{"id":2041,"date":"2019-06-02T09:00:39","date_gmt":"2019-06-02T13:00:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/?p=2041"},"modified":"2019-06-09T19:25:20","modified_gmt":"2019-06-09T23:25:20","slug":"the-colonel-and-her-sergeant-first-two-chapters","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/the-colonel-and-her-sergeant-first-two-chapters\/","title":{"rendered":"The Colonel and Her Sergeant – First Two Chapters"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I’m very excited to give y’all a SNEAK PEAK at the first two chapters of my upcoming book, The Colonel and Her Sergeant<\/a><\/em>! If you like what you read here, you can pick up the rest of the book on June 9th.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Happy Reading!<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

***<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Prologue<\/h1>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTo be pleased with one\u2019s limits is a wretched state.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even though two\nmiles of Florida woodlands and a thick pane of ballistic glass separated Captain\nAnna Archer from the launch pad, she watched the rising Delta II rocket as\nthough she herself were lifted atop the brightest light she\u2019d ever seen, pushed\ninto the sky by thousands of invisible human hands from the advent of rocketry\nto the room of engineers she stood with that day, slipping the surly bonds of\nearth and touching the face of God as most people can only dream, until the\nmoment it blew up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A plume of\nsmoke, then a flash, then a cluster of tiny explosions like a fireworks display\ngone off all at once, black instead of pretty colors. Two seconds of silence\nfollowed, as Anna and everyone else in the control center were too shocked even\nto gasp. Then the boom came, warping the glass the way the Space Shuttle\u2019s\nsonic boom did when it landed, but this boom kept rumbling like rocks rolling\ndown a mountain. The cloud of burning rocket fuel billowed out from the last\nplace in the air the launch vehicle had been whole, black tendrils spreading\nacross the sky and sloping down as if to engulf the earth. The eagle-eyed could\nsee pieces falling to the ground, flaming chunks of the satellite and its\nlaunch vehicle slamming into the trees and the ocean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Around her, phones\nbegan to ring and panic reigned\u2014not the screaming kind but the quiet kind,\nwhere people gave one-word answers to complicated questions. After arguing with\nthe chief engineer, the launch group commander looked up the procedures for a\ncatastrophic failure: keep everything, notes and all, for the imminent\ninvestigation. Find out which way the wind was blowing, because no one could\nleave until they knew the toxic cloud of burning rocket fuel was out of their\negress path. Nobody was hurt, the launch group commander swore to others, and\nhimself; they\u2019d cleared the area for launch, as they always did, in case\nsomething like this ever happened. Because failure was always possible,\neverybody knew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still, people\ncried. They watched the cloud that used to be the rocket they\u2019d all worked thousands\nof hours on as it leaked across the sky and blotted out the sun, hiding their\nfaces in their hands, waiting for the commander and head safety officer to release\nthem so they could grieve at home. Later, they would discover the explosion had\nbeen caused by an internal crack in one of the solid rocket boosters, incurred\nat some point during transport months or even years prior\u2014no one knew exactly\nwhen. The solid rocket booster lead engineer had known his system was\nresponsible almost immediately after the explosion, due to the massive drop in\nchamber pressure one-and-a-half seconds beforehand, but he wouldn\u2019t admit it\nuntil two days later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The spacecraft\natop the rocket\u2014a Global Positioning System satellite\u2014had cost roughly\ntwo-hundred-and-fifty-million dollars; the rocket, another hundred million. Add\nto that the cost of standing down the entire fleet and the total financial cost\nof the failure was around one billion dollars. But the money only really\nmattered to the people who would pass judgment on them. What mattered to the\npeople in that room that day, what Anna could only begin to understand as a\nyoung captain, was the loss of a dream. It should have been if you did\neverything right, followed every procedure, checked every box, and gave every\npiece of your heart and soul, then you would reach the stars. And yet here was\nproof it wasn\u2019t so. She knew it that day, stared into the abyss of that reality,\nand quickly looked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\ninvestigation into the accident, and how no one caught the critical defect, and\nwhat needed to change so it never happened again, lasted for seven months. The\nAir Force didn\u2019t launch another rocket for almost two years. The inquiries and\nsubpoenas for information were still ongoing when the time came for Anna to\nmove on to her next assignment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMistakes\nhappen,\u201d the launch group commander said to Anna, a few months before the final\nreport came out and he was fired. \u201cIt\u2019s how you learn and ultimately become a\nbetter officer.\u201d Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. He tried to smile\nthrough them. \u201cEverybody fails sometimes.