Prologue
1956, West of Chicago, Illinois
Blood, hot and sticky, covered his hands. Why? Nothing made sense, and there was only confusion. Confusion… and a knife. Blood dripped from the knife in his hands. Why? He couldn't remember. In the woods, running, stumbling, there was no thought, only fleeting images. A cabin. Linette. A man. Together. Whore! Goddamn whore! Burning fury, white hot, blinded him. Whore whore whore! She deserved that knife in her, over and over and over… The vision was beginning to clear now. Over and over, the hot smell of blood and screaming in his ears as that knife plunged into her, into him, over and over and over... God that felt good. It was clear now. Bitch got what she deserved this time. This time was not like last time. Last time he wasn't a man. She'd begged and pleaded and he'd loved her so much... Last time he'd raised that bastard baby. His baby? Not sure. It looked like Linette. His baby? Bastard baby! No bastard baby this time. Not this time. Darrell Thompson smiled like the Devil. No, not this time. The blood on his hands made sure of that.
February 20, 1970, Saigon, afternoon
"You're really serious?" Face asked.
Hannibal rolled his eyes. "Yes, Lieutenant. Would I lead you on about something like that?"
Face looked incredulous. "You know Hannibal, we've been on back to back missions for six months and every time I put the letter R in a sentence twice, you run off and get us another mission."
Murdock leaned closer to Hannibal. "You know Colonel, he has a point."
Hannibal sighed. They were in Saigon because General Walker had asked him here on a personal matter. He'd thought it would be a good chance for the team to have some down time, although he didn't say anything until after he met with the General, just in case the "personal matter" ended up having a mission attached. Lord knows they needed a break considering they all almost bought it on their last mission.
Near brushes with death weren't anything out of the ordinary, but every so often, every-damn-thing went wrong. This had been one of those times. Murdock had hit a barrage of anti-aircraft fire and couldn't get to them on schedule, leaving them pinned down and dangerously low on ammo. No ammo actually. By the end, he had two rounds in his .45 and three empty clips for his M-16. Although he liked living on the edge as much as the next man (okay, way more than the next man), he hated the helpless feeling of having no cover or ability to defend himself and his team. Even more, he hated watching his guys feel the same way.
Whether by luck or skill (probably a bit of both), they'd managed to stay alive long enough for Howlin' Mad to execute his crazy maneuver and come through. They'd come out of it with only minor injuries (and a really great story) but it was no secret that they all needed a break after a drop like that. And, conveniently, since no mission had materialized from the General, they'd found their way to an "American style" restaurant that catered to soldiers.
The owner had tried to make the place look like a 50's style diner they probably saw in some teen beach movie, but failed miserably. Sure, the floor tiles were black and white and there were booths and tables. That was where the similarity ended. The furniture maybe was from the 50's...Vietnam in the 50's that is. A lot of rattan and not a lot of padding on the seats. No bar stools. The jukebox was a fake too. OK they served cheeseburgers and fries but no one really knew what kind of meat was in those things (and no one wanted to) and the fries looked suspiciously like they were made from some unspecified root vegetable instead of potatoes. Mystery meat was NOT his idea of living on the edge productively. Most importantly, a real 50's diner would have had air conditioning in 102-degree heat with 150% humidity. Apparently, diners in Saigon had slowly turning fans which simply moved said humidity from one side of the restaurant to the other. He brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand.
"Face, look me in the eye," he said flatly. "We all get three days of R&R here in Saigon. Speaking of which, it would be great if you could scam us some hotel rooms so we don't have to sleep on base."
Face groaned and Hannibal grinned. His tone was casual but it let Face know this was not a request, no matter how much Jazz he demonstrated.
"Come on Lieutenant. Anything, anywhere, anytime, remember? You don't want your creative juices to dry up just because you're on leave, do you?"
Hannibal loved tweaking Face on his legendary scamming ability. It was the reason he had even recruited Face in the first place. It was a reputation Face had stoked because he made a lot of money trading in "questionable" items, and the "legend" was free advertising. But now, he did an exceptionally good job living up to it. Besides, Hannibal had initially been concerned Face wouldn't use his gift for the team's sake, so he frequently "requested" Face to procure things for the team just because he could. RHIP after all. In this case, it was hotel rooms.
