Forever (18 page)

“Actually, back to work, here I come,” Roni said. “Can we spring for Pizza Hut tonight?”

“Well, we have to pay cable, and I’ll gas up both cars, but yeah, let’s get pizza.”

They hopped up and walked back down the bleachers, out the 35-yard line tunnel and into the parking lot. It was a nice day so Roni had the t-tops off the Sky Bird. “Want me to drop you off at home?”

“Nope, I’ll walk. Might come back and go for a run.”

She kissed him and got in the car. “Don’t hurt yourself. You have a talent for that.”

“I love you, too.”

It was Wednesday, Sept. 28, two days from end-of-month payday and the first of three days off for Scott. Roni and Amanda were working that Friday night at The Poison Apple and Scott wasn’t too thrilled about it. Army end-of-month payday could get a little crazy.
A lot crazy.

For the average soldier at Fort Riley, end-of-month payday was a training holiday. Everyone received their checks about noon, and then all bets were off. Most had blown their month’s salary weeks ago and now they could load up on cigarettes, weed, and partying.

Many off-post troops, who had to learn to budget, were fine on end-of-month, but for the gang on Custer Hill, it was like Bastille Day. And while most guys headed to Junction City for payday, a few made their way to Manhattan, hoping to score some college tail as opposed to the JC skanks and hookers.

Roni was off all day on Friday, too. She and Scott spent the morning the way they spent most mornings they had off together, sleeping in and making love. They talked about wedding plans and maybe going to the K-State game against Mississippi State on Saturday.

About noon they drove to the Fort to pick up Scott’s paycheck; it was $560, his first check as a Spec 4. They bought groceries at the Commissary, picked up some items at the PX, then headed home.

“Knockity-knock people!”

“C’mon on in Amanda!”
Scott shouted.

Amanda burst through the door at in her Poison Apple outfit; purple t-shirt and tight black shorts. She was a little off-kilter at times, but Scott and Roni really liked her. She was a military brat. Her dad was an Air Force colonel based out of McConnell AFB in Wichita. She was Roni’s height, but with more of an athletic build, with shoulder-length, wavy raven-black hair, dark brown eyes, and the vocabulary of a sailor.

Roni and Scott weren’t the only ones fond of her. Scott’s new EMT partner, Todd Marquis, liked Amanda, too. He went with the gang to the Florida State game and even hung out last Saturday at Kite’s listening to the Wildcats beat Wichita State.  A Kansas boy himself, he hailed from the small town of Greenberg.

Todd was already at the house when Amanda arrived. He and Scott had volunteered to help out as trainers at the Manhattan High football game that night. They didn’t have to be there until 5:30, but when Scott let it slip that Amanda would be over about 4:00, Todd was there by 3:30.

“Hi Toddy,” Amanda said, brightly. “Scotty, where’s my girl?”

“Upstairs getting ready, Mandy.
Go get her.”

Amanda bounded up the steps. Todd sighed.
“Dude. She is hot.”

“Careful partner.
Colonel’s kid. That could be dangerous to your scrotum.”

“Don’t care; one shot would be worth it.”

The girls came down the stairs, giggling like seventh-graders.

“What is so funny?” Scott asked. “You two are goofy.”

“Ummm…” Roni said, “Amanda has some really good hash. Here!”

She passed Todd the pipe. He took a hit and handed it to Scott.

“That’s good shit, Amanda,” Todd said.

“I always have good
shit,” she said.

“OK, honey, how do we look?” Roni asked.

They both looked good in their tight purple shirts and black shorts. Scott frowned.

“Gorgeous. Stay home.”

“Footer, I’m bartending. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, until the First of the 18th Infantry lands at the Apple.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“He doesn’t trust the infantry,” Todd chimed in. Roni shot him a dirty look.

“Didn’t Slick Man say we can trust the infantry?” she asked.

“Not when they’re drunk and horny.”
Scott said.

“I’ll take care of my girl,” Amanda said, hugging Roni. “C’mon, we better get over there.”