\u201d
\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter 1<\/h1>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI offer neither pay, nor quarters, nor food; I offer only\nhunger, thirst, forced marches, battles, and death. Let him who loves his\ncountry with his heart, and not merely with his lips, follow me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 Giuseppe Garibaldi<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through the din,\nColonel Anna Archer heard him laughing. It was a noise that came deep from the\ngut, sped through the throat, and launched from his lips with such gusto she rudely\nturned away from the colonel talking to her so she could put eyes on its\nsource. A tall young man with olive skin, black hair slicked back into one\nthick wave to stay within Air Force regulation, service dress cutting his torso\ninto a sharp inverted-A. He stood about thirty feet away, underneath the chandelier\nof the Tides Club ballroom, its light glinting off a sea of medals and ranks\naround him. On one side of the room was the stage with the grog bowl yet to be\nfilled with noxious ingredients, next to an Air Force Anniversary-inscribed\nsheet cake on display for the cocktail hour. On the other side, dozens of round\ntables with white linen cloths, red, white, and blue flower bouquets adorning\neach. In the center, him. It was as if the light bent toward him, casting his frame\nin an effervescent halo. Chatting with a group of friends, he made that noise<\/em> every time one of them told a\njoke\u2014young people. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

An enlisted\nman. She turned away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat did you\nsay?\u201d she asked Coronel Joe Bashir, the 45th<\/sup> space wing vice commander,\nas he regarded her with one eyebrow slightly cocked, waiting for a response to\nwhatever he\u2019d said. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. It\u2019s loud in here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI said you\nhave your work cut out for you with that charge problem.\u201d Everybody said that. \u201cI\u2019m\nnot a rocket expert, but I\u2019ve been stationed at Patrick Air Force Base for two\nof my previous assignments, and I can\u2019t remember the last time both the Atlas\nand Delta launch fleets were grounded.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She could,\nvividly. \u201cThat\u2019s a risk you take when you\u2019re forced to consolidate manufacturers,\nunfortunately. If there\u2019s only one company in the world left that makes the\nbooster stage separation charges you need, and commissioning a back-up company\nisn\u2019t economically viable\u2026well, here we are. Delaying our launch schedule\nindefinitely. Would\u2019ve been nice if previous launch group commanders had\u2014\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anna cut\nherself off with a tiny shake of her head she hoped Joe didn\u2019t notice, then\nsmiled as if she\u2019d made a joke just in case he had. Complaining about her\npredecessors was bad form, even during an informal chat with one of her peers.\n\u201cWe should be careful,\u201d she said, \u201cWe\u2019ll be sent to the grog if we\u2019re caught\ntalking shop.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She took a\nlong sip of wine from her glass, swallowing a sudden knot of anxiety. Under no\ncircumstances could she admit what she actually thought of being forced to fix the\nprevious commanders\u2019 bad decisions, all men before her who\u2019d moved on and up.\nBarely two months into the job and her chief engineer dropped a report about\nfaulty booster charges into her lap. Those goddamn charges\u2014which created\ncontrolled explosions to blow the rocket stages away from one another, so the\npayload could ascend to orbit after it broke free of Earth\u2019s gravity\u2014had been\nfailing tests for months. Why hadn\u2019t this\nissue come up before?<\/em> she\u2019d asked. Because\nthe failures fell below the threshold required for the private company to\nreport, per their government contract<\/em>, the chief engineer answered. The\ncommander before her had known, even had multiple high-level meetings about it\nwith the vendor\u2019s leadership. But he hadn\u2019t passed this information on to\nanyone else. Didn\u2019t want to cause a panic\nover a minor issue<\/em>, he\u2019d told her only when she asked him about it, a few\ndays before his promotion to general.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Joe shrugged.\n\u201cYou\u2019re right.\u201d He took a swig of his beer, then smacked his lips and grinned. \u201cNo\nshop talk. These things always get resolved anyway. When you\u2019re <\/em>the boss, you won\u2019t even remember the charge issue, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughed\nand rolled her eyes a little. Well, the timing was<\/em> perfect. Next year would be her pole year, when she\u2019d be in the\npromotion zone for general. If she got picked up for her first star\u2014as most of\nher predecessors had\u2014she\u2019d pin on the following year, just as the current wing\ncommander was leaving. The sequence of events was classic\u2014tradition, even.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll see,\u201d\nshe told Joe. \u201cNothing is certain\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cColonel Anna Archer!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nrecognized the voice before she turned around\u2014Brigadier General John Guinness,\nthe 45th<\/sup> space wing commander himself. A tall man made gaunt through\nexcessive exercise, he wore a wide practiced smile at odds with cold blue eyes.\nA stately blonde in a sequined black dress had her arm hooked through his.