Still Alive Pt. 03

"I don't care," she said, embracing him warmly.

The scent of his sweat and the heat he radiated made her sizzle inside.

"Can we try again?" she asked. "Dinner?"

"If you can give me ten minutes to shower and change."

Martel depressed the crown of her watch. "Siri, start a ten-minute timer."

Wright grinned at her playful nature, nodded, and loped back across the street leaving her at her car. He would have invited her in but didn't want to offend her sensibilities by bringing her into a room that might have been rented by the hour to other sorts of guests.

Martel relocated her car to the lot across the street. She remained inside it while she waited because the autumn evening had become chilly. She used the few minutes primping in the sun visor's mirror, touching up her makeup and adjusting her hair a little. Her jaw went slack when Wright stepped out of his motel room. She thoroughly studied him as he approached and opened the passenger door.

"Good gravy , Mark. You look … you're making me feel underdressed."

"I can lose the tie if you want."

"Don't you dare," Martel said, pulling out of the stall. "You treated me to tapas, so I'm buying tonight. You like sushi?"

He nodded with a smile.

"I'm taking you somewhere where everyone is going to stare. Sound good?"

"Sounds great."

The pair enjoyed each other's company for hours, enjoying the occasional double-take of other patrons who were dressed far more casually.

Ashley tested the new waters. After she removed from the revolving conveyor a selection of ahi nagiri , Wright engaged his chopsticks to take a piece. She immobilized them on the serving plate with her own, an analog to what had spooked him the first time they had dined together. Other than a coy grin and a wink, his only reaction was a soft touch of her foot with his as the server filled their ochoko with warm sake .

Before departing, she tipped their server handsomely considering how long they'd occupied the table.

Washington, DC
Monday, October 5, 2015, 11:17 PM EDT

"Thanks for driving," Mark said as Ashley returned him to his lodging.

"My pleasure," she said, wisely scanning her field of view thoroughly.

"I know. It's a cat hole, isn't it?"

She laughed. "I only recently learned what that means, but … why can't the Corps put you in a better place?"

"I picked it myself so I can pocket the difference."

"Oh," she said, chuckling. "You're gaming the system?"

"No game. Completely legit," he answered. "I had a nice time tonight. Thanks for that, too."

"I did, too. I ate so much I'm about to burst at my seams."

Wright chuckled. "You had only seven pieces and two tiny cups of sake ."

Martel sat still, looking at the man in the passenger seat. She took his left hand in her right, lacing her fingers between his. The slightest tremble she felt filled her soul.

"Good night, Ash."

"Oyasuminasai, Maruku-san. Pleasant dreams."

He smiled warmly as he stepped out of her car. "Yeah. Maybe they will be tonight."

She watched the incredibly handsome man walk to his room and disappear inside its dark interior.

Arlington, VA
Monday, October 12, 2015, 4:58 PM EDT

"Martel," she answered when her cell rang.

"It's Ernesto Gonzales."

"Oh. Uh, fairly early there, isn't it?" she asked.

"It is, and I'll cut to the chase. I'm about to have a very busy day because Wright's superiors are snooping."

"Sorry, come again?"

"His CO's superior, a Brigadier General Standish, has been calling his command looking for answers about events leading up to Wright's capture. That man and I have the same superior in common, and the shit is starting to roll downhill in my direction."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Because you know something else you're not being forthcoming about."

"Ernesto, what exactly are you telling … or asking me?"

"I've been digging in, and so far, I'm not liking what I'm finding. Major Wright was cleared to return to his unit in Qatar yesterday morning, but I quashed the paperwork before it was processed."

"Why?"

"Because I can. I don't need that man in theater until I chase this tail to the nose of the dog."

"Colorful metaphor, but why, again, are you calling? You haven't answered my question."

"Because I know you and Wright have been talking."

"So what if we have?"

"If you let on there's now an active investigation, it means Wolfram Resources has violated the NDA."

"I couldn't have let on if you hadn't told me⁠—"

"It'd be cause to cancel contracts."

"You're threatening me?"

"Call it a warning."

The call disconnected.

"What the hell?" she asked herself aloud.

"Let me guess," said Jeff Wesson, entering her office and closing the door. "Gonzales?"

"How'd you know?"