"Yeah, okay," Face sighed, apparently resigned to his fate. "Just don't start partying without me."
February 20, 1970, Saigon, late afternoon
Hotel rooms secured, Face returned to the restaurant where the team had been waiting, brandishing the room keys. While he'd been hard at work, the team was relaxing, drinking warm beers to pass the time until he returned. At least as proud of his success as he was irritated by the fact he was the only one working, Face slid into the booth next to Hannibal and began handing out the keys.
"Just don't do anything to draw attention to yourselves" Face said sternly. "The word is 'scammed' remember?"
BA took his key warily. "Hey man, these rooms better be nicer than the last time. I don't like roaches."
Face looked insulted. "I promise your room will be pest free." He paused, then added, "Well, as pest free as anything can be in Vietnam. Look, it's a nice hotel, okay?"
BA growled for effect. Face ignored him. It wasn't clear whether that snarl was in response to Face's irritated tone or the obvious impossibility of obtaining any room that would be "pest free" by American standards.
Rising to his feet again, Face clapped his hands once. "So, what is on the menu for tonight? Some booze? Some girls? I know a great place where both flow like water. Who's with me?"
Hannibal was the first to answer, following Face out of the booth. "Sorry Face, the General's secretary was giving me the eye," Hannibal grinned wickedly. "When I mentioned it to him, he told me she could probably use a 'date'." Hannibal and Face both snickered, knowing exactly what the General meant. "Anyway, hired women are not my preferred method of 'relaxation' shall we say."
Face looked at Murdock next, but the pilot stayed seated, keeping a barrier between them. From the uncomfortable expression, Face sensed an excuse coming from his normal "out on the town" buddy.
"Sorry Face, but I ran into this pilot I trained with," Murdock explained lightly. The tone was clearly an attempt to diffuse any bad feelings, but it made Face frown all the same. "He told me they are having an all-night American movie marathon at the theater. Man, it's been a long time since I've seen a movie. I think they're doing some Bogart if you're interested."
Face looked at Murdock like he had tentacles growing out of his shoulder. "Movies? We're in Saigon for our first R&R in months and you're going to the movies?!"
"Sorry Faceman," Murdock said with a sympathetic smile. "Priorities are priorities."
Behind him, Hannibal chuckled as he likely came to the same realization Face was approaching. An evening with B.A. and Ray "Glacier" Brenner would put a serious damper on his plans. Hannibal seemed to be enjoying this too much. Face glared at him, then grumbled, resignedly pointing at Glacier.
"Well I know your feeling on the subject," Face said to Glacier, who slid past Murdock to squeeze out of the booth. He leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, in a blatantly defensive posture. Glacier was the only soldier in the U.S. armed forces who did not make himself "geographically available" (code for "married but single while in Vietnam.") He had married his fiance' Trish while the team was on leave in Hawaii the year before and made a promise in his vows that he would be faithful to his wife. Face had often wondered if that might be the reason for the name "Glacier", but he'd realized he never heard the official story. Face felt his evening slipping away. His last hope was B.A. Not a hope really. More like asking a question to which he already knew the answer. "So…B.A….How about you and I go to this place I know and find us some girls…"
B.A. growled at him. "Hey man, you know I don't drink, and I don't like those women."
"Or fun" Face mumbled, eliciting a threatening look from B.A.
Hannibal interjected at this point. "Face you know the rules. No Boom Boom girls unless you're in pairs for safety. Or someplace not in Vietnam." Noticing a light bulb go on in his Lieutenant's head, he added "And you will stay in Vietnam. Saigon specifically." Face sighed deeply and nodded his assent.
Hannibal took this lull to excuse himself to go get ready for his date. Murdock escaped quickly with Hannibal as to avoid any last-minute entreaties from Face. In the wake of their departure, Face quickly turned his attention to Glacier and B.A., who seemed ready to bolt for the hotel.
"Can I at least rely on you guys for drinks at a more, shall we say, upscale bar?"
Face was just past pleading and short of begging. Realizing "pathetic Face" was not going to fly, he changed tactics, now appealing to self-interest. Face addressed B.A. first, since he was going to be the hardest to convince. "I'm sure you can get a White Russian minus the alcohol." Seeing his confused look, Face clarified. "For the uninitiated, that means milk."
