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“Now you’re just pandering,” she said. But she smiled.
We followed the hostess toward the back of the restaurant, where there was a large room behind French doors. I could hear a burst of laughter, and Armando came into view, a couple of pounds on him since boot camp had ended, and Gomez, her lips painted, and Clark with a red beard he’d have to shave off before we deployed. Then there was Hill, a corporal I barely knew, and his wife. And Frankie and Elena, gelled and crisp, looking like they were about to sign a lease in an ad for expensive condos. Empty pint glasses stood along the table. We entered to a burst of laughter.
“Nobody told him drills were over!” Armando was saying, pointing at Frankie, out of breath.
Clark noticed us and stood up, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Morrow! And who’s this?”
The room got quiet.
“Hi, y’all,” I said.
“I’m Cassie, Luke’s wife,” Cassie said beside me.
“Luke’s wife?” Gomez asked, her eyes widening with surprise.
Cassie wrapped her arm around my waist. I hadn’t thought about this part. I was ready to eat mozzarella sticks, put my arm on the back of Cassie’s chair, point at her with my thumbs, and refer to her as “this one,” like I’d seen friends’ dads do. I wasn’t ready for their shock. Nor for the possibility that shock might morph into disbelief. You’re going to blow it. And even if you did blow it, no one would care. None of these people know you. They don’t care about you. They’ll turn you in. A bump of Oxy would have really mellowed things right then. I pushed the thoughts away.
“When did you get married?” Gomez gasped.
My veins pumped. Cassie looked at me with dewy eyes, squeezing. Ouch. I swallowed and said, “A couple days ago.”
“It was love at first sight,” Cassie added with a bright laugh. Her voice didn’t sound like her own.
“How wonderful!” Gomez was saying.
Armando’s eyes traveled the length of Cassie’s body and he shrugged, approving. I gave him a warning look.
I led Cassie away from Armando, to the opposite end of the table. As we sat, Cassie leaned close to me, her breath in my ear. “Remember the plan.”
That’s right. The plan. Whenever anyone seemed skeptical, we were supposed to act in love. “We can’t get all hot and heavy right away,” I whispered back. “It’s weird.”
Cassie leaned closer, rubbing her hand up my thigh. “You know what else will be weird? Jail.” Hot blood rushed from my head to a place it should not go, not right now.
“Fine,” I said, making sure to take her hand and put it on the table, where everyone could see.
Our server, a skinny younger guy with gages in his ears, shouted over the din, “What can I get y’all to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” I called.
“Me, too,” Cassie said.
“Seriously?” Hill, the corporal, was looking at us, his blond eyebrows raised with surprise. “Water, Private?”
“Come on, Morrow,” Armando said, lifting his beer. “Last night of freedom!”
I could go for a bump, I thought again. The same thought, like a record player. I shook it off and looked at Cassie, as if for approval.
“You’ve got an early morning, babe,” Cassie said, bright, unnatural.
“We all have an early morning, sweetheart,” Corporal Hill said. “Come on.”
I saw Cassie’s lip curl.
“I’m good, sir, thanks,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it.
Gomez’s husband knocked over a glass with a bang, and Hill’s attention went elsewhere.
One round down, I couldn’t help thinking. We were only two people out of eleven. There was no way they could care about us for long. Beside me, Cassie was listening to Clark’s wife tell her about their honeymoon. Cassie cooed and awwed at a description of mosquito curtains. Under the table, her leg was twitching.
