Then we got time for a few more drinks, right?"

  I smiled.

  We got through a few more pitchers of margaritas. Cheryl became more difficult to understand with a mix of her accent and margaritas. But she laughed at my jokes, smiled at my flirts, and seemed like she would be a willing participant in acts of pleasures of the flesh. Or depravity.

  Two guys appeared near our table. I could always spot a Marine and they had jarhead written all over them. They looked in our direction.

  "Hey, girls," one of them said, "what are you doing with a couple of mama's boys?" He flexed his bicep. "You should have a real man."

  They each held a beer and looked smug. 'Sergeant Rock' fixed his eyes on Cheryl. "Come on, sweetheart, you need a man, not some scrawny squid." He flashed his straight teeth; a set I was about to rearrange.

  I stood up and pushed my chest out. "Why don't you fuck off back to Mayberry, Gomer?"

  Cheryl got up and rested her chin on my shoulder. She probably got wet watching me go all macho.

  The Marine turned away and set his drink down. When he turned back, his fist came hurling toward me. I ducked, then heard the loud crack of Cheryl's jaw.

  "You gol dang woman beater," Billy Earl yelled. He hustled out of his chair and lunged for Gomer, wrestling the Marine to the ground and punching him repeatedly in the face.

  I leaned over Cheryl, who lay on the floor holding her jaw. "You okay?" I asked.

  "Nay. Kill the bastard," she howled.

  As I stood up, the other Marine jumped on my back and we both went flying across a couple of tables, sending drinks spraying in every direction. He pinned me to the ground and punched my face. I wiggled free and grabbed an empty beer pitcher which had fallen on the floor and whacked him upside the head with it. He rolled over, grabbing his wounded skull. I scrambled to my feet and kicked him in the nuts. I stood over him, looking down, savoring my moment of victory.

  His look of pain retreated, replaced by pure anger. He spat at me, spittle hitting my face.

  "You son of a bitch," I growled. I picked up a chair and held it over my head, ready to beat the shit out of the fallen Marine.

  A sharp blow landed on my ribs, knocking me off my feet and sending me to the floor. When I looked up, Shore Patrol stood over me with his nightstick drawn.

  I held my hands up in surrender.

  "On your feet, sailor," Shore Patrol ordered. "Your night's over."

  Shit. This wasn't going to make a good impression back on the ship.

  Chapter 5

  The Officer of the Deck had taken our ID cards on Friday night when Shore Patrol escorted me and Billy Earl back to the ship. He wrote up a report and decided to let our d
ivision officer handle the situation as she saw fit.

  First thing Monday morning, McClure and I were summoned to Lieutenant Novak's office.

  Novak sat at her desk holding Shore Patrol's report. Master Chief stood in the corner leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

  Billy Earl and I stood before them.

  "Howdy, ma'am. Me and Chambers reportin' like Clark told us to."

  Holy crap. Hill-Billy-Earl didn't give any respect to military protocol. I thought he might ask her for a glass of milk while he was at it.

  She put the papers down and rested her forearms on the desk. Her cool gray eyes shifted between us. "Would either of you care to explain what happened Friday night at Belinda's Bar?"

  Billy Earl ran a hand over his balding head. "Well, ma'am, these Marines started whoopin' on a couple of girls Chambers was trying to pick up, so we kicked their butts."

  Great. If this was Kentucky's version of Perry Mason, we were going down.

  "Whose butts?" Master Chief barked. "The girls' or the Marines'?"

  McClure gave Woods a dumbfounded look. "Well, the Marines', Master Chief. I wouldn't never thump a girl."

  "I'm pleased to hear it, McClure," Lieutenant Novak congratulated him. "But this does not reflect well on American servicemen serving overseas. What will our Scottish host think of this type of behavior?"

  Billy Earl chuckled and beamed a shot of that Kentucky pride. "Well, ma'am, if they had seen us, they'd think the Marines are a bunch of sissies."

