PATCHES (A War Story)

CHAPTER ONE

The Hotel International

Dee fidgeted on the bar stool. Looked up once
more at the brightly lit clock behind the bar.
Checked his watch again. A black timex with an olive green camoflage band. "Damn, where in the hell is Gabe?"

He rose and walked over to the large window fronting the main drag. Georgetown was hopping below, but still no sign of Gabe.

He returned to seat and idly stirred his drink.
"He just had to score some pot, fire Johnny, and meet me here. How long does that take?" He wondered.

Dee froze in midthought! She hushed the room when
she entered. The luncheon crowd, mostly male, fell
silent.

Dee had never seen a woman before that could compare. Oriental? Maybe. Gabe would later tell the boys, "She had legs that went all the way up to her ass." Long, shapley legs accented by the white mini-dress that contrasted her earth tone color like a Picasso original.

But it was her eyes, large, doelike, knowing eyes
that could convert testosterone to it's highest chemical form. Lethal dose that could send a man to making the same mindless choiches of a rutting
buck.

Her eyes rested on Dee for a fleeting second. Then she strode toward him like Miss America
coming down the runway.

"Shit, she's heading this way," Dee's overtaxed
libido shouted!

She took the stool next to him and crossed those lucious gams. Fumbling in her purse, she extracted
a package of cigarettes, menthol, American.

Dee spotted a book of matches on the bar. Struck one to flame with fingers of angst, and turned to light her smoke. "Thank you," quietly, politely, with a hint of sadness.

"Your welcome, can I get you a drink?"

Magically, a frosted, strawed glass appeared in front of her. "Thank you, you just did." This time
a smile, ever so quick, treated him.

She sipped the drink in silence, ignoring Dee. He took a swallow from the bloody mary he'd been nursing. "What do I say." Her beauty was leaving him unable to use his considerable youthful charms.

All previous pickup lines he had used in the past, he now deemed useless and futile.

Suddenly he heard her sobbing, almost silently,
Dee reached into his back pocket, retrieved his handkerchief, and handed it to her without a word.

She dabbed daintily at those brown pools and managed to stem the flow without smearing any makeup she might have worn.

"Oh, Raymond is gone. I miss him so."

"Who's Raymond?" Dee inquired.

"My boyfriend. He had to go back to Saigon."

"What does he do in Saigon?"

"He is a Lieutenant, he works for a General at Headquarters."

A damn pencil pusher. Instead, "does he come to see you often?"

"No, it was his first visit."

Oh, a wicked thought crossed Dee's mind, but he kept it in check, and asked conversationally, "So
what brings you to the International?"

"I needed a drink. I just brought Raymond to the airport."

She flashed that smile again, so swiftly did it tickle Dee's heart, he gulped, and then grabbed for the book of matches as she held out the cigarette for his attention.

She held his hand as he lit it, but more than the cigarette was ignited!

"Er, ah, can I get you another drink?"

"Sure, I do not drink alcohol, it is lemonade."

"Bartender, one for the lady, I'll have a beer." Dee had regained a little composure.

"Cheers," she said, as the bartender brought the fresh round.

They clicked glasses and returned to silence.

"What is your name?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Dee," he answered, what's yours?"

"D" like the letter D? Mine is Nobuko."

"It's Dee," he spells it out for her. "Nobuko, that's different. What nationality are you?"

"I'm Polynesian, Melanesian, Micronesian, Malaysian, and Irish, smiling, sending Dee into orbit.

"Irish?" was all he could muster.

"Yes, my grandfather was an Irish freedom fighter who met my grandmother in Singapore."

"Ah, that explains the legs," he said aloud, then blushed.

Ever so softly, like a butterfly landing with sore feet, her hand glided over his leg. Not sexual, as much as intimate, just fleetingly, and it was gone.

Dee's leg was still burning when she asked seductively, in a voice only he could hear. "Do you like my legs, Dee?"

"Ah, yeah," was the best he could do.

"Do you have a girl, Dee?" So sensually now, he was instant mush.

"No, I just got in last night." He didn't tell her about the girl he had been with. Had cost him
forty bucks, Malaysian dollars. In fact, he couldn't remember what she had looked like. Right
now he couldn't remember where he was.

"Would you like a girl, Dee?" Raymond was for-gotten. "I may be available."

"Er, how much?" he managed to blurt out.

"One hundred dollars a night, in advance," she smiled, almost demurely.

"One hundred dollars," he stuttered, "the R & R center said to pay no more than forty."

"If I can't spread my legs wider than any other broad in this town, I wouldn't ask it," out of the side of her mouth with an accent right outta Jersey!

Visibly shaken, Dee felt more pressure at that moment than he did dropping out of a chopper on a recon mission. He had to have this beauty. It was more than just her drop dead good looks, there was
a charm, a promise of the ultimate ride. He was hooked, and all she had to do was reel him in.

She did this without playing him any further.
"How long are you here for, Dee?"

"Uh, we had a week, so six more days," still dazed.

"That will be six hundred dollars, Honey. Where are you staying?"

"Huh, six hundred dollars?" still disoriented, "Uh, the Hotel Perfect Room."

"Oh, the new one. I have not been inside. I hear it is lovely."

"It is. The lobby is huge and very ornate."

"Well, Sweetie, I'm going leave and run some errands and freshen up, then I'll meet you tonite
for dinner. What's your room number?"

"Jesus, what the hell have I done, Dee lamented. "Gabe will destroy me once he finds out I gave a strange girl six hundred bucks and then watched her walk outta here with my money."

But, that kiss, ooh, that kiss, when she whispered, "see you tonite Dee." Bogart enters his befuddled brain. "I was born when she kissed
me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks
while she loved me."

"Dee, guess what? Johnny found us some ass kickin' weed. They said just a coupla tokes, don't do no more, 'cause it'll lay your ass away." Gabe's arrival was never subtle.

Dee glanced at Johnny, then questionally at Gabe.

Gabe winked, "Johnny's got us lined up with a trip to these fuckin' sacred snake gardens. We'll do a little smoke, down a coupla cold brews and have a fuckin' blast. Johnny's gonna line us up with some cheap pussy tonite. We're on R & R pal, let's go eat."

Out on the outdoor patio of the International, the two buddies and their faithful native guide, cracked open large crablegs, and dipped the succulent, sweet meat in the melted butter as they slurped thirstly at their frosted mugs of beer.

"Fifty fucking cents a plate," Gabe announced, you know how much this fuckin' shit is in Jersey?" Wiping butter splatter off his chin, he went on, the boys back home get wind a' this, they'll be volunteering their sorry asses off to get here!

Dee had never eaten crab legs before so his progress was more painstaking than his his two dining partners. Johnny had obviously gone from getting fired to being one of the boys. Gabe ordered another plate of crab legs and a round of beers and they attacked them quietly for the next ten minutes.

Dee asked, "how are we goin' to these sacred gardens?"

"Johnny's got the car all gassed up and he says he's got a short cut that get us there quick. It's halfway up the fuckin' mountain. Let's roll."

Sometimes Gabe's vocabulary could use a few more adjectives, mused Dee. Then he stated, it's almost two, we'd better be shaking it."

"No problem, Dee, we'll stop off at my room, smoke a quick doobie, and be on our way. Johnny and I already have the cooler loaded with beer and ice."

As they rose to leave, Gabe threw a couple dollars on the table and said, "grab the check, Dee, I got the tip.