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMister President,\u201d\nAnna replied with a smile, referring to his official title for the\nnight\u2014President of the Mess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnna, I\u2019d like you to\nmeet my wife, Ofelia.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery nice to\nmake your acquaintance,\u201d Anna said with an abundance of warmth as she shook Ofelia\u2019s\nhand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ofelia\nresponded with a delicate squeeze befitting the woman whose role it was to be\nthe soft counterpoint to her hard, important spouse. Anna\u2019s mother had excelled\nat the role, always quietly smiling beside her husband, occasionally throwing\nout a charming quip, before the divorce.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI used to work for Anna\u2019s\nfather,\u201d the general said to his wife, \u201cMajor General Herbert Archer, remember\nhim? He retired a couple of years ago. Greatest boss I ever had, looked out for\nme during some tough times. The apple didn\u2019t fall far from the tree.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s good to\nfinally meet you,\u201d Ofelia said with a slight southern drawl. \u201cWe need to have\nyou over for dinner soon. I\u2019m embarrassed we haven\u2019t yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no, it\u2019s\nmy fault\u2014 too much traveling. I think I\u2019ve briefed every single person in the\nAir Force on the faulty booster charge situation. I\u2019ve slept in my own bed\nmaybe two days this month. When I got home from this last trip, I threw away\nfood in my fridge so old it had become sentient and tried to declare personhood.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ofelia\nslapped her husband\u2019s arm. \u201cYou need to stop working your people so hard,\nJohn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf Colonel\nArcher didn\u2019t like it, she wouldn\u2019t do it. But we all love our jobs, no matter\nhow hard they get. It\u2019s what we signed up for, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She smiled\nand nodded along with Colonel Bashir. Wasn\u2019t that the truth\u2014most of the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy wife has\na point, though. I\u2019ve been lax in my duties to make sure you\u2019ve been properly\nintroduced to everyone. Ah, there\u2019s some of my staff now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He waved to a\ngroup of people a few feet away. When they noticed his beckoning, they snapped\nto attention. A man and a woman separated from the small cluster and hurried\nover. Anna suppressed a flinch when she recognized him<\/em>\u2014the man with the siren\u2019s call of a laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cColonel\nArcher, I\u2019d like you to meet Technical Sergeant Kathy McCleen and Staff\nSergeant Victor Shamrock. They\u2019re part of my Commander\u2019s Action Group.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shook\nhands with McCleen first, then Shamrock. He had a nice smile\u2014slightly crooked\nwith bright white teeth, like a classic Hollywood rogue. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSergeant\nShamrock,\u201d she greeted him, recognizing too much formality in her voice even\nunder the circumstances of the huge gulf in rank between them. The tone, at\nleast to her, compensated for the fact she was studying his eyes in a very\nunprofessional manner. She couldn\u2019t tell what color they were. They seemed both\nbrown and blue at the same time, depending on how the light hit them, like those\nof a newborn baby. How did one get those kinds of eyes as an adult? She\u2019d never\nask; it was beyond rude. As a light-skinned black woman with hazel eyes, she\u2019d\nlost count of all the times strangers asked her if she was \u201cmixed,\u201d as if she\nwere an interesting breed of dog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cColonel\nArcher.\u201d He kept gripping her hand, not painfully but hard enough if she pulled\naway, if she\u2019d wanted to, it would be awkward. Subtly his gaze drifted down her\nbody, then back up to her face before settling heavily on her eyes. A lot of\nmen did that\u2014sized her up and liked what they saw. But none of them could\ntolerate being in the passenger\u2019s seat of a relationship, and so it usually\nwent no further, or died after a handful of dates. Turned out the male version\nof Ofelia didn\u2019t exist\u2014or maybe it was Ofelia who didn\u2019t exist. The mirage of\nAnna\u2019s mother had dissolved once Herb retired. Maybe none of it was real, and\nthese pockets of illusion were all that was left of tradition. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She didn\u2019t\nlike thinking these thoughts, or considering why looking at Staff Sergeant\nShamrock had suddenly brought them on. They weren\u2019t good for her. She pulled\nher hand away and turned up the corners of her mouth into a polite smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s good to\nplace a face with a name,\u201d he said. \u201cI see you on e-mail correspondences all\nthe time and hear your voice over telecons, but never laid eyes on you. Was\nwondering if you were real or not. Ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course I\nexist,\u201d she snapped. Why is a black\nfemale colonel so hard to imagine?<\/em> she almost added before stopping\nherself. What was she doing? He was trying to be charming, and she was\noverreacting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Despite the sudden\ntension in the air, Shamrock shot Anna his rogue\u2019s grin. \u201cI mean I was\nwondering if you were as good as you seemed. Cool, collected, quick with the\nright answer\u2014like a dolphin.