B.A. considered it briefly before smiling. "Yeah, haven't had any real cold milk in a while," he said thoughtfully. "Sure Faceman. You're buying."
Face turned quickly to Glacier. He knew what would entice this soldier. "I happen to know this place has the coldest beer in Vietnam."
It was Glacier's turn to smile. "In that case, lead on."
"So why is it you're called Glacier anyway?" Face asked as they headed for a nice bar frequented by upper class locals and Americans. "Is it because you're stone cold to all the lovely women who come on to you in this great country of Vietnam?"
He stifled a laugh at the distressed look on Glacier's face. It wasn't that Face actually cared who Glacier did - or didn't - sleep with. But married or not, the man's commitment to his absent wife was a concept most soldiers could not comprehend, Face included.
It took a few dozen steps in silence, with only the sounds of the city around them, before Face realized he wasn't going to answer without a bit more prodding. He wasn't entirely surprised. No matter how a name was acquired here, it was usually not complimentary. Even the bravest, most battle-hardened soldiers the Army had ever seen were often branded by their first screw ups or annoying traits - a caricature of their personality. "B.A." was for Bad Attitude because he liked to slug officers. The name "Howlin' Mad" came from that irritating barking, yipping sound Murdock made when he maneuvered his chopper dangerously (with intent and enjoyment), making the team fear imminent death. Face, with his youth and good looks, magically led people believe and embrace his lies. Even Hannibal, a seemingly honorable and larger than life name, originated with a general who was bat shit crazy enough to take elephants over a mountain range and attack the baddest army on the planet.
"Oh, come on," Face prodded, even more interested once he saw Glacier's reluctance. "It's not like I couldn't find out somewhere else if I wanted to."
"Go right ahead," Glacier responded dryly.
"Hey Glacier, come clean," B.A. said, glowering for effect. Apparently, he wanted to hear the story too.
Glacier sighed heavily, ran a distressed hand through his hair, and glanced around as if to make sure nobody else was listening before he continued. "Alright, so on my first drop with SOG, my unit came under heavy fire. It caught me off guard and I hit the ground - didn't come up until the shooting stopped. So everyone thought I'd been shot - hell, I thought for sure I'd been shot - until the medic said I was fine. The guy laughed hard and said, loudly so everyone could hear, "'Man Brenner, you are as cool under fire as an arctic glacier.' Glacier stuck." Still avoiding eye contact, he shrugged as he rubbed the back of his neck again and finished, "Could've been worse, I guess."
Face smiled. Glacier was right, it could've been much worse. In an effort to make peace and put Glacier in better (and more tractable) mood, Face clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. Glacier was not mollified.
"Well," he finally said reassuringly, with a quick smile to BA, "your secret's safe with us."
The bar Face led them to was definitely more upscale than any place he would have gone with Murdock. His usual preferred place would be dimly lit and smoky with run down furniture and wall to wall people, mainly soldiers and hookers. This bar looked like it should be in New York or LA. In the center was a round bar with neon underneath and a mirror which wrapped around the entire bar. In addition to modern stylish barstools, the seating was done in intimate groupings with an option of a table and velvet chairs or a booth with leather benches. The smoke was minimal due to the large size of the venue and small size of the crowd.
Face and company chose to sit at the bar and ordered some drinks. A man of few words, B.A. looked at the bartender and said "Milk". The bartender, a smooth well-dressed American, looked him up and down. Given B.A.'s drink choice, Face thought he might have been assessing B.A. as a potential sex partner. That could be a fatal mistake. "I'm sorry, what?" the bartender asked. Several soldiers nearby were taking an interest in the conversation, looking at B.A. derisively. Oh God, Face thought, if we get kicked out of this bar for fighting, Hannibal will kill me. B.A. glared at the guy.
"Hey man, I was real clear. I said milk." B.A. grabbed the bartender's collar. "You got a problem with that? The man pulled away quickly.
"One milk, coming up." he said, hastily filling the order. B.A. took a swig and smiled. "Man, reminds me of home. Now I need some of Momma's cookies."
