Eye Of The Storm - DK3 (48 page)

“Huh.” Colleen nodded. “Our family’s like that. My brothers were doing their Da imitation the other day, and you know, you can just see when those huge lunks are twenty years older, it’s gonna be like having six of him around.” She stopped. “Oh, Sweet Mary. What am I saying?”

She covered her eyes.

Kerry laughed, then waved as more of their friends appeared. “Here comes the gang. What’s the plan, we just going to do dinner, or...”

“Thought maybe some dancing over at the club.” Colleen nodded towards the distant sound of music. “Dar joining us?”

“She can’t. She’s going to be up in her eyebrows with that network tonight. I was going to stay, but she chased me out and told me to have a good time.” Kerry nibbled her lower lip.

“Like she hasn’t clued in yet that you’d be just as happy sitting with her and punching buttons or whatever it is she’s doing?” Colleen chuckled. “C’mon, let’s get wild and crazy. I’m in a Macarena mood tonight.”

A chorus of groans.

“We could always do Karaoke.” The redhead warned, “Remember, we had a bet on last time to see what it would take to get Kerry up there and singing.”

“There is not that much alcohol in Miami,” Kerry muttered under her breath, then stuffed a salsa laden chip in Colleen’s reopening mouth.

“Okay, let’s go. The Hard Rock first, right? I’m itching for a nice big cheeseburger.”

“WOW. THIS PLACE has changed,” Ceci remarked, as she edged past a roller skating half naked person coming down the sidewalk.

“Yeap,” Andy agreed, as he took a breath of the salty air. “Best cheap entertainment I found yet, though.” He eyed a blading woman who skimmed by, then made a small face. “Structural engineer’d have a ball with that one.”

Ceci laughed. They’d spent the morning doing some research on 262
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boats and the marina, then decided to have lunch out on South Beach and take a stroll up the old boardwalk, taking in the new sights and the older ones. “I remember when this was nothing but a sleepy, weatherworn part of the beach, full of retirement hostels.” She glanced over Andy’s shoulder. “Is that a roller skating dog?”

“Yeap.” Her husband nodded. “Usta sit over there.” He pointed to a small balcony near a motel being rebuilt. “Watch that damn dog come up and down. Finally figgured out what his deal was.”

“Hmm?”

“Guy owned him worked down at Penrods.” Andy poked a thumb over his shoulder. “Had him a little girlfriend up twenty blocks or so at one of them little snack shops. He was taking notes.”

“How do you know?” Ceci asked curiously.

“Stopped him and read one.” Unrepentant blue eyes twinkled briefly. “Boy needed a dictionary and a bucket more imagination, tell ya that.”

“Andy! How could you?” she scolded.

He hummed a bit.

“What did it say?”

“Heh.” Andy smiled, then paused and glanced at a strip of beach visible through the buildings. He walked up the grassy slope and onto the boardwalk, then leaned on the railings and gazed at the wide, green blue expanse past the sandy shore. “That’s a spot Dar likes.”

Ceci regarded the wild bit of beach, near an abandoned old hotel and full of sea grapes. It was mostly hidden from the walk and, if you were down there, probably had a nice view. “Is that where she was, that first time you saw her?”

“Yeah.” Andy rested his chin on one hand. “Thought my eyes were playing damn tricks on me but there weren’t no mistaking that profile.”

Ceci turned her head slightly and peered at him. “No,” she admitted with a tiny smile. “That’s very true.”

“Came back a few times, usually at night, always by herself. She always seemed sad, somehow.” He exhaled. “Then one night, it was real late. I’d been down off the waterfront helping out an old bud of mine and came back up here. Thar she was.”

Ceci just listened, understanding how hard it must have been for him to stay away.

“That night, I was scared for her,” Andy went on. “She looked t’me like she was at the end of something. Her rope, the road. I was halfway across the sand, couldn’t help myself, when she just up and left.” He took a breath. “Didn’t come back.”

“Is that why you finally contacted her?”

“Had to know if she was okay,” he replied simply. “Found out later that was the night she and Kerry hooked up.”

His wife nodded thoughtfully. “What did you think when you finally met Kerry?”

He cocked his head to one side, in a manner very like Dar’s. “Wasn’t
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gonna have to put up with being called granpa, fer one thing.” He chuckled at her laughter. “Naw, I was glad. Damn glad to see my kid finally find someone down the road and gone for her.”

“She is,” Ceci agreed. “And she’s a real character sometimes, too.