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA\u2026what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDolphins.\nThey communicate telepathically, faster than the speed of sound. That\u2019s why\nthey\u2019re so clever.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She blinked\nat him. He couldn\u2019t be serious\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what\nmy crazy uncle used to say. Personally, I believe a person\u2019s intellect, flexibility,\nand drive to learn is the key to success. Or, you know, it could be telepathic\ndolphins. Go with the simplest explanation, my uncle said\u2014for him, it was telepathic\ndolphins. He did have a touch of dementia, but sea mammals never report problems\nsetting up video conferences, so maybe he was on to something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He laughed\nthe same baritone boom that had captivated her moments before. What a strange\nman\u2014goofy, but with those looks\u2026what an interesting<\/em>\nman. She found herself chuckling along with him, her cheeks warming, bubbles\npopping in her stomach like the fizz of champagne. It had been a while since\nshe\u2019d experienced that feeling; hell, decades. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI saw a\nNational Geographic TV special recently that swore mermaids were the masters of\nthe ocean,\u201d she said. \u201cAre you sure your uncle wasn\u2019t confusing mermaids with\ndolphins? People often mistake the two.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe. He\nbelieves weird things sometimes. He reads too many books.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anna studied\nhis blue-brown eyes again, a smile lingering on her lips. She knew nothing\nabout him\u2014except that she already liked him. There was nothing wrong with a\nharmless crush, really. She\u2019d need to drop by the CAG office more often. A\nlittle witty banter and eye candy would brighten up her day, and make visiting\nthe wing commander less unpleasant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re\nincorrigible, Vic,\u201d Ofelia said with an oh,\nyou<\/em> wave of her hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrue,\u201d\nGeneral Guinness said. \u201cLet\u2019s not forget our customs and courtesies.\u201d The\ngeneral eyed the sergeant with the slightest hint of disapproval, which would\u2019ve\nhad the effect of an open-handed slap on anyone besides Shamrock. The sergeant\nremained glowing, still amused with himself, the unspoken rebuke rolling off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you\u2019ll\nexcuse me, I need to use the little girl\u2019s room,\u201d Ofelia said, \u201cIt was a\npleasure to meet you, Anna.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Barely a few\nseconds after she\u2019d left, a female captain with red hair and old fashioned\nhorn-rimmed eyeglasses snuck up behind the general and whispered something into\nhis ear. She leaned in so close her lips almost touched his lobe\u2014Captain\nChristy Shalen, Anna remembered after a moment. She was the general\u2019s executive\nofficer, functioning as his personal assistant and handler. For a subordinate,\nshe seemed awfully comfortable getting close to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSpeaking of\ncustoms and courtesies,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019m told the official festivities are about\nto start and I need to get into position. If you\u2019ll excuse me, I\u2019ll see you two\ncolonels at the head table in a few minutes.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

General\nGuinness stepped through their small circle, pausing next to Anna. He leaned\ntoward her, not as close as Captain Shalen had gotten but near enough she had\nto fight the urge to recoil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI need to discuss\nsomething with you,\u201d he said in a volume only she could hear, \u201cas soon as\npossible. Not here, though. Make an appointment with my exec.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled\nback with a mild grin. Anna watched him as he walked away, groups of Airmen\nparting to make way as he cut straight through the ballroom toward the head\ntable where she and Colonel Bashir would join him when the dinner bells chimed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What did they\nneed to discuss that they hadn\u2019t gone over dozens of times already? Certainly\nnot the damn charges; she\u2019d been clear in her daily reports that there weren\u2019t\nany new updates. He implied it was a personal issue, but the proximity of his\ndelivery could\u2019ve incorrectly influenced her impression. What else could it be?\nGood or bad? Career-affecting or no?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If she were\nas forward as Sergeant Shamrock, she would bring it up during dinner and insist\nhe tell her this secret now. She wasn\u2019t, of course\u2014that was career suicide for\nher. Maybe she was overreacting again, but probably not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mood\nsoured, Anna finished her drink as quickly as was possible without looking like\nan alcoholic, then excused herself. Dinner would start any minute, along with\nthe pomp and circumstance. Might as well take what little time was left to do\nbreathing exercises in a bathroom stall and calm herself so she could enjoy the\nspectacle. For Shamrock she spared the slightest of glances and a tight smile\nbefore turning away, embarrassed by her earlier unprofessional thoughts of him.\nHopefully after tonight, she\u2019d never see him again, but of course that was\nimpossible.