The Poison Apple was just a three-block walk out the back door. Scott still wasn’t thrilled.

“Please be careful,” he said. “This can be a rough night.”

“I’ll be fine, baby. Amanda has my back and we have really big-assed bouncers.”

“OK, we’ll stop by after the game.”

“Going to be our knights in shining armor, Todd?” Amanda asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Todd said, grinning.

Roni gave Scott a quick kiss and they headed out the back door. Scott flopped back in their old love seat as Todd fired up the bowl again.

“Hey partner,
there’s cops and MPs everywhere, the Courtesy Patrol is out and we’ll be there by 10:00. They’ll be OK. I’m guessing they can take care of themselves.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Scott said. “I just have a really hot fiancé who I don’t want every grunt from the Fort pawing.”

Todd leaned back and laughed. “You are a love-struck puppy, Mitchell.”

The Manhattan Indians dominated Topeka West, 35-13, and for Scott and Todd, it was a quiet night. One pretty bad ankle sprain, a couple of bells rung, and Scott had to close up one small cut. “See-Spot-run medicine,” Todd said.

As they packed up their aid bags on the sidelines, an MPD officer came over. “Hey guys, I just got a call that they need some help down in Aggieville.”

“What kind of help?” Scott asked, his mind racing.

“They’ve had a bunch of fights break out on the 1100 block of Moro. We have units on scene and the MPs are there, but they asked for any available medical personnel.”

“The 1100 block as in The Poison Apple?”

“Out front.”

“Fuck,” said Todd, shooting Scott a quick look. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Can you get us down there? My fiancé and her friend are both working in there.”

“Let’s go!”

It took just five minutes to arrive at the corner of 11th and Moro in Aggieville. Scott and Todd jumped out of the back of Doug Morrison’s squad car.

They were both wearing their green-blue medical flight suits with eight different zippered pockets on them, with the cloth copies of the EMT badges and their name and rank sewn on. On EMT duty they didn’t have to wear caps, thank God.

The Apple was behind them with a lot of hooting and hollering and shouts of “Where are the fucking dancers?” Apparently, the DJ said he was bringing dancers with him; not nude, but pushing the limits of the Riley County ordinance.  The sign over the front door read:

“COME BLOW YOUR PAYDAY LOAD AT THE APPLE TONITE!  $2.00 COVER”

“What’s going on in there?” Scott asked Doug.

“They’ve hauled a few people out, but they’re still serving drinks and the DJ is still spinning,” said Doug. “The grunts are just pissed because the dancers aren’t there. And the girl-guy ratio isn’t great tonight. End-of-month payday usually keeps the coeds on campus.”

“So, they’re after any female they can find,” Todd said.

“I think they need a couple of EMTs in there,” Scott said, grabbing his bag.

“You’re not going in there alone,” Doug said. He grabbed has walkie-talkie, barked orders into it, then followed Scott and Todd to the front door.

A huge bouncer met them at the door. “Boss don’t want no cops or shit in there unless he calls them.”

“Boss don’t have a choice, Slick,” Doug said. “This is a security check and these guys are EMTs. You can let us in or have the eight cops and MPs who’ll be here in a minute let
themselves in. And your fat ass will be in cuffs. Take your pick.”

Scott plowed through the door first. The place was packed and it had a Custer Hill look to it; lots of tacky-looking and very drunken troops trying desperately to make time with anything female.
With his fiancé and her new friend both fitting that description, he was worried.

“You see ’
em?” Todd shouted. The Poison Apple had a low-beamed ceiling from which posters and bar lights dangled. In one area were high-hat tables with stools around them, while raised seating areas broke up the room. On the far left wall were the DJ stand and a small dance floor. A bar was tucked in the back.

“Roni’s back there behind the bar,” Scott shouted. “I don’t see Amanda.”