Milk and cookies? Face thought in mild panic, glancing nervously at the other soldiers nearby. He needn't have worried. They all looked at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but at B.A. Face supposed his rough handling of the bartender dissuaded any fight they had in them. Had it been a seedier bar, B.A.'s little display would not have deterred a brawl, but this bar had a reputation for its harsh no fighting policy. The soldiers were likely not in a rowdy mood, or were under orders to avoid trouble.
After the danger of B.A. killing someone had passed, Face's gaze connected with a group of young American women at a corner table, laughing and having fun. They were probably secretaries or phone operators at the Army headquarters in Saigon. It only took a few minutes - and one particularly lingering glance - before three of the girls came over to them at the bar, smiling broadly. They introduced themselves as Maisy, Dot and Barb. Maisy was petite and pretty, with brown hair in a bun and dark brown eyes. Of more interest to Face was Dot, taller and more endowed than Maisy. Her long blonde hair and blue eyes were more to Face's liking. Barb was a pretty black woman who took a strong interest in B.A.
Face made it clear he was open to their affections, so Dot flirted shamelessly with him and asked if they'd like to join the table. Maisy was more subtle, smiling coquettishly at Glacier. Based on past experience, Face knew he would throw cold water on that fire immediately.
"Sorry Maisy, but I have a wife at home."
Maisy laughed, as if this was a game she had played before. She touched his face and then moved her hand down his neck and down the front of his shirt.
Glacier caught her hand, his tone more severe. "I said I'm married. I don't like being rude to women, so please go back to your table." Maisy laughed, seemingly unphased, and returned to her friends.
Meanwhile Barb was trying a similar move with B.A. She put both hands up on his chest and whispered loudly enough for anyone in earshot to hear. "Your muscles are so big and strong. I love a man who can protect me." B.A. moved away from her suddenly, as if she were made of hot coals. His chair went down, causing the bartender to look for impending trouble.
"Hey mama, you leave me be," he said vehemently as he found his footing. Alarmed by the tone, Barb grabbed Dot's hand and pulled her back to their table.
Face groaned. "Thanks guys. I'm sure Hannibal would approve of me sleeping with an American woman without a wingman, but you just wrecked it."
"Hey man," B.A. spat "You dragged us here. You wanna go sit with them, we're outta here!" B.A. spun his stool away from Face to head toward the door.
Glacier, also clearly annoyed with Face, looked to follow. Face had to make a split-second decision, teammates or girls. If he let the guys walk, they would likely never go out with him again. He sighed. Teammates it was.
"Hey, hey," Face called, "come on guys. I invited you out, right? Peace, huh?"
Glacier and B.A. looked at each other and reluctantly returned to their seats. For a while, they sat in silence staring at their drinks. Face began thinking about B.A. and the fact that he had never seen him with a woman. It did beg a question. Face downed two more shots before broaching it.
"B.A. can I ask you a personal question?" B.A. didn't answer, which Face took as an affirmative response and pressed on. "Since we've been teammates, I've seen several somewhat attractive women - American women, even - come on to you. You never bite. What gives?"
B.A. glared at Face with an incensed look.
"Hey Faceman, if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, I'm gonna beat that thought right out your head."
Face put his hands up in mock defense. "Now B.A. you know I would NEVER accuse you of anything like that or even think it." Unless I wanted to die, he added silently.
B.A. got quiet, paying close attention to his drink for several minutes. Face realized he had hit a nerve. That had never happened and he didn't quite know how to handle it.
"Hey man, forget I said anything. No big deal, right?"
B.A. was quiet, then spoke softly. "You wanna know? Really wanna know?"
Face knew whatever B.A. was going to reveal, it was deeply personal. For an instant, Face wasn't sure if he was quite drunk enough for that level of depth.
Unfortunately, Glacier jumped in. "Hey man, we're a team. We're here for you. Whatever you want to say, we want to hear," he said softly. B.A. looked at them and began to speak.
October 1966, Chicago, Illinois
"BA, wait up!"
Bosco Aldus Barracus didn't need to turn around to know the voice who beckoned him. His face lit up instantly at the sound of TT's voice. He had started dating Theodora Tara Thompson in his junior year in high school. She was pretty and smart and had a faith in him that no one but Momma ever had. She had laughed teasingly at his name until he found out hers was equally unfortunate. They decided to call each other by their initials because it was cute and easy to spray paint on the wall of the abandoned lot. Plus, it was better than "Bosco" and "Theodora". TT was probably the reason he graduated from high school, unlike so many of his classmates.