\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter 2<\/h1>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe rules of fair play do not apply in love and war.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2013 John Lyly<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chess was the\ngame most associated with warfare, which was why Maria learned to play it when\nshe joined the military. She\u2019d gotten pretty good at it over the last five\nyears, learning different strategies and gambits, reading books on game theory,\neven taking an online course to polish her style. She wasn\u2019t close to\ngrandmaster-level, but she could beat most casual players. These days, however,\nshe played only when the mood struck her, and not as something she needed to\nknow to be a good Air Force officer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Turned out chess and\nwarfare were nothing alike. Broadly, one was fair, while the other was not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d been struck with the\nmood to play that evening, after she\u2019d received a work e-mail telling her she\nhadn\u2019t been selected for the Air Force Institute of Technology graduate degree\nprogram. Specifically, it had been a \u201ccongratulations\u201d e-mail to all the people\nin the 45th<\/sup> launch group who\u2019d gotten in, and the list hadn\u2019t\nincluded her. Better luck next time,<\/em>\nher boss had said. Why wasn\u2019t I good\nenough this time?<\/em>, she\u2019d asked. Why\nwasn\u2019t a woman with an engineering degree who literally does rocket science for\na living good enough?<\/em> He said he didn\u2019t know, as if it was a cosmic mystery.\nToo many other qualified candidates with a special something she lacked\u2014like a\npenis and luck. But she could only speculate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lying on her sofa with her\nlaptop on her stomach, she clicked on the electronic chessboard. \u201cQueen to D-two,\u201d\nshe said to herself. \u201cCheckmate, boy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the chat log with her\nhuman opponent, a guy with the handle MarkySnark, she typed: good game. next time don\u2019t sacrifice your\nqueen so early<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He typed back: cunt.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She let out a long sigh.\nThat\u2019s what she got for using a female-sounding handle\u2014EmpressMartinezz. Poor\nsportsmen weren\u2019t uncommon, especially when they realized they lost to a woman,\nbut fuck this guy: Aww, poor baby got his\ntiny man feelings hurt\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Before she could hit enter, she glanced at the\nclock and froze\u2014ten past six.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, shit.\u201d She snapped\nher laptop closed and launched off the couch, running to her bedroom to change into\nher mess dress as quickly as possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

***<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI should\u2019ve\nsaid no,\u201d Maria griped to herself as she stood on one side of the A1A highway,\nthe Tides Club on the other side. Rain pelted her hair and fancy uniform, water\nsoaking into her high heels as she danced around a puddle to get to the\nstoplight pole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mashing the pedestrian\nsignal with her fist, she yelled, \u201cCome on!\u201d She was already late for this\nstupid thing, and now she was about to arrive looking like she\u2019d swam there. Cars\nzipped by in the dark as she waited forever for the light to change from green\nto red, the walk sign popping on across the street. She tottered across, heels\nsqueaking as she went. When she was over halfway to the other side, a car ran\nthe red light and nearly hit her, its tires squealing as it swerved to avoid\nher at the last second. Damn light\u2014it only changed when people pressed the\nbutton to cross, so drivers were used to it always being green. Still, it\u2019s not\nlike they didn\u2019t know the light was there, and that sometimes it turned red.\nThe jerk had the balls to honk at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAsshole!\u201d she screamed at\nthe car\u2019s taillights. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally on the other side,\nshe ran into the club, cut through the empty foyer, and headed straight for the\nballroom. Pulling the door open a crack, she heard General Guinness giving a\nspeech.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026We are at the forefront\nof today\u2019s warfighting efforts\u2026\u201d he said. Military jargon, blah blah. He droned\non for another minute until something he said warranted applause, and the crowd\nresponded by slapping the fat end of their spoons on their tables. Spotting an\nempty seat next to Jake, which he must\u2019ve saved for her\u2014in the outer row of\ntables, thank God\u2014she tip-toed through the ear-splitting cacophony and slid\ninto her chair just as the noise died down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLook who\u2019s finally\nhonored us with her presence,\u201d Jake said, glancing at Maria as General Guinness\nsaid something about air power. \u201cJesus, did you swim here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShut up.