Tracy

007:

               

However, he'd been right about not going night surfing alone. It just wasn't done. She pulled her top off and tossed it on the floor, went to the closet and pulled the mirrored doors back. Her bathing suit --the black one she'd stolen from the Huntington High School locker rooms-- was hung up. Coral hung up all her clothes after she dumped them all on the floor.

I'm a pig.

And I demand my mommy clean up after me.

What a pig.

She pulled the suit off its hanger and unbuttoned her jeans. Hm.... Could she go night surfing with this bandage on her leg? It didn't hurt-- nothing but headaches actually hurt-- she knew, having been beaten into a high pain tolerance by Ruth and her grandmother so many times she couldn't count. She didn't even feel cold anymore thinking about it. It didn't matter, that was another life-time, another person. It didn't affect her. It was closed off, sealed up tight, buried in the abyss under the weight of the Titanic.

Something crinkled in her pocket. Her fingers located the source, that tiny half piece of paper with the name of that Naval Officer.

Did pop singers date Naval Officers?

Could Naval Officers actually date?

She examined the paper carefully. His writing was printed—all capitals. Firm, uniform— like him. She instantly recalled those deep blue eyes trained on her in concern, the deep gray clouds and steel silver flashing waves propelled by wind and driven with misting rain behind him as he'd bandaged her leg.

She scooted back to the bed and flopped with her jeans around her ankles, and her bra straps sliding off her shoulders. Another paper fell onto the floor. She picked it up—this time, it was her own writing--- she recalled taking down the calendar notes from Michael.

"Austin McQueen-----." She stared at the number next to the name trying to remember what Michael had said she was doing with Austin McQueen. Was he the singer or the actor? She flipped the paper over. "Jancie Morrell." That was the singer—a girl. She wondered if they lived in So Cal, she wondered if either of them surfed.

Her fingers found the phone again and she brought it up, along with the paper, to dial with her thumb. Her heart started beating a little too loudly--- and she recognized the feeling of anticipation flowing through her veins. And defiance----

She kicked the jeans off and let them drop.

He picked up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Officer----." She checked the paper one more time for good measure. "Maverick. It's Tracy. Tracy McCaffrey."

His quickly indrawn breath was telling, and she felt warmth permeate her skin as she thought that maybe he'd been hoping she'd call. At least to tell him thank you.

Before he could reply she breached that gap. "I just wanted to say thank you for---- om--- bandaging my leg."

"Oh! No problem. I'm glad to have been of assistance! How are you feeling? Are you still mad at me for tricking you into going to the hospital?"

"About that----." She chuckled, and popped her lips, with a secret smile. "I guess I can forgive you. I--- I really probably, maybe, well--- for sure--- wasn't in my right mind at that very moment."

His snort was appreciated. "I get it. Did everything check out? How's the headache?"

"What you did really helped. Getting away from Casey really helped. Being outside in the wind really helped."

"They gave you something for the pain?"

"No--- I don't take drugs. But I was able to get my hands on my remedy in my back pack. I'm feeling much better thanks."

"You have a remedy? What--- Chinese Plum Flower?"

"How did you know?"

"It's good for migraine. I'm glad it helps you."

She was stunned that he understood. Most of the time if she even said the words Chinese herbs people shut down and glazed over. Speaking of which--- she should probably get some more in her before too long so it didn't come back.

"So---- I was wondering---- if it wouldn't be too much trouble--- or if you don't already have plans--- you probably already have plans--- do you have plans tonight?"

He chuckled again, and his voice was melodic, and low, and Tracy shivered, remembering his touch on her skin. Now that she wasn't angry and hysterical.....

"Are you asking me out?"

She felt the heat creep up her face. She wasn't good at this---- actually was pretty bad at it. Casey approved the guys she went out with--- all for the ever-loving promotional image he needed her to create—who to be seen with, who to collaborate with--- who to consider projects with--- how they could further his agenda.

"Is that too forward? I'm sorry if it is. I'm really bad at this. I guess I should have waited for you to call me--- but actually you don't have my number, so I'm calling you." She crunched up, her face close to her drawn up knees, feeling embarrassed--- when she got embarrassed--- too many words came out.

"And you're asking me out?"

"Yeah--- specifically--- I was hoping to go night surfing at Huntington, I need some exercise, clear the head--- and I need a surf buddy--- it's not really safe to go surfing without a buddy, in case anything happens, which I'm a really good surfer, I've been surfing since I was ten, or thereabouts, maybe eleven--- and anyway, it's better to go day surfing, or early morning, and not in a storm, of course, but I'm not really afraid of storms, and I really just----."

"Need to get out." He finished for her, and she could hear the amusement in his tone.

"Do you--- surf?"

"I've been--- yeah--- lived by the beach most of my life. San Diego."

"Oh, are you--- in San Diego now?"

"Yeah--- but I can be to Huntington in an hour."

"It's at least an hour and a half."

"Like I said."

"You will get a ticket."

"Not usually." He stated. "What I don't have with me is a surf board. You don't happen to have an extra one?"

"Yeah, actually, I do." She pictured getting Kirk off the recliner to load both boards for her, and winced. He had definitely settled in for the night. Getting his tired bones up would mean listening to him complain----but he'd do it. She winced again--- even in the wind? She didn't think it was raining anymore--- but it was windy.

She told him the parking area, and which cross street and then hung up, rolling off the bed and opening the door as she flung her bra on the floor. "Dad! Dad! I'm going night surfing! I need you to load the surfboards on mom's car. Mom! Can I use your car?"

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