“What about us?” asked Zahir.
“You were vaccinated like the rest of us. You might get a mild case of flu but you will be immune from the disease,” said Navarro.
Again, Sharafan laughed. “If the invasion doesn’t destroy America, the diseases will do the rest.”
General Navarro stood and held his glass high. “To a new year that will bring us the American’s power and wealth! To victory!”
The Officers’ Club, located between downtown Corpus Christi and the Naval Air Station, sat on a bluff with a fantastic view of Corpus Christi Bay. Inside the club, fifteen-foot walls were covered with a thick mahogany and maple wainscot. Textured rose-flowered wallpaper covered the panels between the wood columns lining the walls. On one side was a continuous ornate beveled glass panel from floor to ceiling, broken only with an occasional maple column. Fine cut glass chandeliers, suspended from the high ceiling, added glamour to the room. One massive detailed chandelier hung over the center of the dance floor. Lush luxurious champagne-colored carpet covered the floors except for the large dance area made of inlaid champagne-colored marble. On one side of the dance floor was a stage, from which hung lighting equipment, and a sound system a local disc jockey operated. Tables covered with fine satin lined with lace and set to accommodate eight, filled the room. A single candle burned in the center of each table along with a bottle of wine and eight crystalline wineglasses.
A waltz started to play and Marix rushed Krysti to the dance floor.
“Hell, the guy can dance too,” said Ruben sipping his drink.
“Any more encouragement you can offer?” asked Beau.
Sunday nudged Ruben and whispered, “He’s jealous.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
This was Ruben’s chance to goad his friend. “Well, Marix is rich and handsome too. Looks like he’s just gonna sweep her off her feet.”
“Ruben,” snapped Sunday, swinging a hand he easily eluded.
“Thanks, I needed that,” said Beau with a touch of dejection. “I guess if I’m gonna sweep her off her feet, I better get a broom.”
Ruben laughed. “No way. They don’t make a broom big enough for you.” Both Ruben and Sunday laughed.
“I’m sorry,” Sunday said with a chuckle.
Beau held his drink in the air. “A toast. To my best friend and his wife. I wish you the best. I’m glad to be home and happy I can be with you again,” he said with all sincerity. They accepted the toast graciously; then Ruben took Sunday onto the dance floor while Beau watched them move to the music.
The formal setting was like home for Marix. He was light on his feet as he stepped to the tune. “Krysti, you are the most dazzling woman here.” The compliments flowed effortlessly. “You are ravishing, my dear.”
She was embarrassed. His accent was so charming and stripped her of her defenses. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Krysti, will you marry me?” he asked while moving her about the floor with the precision of a professional.
Yes, how wonderful, how romantic, she thought. The wine made her head spin. Michael was so wonderful, but in her mind danced a vision of Beau. She hesitated. Was Michael the one she wanted? Why had she thought of Beau?
“I don’t know. I must think about it,” Krysti replied.
Marix was aghast she had not said yes. No woman had ever told him no. “I can give you everything. I have property and power in England and a title to go with that. There’s nothing I can’t give you.”
Krysti had regained part of her senses and knew the only thing she would have wished from a marriage, he had not mentioned or offered. Not a word of love, no touch, no caress and no sparkle in his eyes. The strange detached look in his eyes when they made love still haunted her. The question was mechanical and not coming from the soul. She was confused. What was in her heart?
Slowly, the band switched to rock and roll. Marix stopped dancing and they walked from the floor. Mike tried to pull Krysti away from the direction in which she headed. She moved toward Beau, Sunday, and Ruben.
As she approached, Beau spoke. “You were very good out there. You two were probably the best dancers I saw.”
Marix sneered. “I wish they would play the classics. This rock and roll is out.”
Krysti rolled her green eyes and laughed. “It’s a shame you don’t like rock and roll. It’s some of the most inspiring music. Did you know the song we danced to was an old Beatles tune?” Even in the dim light, it was obvious the color of Marix’s face had changed a shade.
“Right on, rock and roll forever,” said Sullivan, who had just walked in and joined the conversation. With him were Natasha, Fitzhenry, and Warren.
“Soon it will be a new year,” Natasha said.
The DJ started playing the song Beau and Krysti listened to the previous night after Shanghai Pete’s. She walked over and stood directly in front of Beau, touched his arm with her fingers, and gazed cheerfully into his eyes. “What if there were no Heaven?” she asked, the dimples showing when she smiled.
For a moment he devoured her with his eyes. Without looking, he held his glass in Ruben’s direction, which Ruben took but fumbled for a moment. “How could there be no Heaven? You just brought me a little,” Beau answered. He held his arm to Krysti. “May I?”
“I’d be honored,” she said taking his arm.
“Hey Beau?” popped Ruben, still holding both drinks. Beau and Krysti turned at the call of his name. All they saw was a grin on Ruben’s face as he asked, “Ya want me to bring that broom?”
It was one of the few times Beau had ever been caught off guard and he blushed and had no retort for the question.
“Broom?” asked Krysti.
Beau tried to evade the question as they continued to the dance floor. “Ruben’s just clowning around.”
“Ruben, that was mean,” said Sunday, tugging at her husband’s sleeve. “Uh oh, we’re in trouble. Mike’s obviously mad,” she whispered.
“Who cares about Marix,” he said, oblivious to Mike. “Just look at Beau. That’s the way he used to be.”
When they reached the center of the dance floor, Beau smiled and said, “Watch your feet.”
Krysti laughed. When the dance was over, the band went into another slow song. Without saying a word he pulled Krysti near and they danced close. He bent over and put his face against her cheek. Her hair smelled sweet like wild flowers, and felt soft and pleasing. He pulled away enough so he could gaze into her eyes. “I’m not too good at this stuff. All night I’ve been thinkin’ it, but I just didn’t know how to tell ya.”
“Thinking what?”
“I think you’re just about the prettiest woman here. No, I take that back,” he said as he got lost in those large green eyes. “You are the prettiest.” Embarrassed at what he had said, he pulled her close again. She was so small, so pretty, so soft he thought. Was he beginning to—?
“I’m not tall,” she whispered up into his ear, breaking through his thoughts.
“I didn’t mean… you see, I,” he said, stumbling over his own words.
“Hush. Just hold me close and dance.”
Beau did as she asked. The next song was also a slow one and they continued to dance. To Krysti it felt so right to be encircled in his embrace. He was strong and not just in a physical way. There was an inner strength about him that couldn’t be touched or defined with words. Krysti felt safe and content in his arms. So unlike Michael, she thought. And Beau was so gentle. He danced better than she thought he would. Or was it because she wanted to dance with him? But Michael was everything a woman could ever want in a man. As she continued to dance, her thoughts only confused her more.