BA turned around to find her arms flying around his neck. Her lips found his, and he kissed her deeply and with feeling. BA felt the tension go out of her body.
"Hey baby, what's wrong?" he asked. "You feel so tense."
TT didn't answer, hugging him tighter. BA knew instantly who was to blame. Momma told him never to hate anyone, but when he thought about how TT's father continually abused her, BA viscerally understood what the term "seeing red" meant. He felt a hot tightness in his core that spread over his whole body and threatened to come out through his fists.
"It's your dad again, isn't it? Drinking? Yelling? He better not be hitting you TT," he said, trying not to take his fury out on her.
Her eyes welled up with tears. "He isn't," she swore. "But he doesn't like you and he doesn't want me dating you. He thinks you're gonna take my honor, get me pregnant and leave me. He says you'll never be able to provide for me, but I know that's wrong. If he knew I was with you tonight he'd be so mad."
TT looked hesitant, like there was something she didn't want to tell him. BA clenched his fists in anticipation of what her father might have done.
"TT, tell me."
TT started trembling.
"Daddy thinks I'm like mama. He started yelling that I was a whore and called me Linette. Sometimes I think he looks at me and sees mama. That makes him crazy. He's still so angry that she left him when I was little."
BA hit the hood of the nearest car with all his might. He wanted to beat Darrell Thompson until he couldn't say or do bad things to TT. BA wanted to hit him so much, it was hard to control. The car was the closest and safest place to diffuse his anger.
"Please BA, don't make things worse" she begged.
He took a deep breath and tried hard to calm down for her sake. His anger upset her, and it was no wonder. She had enough of that to deal with at home. She certainly didn't need it from him.
Quickly, she changed the topic to distract him. "How is the job hunt going?" she asked.
BA looked away and he could almost feel her sadness for him. Apparently, she'd been hoping her distraction topic would be one that was more hopeful and lighter.
"Now don't be all down. It'll happen. I have faith." She smiled encouragingly. TT always had an ability to sense the right thing to say to him.
"I dunno TT. It's been four months since graduation. Every job I try to get, when they see I'm from the South Side, they see me as a hood, or a gang member. They think I'm gonna steal their stuff or cheat them. Bad enough being black, but from this neighborhood, it's impossible." Before she could speak, he looked at her tenderly. "I just wanna be able to get a good job so I can provide for you. I wanna marry you so bad but I just can't until I get a job that pays. The jobs they have around here don't make enough to do that. The better jobs...They for white people."
TT's expression was one of empathy and concern. "Come on babe," she said as she pulled gently on his hand, the hooked her arm into his. "Let's take a walk. The night air and the sounds of the city will make us both feel better." BA looked down at her and smiled as they started to stroll.
Darrell Thompson's fury consumed him. His daughter had told him she was staying at her friend Maurita's house, but when he went to find her, it was a lie. Dammit she was with that no good Barracus kid. Anger smoldered in the pit of his stomach. How many times did he have to tell her? How many? She would end up unmarried and pregnant. A whore like her mama. A goddamn whore. Embers turned to raging fire. He could see it in his mind, what they were doing. Could see Linette in the cabin, sucking his… Goddamn whore! A burning white-hot fury took over. Gotta find Linette and make her pay. Make her pay again. *********************************************************************************
BA and TT walked in silence for blocks and suddenly found themselves at the high school field. Up until the previous year, it had been a lot where people dumped garbage. As part of a "redevelopment project" some white dude's company put a football field there complete with bleachers. BA sat down under them and pulled her down too. TT put her head on his chest, cuddling close to him as he put his arms around her. "TT, I … I didn't know how to tell you this before but...I signed up for the Army today. They say they'll teach me how to fix cars or maybe even helicopters."
TT gasped. "They'll send you to Vietnam. You'll get killed." She started to cry, hugging him and kissing him fiercely. His heart hurt for making her feel so awful. He didn't want to leave her, but he had run out of options.
"Hey baby, don't cry. It'll be OK. It's not so easy to kill Bosco Barracus" he said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
"When are you leaving?" she asked, choking down a sob. BA looked down.