"Because I just got hung up on myself about two minutes ago. He's telling me he's going to cancel contracts with Wolfram."

"Yeah. He said the same thing to me."

Wesson sat in a chair and studied his employee.

"I need you to be completely honest with me, Ashley. What exactly is going on between you and Wright?"

"Based on you asking the question, I'm assuming old Ernie mentioned something about him?"

"He did. He said that he'd learned from downstream that you and Wright have become social. That's the word he used. Is it more than that?"

"We're actually going to have dinner again tonight. Is that a problem?"

"For me personally? No. Absolutely not. For Wolfram? That remains to be seen."

Ashley sighed deeply and knitted her fingers together. "I honestly don't know what to do now, Jeff. I have no clue why Gonzales called. He had no reason to tell me an investigation of their own has been started. All he said was that I'd better not mention it to Wright if I know what's good for Wolfram."

"You're right. That makes absolutely no sense to me, either. Unless …"

Ashley remained quiet, watching the signs of Wesson's gears turning.

"Think about this," he continued. "You'd have been in a better position if he'd not called and given you news. Now, you have a binary option. Keep it completely to yourself, or tell Wright."

"Exactly. So why would he lay it on the line like⁠— Oh, that crafty man. That crafty, crafty little man. He wants me to tell him," Ashley concluded.

"You're liking the guy, aren't you."

"Well, Gonzales can be a pain in the keister, but he's been a reasonable⁠—"

"No. I'm talking about Wright. You like him."

Ashley couldn't keep her smile from betraying her emotions.

"Jeez," Wesson said with a chuckle. "You don't even have to answer. Your face says it all. So does the new picture of you and him on your wallpaper."

"I'm meeting him at six," she said, looking at her screen, getting lost in the man's eyes. "The guy is incredible, Jeff. He really is."

"Don't let yourself go too far, Martel. The man could be court-martialed if they uncover the same information you did."

"Somehow, I don't think so."

"Why?"

"Because of what Gonzales said. He wants me to tell him. He wants him to know what's happening. Maybe it's a bit of a heads up to get him thinking of options."

"Be careful. Please?"

"Nothing but," she said, shutting down for the day so she would have enough time to return home and ready herself for the date.

"You look great in civvies," Mark said after he greeted Ashley with a smooch to her cheek in the lobby of the restaurant.

"It's jeans and a sweater."

"Exactly," he said, waggling his eyebrows a little. "They're running a bit behind. Should have a table in a few minutes. Want something from the bar?"

"No, thanks," she said with a warm smile.

"By chance, are you free the evening of November 14th? It's a Saturday."

Martel pulled her phone from her back pocket, opened the calendar app, and scrolled through dates.

"Don't have anything planned," she said.

"Would you like to accompany me as my plus-one to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball?"

"The Corps throws a bash for its birthday?"

"Indeed. This year is two hundred forty. There's a celebration of some sort everywhere in the world Marines are billeted, but the one here in D.C. is kind of a big thing. Presidents have even been known to make an appearance."

"Oh? Count me in. Anything I need to plan for? Like … what's the attire?"

"It's not a sure thing because tickets to this one are part of a lottery, but think black tie gala. Gowns or tuxes for civilian guests, and service dress for those on active duty."

"Ooh. A formal means I'll need to go shopping," she said, grinning.

The hostess signaled Wright that their table was ready. He took Martel's hand in his and escorted her to their seats. He helped Ashley with her chair.

"I need to let you in on a little something," Martel said after Wright took his own. "Do you know a Major General Ernesto Gonzales?"

"Don't think so. Why?"

"If I understood correctly, Your CO's CO and Gonzales are peers. He's the one who contracted my business to find info on the people whose travel plans got interrupted by you and earned you a surprise party back in August. His … I don't know what you call it, but his unit ultimately footed the bill for the after party. He's showing an interest in the guest of honor."

Despite being amused by the deliberately vague yet completely obvious reference, Mark didn't smile. "An interest?"

"A strong one."

"You haven't told him any⁠—"

"Of course not, Mark. The strange thing is, he told me not to tell you anything about it, but that would sort of eliminate the need for him to call and tell me about it in the first place. I can't tell you something I don't know about, right?"