\u201d She brushed\nwater off the shoulders of her satin mess dress coat, then did a double-take\nwhen she saw Jake\u2019s boring civilian girlfriend Sarah next to him. Frowning, she\nlooked away so it wouldn\u2019t seem aimed at Sarah. \u201cI made it, didn\u2019t I? You owe\nme fifty bucks.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut you\u2019re late.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy car wouldn\u2019t start.\u201d\nWhy did Jake asked Maria to come, and then bring his girlfriend?<\/em> Yes, Maria and Jake were merely friends, at the moment,\nbut come on. That wouldn\u2019t last long, and he knew it. Stupid boy. \u201cAnd you\ndidn\u2019t say anything about being on time. You said, \u2018Come to the Dining Out, and\nI\u2019ll give you fifty bucks.\u2019 So here I am. Cash only, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Major Duncan, Maria\u2019s\nboss, shot them both a side-eye from across the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll discuss terms\nlater,\u201d Jake whispered, then was quiet as he seemed to focus on the wing\ncommander\u2019s speech.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Already the night was a\nbust, and she\u2019d only just arrived. Now she was stuck there, unable to leave\nuntil the mess was adjourned\u2014per the rules, anyway. At least she\u2019d successfully\navoided getting called out for being late. Good thing no one cared enough about\nher to notice besides Jake. Quietly seething and already bored, she ignored the\ngeneral and took a moment to get her bearings. Jake looked sharp in his mess\ndress, but men always did compared to the bulky female version of every\nmilitary uniform. With a blond crew cut, light blue eyes, and a strong,\nclean-shaven jawline, he was made for an Air Force recruitment poster. Sarah\nwore a pink chiffon thing, also perfect for a spousal recruitment poster, if\nsuch a thing were ever necessary. Major Duncan sat with his wife, smiling and\nnodding as if enraptured by the speech, but he picked at the sleeve of his coat\nwith his usual nervous energy, constantly worried about acting the right way\nand saying the right things while never sure exactly what those were. Two other\ncouples shared the table, Maria\u2019s coworkers, all officers with their dates or\nwives, leaving one empty chair next to Maria where her theoretical plus-one\nwould\u2019ve been. At the front of the ballroom sat Colonel Archer, her group\ncommander, looking poised and regal as always. She\u2019d never actually talked with\nArcher since the colonel traveled all the time, but she\u2019d heard good things, absolutely fantastic commander and leader,\ndestined for general<\/em>, etc. Average things for a colonel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally, General Guinness\nstopped talking. After some painful \u201cwitty banter\u201d with the master of\nceremonies, a representative from each squadron came forward to throw noxious\ningredients into the toilet-shaped grog bowl. Security Forces used a combat\nboot to pour in \u201cfoot jam,\u201d which turned out to be clams. The Loggies threw in\na glass jar of \u201cdried camel snot from the Middle East,\u201d aka coconut. Maria\u2019s\nunit, the 5th<\/sup> space launch squadron, poured in \u201crocket\nfuel\u201d\u2014chocolate schnapps. When each unit had contributed something, Guinness\ndeclared the grog open and the waiters brought out dinner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Maria picked at her\nsalad, she noticed Jake writing something on a cocktail napkin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re you doing?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt better not be what I\nthink you\u2019re doing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cToo\nlate.\u201d He\nrose from his chair with a mischievous grin, clinking his tiny dessert spoon\nagainst a water glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you\nfucking dare,\u201d Maria said, earning a glare from Major Duncan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPoint of\norder,\u201d Jake announced to the mess. Everybody in the ballroom quieted down to\nlook at him. Maria sighed. He would<\/em>\ndo this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMister Vice,\nI\u2019d like to report a rule violation,\u201d Jake said to Lieutenant Colby, the vice\npresident of the mess who also served as the master of ceremonies. How he\u2019d\ngotten the job, she wasn\u2019t sure; he certainly wasn\u2019t that charismatic. He also\nmight\u2019ve been the tiniest grown man she\u2019d ever known who didn\u2019t have a medical\ncondition. Duncan had probably lobbied for him; something about the kid\u2019s wee\nstature compelled special treatment from others, despite the fact there was\nnothing actually wrong with him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cState your\npoint,\u201d Colby answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria felt a\nblush rise up her neck as Jake read a limerick he\u2019d jotted the napkin. \u201cCaptain\nMaria Martinez was dragged to the mess; it\u2019s no secret she didn\u2019t want to come.