Charlie leaned forward in his seat. “Have a problem?”
“No, I just wanted to make sure I was on the right street.” The apartment complex looked vaguely familiar … but then again, Bruce had been emerging from a hangover when his father had taken him here.
Bruce decided he was going the right way and moved slowly down the street. He spotted a red Geo parked in one of the stalls and stopped. “This is it.” Backing up, he pulled into the driveway.
Bruce knocked on the door. Yolanda, Nanette, and Charlie stood behind him. Joe Steele answered, dressed in a T-shirt, navy bell bottoms, and bare feet. He looked surprised.
“We didn’t wake you up, did we?” asked Bruce, somewhat hesitantly.
“Bruce! Hell, no! Come on in, kids.” He turned and shouted, “Tanla, ziggy now — Bruce is here, and he’s brought some friends!” He opened the door wide.
“The girls have to work tomorrow. This was the only day we were all able to get off,” explained Bruce as they entered the small apartment. The room was covered with wood carvings and stereo equipment.
“Well, shit, have a seat. I should have known you pilots never have to work. You kids drove all the way from Clark; you must be tired. Can I fix you a drink? Beer? Any hard stuff?”
They found a place in the living room. Charlie sat on the couch in between Nanette and Yolanda; Bruce sprawled on the floor on an overstuffed pillow. “None for me. I’ve got to drive back.”
“That hasn’t stopped you before, has it, Bruce?” Joe Steele roared and winked broadly at Nanette. “They haven’t been calling my boy Assassin just for the hell of it, have they? Has he told you that was for being a woman killer, or for playing football?” He guffawed.
Nanette smiled demurely. “This is a nice place you have, Mr. Steele. It seems quite cozy.”
“Joe. Call me Joe. Are you sure I can’t fix you something?”
“No, thank you.”
Joe turned and opened a small refrigerator sitting by his easy chair. He pulled out a San Miguel. “I don’t go on duty until eight tonight, so you’ll just have to put up with me.” He laughed. “How about lunch? Have you eaten yet?”
“We’re fine, dad,” said Bruce, quietly. “I just came over to introduce you to some of my friends.”
Steele half bowed from his chair. “Glad to know you.” He nodded to the girls. “Nanette, Yolanda.”
Bruce looked around. “Did we miss Tanla? I thought she didn’t leave for work until later.”
Joe took a sudden drink of beer. “She’ll be out,” he said, stiffly.
Bruce saw Charlie raise an eyebrow, but the inflection otherwise went unnoticed.
Yolanda sat primly, her legs together and hands folded in her lap. She wore a smile, but Bruce could tell that she felt uncomfortable. Bruce nodded to Yolanda.
“Dad, Yolanda is planning to go to the University of the Philippines this fall. She wants to study music.”
“PU, eh?” smirked Joe Steele.
“That is correct,” said Yolanda, quietly.
“And Nanette is at Stanford,” continued Bruce.
Bruce’s father ignored the observation and shot out on another tangent. “Hey, did Bruce tell you that I didn’t know that he was on the rock until I got a phone call from him one morning?”
“That’s okay, Dad.”
“Yeah, called up his old man right out of the blue. I started up the old Toyota and found him down at the chaplain’s office — of all places, my son in a chapel! And what a sight!”
“Okay, Dad,” said Bruce, with an edge to his voice.
Joe took another swig of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Bruce winced as his father’s T-shirt came up over his belly, revealing a lurid tattoo.
“You know, the Steeles have a long history of serving in the Navy. My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all enlisted men. We’re mighty proud of that line. Yep. Once in a while though you get an upstart in the family, someone who thinks he’s too good for the rest of them, but I’ve kept that line going for years.” The rest of the room was quiet. Bruce felt his ears grow warm as his father continued. “When Bruce applied for the Air Force Academy, I thought for sure he was one of those upstarts. Until I saw him at the chaplain’s office.”
He snickered as if it were a huge joke. “When I saw my boy covered with up-chuck, not a dime to his name, and having a hangover to beat it all, I knew he wasn’t a yuppie — he was just continuing the Steele name in a slightly different manner.”
Bruce smiled wanly. “Thanks, Dad.”
Joe belched and reached for another beer, the sarcasm lost on him. “You know, Son, we were sad to hear about Ashley.”
Bruce hesitated, then whispered to Yolanda, “My first wife — it’s a long story.” Yolanda’s eyes widened.
Joe swallowed a few gulps and nodded to the couch, “But Nanette, I can assure you that Ashley was nowhere as good-looking as you. And that’s coming from someone who’s seen girls all over the world, from London to Sydney, Singapore to Rio. My boy may look like an officer, but I assure you he’s an enlisted man deep to the core. He’ll take care of you, Nanette. I wouldn’t have believed it until two weeks ago, but he’s a son a father can be proud of.”
The room was shocked into silence. Joe leaned back and pulled on his beer, obviously proud of having offered such a moving testimony.
Bruce waited a minute before speaking. “Dad …”
“No use to thank me, Son. I know it’s been a long time coming, but you’ve deserved it.”
“Dad,” interrupted Bruce firmly, “Nanette is Charlie’s date. Yolanda is with me.”
Joe Steele’s eyes grew wide. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tanla suddenly entered the room. She smiled tightly. Her eyes seemed shaded, as if they were welling with tears. Heavy makeup covered several dark blue spots on her face.
Bruce studied Tanla. One of her eyes was black, and there were bruises on her face. She caught him staring and forced a smile. She brought up a hand to her face.
“I … I fell this morning.”
Bruce swung his attention to his father. Joe belched and drew his chin up in the air. “Well, are you going to get high and mighty on me, Son? After what I said about you?”
Bruce clamped his mouth shut. No one spoke, and the tension in the room rose like a ticking clock.
After eliciting no comments with his query, Joe’s voice rose minutely as he continued: “And let me warn you about something, while I’m at it. Be careful with these Filipinos, Bruce. Tanla knows she’ll never get back to the States — I’m spoken for. But there are plenty others out there ready to hop in the sack with you, do anything to get you to marry them and take them to America. Just remember: For every nice Filipino there’s a beak — a year from now she could be whoring around the massage parlors, outside of Eglin Air Force Base, while you’re up flying your fighter. It’s like the difference between a Negro and a nigger, Son — you can live next to ’em but you can never trust ’em.
Bruce stood, his face white. He breathed deeply through his nose. “We’re leaving.”
“What’s the matter?” Joe shot a glance at Yolanda; her head was down, her eyes hidden. “Hey, wait a minute. I wasn’t talking about Yoli, here! I was just giving you some good fatherly advice, Son.” He sounded genuinely apologetic.
“And next you’ll be telling me to slap her around when she gives me grief.”
“Now, wait a damned minute.” Joe stood and wavered. “That’s got nothin’ to do with you. That’s my private life, and I don’t care who you are, you don’t have a right to tell me what to do — so keep the hell out of my life!”
“I sure as hell will.” Bruce turned to the couch. “Charlie, let’s get out of here.”