Whereas Kristen was fastidious in her cleanliness and neatness, Patricia was a self-proclaimed slob. Kristen had entered the Academy with the unstated goal of graduating at the top of her class, whereas Patricia had broken every rule in the book and had almost been expelled for too many demerits. Kristen had wanted nothing more than to be in a submarine diving to the deepest depths, and Patricia had wanted to fly the fastest and highest soaring jet the Navy had. Kristen had been the consummate workaholic staying up late virtually every night in her dorm room studying, while Patricia had stayed up late planning pranks, sneaking off campus to visit the local bars, and having a good time. Although their personalities seemed to clash, inexplicably, they’d become the closest of friends.
Patricia had accepted Kristen’s relentless drive for excellence and had always gone out of her way to make certain Kristen felt welcome at any of the parties Patricia was always attending or organizing. Then, when Kristen started the relentless pursuit of her goal to serve on a submarine and the rest of her — so called — friends deserted her, Patricia had kept in touch and maintained their friendship even as their careers took them down two different paths.
Kristen loved Patricia for everything Kristen felt she’d never been strong enough to be. While Kristen had spent countless hours with her nose in a book, Patricia and the rest of the “Black Ns”—as the Naval Academy appropriately nicknamed a select group of the truly rebellious midshipmen who routinely maxed out their demerits — had sneaked out of the dorms to pull a prank or head into Annapolis for a party. Each time Patricia had invited Kristen to go on one of her adventures and Kristen had refused, there’d been a secret, rebellious voice within, prodding her to go. But Kristen had squelched the radical within her, knowing as a woman, she could never reach her goal if she let the secret rebel within herself out. So while Patricia had lived for every moment, Kristen had forsaken everything else for her goal.
“I was assigned to the Nimitz last month,” Patricia replied proudly as she thrust her ample bosom out to show off her golden aviator wings. “Check it out,” Patricia said proudly. “And what are you doing here?” she asked, hardly pausing to catch a breath as she slipped her arm through Kristen’s and led her back to Patricia’s table. “I heard you finally got on board one of those disgusting little sewage pipes.” Patricia rearranged a few place cards and repositioned Kristen next to her. Then, as usual, the fiery redhead immediately started talking, pummeling Kristen with a barrage of questions about life on board a submarine. “We heard rumors your boat was involved in an incident off the coast of North Korea,” Patricia whispered.
“I can’t really talk about where we’ve been,” Kristen responded with a soft whisper.
But the fact Kristen couldn’t talk about where they’d been or what she’d done wasn’t a problem, since Patricia’s favorite topic was herself. It was just another of the differences between them that worked to make them fit well together. Whereas Kristen was quiet and reserved, Patricia was outgoing and talked constantly. Her call sign, Kristen soon learned, was quite appropriate.
“Aren’t you gonna introduce us, Gabby?” one of Patricia’s squadron mates asked using Patricia’s call sign and offering Kristen an appreciative smile.
“Forget it, Snapper,” Patricia replied. “I’d sooner introduce her to Jack the Ripper,” she added like a big sister protecting Kristen from a pack of college frat boys. Patricia then leaned close to Kristen and — always more than willing to give unwanted dating advice — explained, “You can forget pilots honey, they’re all the same. Big clocks but little cocks.”
“Trish!” Kristen nearly choked on a mouthful of water. Then, when Patricia motioned toward the assembled pilots around the table, Kristen saw that they were all wearing huge wristwatches, and she started laughing again.
“I told you,” Trish giggled as she drank her wine, never one to worry about drinking too much.
Kristen was thankful more than she could have expressed for the fortuitous interruption. Patricia was able to take her attention completely away from her recent revelation about Brodie. They caught up throughout the meal, with Patricia hoarding Kristen all to herself despite several attempts by other pilots to get Kristen’s attention.
Following the dessert course, a small quartet started to play music in one corner of a large dance floor. The pilots at her table, realizing there would be no action with Kristen as long as Trish was around, moved off, leaving the two old friends to catch up. And once alone, Trish did her best to pry out of Kristen everything she’d gone through since arriving on the Seawolf. Kristen had to be necessarily vague, but the information Patricia was truly interested in had nothing to do with military secrets. “So, tell me the truth, sweetie,” Patricia asked conspiratorially. “What’s it like being the only woman on a submarine with a bunch of horny-ass men?”
“It’s not like that,” Kristen replied with a shake of her head as she sipped her water. “They’re all very professional.”
“Sure,” Patricia rolled her eyes skeptically. “You just keep telling yourself that dear while they’re all thinking about humping your brains out.”
“Trish!” Kristen chided her friend, giggling at the same time. “Keep it down.” Kristen glanced back to her original table where most of her fellow Seawolf officers were still seated and hoped none could overhear her conversation.
Patricia leaned forward and studied the men at the table, giving each an appraising eye. “Is that them?”
“Most of them,” she admitted happily, liking pretty much everyone on the boat, even Ski whose obnoxious attitude had defrosted some since Korea.
Patricia screwed up her nose distastefully. “They look like a bunch of stiffs,” she said bluntly and leaned back in her seat, striking a dismissive pose. “Probably great with a slide rule but they’d have no idea where to stick it.”
“Trish!” She elbowed her friend easily. “They’re my friends.” Kristen was trying not to laugh out loud and hurting her side in the effort to stop.
“Well, the guy on the far right isn’t too bad,” Patricia said referring to Terry.
Kristen leaned closer and confided to her, “You would like him. You two have a lot in common.”
“You mean he’s a slut?” Patricia asked, her eyes now sparkling.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” Kristen chuckled and saw Jason Graves standing with two other commanders and motioned toward him. “Over there is our XO.”
Patricia looked at the three men about thirty feet away. “Which one?” she asked. “The fat one or the one with the sausage for a nose?”
Kristen felt like she might split her side open as she continued giggling with her friend. “No,” she corrected, “the tall one in the middle.”
Patricia’s eyes homed in on Jason Graves like a sidewinder missile locked onto an afterburner as a mischievous smile crossed her face. “Oh, yes. That’s more like it,” she offered approvingly. “Now we’re getting warmer.”
“He’s married Trish and has three kids.”
Patricia shrugged her shoulder in disappointment. “A man like that oughta learn to share all that lovin’.” Patricia, now on the prowl, sat up like a prairie dog scouting the area. Someone caught Patricia’s eye, and she nudged Kristen and motioned with a slight nod of her head. “Tally-ho,” she offered hungrily, licking her lips slightly. “Inbound smoking hottie, three o’clock.”