"How's Bob working out as your WSO?" Fanboy asked Phoenix as he chalked his pool cue.
"Fine." Phoenix said as she bent down to line up her shot.
"He's so quiet," Payback chimed in. "Conversation must be riveting up there. So what do you guys talk about when you're in the holding pattern? Seems like a country boy. Farming?"
"And is Bob really his callsign?"
"I know why he's called Bob," Jake suddenly announced as he studied the layout of the game as it stood. "I heard from a buddy at Lemoor …"
The group turned to him, including Natasha, all interests piqued.
"Apparently Floyd was so gosh-darn normal and didn't do anything stand-out, that they just got used to using his nickname as his call-sign while they were thinking up something else. Not the most interesting story, but this is Bob we're talking about."
Payback laughed. "It suits him. I mean, you can't get more vanilla than 'Bob'."
Natasha snatched the pool cue from Payback's hands for her turn, considered the layout and took the shot.
Two in the pocket.
"Good thing I like vanilla." Phoenix gave the boys a placid smile then turned back to the bar to order another Blue Moon.
Bob, who had been unnoticed by the dartboard, heard the whole exchange. He smiled to himself. Whether she knew it or not, Phoenix had just earned a friend for life.
…..
When Natasha finished her game she went looking for Bob. She eventually found him sitting on the beach outside the Hard Deck with a bottle of Coca-Cola.
"You said it wasn't a good story," she said as she settled down into the sand next to him.
Bob shrugged with a wry grin. "It's not."
Natasha huffed. "I assumed it was a bad story."
"Well, a boring story is a bad story."
Natasha snorted. "Fair enough. But, you made me think it was something awful."
"I didn't make you do anything, you assumed the worst all on your own."
Natasha rolled her eyes and glared at her WSO. Bob smiled innocently back at her.
"You're lucky I need you in the backseat, Floyd."
Bob chuckled and took a pull from his Coke.
For a few minutes they passed the time in comfortable silence then Natasha rose to her feet and held out her hand to him, saying, "walk with me."
Bob squinted up at her for a beat, his expression quizzical, then he took her proffered hand.
"There are worse call-signs …" Natasha said once they had walked a few good paces away from the Hard Deck.
Bob gave her a curious look but said, "Sure …"
She took a deep breath. "Phoenix wasn't always my call-sign, you know," she said quietly.
Bob also glanced around too then looked at her. His eyebrow quirked up. "No?"
"No. And don't you dare tell a living soul what I'm about to tell you—especially not Seresin! I'd never hear the end of it."
Bob's blue eyes widened. "Cross my heart."
Natasha glanced back and around, to make sure they weren't within earshot of anyone else, then took a breath and began.
"Well, when I was at the fleet replacement squadron I got a RAG call-sign."
A large grin of anticipation spread across Bob's face. "Yeah? What was it?"
Natasha pressed her lips together and looked around again to make sure no one was in hearing distance. She then leaned in to whisper, her breath tickling Bob's jawline causing him to shiver involuntarily.
"Poop-Tooth."
"Poop—?!" Natasha lunged forward and slapped a hand over Bob's mouth.
"Shh!"
"Sorry," Bob murmured into her palm.
Natasha gave him an exasperated look then slowly removed her hand.
Bob bit his lips to keep from grinning. Natasha's hand tingled.
"How? Why?"
Natasha sighed. "Back in my academy days I had chipped a tooth pretty badly during a training exercise—"
Bob's amusement melted into concern as if it happened yesterday. "What happened?"
She waved his question away. "Not important." She didn't need to add to her embarrassment. "Anyway, the Navy paid for a crown to be put in. At the end of the procedure the dentist flosses around it. The glue must've not been completely set because when she got to it, it popped out, and … I swallowed it."
"Oh … no …" Bob covered his mouth, his expression a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "They gave you a new one, right?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you kidding? You know how cheap the Navy is."
"So, you don't have a crown?"
"I have a crown."
Bob stared at her for a long time, horror and disbelief dawning on his face and growing with each passing second.
"No … no! No way! They didn't make you—No!"
Natasha blushed to the roots of her dark hair and nodded.
"Yup. Once I finally … passed it … they sterilized it and put it back in my mouth."
Bob covered his face and doubled over. "Ohhh noooo! Agh!"
"I don't know why I'm telling you this …" she said over his squeamish noises.
Bob straightened, his face flushed. "Which one is it?"
Natasha opened her mouth and pointed to her upper left first bicuspid. Bob stepped close and, adjusting his glasses, leaned in to peer at it.
"Hm. Wow."
Bob's aftershave teased her nose: sandalwood mixed with the salt air. He was close enough that she could feel his body heat reaching out to her.
"Ok, that's enough." She clicked her mouth shut and smirked.
Bob straightened and gave her a bright smile. "Beautiful."
Natasha was startled when she felt her heart skipped a beat. She lowered her gaze and passed her tongue over her teeth. "Yeah, they did a good job the second time 'round."
"So, how did you then get 'Phoenix'?"
Natasha spotted Rooster coming toward them. A warm, nostalgic smile blossomed on her face. "Rooster gave me that one. But, that's a story for another time."
"Does he know about your rag call-sign?"
Natasha's gaze snapped back to Bob. "No, and don't you dare breathe a word."
"I already crossed my heart."
"And you will hope to die if you tell him."
Bob put his hands up in surrender.
"What're you guys up to out here?" Rooster asked, glancing back and forth between them, a small frown creasing his forehead.
"Just having a chat," Natasha said with a smile.
"Oh. Well, they're about to open the mic."
"Open the mic?" Bob echoed.
Bradley grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Karaoke night!"