"In a few days." BA whispered. He could barely look at her. TT lifted his face up and looked into his eyes. To BA it seemed as if there was a battle going on inside her. Suddenly, as if one side had won, she climbed on his lap and began kissing his neck, then started unbuttoning his shirt.
"TT baby, what you doing?" he asked uncomfortably. They had never done anything more than kiss.
She brought her head up and looked at him intensely, speaking softly. "If you're going to Vietnam, then I want to be with you before you go. We're here and alone and might not get a better chance with my father watching me like a hawk."
BA panicked. He didn't want to have her until they were married, as he was brought up. He briefly thought about what Momma would say. "Please," she begged.
He knew they might not get another chance, but it didn't feel right. She ran her hands up and down his bare chest. Now the war raged inside him. He knew what was right but the fire in his nerve endings and the blood flowing to his groin felt so good. He had never felt anything like it and didn't want it to stop. His friends had hired him a hooker for his 16th birthday because he was the only one of them who hadn't "done it" yet. It was cold and unfeeling. He remembered how humiliated he felt because it took so long to "get it up". He felt guilty afterward about doing it at all. That was just before he met TT.
She was kissing his chest now while moving her hand toward his crotch. She started rubbing that spot, over his pants. God that felt so good. With her hand still working there, she moved her lips back up to his, then to his ear, then his neck. He tried to fight the feelings, fight his body, but he loved her so much and that made it feel so much better than that other time. The burgeoning feelings of need and desire started to push the doubts into the recesses of his mind, replaced by growing rationalization. I'll marry her before I go away, BA told himself. That will make it alright.
When he spoke, his voice was thick and slow, as if through a fog. "I don' wanna hurt you. If you wanna stop, we'll stop." BA wasn't sure if he hoped she wouldn't want to stop, or prayed she would.
"I won't want to," she said shyly. "But I've never done this before. You'll have to help me a little."
BA was too embarrassed to tell her he was almost as inexperienced as her. Part of him thought a man should have more experience, but mostly he was glad to feel true lovemaking for the first time with her.
TT ran her tongue over his chest, then kissed him down to his belt. "So what do I do here?" she teased.
"Whatever you want," he groaned, his need for her increasing.
He knew her best friend was not so innocent, and wondered how much she had told TT about her experiences. His suspicions were intensified when she undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Still, she seemed uncertain as to her next move. He guided her to what he wanted, but part of him felt guilty. This wasn't the way he envisioned it. Part of him needed her mouth on him. Need won and he guided her. She opened her mouth and took him inside, still unsure of what to do. He moved his hips to help her understand. It felt so good, but guilt was turning the tide. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
He pulled her off him and rolled her over. "Now it's my turn" he said, his voice husky and low. He kissed her lips and then her neck, quickly pulling her shirt over her head to expose her bra. He traced his fingers lightly over her bra, his hand trembling.
"You still ok?" he asked, concerned for her welfare.
In answer, she undid her bra.
"God you're beautiful," he whispered, bending in to move his tongue lightly over her body, and began sucking and kissing when she didn't pull away. Her moans of pleasure intoxicated him. He pulled off her pants, then ran his tongue over her stomach down to her panties. He waited for a protest but instead heard her ragged breathing. He wanted to be inside her so much, and slowly pulled down her panties, his thoughts focused only on that. He didn't realize the danger until it was too late. Something hit him hard in the head. Still fuzzy from the sex high, he was slow to realize what was happening. A bat? A plank? A wooden plank? Who…? He heard TT screaming. He felt another hit.
As if in slow motion, he saw TT throw herself in front of him, begging and screaming. "Please, daddy, stop! Stop! Daddy!"
In his haze, he tried to push her aside to protect her, but her head caught the edge of a blow from the plank drawing blood. Oh God. "TT!" he yelled.
Now on the ground, TT kept crying "Daddy, stop! Daddy, please!"
His attention on her, the third attack landed squarely on his temple. The last thing he remembered was TT screaming his name.
His eyes were closed and his head hurt. He heard beeping and crying. TT? No, not TT. Momma? He struggled to open his eyes. Momma. Where is he? Why is Momma here? "Hey Momma," he croaked, his voice not cooperating. "What am I doin' here?" Suddenly, he felt panic as a repressed memory came to the surface. "TT, where's TT?" Momma cried harder. His voice took on a hard and desperate quality. "Momma, answer me. Where is TT?"
