Eye of the Storm

-> return to top gun pt. ii

Lo and behold, it was Rooster all right.

I know I should've expected to see him here of all places, being with the best of the best that the navy had to offer, but it didn't run through my mind.

I try not to think about him anymore.

We make eye contact, and his irises harden. After everything that went down between us, and our family, I don't blame him. Not anymore.

"Imma grab more drinks. Phoenix, do you want any?" I ask, snaking my way to the bar.

"Not until I beat these boys at pool. I have $10 on the line." She says with a winning smile.

"Suit yourself." I say with all the fake confidence I can muster.

I brush by Bradley as fast as I can, ignoring the ache in my heart.

But I have to thank Phoenix. She's been my best friend since we met at Top Gun.

Which also means that she knows my past.

Which is also how she accidentally hits 'Rooster' in the gut with her pool stick.

He bends over and mutters something along the lines of, 'yeah I deserved that.'

I try not to eavesdrop, but Hangman and Rooster are going at it again.

"Hangman, you look good." Bradley greets him.

"Well Rooster. I am good." Hangman pauses, "I am very good."

Cutting the tension before it gets worse, Coyote asks, "Does anybody know what the special detachment is about?"

"A mission's a mission. I wanna know who'll be team leader, and which one of you has what it takes to follow me." Hangman says, and the pilots all groan at him.

Until Rooster challenges Hangman's ego with his own. "The only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave."

People start agreeing with him.

Before Hangman can let the argument get fully turned on him, he says to Rooster, "Anyone who follows you will run out of fuel. That's just you man. You're waiting for the right moment— that just never comes."

Rooster only scoffed at his words, and shrugged, acting like it didn't hurt so it wouldn't be made into a big deal.

But I know Bradley— Rooster better than that. The comment did hurt him. After all, we grew up together, and our fathers were each others wingman's.

The bell at the bar suddenly rings, and we all lift our drinks, to thank the poor soul paying another round for all of us.

I order a shot of tequila, enjoying the burn it makes as it trickles down my throat. I don't want to drink too much, I still have to drive back to my place tonight.

Besides, I haven't gotten black out drunk since prom night...

"So what's he like?" My thoughts are interrupted by the bar maid.

"Who are you?" I ask politely.

"I'm Penny."

"I'm Hurricane." I say, giving my call sign, as shock spreads across her face since I'm not in uniform.

"That's pretty cool." She says, "So— the boy you're drinking about?"

"Who says it's a boy?" I challenge, but Penny's eyes tell me she knows what she's talking about.

"He's cocky, controlling, too smooth for his own good, and has better hair than I do." I reveal.

Penny wipes down the table with a rag, "Sounds like you like him, Hurricane."