"And that, boys and girls," Izzy continued with his story, "was when she kissed me."

"Yeah, right," Gillman scoffed.

"She did," Izzy countered. "Chickie was there. Tell 'em, Chick."

Tony looked up from frowning at his no doubt unbelievably c.r.a.ppy hand. "She definitely kissed him," he verified. "For close to three minutes, without coming up for air."

"And when she finally does surface," Izzy said, "she goes, Do you have a car, because I really need a ride. So I tell her, yeah, I got a truck, is that okay? And she's like, You really don't mind? And something's up-I mean, besides the obvious-because she's got tears in her eyes and she's kind of shaking, and that was when I knew. I mean, I'm a good kisser, but ... So we go out to my truck, and she tells me she's gay, that her parents sent her to this rehab-like place to make her straight, and she had to pretend she was 'cured' in order to get out. The brother follows her around, making it impossible for her to see her girlfriend, who, by the way, is also gorgeous. Long story short, I drove them both to Vegas. I get e-mail from them every now and then. But Maddy, she's the one with the brother, right before she gets out of the car in Nevada, she goes, I'm definitely gay. Because if kissing you didn't turn me straight, nothing will."

"Really," Gillman said, clearly not believing him. "If I e-mailed her and asked, she'd tell me that wasn't just something you made up?"

Chick raised the bet ten dollars. Was he really going to attempt to bluff after looking at his hand as if it was something he found at the bottom of a year-old pile of dirty laundry?

"Why would I make that up?" Izzy asked as Lopez folded. "Now if I told you that with Maddy and Peg, I'd enjoyed the best three-way I've had in years ..."

"Yeah, like you've had a lot of three-ways," Gillman scoffed, raising the bid even higher. He didn't look at any of them, definitely afraid his tell was something they'd see in his eyes. He looked at the pile of cash in front of him, or his cards. Nowhere else.

"What, Gilligan, you haven't?" Izzy countered, using Gillman's least-hated nickname. When Izzy called the other SEAL Fishboy, that really p.i.s.sed him off. "Not on the isle, with Ginger and Mary Ann?"

"We're not talking about me, a.s.shole."

Jenk knew that the not-looking-at-anyone thing was pretty much a tell in and of itself. If Gillman had a great hand, why would he be worried about giving that away? Unless he was bluffing about bluffing, so that Jenk would see his raise and ...

"Not even with Thurston and Lovey?" Izzy just did not know when to let a subject drop. Gilligan was going to knock the table over, and they'd have to start the hand again. Of course, maybe that would be a good thing.

"Just shut up."

"You know, it's okay that you haven't-"

Jenk cut in. "I have," he said. "And it was kind of weird. The other guy had a really hairy back." Yeah, that had caught their attention. Even Gillman was staring at him. Chickie was the only one who didn't look up. "I'm kidding," he told them.

"You scared me for a second there, M." Izzy tossed his cards down. "I'm out. Too rich for my blood," he told Gillman, adding, "Even though it's obvious as s.h.i.t that you're bluffing."

Gillman refused to take that particular bait, his eyes solidly back on his cards.

It was down to Jenk and Chickie, and it was Jenk's turn to play. See Gillman's bid, raise Gillman's bid, or fold ...

Chick's phone must've vibrated. "s.h.i.t, sorry, I gotta take this call," he announced, standing up and going out onto the motel driveway, which was fine with Jenk. It gave him a little extra stall-time to try to psych Gillman out.

Jenk leaned back in his chair. With enough time and a little effort-keep talking on the phone, Vlachic-maybe he could get Gillman to forget about the poker game. "My weirdest lesbian encounter was when I spent Christmas with three drag queens."

Gillman looked up again at that. Eye contact. He immediately looked back down, but it was definitely a start. "Drag queens can't be lesbians. Drag queens are guys."

"But they refer to each other as she," Jenk pointed out. "And if they're into each other ..."

"Whoa, good point," Izzy said. "So it's a lesbianish thing on the surface, except they're really chicks with d.i.c.ks. As opposed to guys with a surprise."

"Guys with a ..." Now Gillman made eye contact with Izzy. He had to in order to give him a properly disdainful WTF look.

"A female cross-dresser," Jenk explained.