"Yeah. That doesn't make any sense."

"Strange, though. That's all he said I couldn't mention. He didn't say anything about me not telling you he's the reason you're still on medical standby."

"Son of a bitch," he growled quietly. "Since I'm no longer deployed in theater, my pay has been cut back to basics plus the housing stipend."

"Try to find the upside. It's also the reason you and I are about to enjoy dinner together again."

Her observation allowed his smile to return. "True enough. Thanks for bringing me back to the present."

Taking her hand in his, he brought it to him and kissed her fingers. Ashley gently grasped his, adoring the gentle nature of a man she believed could draw and quarter her by hand if he so chose.

"Mark, when are you going to retire?"

"I could any time now. I've done my twenty years and then some, but I'm one of the career guys who actually like the work. Besides. I'm up for promotion to lieutenant colonel next spring. It's a pretty good pay bump."

"That's not what I mean. When are you going to retire from being … a travel agent?"

"Oh. I guess … I already have," he answered. "Besides. The returns on that investment are now fully vested."

She gently stroked the skin between Mark's fingers and watched the hair on the back of his hand stand up in response to the pleasant sensation.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Why are you walking out on a limb with me?"

"Because I like you. I think you deserve it, and … well … I'm alive and plan to be for a very long time."

Mark canted his head and studied her. He kissed her fingers again. "I'm sure everyone does."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I said that," she said in a near whisper.

He smiled weakly. "No one is ever promised a tomorrow."

"Doesn't mean I can't plan for them, though, does it?"

"Touché."

Their meals arrived a short time later. They ate slowly because the pair had no shortage of things to discuss. The both thought it odd how they, despite their differences, had so much in common.

Mark's phone popped up a notification that his Lyft was approaching.

Ashley saw a strange mix of emotions revealed on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Car's about to get here. It's one of those weird circumstances where I'm both happy and not at the same time and for the same reason."

"How come?"

"I'm happy I'm going home to see family and friends, but unhappy I'm leaving here. I think I'm going to miss you."

Ashley smiled sweetly. "We both have good phones. As backwoods as Missouri is, I'm assuming there's cell service and Wi-Fi there, so we can stay in touch."

Wright laughed, then paid the tab. The pair walked out to the parking lot together. The car was already there waiting. He hadn't packed anything because he chose to ship ahead what he'd need for the weeks he would be spending in St. Louis.

"Goodbye, Ash," Mark said, embracing her firmly in his arms. "See you in about a month."

"Be safe, okay? Because I'll miss you, too."

The car drove Wright directly to Baltimore/Washington International a short distance away. He passed time scrolling through pictures of Ashley on his phone, smiling. The intensity of his feelings induced another almost immediate panic attack, and a phrase began circulating through the hissing in his ears.

You  cannot fall in love with that woman.

Washington, DC
Saturday, November 14, 2015, 6:10 PM EST

A persistent drizzle had settled into the eastern seaboard. Though the temperature was pleasant for mid-autumn, the overall weather wasn't. Major Wright stepped out of the Lincoln Town Car which had parked alongside a curb in the neighborhood named Brookland. It was at an address to which he'd never been. Carefully avoiding puddles, he walked to the steps leading to the door of Ms. Ashley Martel's brownstone and rang the buzzer. Larger droplets fell from the transom and pattered the nylon shell of his cover.

Only moments elapsed before the door opened.

"Ma'am, you look … stunning," Mark said, choosing a compliment which failed to describe her. He offered her a white-gloved hand. "Please. Allow me."

She smiled warmly and appreciatively gave him a thorough eyeing. "You look pretty fine yourself, Mark."

As she stepped over the threshold of her residence, she deployed a small, black, collapsible umbrella.

"Mark, you're getting wet," she observed as they began traversing the walkway to the opened car door at which the driver, under his own umbrella, waited.

"It happens when it rains," he replied with easygoing, dismissive agreement.

"There's room for us both under here."

"Yes, ma'am, but regulations keep me from even holding it for you, let alone standing under it."

She was aware that male Marines weren't allowed to employ umbrellas in even the worst of weather. She'd learned of the policy when the press went haywire about a uniformed NCO holding an umbrella over someone at a White House function several years earlier. His command forgave the infraction, citing "extenuating circumstances," because the man who'd requested the favor happened to be, at the time, the Commander in Chief. The press wasn't vilifying the corporal, but the President of the United States for causing the young man to violate the code of conduct.

