"Our parents are divorced. My father lives in Miami with his girlfriend. We don't see him that often. He even missed my birthday this year."
"I'm sorry," I said.
She shrugged. "My father was the one who named me Posy. My mother didn't want me to have that name. She's always trying to get me to change it to Paula or something."
It was my father's first girlfriend's name. At least that's what she says."
"He named you after his first girlfriend? Why did your mother go along with that?"
"She says she didn't know at the time. Maybe it's not true. They're always saying nasty things about each other now. Anyway. I like my name. You have a nice name. I don't mean Grassy.'" she added.
"Thanks." I thought a moment. "My father used to call me Sailor Girl."
"Did you have a uniform and everything?"
"No." I said. laughing, "It was just a nickname."
"That's what my mother says about my name: It's just a nickname, not a real name."
"If you're happy with it, I guess it's all right," I said. She looked happy about that.
When we entered the house they were all in the den listening to music. Roger, Wally, Ashley. and Phoebe were talking about the upcoming school year. It sounded like mostly complaints about getting up earlier, having to study, the new teachers they disliked. Was it school or prison?
Everyone had a drink in his or her hands, and no one's looked like a soft drink.
"What's yours?" Roger asked me. He was behind the bar.
It was a beautiful room with a white marble floor, a pool table, leather furniture, and a large-screen television. I glanced at Phoebe and saw she was just waiting to pounce on me if I said I didn't drink. The only time I ever drank I had a little of my mother's vodka and orange juice, a drink they called a screwdriver.
"Screwdriver," I said.
"All right, Grassy. Good choice," Roger declared, and began to prepare it. He poured in nearly half a glass of vodka before adding the orange juice and ice cubes. He looked at Phoebe, who smirked and lay back on the sofa. She was still in her bathing suit.
"I still can't believe you threw away all that pot. Roger," she complained.
"Get over it," he said, handing me my drink.
"I will when you replace it she shot back at him.
"No problem." He smiled at me. "I bet you could be court-martialed or something for having drugs on a Navy base, huh?" he asked.
"It would be very serious, yes, especially if it involved officers who are in charge of many men and expensive equipment. It has a serious, detrimental effect on your judgment."
"Oh, spare me." Phoebe moaned. She sipped her drink and narrowed her eyes.
I sipped mine and looked at some of the plaques on the wall. They were mostly for winning golf tournaments, and most of them looked as if they had been awarded to Roger's mother.
"This feels like a drag." Phoebe said. "Let's spice it up. Let's play secrets."
"Yeah," Wally said eagerly, rubbing his hands together. "Let's."
"What's that?" I asked, since everyone else seemed to know what it was.
"Get the cards." she ordered Roger without answering me. He went behind the bar and brought out a deck.
"Gather 'round." Phoebe commanded,
"What are we doing?" I asked.