"There's no such thing," Gillman said. He actually put down his cards. "I mean, yeah, maybe back in the nineteenth century, when women had to wear hoopskirts, sure, but nowadays women wear pants all the time."

"There's pants," Lopez said, "and there's pants."

Gillman wasn't convinced. "But-"

Izzy cut him off. "They exist, Wendy. Take my word for it."

"Wendy?" Now Lopez was confused.

"I think it's a Peter Pan reference," Jenk told him.

Gillman was easily outraged, especially by statements made by Zanella. It was interesting, this intense rivalry or personality clash or whatever it was between the two men. Jenk had been out in the real world, on dangerous ops, with both of them; they worked together in perfect harmony, no hint of any animosity, cogs in a well-oiled machine. But during R&R ... Look out.

"Now you're saying Wendy was a cross-dresser?" Gillman challenged Izzy.

Iz laughed his frustration and disbelief. "I'm saying you're a f.u.c.king idiot, and that yes, there are female cross-dressers here where I live, outside of Never-never-land."

"What, do you know this because you're one of them?" Gillman asked, and Jenk cringed because Izzy unfolded, rising to his feet.

But he just stood there, all six plus feet of him, towering over the table. "Yeah, Dan," he deadpanned. "I'm a woman. And this girl needs to whiz, wicked bad." He disappeared into the bathroom.

Jenk exchanged a look with Lopez. Well, that happened. Or, more accurately, didn't happen. He raised his voice slightly so that Izzy could hear him through the bathroom door. "You know, my three drag queens were at least as tall as you."

Gillman, the f.u.c.king idiot indeed, actually looked disappointed that the conversation, so to speak, hadn't been taken outside. He also looked as if he'd completely forgotten about their card game. That was good, and Jenk wanted to continue keeping him distracted. "So I was around eleven years old, it was Christmas Eve. New York was getting hit with the worst snowstorm in something like a hundred years. It was really coming down-like somebody-better-go-find-Rudolph bad. And my dad, as usual, had waited until the last minute to get a gift for my mother-that was his MO. He swore to me, every year, that she would like her present better if he could find it on sale. I was pretty sure she would like it better if it didn't suck because he'd gotten it five minutes before the stores closed on Christmas Eve, but he was convinced he was right."

Across the table, Gillman was engaged. "My dad used to do that, too. Mom had this scary I can't believe you spent our money on this piece of s.h.i.t smile that she gave him almost every Christmas morning."

"So it's four in the afternoon on Christmas Eve," Jenk continued, "and there's already a foot of snow, and my dad and I are in the Honda-Mom's always been into high gas mileage vehicles, so no SUV or truck for us. We're spinning in circles down Route 35, which is okay, because no one else is crazy enough to be out on the road. We finally reach the Jefferson Valley Mall, and to my dad's complete horror, it's dark. The whole mall closed early because of the weather. On Christmas Eve. So we head into Yorktown Heights, but the only store open is this convenience store, over by the motel. But Dad's desperate, so in we go. And let me tell you, the gift selection was grim. On top of that, the clerk says, Computers are down, no credit card sales. But my dad has cash, and he's trying to choose between these tacky votive candles, a Yankees mouse pad, and this disposable toilet bowl brush, and I know he's in serious trouble. I mean, I'm only eleven, but even back then I understand that you don't buy your wife a disposable toilet brush for Christmas. Unless you don't want to get any until Memorial Day."

"Unless, she's got, like, a toilet bowl fetish," Izzy suggested, emerging from the bathroom.

"Have you met Jenk's mom?" Lopez asked him.

"No," Izzy said. "Have you?" He turned to Jenk. "I'm jealous. You bring Lopez home to meet the 'rents, but you don't bring me? What am I to you? Just some cheap, easy plaything that you use and discard?"

"So I'm trying to talk my father into the certificate-for-a-romantic-weekend idea," Jenk spoke over him, because sometimes it was best just to ignore Izzy. "I'm telling him there's a program on our new home computer that he can use to make it look like he spent hours designing it. Plus Mom will love the idea. My ulterior motive, of course, is to be allowed to stay home alone with Ginny, my older sister-who had some extremely hot friends."

"Ginny's pretty hot herself." Izzy turned to Gilligan. "You ever meet Ginny?"

