Kathy Smith was doing something different tonight, having just quit her job. She visited Charley’s, a bar she owned in town. Normally, she would sit at a table but tonight she wanted to talk to Charley. She was sitting at the corner of the bar nursing a club soda with a lime. It was nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday night in Norfolk, Virginia. The crowd was, as usual, almost entirely Navy personnel. Located across from the main gate of the Naval Base, it was a primary hangout for sailors. After all, Norfolk was the headquarters facility of the entire U.S. Atlantic Fleet.
Charley, the manager and ostensible owner, was protective of Kathy. He was tending bar while looking over the crowd. Although he made a point of keeping the stool next to hers free, while he was at the other end of the bar a naval officer in uniform sat on the stool next to hers. Although he wore the rank of commander, he looked like a wreck. His uniform looked like it had been slept in despite the man looking like he hadn’t slept in days. Charley didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. The officer looked dead tired, but he was still about six feet three, and appeared to weigh something better than two hundred pounds. He was more than Charley cared to take on.
Kathy looked at the officer and felt a unique sensation surge through her. Without conscious thought, she turned and said,You look like you lost your last friend.
Charley saw what was happening and was astonished. This was the first time Kathy had ever spoken to anyone in the place except for himself and a few of the staff. For that matter, she seldom came in at all.
Kathy Smith was a built like a dream: five feet seven, with a figure and movements like an athletic model. Although not apparent from her present conservative dress, Charley knew she had a perfect figure. Tonight she was wearing a camel’s hair skirt, cashmere sweaters, and a simple gold chain. As usual, Charley thought, she looks like a million bucks.
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