Forgive & Forget (Love in the Fleet) by Heather Ashby

she was uber-sensitive about me having a nickname. She even mentioned something about being bullied in high school. I never thought about pretty girls getting bullied. She didn’t tell me the nicknames guys called her but it’s not hard to figure out. Probably ‘McBabe’ or something.”
    Sky spewed his beer across the table. “McBabe!” He grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I sure hope you get Happy Meals!”
    “Shut up, Sky.” Philip shook his head again and pulled out his wallet to pay their tab. “Look I gotta run. Hallie said she’d call if she got her work done early.”
    “Oh, man. Look at you. You are so whipped. But it’s nice to see you with that big old grin on your face. I’d like to meet her if we can get together before we ship out.” He raised his hand in a stop sign. “And I promise to behave. But remember, once we leave on cruise, I’m your number one date in all liberty ports.”
    Philip fist-bumped Sky, then socked him lightly on the shoulder. “Until something better comes along, right?”
    “Damn straight.”
    Philip climbed into his SUV. “Keep your powder dry, buddy.”
    Sky waved as he jumped into his truck. “Giddy-up, Cowboy!”
                                                                   
      
    If Hallie McCabe had balls, Sarah “Trixie” Williams had them in spades. In addition, rumor had it she’d slept with half the Atlantic Fleet—the male half. Naked, she was a work of art. Literally. You’d think a nineteen-year-old girl, who was barely five-feet tall and weighed maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet, wouldn’t have the square footage or life history to be the proud owner of six tattoos, but she was. When Trixie walked through berthing in a bra and a thong, it was like an advertisement for Strut Your Stuff, Ink.
    There was the snake draped around her neck, with its forked tongue pointing the way down into her cleavage, the twisted vine of red roses and barbed wire around her navel, and the words “Unplumbed Depths” in fancy script above her soon-to-be plumber’s crack. But everybody’s favorite was “Your Name” tattooed on her left butt cheek, visible to everyone present when she was only wearing a thong.
    Trixie had collected plenty of free drinks in bars after challenging strangers to bet that she remembered them so well “I even had your name tattooed on my ass.” Not that she’d ever bared it on the ship, except in berthing, but the entire crew was privy to the stories of her baring it in bars. The sailors always baited her by saying, “Trixie, how well do you know me?”
    Trixie was a Navy fireman apprentice from the streets of Lowell, Massachusetts. She’d been in a gang since the age of fourteen and had joined the Navy when a recruiter came to her high school. “He was hot, so I told him I’d join up.”
    Since Hallie pulled the duty on Thursday that week, she stayed on board for the night. She and Gina happened to be in berthing when Trixie debriefed about her day. “You should see Bill Gates this week. He’s so much in love he’s, like, walking into bulkheads and shit. The man is definitely getting some. Or maybe he’s just taking happy pills because I can’t imagine any chick wanting to do it with him. What a geek.”
    Gina caught the look on Hallie’s face—pretending not to listen, but obviously taking in every word—and she put two and two together. Hallie and this Bill Gates were both so much in love they were walking into bulkheads and shit. So were they in love with each other?
    She shot Hallie a look across the space and Hallie’s knee-jerk reaction confirmed that Hallie was “the chick.” She caught her eye and mouthed out the words “Bill Gates?” Hallie blushed crimson. Fortunately, Trixie didn’t notice.
                                                                
      
    “Oh, Hallie. He’s adorable!” Gina cried as best she could, considering