The music finally ended and Beau stood on the floor holding both her hands. “I really enjoy being with you.”
Slowly, they walked across the dance floor to where the others had congregated. Ruben handed Beau his drink. Marix had gone to refill his glass.
Lieutenant Barry Pickett and Major Fred ‘Cozmo’ Deberg arrived at the small gathering. Cozmo escorted two young women, with one on each arm. When Beau saw the two women, with one on each of Deberg’s arms, he thought what Ruben had said about him seemed to be true.
Beau shook Cozmo’s hand and whispered in his ear, “Major, don’t you think two women is a little risky?”
Deberg grinned and raised his thick black eyebrows; he stuck his tongue out and up, almost touching his nose, and laughed. “What can I say, they love me.”
With both women in tow, Deberg escorted them in the direction of the bar. The only person Beau had not met was the Choctaw Indian, Dean Blackman.
Beau turned to Ruben. “Where’s Lieutenant Blackman?”
Ruben shrugged his shoulders. “Blackman is a quiet guy. He’s not much into these kinds of affairs. He stays pretty much to himself. You won’t see him until tomorrow when we leave.”
Across the dance floor, Mullholland was having success of his own. He was teaching two resident women about the land down under and how they played football. Robert Schmitt stood to the side nursing a drink.
Beau held his drink aloft: “To my friends and to America. May the coming year bring good fortune to all of us. It’s good to be home.”
Sunday noticed when he spoke, he only had eyes for Krysti. “Ruben, do you think he knows she isn’t tall?”
Unnoticed by the others, Marix and James entered into an agreement at the far end of the dance floor. “I want you to tell Krysti about Beau’s past. But wait until the proper time.”
“Why don’t you?” asked James.
“Because she will think I’m doing it to get even with him for interfering with her.”
“Well, aren’t you?”
Marix smiled smugly. “Of course I am. I’m going to get even with him and get Krysti back, and you can do it for me.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I will make it well worth your while.”
Always ready to do something for financial reward, James said, “Okay, you’ve got a deal.” Besides, this would be no trouble at all, he thought. He might have even done it accidentally, but now he was to be rewarded.
Marix returned to the party and promptly took Krysti to the dance floor. After the song, the small group became engaged in a discussion with a senator over the protests for welfare and people’s rights movements. A friendly argument erupted between the senator and Marix. The politician, Senator Richard Selmon, argued it was the people’s responsibility to house and feed the poor and homeless. Marix felt they should be fed but housing was beyond the responsibilities of the government. All listened as the two debated their points and a few ventured their own opinions. Krysti listened intently.
At one point, Selmon asked Beau’s views of the issue. “You were in the Middle East. You’ve seen poverty. What is your stand?”
Abruptly all eyes turned to Beau. “I’d rather keep my opinions to myself.”
“Uh oh,” Ruben whispered to BJ and Sully. “I hope this Selmon guy doesn’t push.”
The politician waved his arm. “Surely, you have an opinion. Tell me how you feel.”
Beau stood erect and seemed to tower above the others. “Survival of the fittest. No work, no eat.” At first the candid statement seemed to shock all but those who knew Beau.
Senator Selmon was staggered. “Surely, we must take care of the helpless.”
“Men like you create the helpless. Housing them, feeding them. Why should they work? Their children are learning to be lazy and live on welfare. Their numbers continue to grow larger. Why not take abandoned Army bases and force the people to stay there? Make them rise with the sun and work till sunset, no matter how small the tasks. Force them to be useful people.”
“Right on,” said Sullivan.
“They shouldn’t be forced to do work against their wishes. They have rights,” said Senator Selmon.
“You force us to take care of them,” snipped Ruben. “I don’t want to be forced to do that anymore.”
“They do have rights. So do we,” said Beau. “If they don’t like the life on the barracks then they can get a job and work for their money. But if they’re going to live off this country, give them initiative and desire to do better. Teach them respect. Teach them personal dignity. You’ve taken those things away from them.”
“It is our duty to help the people,” said Marix, feigning sympathy for the underprivileged.
“We are obligated to take care of the homeless,” Selmon added.
“And I’m saying they should be expected to get off their dead asses,” snapped Beau.
“Well, the people won’t listen to you,” Selmon said haughtily.
“The sad thing is… you’re right. Your kind is helping our government breed a cesspool of waste and neglect. The burden you have created has been put on the working class. A group that is growing smaller and smaller. People with your mentality will bring this country to its knees.”
“We are the strongest country in the world. We must be concerned with the minorities and their suffering,” offered the stuffy politician.
The cold steel eyes came to life, anger in his voice. “Minorities! You’ve made everybody minorities. You’ve even made the gays a minority! My God, man, sexual preference is a choice. If a Democrat wins the election, are you gonna give special minority status to Republicans? God, I hope not — but I wouldn’t be surprised! No one should receive special treatment. All you do is cater to the voters. If minorities are so hung up on their roots, why are they here? If they don’t like it here, then why not return to their roots! What minority are you, Mr. Selmon?”
Ruben and Sully were a little miffed at the politician and they began to show it as Sully said to Ruben, “He appears to be yellow. What minority is that?”
With a nod Ruben finished Sully’s thoughts. “That would make him either a Democrat or a Republican.”
Surprised at their comments, Selmon failed to respond as he tried to collect his thoughts.
“There are three words I’m afraid I shall never hear again. Words I haven’t heard since I was a small boy. Words I don’t think you’ve ever heard, Mr. Selmon. Words spoken with pride by my father and his father. Words I speak with pride: I’m an American.” Beau shook his head and his lips squeezed to two thin lines. “Guess that makes me a minority.”
“All right! American!” snapped Warren raising a clenched black fist.
“Yeah, you’ve given those minorities so much of my paycheck, I can almost afford to quit and go on welfare,” quipped Ruben.
“Given? You mean more like taken,” snapped Sullivan. “We’re so damn strapped with taxes no wonder our companies can’t compete against foreign products. If the government isn’t taking half, the state and the city are taking the rest. How much do you want from us, Mr. Selmon?”
Even Ruben was angry. “I can’t pay my bills but you keep approving raises for yourself and the other politicians. You don’t even pay Social Security.”
“We deserve what we get like any other business executive. We are responsible for this country,” Selmon added smugly. He wielded an arm of enormous power as a senator in Congress. Although he justified his words, he had become wealthy as a senator. His insider trading with many business executives had gone undetected. His fortune was diversified and he had hidden his money in other countries.
He maintained a staunch stand against Americans taking their money out of the country, and his high profile on the issue had made him a hero to the people. In reality he had learned all the loopholes, which had enabled him to hide a vast fortune overseas — a fortune that would be impossible to find. Hypocritically, he stood before them and defended his stand for the people, all the while feeling justified in his actions because of the good he had done for his country, making him deserving of the fortune he felt he had earned.