by Hart Rivers
“What are you doing here, Kate?” The white dress shirt accentuated his deep blue eyes, golden skin, golden hair. If Dr. Kildare ever needed a stand-in, all Gregg needed were some scrubs and a screenplay. Even their voices were similar. No wonder he made all the other girls melt.
“Would you believe me if I said I was a spy?”
“Ha. Ha.”
Gregg’s besotted gaze migrated into a grimace. He masked it with a sip of the wine he had ordered. A very nice Bordeaux that he remembered was her favorite. He was always doing thoughtful things like that. If there was a perfect guy to settle down with it would be Gregg, and in a perfect world she would be in love with him.
The world simply was not perfect.
“Okay then, let’s try this.” Kate took a sip from her glass. The Bordeaux was perfect at least. “I’m a missionary.”
Gregg practically spewed the wine out of his nose.
“It’s true!” she insisted, glad this much of her well-rehearsed story was honest. Kate knew she should be a better liar considering how much she loved to bend the rules. “Mom’s church put out a call to help staff their Vietnamese hospital ministry so I signed up for a year as a surgical nurse. It’s not like I’m going door-to-door delivering Bibles, more like the Peace Corps, only with the Peace Mission Hospital, just down the road.”
Gregg didn’t look any happier than her mother had about the news. And both of them would be unhappier still if they knew Phillip was involved. Call it karmic justice: what she had done to Gregg in high school, and on some level continued to do to him now, Phillip had performed with fluent grace and charm on her in one fateful college semester studying abroad.
It was quite an education in love and sex, abandonment and adulthood. That’s when she learned there are philharmonic level gifted players and then there are the gifted virtuosos. And no one played people better than Phillip. He made you helplessly enjoy it even while he was taking you apart. Kate supposed that’s how he had convinced her it was her own brilliant idea to go to South East Asia in the middle of a dirty, bloody war to be his “spy”—oh, she knew she wasn’t really a “spy” but that’s how Phillip worked. He knew she was bored and would love the idea of being a spy, so he arranged through the State Department to have her signed with the mission as a surgical nurse and made an anonymous “gift” to the mission to increase their staff which somehow ensured she was immediately selected and assigned over another candidate. In exchange, she received several photos with instructions to report back on any unusual activity. So, she supposed, that made her more of a “mole” than a “spy” but semantics aside, it was all very exciting, which Phillip knew she simply could not resist.
Gregg regarded her for a moment, making her squirm. So Kate pretended to suddenly be captivated by the carp gliding in the lotus pond near their beautiful long teak table, set for six, room for eight. What she admired most about the man sitting directly across from her, and what she really didn’t like about him either, was his uncanny ability to see what others did not. She always felt like he could look through her eyes and read her mind, which would not do at all and especially not now. If Gregg had any idea she and Phillip were still in touch, had even recently slept together again, he would be furious.
“Oh, no.”
“What?” Kate dared a glance, studiously innocent.
“I know that look on your face. You’re up to something.”
With just the right hint of piousness, she informed him, “I am here to serve my fellow man and try to do some good where it’s needed the most.” When he dramatically rolled his eyes, she conceded, “Okay, I was bored. The opportunity came along and I grabbed it before someone else beat me to it. Happy, Kemosabe?”
“Only if I had something to do with the decision, Tonto.”
He gave her a little smile. Perfect. She had always insisted on him being Tonto, her Kemosabe, and finally she let him pull rank. That should amply appease him to drop it.
Or not. The upgrade in position only netted her a shake of his finger. “Even then you have no business being here. It’s a damn war zone, Kate. Nha Trang is a beautiful city, but people get killed here for no reason. I watched a guy get blown apart just last night, and he wasn’t the first. You need to go home. Or back to France. Just go be anywhere but here.”
“People get hit by busses and die in cars every day, too, Gregg.” She left it at that. There would be no debate. She would, however, touch that dial and reach across the table for his hand while she was at it. “C’mon, pal, admit it. You’re glad to see me.”