"Yeah, once," he said, and it was clear he wouldn't have used the word hot to describe her. "She came to San Diego. She was kind of, well ... large. I mean, short, like Jenk, but ... round. No offense, Jenkins."

"Yeah," Izzy said. "No offense, Jenkins, but Gilligan thinks your sister is freaking fat."

"She was pregnant," Lopez pointed out, ever the voice of calm.

"She was?" Gillman looked to Jenk for confirmation. "I didn't know she was married."

"Yeah. Gin's got three kids," Jenk said. He put his cards down on the table and, stretching, stood up. Chickie was still out in the driveway. Jenk could see him through the window, pacing back and forth out there as he spoke on his phone.

"Wow," Gillman said.

Jenk opened the mini-fridge and pulled out another beer.

"Wow," Izzy echoed. "For someone with three kids, she's not just hot, she's freaking hot."

Jenk popped the top and held the bottle out to Gillman. Who took it, alleluia, and took a long swig. "Iz?"

"Nah, I'm good," Izzy said.

"Jay?"

"Thanks." Lopez drained his bottle, and Jenk traded him for a new one, putting the empty in the growing pile with the others.

"So we're in this store," Jenk continued his story, "and these three huge woman-I mean they were really tall. They come in, and they're dusting the snow off their coats and their hair, and they're really disappointed at the no credit card news. One of them-Sherilee-overhears my conversation with my dad."

"Sherilee," Izzy repeated.

"Sherilee, Rhonda, and Marcia," Jenk said, sitting back at the table. "Sherilee goes, Last-minute Christmas shopping? And my dad takes, like, four steps back. He's staring, and I think it's because, well, he's height-challenged like me, and this woman is about six four. She's also wearing a tiara. How many women shop at the SuperQuick in a tiara? She goes, Not to be pushy, but I make jewelry. And I'm looking at that tiara, thinking, No way. But she calls one of her friends over, pulls back the other woman's sleeve. And there's this bracelet that looks as if it were made for my mom. It was silver and turquoise and ... It was beautiful. It was beyond perfect. And my dad, he's clearly freaked out, but he has to ask. How much? She looks at me, she looks at him, says, A hundred dollars. She hands it to Dad to look at more closely. Dad goes, Fifty. She says Cash? And he takes out his wallet. And she says to her friends, Go, girls. And they start gathering armloads of chips and Yodels-there's not a lot of real food in that store. Turns out the trains stopped running, so here they are, at the Yorktown Heights Motel, with three dollars cash between the three of them. If my dad hadn't bought that bracelet, they wouldn't have been able to buy anything to eat until the computers came back on line. And from the way the lights were flickering, it wasn't going to be soon."

The door opened, and Chickie came back into the room. But he looked as if someone had jammed a pole up his a.s.s. He made a beeline for the cooler, grabbing another Pepsi, before disappearing into the bathroom.

"So I'm talking to them," Jenk continued, "and they're really nice. They're actresses, and they do a cabaret show, traveling around the country. Marcia plays the piano, and they all sing. And I'm looking at those bags of popcorn they're holding, thinking about the lousy Christmas Eve dinner they're going to have, so I say, Why don't you come have dinner with us? And my dad kind of freezes, and I don't know why. We've always had a strays-and-orphans policy at our house-there's always someone from outside of the family at our holiday meals. So I say to my dad, You know Mom won't mind. And Sherilee says, Thank you, honey, you're so sweet, but ... we'll be just fine. And Dad's got the bracelet in one hand, and me in the other and he drags me out the door.

"It wasn't until we were in the car, when he goes, Mark. Those are men in women's clothes. I think I actually argued with him. You know, Why would men wear women's clothes? I remember him saying, Because they want to. And I just didn't get it, but I was a kid, so it didn't freak me out the way it did my dad. I mean, I thought it was crazy, but if they wanted to wear high heels, it was fine with me. And I said, But they're nice. Mom would love them. And he didn't say anything. He didn't pull out of the parking lot either. We just sat there, in the car, watching them through the store windows. They were probably trying to decide which brand of beef jerky was the most edible. And I said, It's Christmas. And they saved your b.u.t.t. And he's all p.i.s.sed, but he hands me the bracelet for my mother, huffing and puffing as he's getting out of the car, muttering to himself about stupid kids and stupid ideas. But he goes back into the store, and when he comes out, Sherilee, Rhonda, and Marcia are with him. We all pile into the Honda, and with the extra weight we don't skid once on our way home.