  A big grin spread across Master Chief's face. "You taught 'em a lesson, did ya?"

  Billy Earl nodded. "Sure did, Master Chief. I don't think they'll be bothering girls again in a hurry."

  The Lieutenant held her hand up. "You can pretty it up any way you like, McClure. The fact remains, you assaulted two fellow servicemen. Marines detached to this ship, no less. So in effect, you caused harm to your shipmates."

  McClure shook his head. "Ain't no Marine a shipmate of mine, ma'am. Those guys are just plain ornery."

  She fiddled with the corner of the report. "You know, McClure, I could send you on special detail to the Marines on this ship for a week so you could learn to work with them and appreciate them as your shipmates. Is that what you'd like?"

  "Noooo, ma'am." Billy Earl ironed the front of his shirt with his hands. "A handsome devil like me… those guys might try to do unnatural things with me."

  I caught a glance of Lt. Novak as she fought a smile, exposing light dimples. She leaned back in her chair and shifted her gaze to me. "You've been awfully quiet, Petty Officer Chambers. Two girls at once?" She cocked an eyebrow. "What's your story?"

  I looked at the tips of my boots for a moment then looked back to her. "Well, ma'am, Petty Officer McClure and I were trying to promote goodwill with some Scottish Nationals—"

  She smirked. "Goodwill. Is that what they call it these days? And would this goodwill have led to debauchery and staining the name of the United States sailor abroad?"

  With any luck, yes. "No, ma'am. We were about to ask them out for an ice cream sundae."

  "Cut the crap, Chambers!" Master Chief's voice shook the room. "You were looking to stuff your lollipop—"

  Novak held her hand up. "Thank you, Master Chief," she said firmly. She refocused on me and Billy Earl. "I have half a mind to send you two in front of the Captain for disciplinary action and perhaps you'd learn how to behave ashore." She stared at us, letting the words sink in.

  "Oh, for God's sake, JG. They just need to learn how to handle their booze. That's their problem." Master Chief frowned.

  "Master Chief," Lieutenant Novak snapped. "Don't encourage them. It's not about how much they can drink without falling over, now is it?"

  Master Chief shrugged and walked over to his desk, mumbling. "It was in my day."

  Woods was old school. That was in our favor, but the Navy's equality policy wouldn't sit well with him where Lieutenant Novak was concerned. Although he had to tow the Navy line that women had just as much right and opportunity in the Navy as him, it was obvious he would prefer women at home over a hot stove. He actually insulted her by addressing her as 'JG,' meaning Junior Grade. That was never mentioned when addressing someone of her rank. Although she outranked him, he had a hell of a lot more experience than she did.

  "I know what I'd do," Master Chief growled.

  Novak clasped her hands and steepled her fingers, resting her chin on the fingertips. "By all means, Master Chief, enlighten us."

  Woods smirked. "I'd have them write a letter of apology to the Commanding Officer of the Marines onboard."

  Novak wrinkled her brows. "And what would that accomplish?"

  "Then he'd know he's got a couple of pussies in his outfit who need to be manned up."

  "Master Chief!" She glowered at him. "I think we can do without your pearls of wisdom."

  The tension in the room grew in the silence. At this rate McClure and I stood a good chance of getting off lightly so they could finish their debate in private.

  She leaned forward and drummed her fingers on her desk, then stood up. "Let this be a warning. Any more trouble from either of you, and you will suffer consequences. In this instance, I'm going to let it slide. But are we clear about future behavior when representing our country ashore?"

  "Yes, ma'am." I nodded.

  "Does that mean you ain't sending me to the Marines, ma'am?"

  She shook her head. "No, McClure. Not this time."

  "Whew." Billy Earl pretended to wipe sweat off his brow. "Cousin Jimmy Joe went to prison once, and he said—"

  Novak raised her hand. "Somehow, McClure, I don't think I want to hear what happened to your cousin in prison."

  Billy Earl shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  ***

  "Chambers," Clark yelled. "I got a job for you."

