Saturday
The bar’s interior was as shabby as its exterior. Scuffed linoleum floors, a cracked ceiling running the length of the room, and warped, bowed-out paneling. The only saving grace was a cheerful swath of colored Christmas lights high up on the walls, which I guessed was a permanent fixture, since it was nearly March.
Luke craned his neck at the people in the booths lining both sides of the room. His gaze stopped at the back, where a guy in a gray hoodie and a Sox ball cap stared back. As a die-hard Cubs fan, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. His expression was curious, perhaps even suspicious, but when he saw Luke, recognition lit his face, and he smiled brightly.
“That’s him.” Luke guided me toward the booth. As we approached I spotted a pair of crutches lying on the cushion beside him.
He reached for one of the crutches and attempted to stand.
Luke hurried over. “No. Don’t get up.” He embraced him. “Hey, man!”
“Hey, man, you!” They exchanged joyful looks that indicated they were thrilled to see each other. Then the man’s gaze turned to me.
“This is Ellie?”
I smiled. “Guilty.”
“Ellie, this is Artie Hubbard.” We shook hands. He had a lean face, a pointed chin, a forehead with deep lines, but soft brown eyes. “He’s an old pal.”
Hubbard cleared his throat loudly. “It’s Commander Hubbard now, pal.” He stroked a growth of gray stubble on his chin, which could have been a beard or the result of not shaving for a week.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You finally did it, you old geezer,” Luke said. He turned to me. “We used to call him Grizzly. Maybe you can see why.”
Hubbard patted his chin. “The stubble effect. Supposed to drive women crazy.”
I giggled.
“Funny…that’s what the other ladies did, too.”
I slid into the booth across from him. Luke got in beside me. “You’re in the navy?” I asked.
“Great Lakes is my home.”
“But Luke was in the air force. How did you meet?”
Luke cut in. “We grew up together in Lake Geneva. We both worked at the old Playboy Club during high school.”
I nodded, remembering Luke’s history at what was now called the Lodge but at one time was one of the trendiest spots north of Chicago.
“We stayed in touch,” Grizzly said.
“You’re one of the lucky ones,” I replied. “The only other friend of Luke’s I’ve met is Jimmy Saclarides.”
Grizzly looked like he wanted to say something, but Luke cut him off. “How’s the leg?” Then he grimaced. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“No worries. There’s still some phantom pain, but I live with it.” He turned to me. “I lost it in a helicopter accident in Afghanistan.”
“You were lucky, bro,” Luke said.
“Don’t I know it.” He paused. “My pilot wasn’t.” He rubbed his nose as if trying to erase the memory. “Hey, the pizza here isn’t bad.”
“Then, that’s what we’ll order,” Luke said. “Drafts all around?”
We nodded. Luke went up to the bar to place the order.
I gazed around. “So, why are we meeting here?”
Grizzly smiled. “Because your boyfriend wanted to.”
“Luke picked this place?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Not a word.”
“Well…” A jukebox in the corner I hadn’t noticed before belted out a Taylor Swift song. “I’m on my last assignment. Base commander’s training staff.”
“In what?”
“Intelligence.” He paused. “And before that, I was director of all source intelligence analysis in Qatar. And before that in Afghanistan.”
I was beginning to understand why Luke had brought me here.
Grizzly’s next words confirmed it. “I know a lot about drones.”