"It was a great Christmas," Jenk told them as Chick came out of the bathroom and rejoined them at the table. "Mom loved the bracelet, and we had our own personal cabaret show. And maybe I was wrong-I was only eleven-but it sure seemed like Rhonda and Marcia had a thing for each other. Thus, my most interesting lesbian encounter."

"Can we please finish this hand?" Young Vlachic had definitely just had a Dear John phone call. He looked at Jenk. "Will you f.u.c.king do something besides talk?"

Ouch. Jenk let the harsh words roll off his back, considering the circ.u.mstances, as, across the table, Gillman picked up his cards and ...

He scratched his chin with the back of his hand.

Yes! He was bluffing. Or ... was he? Gillman also sent Jenk what could only be described as a furtive look. It was over almost before it started, but Jenk saw it.

Except it was clearly intended for Jenk to see, which meant ...

"I'm in," Jenk decided, tossing his money into the pile in the center of the table. Gillman was back to not looking anywhere but at his cards.

"How much to call?" Chickie grimly asked.

"Twenty-six dollars," Lopez said in a voice that recommended Chick fold.

"No, it's only sixteen to him," Izzy said. "Vlachic was the genius who raised the bet ten fricking bucks in the first place."

Chickie put in the cash. And sure enough, Gillman revealed that he was holding a whole lotta nothing. Total train wreck. The highest card was, appropriately, a jack.

"Nice attempt to bluff," Jenk told him, revealing his three aces. "But you know, you tried just a little too hard. You were too obvious with your eyes and-" He was already reaching for the pot when Izzy stopped him.

"Dude." Izzy pointed at the cards Chickie was lovingly placing on the table.

Holy c.r.a.p.

It wasn't just a winning hand. It was a kicka.s.s, once-in-a-lifetime, mother-of-G.o.d miracle of a winning hand. A straight flush; spades, Queen high. Even Lopez sat forward and stared.

"No f.u.c.king way." Gillman was the first to overcome the shock and put voice to their disbelief. "Dude. You took three cards."

"I guess I'm just lucky," Chick said in that same grim voice. But then he looked up and smiled, and Jenk knew they'd all been conned. By the twelve-year-old new guy. Who'd gone through BUD/S and was probably closer to twenty-three-and completely capable of conning the unconnable. Yeah, Chick was lucky as h.e.l.l, but he'd totally fooled them into thinking he still held a c.r.a.ppy hand.

"Who was on the phone?" Jenk asked, suddenly suspicious.

"No one," Chick admitted, starting to put the huge pile of bills and coins into neatly organized stacks. "You just seemed as if you needed a little more time to decide to stay in."

"Brilliantly done," Jenk said.

"What I said before," Vlachic started to explain. "I didn't mean-"

"I know," Jenk rea.s.sured him. "It was a nice touch. Very authentic."

"Thanks," Chick said. "That means a lot, coming from you."

Jenk was the team's best liar, which meant that he also had the most accurate bulls.h.i.t meter. Although it was entirely possible that he was now the team's second best liar.

"Hey, Iz," Jenk turned to Zanella. He didn't need to say anything more, since Izzy was on the same wavelength.

As Lopez shuffled the deck, Izzy took a beer from the fridge. He opened it. "Welcome to the team," he said.

And handed it to Chickie.

Interview with Tom and Kelly

December 2005 This story takes place around the same time as Into the Storm.

"I got the word just before noon," Tom said, laughter dancing in his eyes as he held his seven-month-old son, Charlie, on his shoulder. "I was no longer needed, so I managed to get a seat on a commercial flight home that left at two fifteen."

"The a.s.signment was really just saber-rattling," Kelly interjected, reaching out to wipe their baby's chin as we sat in Tom's home office in San Diego.

Well, actually, they sat in San Diego. I was in front of my computer, in my office, writing this scene. But, shhh. Don't tell them that. I'm not sure they know they're fictional characters. Tom Paoletti is the former CO of SEAL Team Sixteen and the current owner of Troubleshooters Incorporated, a private security firm. Dr. Kelly Ashton Paoletti is his wife.