And here he was, he thought with regret as he passed a mob of tourists being led by a guide in a colonial era costume. May as well be stationed at Disneyworld from where he was standing. He wasn’t even armed.
What is the point of having a job in which he isn’t armed? Why even bother qualifying as expert on every weapon from pistol to machine gun, if the most dangerous thing he can carry right now is a can of Raid?
A brisk ten-minute walk across the parade fields led Mick to the door of an unimpressive office he shared with a Lieutenant slated to teach nuclear engineering. The damn kid looked so content sitting behind his computer, Mick momentarily hated him.
The Lieutenant quickly rose from his seat at attention when he saw Mick. “Sir.”
“Lieutenant, if we’re going to share an office all year, let’s forget the formalities.”
The Lieutenant smiled. “That extra stripe on your shoulder board tells me to stand up, Sir.”
“Yeah, well, this extra stripe reminds me that I shouldn’t even be teaching. Don’t remind me of that by jumping to attention every time I come into the room.”
“Done, Sir.”
“Mick,” Mick corrected. “Mick Riley.”
“Got it. Mick. Jack Falcone.” The Lieutenant offered with a firm handshake. “So what are you doing here, then?” Jack asked, glancing at the Navy Cross Mick had pinned to his chest. “You should be writing your own ticket now. In San Diego or out in the field, I’d think.”
“I pissed off my Commanding Officer after my last mission. I was up for orders. He made a phone call or two, and here I am.”
Jack let out a breath. “Hope it was worth it. Pissing off your CO, I mean.”
“Probably not,” Mick muttered, wanting to change the subject. Truth was, he couldn’t regret telling off Captain Shey that day after the Kandahar mission. If the Captain hadn’t ordered the Blackhawk to change extraction points when it came under fire, Sully would still be in the SEALs rather than sent home to his wife and kids without a leg. Mick tugged at his collar. “It’s hot as hell in here. Don’t we have air conditioning?”
“I thought you SEALs were tough,” Jack smirked.
“Yeah, I can kill a man in two seconds bare-handed. But I can’t take this damn Annapolis heat in the summer.”
“It’s hotter in San Diego.”
“It’s not the heat...”
“…it’s the humidity,” Jack finished for him. “Yeah, I know. My ass is stuck to this chair.”
Mick leaned back and stared vacantly at his computer. He didn’t know the first thing about writing lesson plans or syllabi. “How about you? Big physics brain?”
Jack flashed a smile that made him look scarily like Brad Pitt in his younger years. “That’s me. I’ll teach here for a couple years, then back to sea as a department head. If I don’t take your route and piss off my CO.”
“Just don’t call him a pansy-ass bastard to his face.”
Jack let out a low whistle.
Mick could tell he wanted to hear the whole story, but knew better than to ask. SEAL missions were top secret, hidden behind layers of nondisclosure forms. Black ops, they called it.
Returning to typing, Jack gave a slight nod at the framed photo on his desk of him surrounded by four women, two holding infants on their laps. “I’m liking it here because my sisters are all on the East coast. I’ve been at sea so much, I barely get to see them and their kids.” He handed the photo to Mick proudly. “I’ve got one more niece and my first nephew now.”
Mick scowled. “You have four sisters? That would kill me.”
“Are you kidding? It’s great. I know everything about women. I have the inside track. I ask all the right questions, like ‘what are you thinking right now?’ Girls love that shit. Between that and this uniform, I can’t keep women off me.”
Mick laughed. One look at the young Lieutenant, and anyone would know it was true. “Well, keep that uniform on, or you’ll have the same experience I did this afternoon.”
Jack raised his eyebrows, a silent request for details.
Mick ordinarily wasn’t the type to talk much. Some guys liked talking about life over a few beers or while shooting pool. The only male bonding Mick enjoyed was when he was headed into danger with his fellow SEALs. But, staring at a blank monitor, suddenly socializing seemed a lot less painful. “I was at the funeral of my Academy sponsor, and I met this woman. Asked her to dinner and she shot me down.”
“You tried to pick up a woman at a funeral?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t find that a bit…inappropriate?”