Roni and two other girls were trying to keep up pouring pitchers, while the servers and a crowd of GIs were four-deep around them. Scott pushed his way through the crowd toward the bar while Todd peeled off to look for Amanda. Doug found the owner and explained if he didn’t control this crowd, he’d call in the fire marshal.

Scott reached the bar on one end. Roni, looking absolutely frazzled, looked up for an instant at him,
then went back to filling the pitcher. When it was full and in the hands of a server, she ran over and kissed him. “Where in the hell have you been?”

“We were delayed,” he said, trying to sound professional. “Been busy?”

“I have been groped, propositioned and even offered money to go in the bathroom with a guy. Amanda has been pantomime-humped so many times she might be mime-pregnant. So yeah, we’ve been busy, Footer.”

“How much money?”
Scott asked.

She flipped him off. “I have pitchers to fill.”

“I’ll be here.”

For about a half-hour, the situation started to stabilize. The bouncers thinned out the crowd at the bar, and weren’t letting anyone else in unless people went out.

Todd found Amanda. She looked exhausted as they walked to where Scott was perched at the end of the bar.

“I don’t think I have ever needed a fucking shower more in my life,” she said. “Your cop friend could probably lift fingerprints off my ass.”

“Do you guys really have to close?” Scott said. “Can’t we just sneak out the back?”

“Well, we’re not just going to walk out, Footer,” Roni said. “It’s only 11:00.”

“I need two more pitchers, Ron-O,” said Amanda.

Roni walked back to the taps and poured two more pitchers of Coors. Amanda balanced them on her tray and started back toward a big table of hooting GIs. Roni started toward the other end of the bar to take an order from another drunken soldier.

“We could almost get away with going back to the house and changing clothes,” Todd said. “With the cops outside and the crowd thinning out, we could at least come back and drink and then get them out of here.”

Scott was just about to respond when the uneasy peace was broken. A voice with a distinct New York accent snapped his view to the far end of the bar.

“Hey baby, how about a little wet t-shirt action?”

A short grunt with a Tyrone Power mustache reached over the bar and grabbed the soda hose. He pointed it at Roni and sprayed her in the face and across the chest. While Doug had warned Scott and Todd not to get into the middle of anything, enough was enough.

In one step, Scott climbed over the bar and ran to Roni. He jerked her out of the way and in the same motion reached out and grabbed the guy’s wrist, jerking the hose out of his hand.

“What in the fuck are you doing, idiot?” Scott screamed at him.

“Yo, man, it’s cool, just wanted to see some nip. Looks nice.”

“That’s my fiancé, asshole. Get the fuck away.”

While Scott turned to check on Roni, he felt something whiz past his right ear, followed by the mirror behind them shattering and showering both of them – mostly Roni – with shards of glass.

Scott backed her away from the damage then pushed her back to take a look. Little cuts covered her face and arms. “It’s in my eyes, Footer! It’s in my eyes,” she screamed hysterically

“Fuck!” Scott snapped. “Marquis, I need you here.”

Scott looked up. Doug and two MPs had the guy who threw the pitcher. He didn’t see Todd.
“MARQUIS!!! Goddammit, I need you over here.”

Then he spotted Todd. Some huge, fat Mississippi cracker had grabbed Amanda from behind. He had his ham-like hands clamped on to her tits and was dry humping her ass. Todd was running at her from one side, while the big bouncer from the front door was sprinting in from the right. He swung his mammoth fist and connected with Cracker’s jaw.

He released his grip on Amanda and she whirled around to face him. As she did, Cracker blindly swung a fist and connected hard to the left side of her face. After an audible crack, blood started pouring out from under her eye.

“Jesus,” Scott exclaimed. He put Roni down on the floor on her side, reached into his aid bag and pulled out an IV of sterile water. “Baby, keep your eyes open and don’t move. I’m going to rinse your eyes.”

Another bartenders came over and held her as Scott pulled the end off the bag and let the water stream down over her right eye. Little pieces of glass were coming out. He even rolled up her eyelid and rinsed that area as well. Then, he rolled her over and did the same thing to her left eye.