\nShe complained and she moaned in a grouchy tone, determined not to have any\nfun. When she showed up here, it was very clear; she was late and wet like a frog.\nIn her soaked blues, and breaking the rules, Mister Vice you should send her to\nthe grog!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ballroom\nexploded with the ear-splitting sound of hundreds of spoons banging against\ntables. When the cacophony died down, Colby replied, \u201cAnd how do you defend\nyourself, Captain Martinez?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rolling her\neyes, Maria stood. Usually, these Dining Out snipes were reserved for\nhigher-ranking folks and their lackeys, like the cool kids in the lunchroom\nslinging food at each other to prove they didn\u2019t care who saw, even though that\nwas the whole point. As Colonel Archer\u2019s executive officer, Jake was one of the\ncool kids, while Maria was most definitely not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2014um\u2026\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The crowd\nstared at her, probably wondering who she was. Her eyes flicked to Colonel\nArcher, watching the show with that polite yet somehow expressionless smile she\nmade all the time. Now was her chance to make a good impression by being witty\nand clever. Maybe that was Jake\u2019s real aim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo say all us\nbitches\u2014snitches get stitches!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You\u2019d think\nan organization whose job it was to kill people and blow stuff up would be more\ntolerant of violent innuendo, but not this Air Force. She got some\nuncomfortable chuckles but mostly disapproving frowns. Major Duncan sighed, and\nColonel Archer\u2019s mask of a smile dropped a hair. Jake\u2019s lips tightened, his\ngrin turned wry. Maria bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn\u2019t burst into\nlaughter. That\u2019s what he got for trying to force her to play the game.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSounds like\nCaptain Rivern spoke the truth,\u201d Mister Vice said. \u201cBut you obviously need some\u2026supervision,\nso Captain Rivern will go with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The audience\nbanged their spoons at that. See, nobody cared about just her.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sighing, Maria\nmarched to the front of the ballroom, zigzagging past tables in sharp facing movements\nas Jake followed a couple of steps behind. They lined up shoulder-to-shoulder\nin front of the grog table and took turns spooning sludge out of the\ntoilet-shaped bowl into a plastic cup. She made sure to get one full ladle\u2019s\nworth, so she wouldn\u2019t get jeered for underfilling her cup and have to drink\nagain. Chunks of marshmallow, coconut, bits of salsa, and minced clams floated\nthrough the pinkish fluid, the buoyant stuff resting on top while the meaty\nstuff sank to the bottom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria did an\nabout-face, careful not to spill the drink. She held her cup high and said with\nJake, \u201cTo the Mess!\u201d\u2014\u201cWhat a mess!\u201d<\/em>\nthe crowd yelled back\u2014then chugged the grog. People squealed and snickered as\nshe and Jake held the cup to their lips until every last morsel was gone,\nchewing while keeping the rim pressed to their lips, per the rules. When she finished,\nshe flipped the cup upside down and held it over her head as proof\u2014another rule\u2014and\nthe crowd rewarded her with more spoon-slapping at surviving the dreaded grog. In\ntruth, it wasn\u2019t that bad; it tasted like a weirdly chunky punch. Even the clams\nwere neutralized thanks to its base of Tang and lemon-lime soda. Hell, you\nwouldn\u2019t even know there was alcohol in it unless someone told you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She followed\nJake back to their table, passing friends who slapped his arm and chuckled.\nWhen they sat and the ballroom filled with chatter again, Sarah hugged him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat looked disgusting,\u201d\nshe said. \u201cYou\u2019re not going to throw up, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine,\nbaby. It\u2019s no big deal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She squeezed\nhis hand. \u201cIf you say so. I\u2019m just glad you\u2019re okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria fought\nthe urge to roll her eyes. Sarah had obviously never been to one of these\nthings before. She raised a glass of wine. \u201cNothing liquor won\u2019t fix.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She clinked\nher glass with Jake\u2019s, and they drank a toast to surviving the grog together\nwhile Sarah painted on a tight smile. Maria suppressed a snicker; it was too\nmuch fun turning Sarah\u2019s screws. Jake\u2019s girlfriend was so nice, so bland. She\nwas everything Jake wished he wanted in a woman, to match his good-boy officer\nimage and make his retired colonel father happy. But she knew Jake\u2019s shameful\nsecret\u2014he liked the bad girls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria slapped\nJake\u2019s arm. \u201cWe should have a grog bowl at work. Make the new lieutenants drink\nfrom it as part of their initiation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Major\nDuncan cut in as if he thought she was serious. He could never tell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy not?