"I'm sorry baby. I'm so so sorry. Her daddy found you two together and…by the time the police came, she was gone. He was standing over her, calling her Linette and saying she was a whore. They think he killed Linette too all those years ago. Oh God Scooter, I'm so sorry."
He couldn't even process what Momma was saying. Memories began to surface, pieces at first. Her warm kiss. Her touch on his chest. More memories came to the surface. Her reaction when he touched her body, wanting to give her pleasure, wanting to make her happy. He remembered making love to her. Gone? How could she be gone? He was going to marry her, have a family. There was a tightness in his chest as if a piece of his soul was ripped out, his heart bursting. Sobbing was the only way to make it go away. Momma held his hand and stroked his head.
"It'll be ok baby." Momma said, but her voice said she knew it wouldn't. His grief turned to remorse.
"God Momma, it's my fault," he cried. "I should have waited. I knew it was wrong and now...It's my fault. It's my fault," he repeated over and over. "It should have been me. She was a light in this world and I'm…" Suddenly the remorse was mixed with anger at the man who took her from him. "I want to kill him." BA said with seething fury. "He needs to die." He could see Momma shrink away, having never seen murderous anger from him.
"Baby, he's in jail and he'll be there forever," Momma said hoping to mollify him, but it wouldn't and couldn't.
The anger and the guilt would stay with him forever. He couldn't bring her back, but he vowed he would never love any other woman. He knew TT wouldn't want that for him, but it was the only thing he could do to assuage the crushing remorse. As for the anger...Well he could take that out in Vietnam on the enemy.
February 1970, Saigon
Face and Glacier looked at each other in horror. Neither of them even knew what to say. Face was the first to speak. "Man, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
B.A. looked at his drink. "Yeah, well, I made a promise to TT. Not going to be with anyone else. That's final. Not dealin' with that." B.A. looked at his teammates almost introspectively, which was not what Face expected. "You know, this team, the missions, they help me not think about it."
Face looked thoughtful, then put his glass in the air. "A toast to those we've loved and lost. They will never be forgotten."
B.A. and Glacier raised their glasses and agreed, "Never be forgotten."
Despite the fact the evening didn't go as planned, Face was glad how it turned out. B.A. would likely always be an enigma, but Face felt more comfortable with him. Hearing about what happened made him more…human. He looked over and smiled at Dot, who returned the smile. He turned back to his teammates and clapped B.A. on the back. Tomorrow was another day, but for now, he was content to be here in this bar with men he respected. He drank another Scotch and silently mourned for B.A.'s loss. There would be other losses. But for now, he was happy.
Epilogue, Vietnam, 1967
B.A. was glad to finally be in Vietnam. He was lucky he made it through boot camp. His anger at TT's death carried over into his attitude in training and he recycled twice for fighting. His first day on base had been rough. He wasn't used to the heat and humidity. It felt like his lungs were gasping for air, and his clothes stuck to his body. His first day at the motor pool had been no picnic either. The Sergeant was a redneck who didn't like "niggers" or "yankees". The other Private at the motor pool, a guy named Washington (but called "Wash" for short) told him it wouldn't get any better. Sarge was an ass and that's the way it was.
After work he just wanted to be alone, but Wash dragged him to the bar on base. Wash was surprised when B.A. got a Coke. A few other black guys were sitting at a table and asked B.A. and Wash to join them. In his experience, it was better to stick with your own kind. Wash seemed to know them well and did the introductions. One guy named Williams was a big bruiser of a guy with bigger muscles than B.A. and a neck almost as wide as his large bald head. Williams laughed when Wash introduced B.A., asking, "So what does B.A. stand for anyway? Big Ass?", which made the others snicker. B.A. assumed this was a right of passage, but Williams was lucky he was bigger than B.A. Otherwise he might have been in the stockade again for fighting.
"So?" Williams asked again, "What does it stand for?" B.A. thought of how TT called him BA because of his initials, but that wouldn't do here. His anger welled up briefly, and then he smiled, knowing what it would stand for now.
"It stands for Bad Attitude, fool!" The others laughed.
"Bad Attitude it is!" The others nodded. He suddenly felt part of something. It turned out to be a pretty good day after all.