Which reminds me, sailor boy, how much did you have to do with that very neatly staged little drawing exhibition last night?” She poked Andy in the ribs.

“Ow.” He put on an innocent expression. “Ah do not know what you are referring to, ma’am. Ah was just upstairs steering the boat.” Andy pushed away from the railing. “And speaking of that. Don’t we got a meeting with some guy about one of them damn things?”

“Mmm,” Ceci relented and took his hand as they turned and started down the boardwalk towards the marina. “She’s got an interesting style, you know,” she remarked casually. “Talk about a pleasant surprise.”

Andy just grinned into the late sunlight.

“Hey. How about sushi after we pick out our new home?”

Wide, very round, blue eyes stared at her. “’Scuse me?”

“C’mon, Andy. There’s a great place just down the beach from here.

Or at least there used to be. Let’s go.”

“You are asking me to put raw fish into my body?”

“Everyone does it. You know it won’t hurt you.”

“Mrs. Roberts, if you knew as much about where them fish had been as ah do, you would not be consuming a square inch of them without it being boiled for half an hour. Then deep fried and served with potato chips,” Andy warned her, glancing up as a man in nothing but a pale blue Speedo went by on a unicycle. “Good Lord.”

“See? I bet he eats sushi,” Ceci teased.

“Yeap. And it made his parts fall off, so’s he kin ride that thing like that,” the ex-SEAL stated. “Whoa. Hold on a minute.” He steered Cecilia up a short flight of stairs into a nondescript building. “Lemme get one little thing here out the way.”

“Sure.” Ceci looked around at the plain walls. “What is it?”

“Gotta sign my divorce papers from Uncle Sam.” Andy glanced at her. “Make me a private citizen fer the first time since I was sixteen years old.” His eyes dropped for a moment. “Thought maybe you’d want to be there fer that.”

That plain, drab office with faded bulletins on the walls, and cracked folding chairs around the edges suddenly took on a patina of wonder for her. “You thought right.” She took a breath as the uniformed attendant behind a small, scarred wooden desk looked up and smiled, evidently recognizing Andy.

“Evening, sir. I’ve got some mail for you.”

Andy walked over, pulling Ceci with him, and took the rubber band wrapped package. “Thanks.” He glanced at a small door behind her. “He in?”

She nodded. “We’ve got the papers all ready. I think you just have to sign them.” Her eyes moved to Ceci curiously. “Ma’am.”

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“C’mon.” Andrew led the way to the door and knocked on it, then pushed it open at a grunt from inside.

The office turned out to be an oddly adapted space, evidently converted from its original use as part of an old hotel kitchen. There was a screened back door and a high ceiling and shuttered windows all painted in a dull blue. A desk was squarely near the rear of the room and seated behind it was a huge man with a bull neck and a sparse crew cut. He looked up from under lowered, pale eyebrows as they entered.

“’Lo, Andy.”

“Keith.”

“Who’s your pretty lady friend?” The low voice was almost a growl.

Half a grin flickered on and off Andy’s face. “You never did meet mah wife, Cecilia, did you?” He glanced to one side. “Ceci, this is Keith Hawkins, he sorta took care of things here for me.”

The man behind the desk stood, towering over even Andy’s tall height, and stuck a hand the size of a loaf of bread out at her. “No, ma’am, I never did have the pleasure. But I’m damn sure glad I have had it now.” A grin shaped his craggy face. “This damn barnacle didn’t mention he’d met back up with you. Just sent me a note asking for mustering out rags.”

Ceci took his hand gingerly and pressed it, since shaking something that big didn’t seem to be a good idea. “Nice to meet you…and thanks, for helping Andy out.”

The giant took a folder from a tray on his desk and opened it, then reversed its direction and pushed it across the desk surface. “Sign.”

Andy pulled a pen out of his back pocket and sat down on the corner of the desk, blue eyes flicking over the document quickly. Then he looked up at Hawkins in surprise. “Ah didn’t ask fer this.”

The bigger man chuckled softly. “Andy, shut the fuck up and sign it, willya?” Andy gave him a look. “Sorry for the language, ma’am.”

“I’ve been married to a sailor for over thirty years,” Ceci replied dryly. “I’ve heard the term before.”

“I never talked like that in front of you,” Andy protested indignantly.

“No, honey, but all your friends did.” His wife patted him on the knee. “It’s okay.” She leaned over and studied the papers. “What is it?”