\nYou\u2019re always complaining about how being stationed at a civilian-heavy base\nlike Patrick makes us ignorant of the \u2018real\u2019 Air Force.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause it\ncould be seen as a form of hazing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria gestured\naround her. \u201cThen what is this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe Dining\nOut is a proud Air Force tradition we are not bastardizing so you can have fun\nmessing with people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She shrugged.\n\u201cSeems exactlylike the military\nway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make\nme write you up, Captain Martinez.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She scowled\ninto her wine glass. \u201cIt\u2019s more of a Marine thing anyway\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Atop the\ntable, she noticed her phone vibrating with some kind of notification. She\npicked it up, unlocked it; a text from her mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

M\u2019hija,\nIsabella has been released\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria looked\naway, a reflex learned long ago. Her eyes settled in front of her, where\nGeneral Guinness and a baby-faced senior airman\u2014the highest and lowest ranking\npeople on base\u2014gripped a large knife together and awkwardly cut into the Air\nForce anniversary sheet cake. Polite spoon-clapping followed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The message\nfrom her mother better not be what she thought, but there was no way it could\nbe anything else. She\u2019d known it was coming, just like you could watch an\nout-of-control car skidding in your direction and know its seemingly random\npath was destined by a higher power to hit you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jake tapped\nher shoulder; she flinched. \u201cYou alright?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She blinked\nat him, then dropped her phone face-down on the table and wiped away the deep\nfrown she knew had settled on her face. \u201cNever better. Wanna beat it out of\nhere and get ice cream?\u201d She glanced at Sarah. \u201cThat military-commissioned cake\nis probably dry and too sweet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey haven\u2019t\nadjourned the Mess yet. I don\u2019t think we\u2019re allowed to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNone of this\ncrap is mandatory. It only exists to ingrain in us a sense of obedience.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWow, that\u2019s\ncynical. Why did you even come?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause you asked<\/em> me to, Jake. I don\u2019t actually want\nyour money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shifted\nuncomfortably in his seat. \u201cI thought you\u2019d have a good time. Maybe talk to\nsome people who can grease the skids for your AFIT application next year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you\ndon\u2019t know me very well. Come with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jake\u2019s lips\npressed into a tight line. \u201cI can\u2019t leave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course\nyou can.\u201d She threw her phone into her black clutch purse and stood. \u201cThis is\nhow you do it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maria marched out of the ballroom, ignoring pointed looks as she left. She shouldn\u2019t have come. Military pageantry had always been a waste of time. She was delusional to think this one would be any different because Jake wanted her there. And she would not answer her mother\u2019s text, or the phone calls and pleas to help her heroin-addict sister that would follow. Absolutely not. L<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Want to know what happens next? Pick up <\/em>The Colonel and Her Sergeant <\/a>today on Amazon!<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’m very excited to give y’all a SNEAK PEAK at the first two chapters of my upcoming book, The Colonel and Her Sergeant! If you like what you read here, you can pick up the rest of the book on June 9th. Happy Reading!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2},"_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2041","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9Vyi8-wV","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2041","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2041"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2041\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2099,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2041\/revisions\/2099"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2041"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2041"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.shanafigueroa.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2041"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}