Something shifted in his eyes then. A dark something she hadn’t expected. He suddenly gripped her tip-toeing fingers and was leaning over, as if he meant to kiss her, only to… snarl?
It was some expression she had never associated with Gregg, his upper lip curling in distaste, his eyes narrowed to slit windows, and his voice, usually like something out of a fairy tale, consolidated into the nasty whisper, “And just what the hell is he doing here?”
Kate tracked Gregg’s line of vision that had shifted from her to two other men approaching the table. She recognized one as the new doctor she’d met earlier at the clinic who went by Izzy. Like Gregg he was dressed nicely except in a frumpy, wrinkled kind of way that at least provided some relief from those redundant military fatigues. As for Izzy’s companion…
Kate stopped breathing.
He moved with the lithe kind of natural grace only found in the wild, but stylishly well adapted to the animal of man in an old elegant ivory colored dinner jacket, white linen tailored slacks and sandals. He hadn’t shaved for the occasion. His hair was straight, long, almost black. It matched the Aviator sunglasses he took off. His eyes belonged to an animal species: large variety, cat—that rare, sea glass color of a 7up bottle. He had to be the most divine man she had ever seen in person or in print, and her hunger for all things risky, dark and unknown arose with jaws wide and insatiable.
Kate wanted to devour him on sight.
“JD.” Gregg said tightly as he stood to greet them. He had managed to rearrange his snarl into something a little less antagonistic. “I didn’t realize you would be joining us.”
JD initiated a handshake that Gregg hesitated to accept. In that moment’s hesitation Kate noticed JD had two silver bracelets on his extended right wrist that had some small inscription she couldn’t make out. On his left wrist was a stainless steel and gold watch she recognized as a Jaeger-LeCoultre. Design she knew; the bracelets were a mystery.
“Robert David asked me to bring Izzy over since he was picking up the rest of the party. I hoped you might have room for an extra—especially since Henri’s has the best cassoulet in town.”
“Cassoulet!” And now Kate was hungry for the rich, slow cooked casserole of meats and white beans, topped with fried bread cubes, confit duck legs, pork cracklings. She had fallen in love with the savory dish upon first bite from Phillip’s own fork. And so began his tasteful seduction.
JD’s answering “Magnifique” kiss of bronze fingertips to sky and rich, articulate voice matched everything else about this rare animal that kicked her pulse into overdrive. Kate told herself to start breathing again, to just act normal while he spoke to Gregg. But his eyes were resting on her and the impact was exhilarating, a giddy kind of high like the time she hotwired a car on a dare—a cop car that she drove like a bat out of hell with strobing lights and siren full blast, then abandoned at the nearest Orange Julius.
“Of course we have room,” Kate said brightly. “Don’t we, Gregg?”
“Sure.” Gregg’s introductions were as curt as his agreement before he concluded with, “Or you can just call him Doctor Mikel.”
“Enchanté.” JD’s sea glass gaze continued to hold hers as he indicated the empty seat to her left. “May I?”
“S’il vous plait.” Having consented with a “please” Kate asked, “You speak French?”
“La nourriture est spectaculaire et l’ambiance est rendue parfaite par vot
re présence.”
The food is spectacular and the ambience is made perfect by your presence. It wasn’t the sort of compliment that was easily pulled off, but slid off his tongue like clarified butter.
“And you?” he asked.
“A little.” Kate preferred to be underestimated and found it amusing when people thought beauty precluded brilliance. She had a natural affinity for foreign languages, and though she was just getting started with Vietnamese, she did speak fluent French. It was the second language of the country, which Phillip had pointed out would work to both her advantage and his.
A quick glance at Gregg and she saw the tic in his cheek, the sharp, silent warning he shot her.
“Wow, this place is wonderful!” Izzy made himself at home on the table’s other side, sitting in the chair next to Gregg and across from the apparent no-no sitting beside her. “Just look at this. A tropical sunset, French restaurant, everyone’s dressed in real clothes, all these different accents—my god, are these people actually tourists?”