  I walked across the shop and sat at the desk adjacent to his.

  He lit a King Edward cigar and didn't speak until he managed to fill the office with thick smoke. "I got an errand for you, assistant boss. Have you met the PMA yet?"

  "What the heck is a PMA?" I lit a cigarette, trying to counter the toxic cigar fumes.

  Clark popped his boots on his desk, leaned back and blew smoke rings. "Production Management Assistant. Commander Gentry. Well, Lieutenant Commander, actually. He's Novak's boss, and the man in charge of getting the submarines underway on time."

  A Lieutenant Commander was pretty far up the hierarchy, like a Major. But an assistant? He couldn't be that scary. "Sure, what do you need?"

  "That idiot, Petersen, screwed up a job on the Ford." He picked up a manila folder off his desk and tossed it over to me. "The job needs to be reworked and the PMA has to authorize it."

  "What happened?" I took a puff and flicked my ash into the nearly full ashtray.

  "He forgot to put the securing nut on the pipe before he brazed on the tailpiece, so we can't tighten the pipe in place. We gotta rework the whole job." He gave me directions how to get to the Repair Office then reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a Playboy; my cue to leave so he could get to know Miss February a little better.

  I set out to meet Mr. Assistant Man. I didn't want nor like my role of responsibility, but getting a signature didn't sound like any big deal. I could handle a helper.

  As I neared the Repair Office, Lt. Novak came out and headed my way. She always looked very business-like, which added another dimension to her sexiness. From what I could tell through her uniform, her breasts were small. I liked that. Coupled with her short-cropped haircut she was kind of tomboyish, in the cutest way possible. Of course, none of that mattered. She was a ship chick, an officer, and my boss. She may as well have had "Off Limits" tattooed on her forehead, but in the interest of civility, I offered her a cordial greeting.

  "Afternoon, ma'am."

  "Good afternoon, Petty Officer Chambers. You sound chirpy today." She stopped and put her hands behind her back, stretching her uniform shirt a little
tighter.

  Yep, small and perky.

  "How are you guys getting on with that tailpiece replacement on the Ford?"

  I held up the folder. "I have the works package right here. I just have to get this PMA guy to sign it, and we're good to go."

  "What?" Her jaw dropped. "I signed that for Clark over three hours ago. You should have been working on that already."

  I shrugged. "Clark just gave it to me."

  "Dang it." She looked at her watch. "Look, I have to go. When the PMA gets done with you, tell Clark to come see me in my office. Pronto."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  The Lieutenant scurried off. I watched as she and her cute ass vanished around the corner.

  I opened a door that read 'Repair Office' and surveyed the space. Half a dozen desks lined the wall, with another desk all the way at the back facing toward the aisle leading to it. A dark-haired man sat there with his head down, buried in paperwork. I read the desk plate: 'Lt. Commander Gentry, PMA.'

  So this was the little helper guy. A quick signature and I'd go back and tell Clark the good news that Lt. Novak was going to bawl him out for being a lazy shit.

  As I made my approach for the PMA's desk, he stopped what he was doing, slammed his pen onto the desk, and gave me a vicious scowl. His jaw firmly closed with the corners of his mouth turned down, and horn-like eyebrows turned up. His eyes fixed firmly on me with the piercing accuracy of a sniper's scope.

  Oh shit! It was Angry Man from the boat shack.

  Chapter 6

  "Yes?" the PMA snapped.

  I cleared my throat. "Umm… Good afternoon, sir. I'm Petty Officer Chambers from the pipe shop." I held out the manila works package. "I need you to sign a rework form, sir."

  "For what?" His mouth stretched further downwards.

  Uh-oh. He looked pissed.

  "We need to install a missing nut, sir."

  He stood up and leaned on his desk with his knuckles. "I got a whole department of fucking nuts, Chambers, who's missing?"

  I thought we were just going to talk, assistant to assistant-like, but this guy freaked me out.