The driver removed a plastic sleeve from a pocket. Ashley collapsed the umbrella and placed it inside the bag after entering the vehicle. She slid to the other side of the seat to make room for Mark. He removed his cover and gently tapped its brim on the floor mat to dislodge some clinging droplets before using some tissues to blot the remainder. He gave the same treatment to his polished black shoes.

Ashley removed the vinyl slips protecting her elegant heels as soon as the driver had departed with them inside.

She watched quietly as the Marine officer spent a minute returning himself to an image of perfection.

"May I ask you what might be a personal question?"

Mark nodded. "Of course."

"Your uniform is so powerful, yet also incredibly … elegant. I don't know if that word is fitting. Maybe gallant is a better choice. How much does it cost?"

"Thank you," he said, smiling. "It's not personal at all. The prices are all listed online. From cover to Corfams, it's somewhere close to three thousand dollars."

"Almost as much as my dress."

The man laughed easily at her playful poke. "I've only worn Evening B twice before tonight."

"You do look very handsome."

As inconspicuously as he could, he soaked in the sight of his fellow passenger as his eyes reacclimated to the dim interior of the vehicle. She wore a chiffon wrap over her shoulders which didn't hide the spaghetti straps of her royal-blue, ankle-long, silk column dress. A leg in ecru hosiery, modestly crossed with her knee over the other, was revealed in the thigh-high slit. She wore sequined, color-matched, open-toed slingback heels.

"And you're beyond beautiful."

"Thank you. I'd like to touch you, but you look like a big, scary soldier."

He cleared his throat.

"Oops. You're a big, scary Marine," she said, correcting herself with a light, playfully teasing chuckle.

"I won't bite. This event doesn't require me to bring my sword, so … by all means, feel free."

She softly stroked the collar of his black jacket then the gold button and oak leaf emblazoning its shoulder strap. She followed its sleeve to the gold filigree decorating its cuff. He felt her every touch. She saw his eyes twinkling above a mild smile.

"I'm glad you won the lottery," she said. "I've been looking forward to this."

Mark nodded. "Yeah. It's strange, unless I completely misunderstood the whole thing. When I entered, the website said the lottery only gives entrants the opportunity to buy the tickets because space is so limited. Winners still have to pay for them.

"But that's not what happened. Etickets showed up in an email two weeks ago when I was in St. Louis and said a car with driver was included, too. That was a nice surprise."

She studied Mark for a few moments. "We should talk," she quietly said.

He softly sighed then gestured subtly forward toward the driver who, apparently paying attention only to traffic, wasn't guaranteed not to be listening.

"Later. First, I want to enjoy an evening watching the rest of the jarheads in the ballroom drooling in jealousy like the crayon-eaters they are."

Ashley laughed.

"Besides. All you need to remember is this. Other than the commandant's spouse, who is, by writ and order, the most important woman in the ballroom, you'll be the loveliest."

"That's very kind."

"It's not simply kindness, ma'am. It's the God's-honest truth. After all, this is the first time I've seen you in anything other than utilities, casual dress, or business suits."

"Come on, Mark," she said. "I understand your insistence on practicing proper decorum when you're in uniform, but when we're by ourselves, can you stop with the 'ma'ams?' Please?"

He smirked cheekily. "No, ma'am."

She sighed in mild exasperation but smiled. Something about his carriage and demeanor proved he wasn't trying to frustrate, but was being the epitome of an officer and gentleman.

"Fine, Mr. Wright."

He chuckled. "The rules don't apply to civilians."

"Turnabout is fair play, Major."

"Very well, then," he answered before leaning a whisper's distance from her right ear. "You look smoking hot tonight, Ash."

A short time later, the driver pulled into the porte cochere of the Grand Hyatt. Major Wright quickly exited the vehicle and helped Ms. Martel disembark. He offered her his left arm and escorted her through the entrance.

He sensed her slowing pace after they entered the expansive foyer. He stopped, allowing her some time to absorb the trappings. Though the event was to be held in the grand ballroom, the lobby had been appropriately appointed, as well.