“Believe it or not, people do come here to vacation.” It was her off-limits dining companion, JD, who answered. “A lot of Australians, but even more French, because of their earlier occupation here.”
“This is amazing,” Izzy raved, oblivious to the tension bouncing from one side of the table to the other as Gregg shot her eye signals. “And here I thought nothing could beat the car JD drove us over in.”
“Wine, Izzy?” Gregg abruptly offered.
Before Izzy could reply, JD signaled their waiter, whose earlier effusive demeanor turned palpably guarded as JD spoke to him in Vietnamese.
The brief exchange ended with their waiter asking in English, “And what would you like to drink, Dr. Mikel?”
“The usual, please. And one for our new friend Dr. Moskowitz here if he would like one. Kate, maybe try something a little exciting, too?”
“I’m always ready to try something exciting,” Kate confessed.
“Gregg?” JD asked.
“No. Thanks.”
“In that case—” JD placed his order with the eloquence Gregg’s refusal had lacked: “Three Soixante Quinzes, please.”
“Of course.” Their waiter left. Quickly.
Kate stared at JD. “Well, that was interesting. Do you always make such an impression?”
“I would think that making an impression is something you’re quite familiar with.”
Gregg’s wine glass landed on the table with a thud and coincided with Izzy announcing, “Here they come.”
Kate turned to see a pair of women, both in white sundresses, one wholesomely pretty with brown hair, one a glamorous, statuesque redhead—Ginger and Maryann off their island and bookending their attractive escort who bowed to Kate upon reaching the table.
“Ma’am, my apologies for your having to spend such an inordinately long time in the company of these ruffians and horrible examples of gentlemanly virtue. You are saved.”
“You must be Robert David.” Kate dimmed the wattage of her camera ready smile. She needed to make some girlfriends and being the center of attention was not the way to do it.
“An honor, ma’am, and I can certainly see why Gregg was actually shouting and screaming about his lovely friend from back home who was here for a visit.”
“A long visit,” Kate emphatically told them all. “I’m signed on for the next year at the Peace Mission Hospital as a surgical nurse.”
The redhead extended her hand. “I’m Margie, the only female nurse on the unit so I’m thrilled to meet you, just promise me we won’t talk shop for the rest of the night.”
“Lady, I like your style.” And Kate did. She liked Margie’s forthrightness, the honesty of her grip, the way she looked you in the eyes and smiled right at you. “Besides, I’d rather talk about the city, the people, and all the places I need to see while I’m here.”
“Then we will have a lot to talk about.” The brunette gave her a quick hug. “It is really nice to meet you. I’m Nikki. Red Cross and Margie’s room-mate.”
“Not to mention newly broken up—but not too broken up about it—and now available.”
“Margie…” Nikki warned. “Let’s just enjoy this fine night amongst friends and keep my squirmy, wormy stuff as far away from our dinner plates as possible. Gregg, you got some more wine in that bottle to share?”
“Come right over here, darlin’, where the Doctor of Love awaits.” Gregg poured a generous amount of the remaining Bordeaux into his own glass and extended it to Nikki.
The sound she made was between a squeal of delight and a laugh as generous as Gregg’s offering.
As for Gregg’s behavior, the boy next door had changed somehow in the year since Kate had last seen him. She hadn’t made it to his going away party or even his latest graduation. They just had a way of immediately reconnecting between her moves and trips abroad while Gregg remained steady as a barge plowing the ocean to its predetermined destination—at least until the blip with an unexpected draft notice.
There were seven of them at the rectangular table for eight and as the night progressed it reminded Kate of the childhood game musical chairs when Gregg would lose his own chair so she could have it. Only tonight he kept tracking her like a moving target and was bending over her seat, his palm possessively cupping her left shoulder—conveniently separating it from JD’s—as Nikki tipsily giggled in their midst, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!”