“You make it long enough to get retirement benefits, you need to take ’em,” Hawkins replied quietly. “’Specially if you done it the way Andy did. Not spent the time behind some damn desk.” Andrew carefully signed his name to the bottom. “And while you’re at it, gimme a goddamned address for you so I can have the Department of the Navy, which is crawling up my butt, send you all those frigging decorations you refused to go pick up.”

“Ah don’t want them,” Andy said fiercely.

“Too damn bad,” Keith shot back. “Give ’em to your kid, if you don’t like the colors.”

Andrew scowled. “What in the hell would she do with the damn
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things?”

Ceci put a hand on his arm. “Treasure them.” Their eyes locked.

“This is the child who bought and made a scale model of every ship you sailed on, Andy.”

“Aww.” Keith grinned. “He never told me that. Ain’t that cute?”

“Son of a biscuit.” Andy sighed in exaggeration. “Fine, fine. Here.”

He scribbled down Dar’s address on the paper. “Send the damn things there if you have to.” Long, scarred fingers pushed the papers back across the desk. “Lemme go get my kit.” He got up and ambled out the back door, leaving them in silence.

Keith sat back down and regarded her. “So. You’re the missus, huh?”

“Yes.” Cecilia looked around, then glanced back at him. “Bet you didn’t know he had one.”

“Bet you’re wrong.” The man snorted. “Bet I know more about you and that damn kid of his than I do my own mother.” He gave a crooked smile. “Andy’s private’r then hell about himself, but damn, did he mouth off about the two of you.”

Ceci smiled and nodded, and they regarded each other in silence for a bit.

“He’s been through Hell,” Keith finally said quietly. “He lived through something woulda killed just about anybody else I ever knew.”

“I know.”

“Take care of him, ma’am. He’s a special guy.”

“I will,” Cecilia answered softly.

They turned as Andy came back in, with a simple, dark blue duffel bag. “That’s ’bout it,” he stated, holding a hand out to Keith. “Ain’t going far. Be seeing you guys ’round the docks.”

Keith took his hand and shook it with a quiet respect. “Keep in touch, Andy. You know where to find us.”

“Yeap.” With a brisk nod Andrew turned and captured Ceci’s hand, then headed for the door, walking calmly out of a chapter of his life and closing it firmly behind him. They emerged onto the sidewalk, into a wash of colorful sunlight and a blast of salsa music and started off down the street.

Ceci allowed the silence to go on for a while, as they passed trendy hotels and those in the process of becoming trendy. “How does it feel?”

she finally asked, as the marina came into view. “I know they were like a family to you.”

Andy walked along a few paces, visibly thinking. “Yeap,” he mused, as they mounted the steps. “They were that. But I’ll tell you, Cec. Having to choose all the time ’tween going and staying, that about killed me.” He paused, giving her an honest look. “I know you didn’t think so sometimes but climbing that gangplank again was so hard.”

Ceci studied him. “Watching you walk up it just as hard for me.” She held a hand out. “C’mon. Let’s go buy our own this time. We can run up and down it all day long together.”

A slow smile touched his face. “All right.” He took her hand. “But, 266
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Cec?”

“Hmm?”

“No pink.”

She pointed a finger at him, and shook it. “Just for that, pink curtains.”

“C’mon now.” He pulled the door open.

“Pink seats on the head.”

“Cecilia Roberts.”

“A pink pennant on the masthead.”

“Oh mah god.”

Ceci chuckled. “So, what are we going to name it?”

“Pepto Bismol, at this rate.”

“DAMN IT.” DAR thumped the side of the monitor in annoyance for about the twentieth time. “C’mon, you piece of…”

“Hey, Boss. Talking nice gets you more than beating up the stuff,”

Mark commented, from his safe spot across the floor. They were in the operations center, surrounded by mildly humming equipment and the hiss of high-powered air conditioning units. “Honey, vinegar, you know the story.”

“What?” Dar grumbled, as she initiated a command again. “What story?”

“That you can get more bees with honey than vinegar?”

“Why the hell would I want bees?” his boss muttered, engrossed in a startup script. “Ah, there you are, you bastard.” She typed in a set of commands, reviewed the results, and then restarted the unit. “Boot or die.”

Mark worked at his own project, keeping an eye on the tall figure hunched over the console. His mind drifted back a few years, remembering long hours spent in this very room in the company of a younger, much less polished Dar Roberts. A task made easier by the fact that the tall executive had changed into a pair of jeans and an untucked polo before she attacked the stubborn startup issues.