Kate was feeling amply loose herself to cheer, “Ali! Ali! You gotta respect him, anyone really, who’s not afraid of bucking the system to adhere to their own moral principles.”
Kate felt a hot whisper of breath behind her ear, mocking her with, “Moral principles? Isn’t that a new one for you, Tonto?”
As subtly as possible, Kate shrugged away from Gregg’s palm and muttered, “Shut up, Gregg, and don’t spoil the party just because you probably need to get laid by someone besides me.”
Then to Nikki, loud enough to be heard over the convivial table chatter, Kate inquired, “And what do you think of Ali?”
“Well, my daddy like a lot of folks back where I come from in Tennessee hate him, still call him Cassius Clay and say he’s a coward hiding behind some religion he doesn’t even believe in to shirk his patriotic duty.”
“But what do you think?” Kate persisted, curious, and more than a little annoyed with Gregg’s hovering.
“Honestly?” Nikki put a secretive finger to her lips. “I think he’s brave. And I think he’s said a lot of things other people are thinking but might be afraid to say themselves.”
Kate thought of her own liberal upbringing, how her lawyer mom had applauded Ali’s interview when he said the US government could arrest him if they wanted to but he was not going 10,000 miles to go kill innocent people he had no quarrel with, that “No Viet Cong ever called me nigger” and much of the real enemy was right at home.
Clearly she and Nikki had different backgrounds but she respected Nikki for thinking beyond the narrow mindedness that was unfortunately shared by the cattle mentality comprising much of the homeland’s population.
“I agree with you, Nikki. But it makes me wonder why you’re here if you’re more inclined to side with Ali than your dad. I mean, we are the only two people at this table in the country of our own accord.”
“Let’s just say even Vietnam could seem like a vacation from a less than peaceful household, a third cousin who wants to marry you, and has your family’s blessing to do it. What about you?”
“Would you believe me if I said I’m just a good Christian girl pitching in to make the world a better place?”
“Not really.” Nikki grinned.
“Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t attract that guy if you were.” Nikki had enough booze in her to point to JD. But then she pointed to Gregg and decreed, “However, I think this guy likes you just fine any which way you’re inclined to be.” Hic. “And, of course, any girl with a brain in her head would gr
ab him if she had the chance, so you’d better get to it before somebody else does.”
Gregg blew Nikki a kiss just as two palms came down on Nikki’s shoulders and a pair of lips planted themselves on her neck.
“Hey, baby.” A good looking Kennedy-esque guy intercepted Nikki’s hand to the current glass she was working on. Except for the military buzz cut everything about him screamed pedigreed-don’t-fuck-with-me-or-my-daddy-will-grind-you-to-dirt American. “Let’s go finish business.”
Nikki shook her head. “Go away, Donald. You weren’t invited to this party and any unfinished business between us can wait till I’m ready.”
“Major Peck!” Gregg sloppily saluted him. “To what do we owe this honor of your presence?”
“Fuck you and your sarcasm too, Kelly. This is between me and Nikki. Show some respect.”
“With all due respect, Major Doctor Peck, Nikki is with us, so if she doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to say, then I highly suggest you go away and not further intrude upon the good time we were having before you showed up. Sir!”
“It’s okay, Gregg.” Nikki laid a conciliatory hand upon his better intentions. “Don’s right. We have some things to discuss privately so I’ll be saying goodnight to the rest of y’all now.”
JD stood up, followed by everyone else in various degrees of inebriation, ensuring nobody was getting to Nikki without plowing through their collective drunken asses first.
“Actually, Nikki,” said JD, clearly the most sober amongst them, or at least the one with the highest tolerance, “you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to go. Major Peck? Why don’t you and I step away from the table and have a word together alone? I think we should get better acquainted.”
Now Nikki was on her feet and ever the gracious southern girl insisted, “Now, now, that’s just not necessary but I’m much obliged to you all and look forward to getting together again soon at that big beach party Gregg has planned for next week.”