Fort Bragg
Because of the endless weightlifting session of the day before, that night at Fort Bragg's bar Ortega's shoulders and pectoral muscles were aching.
And his head started spinning right after the first beer.
As tired as he was, he should never have left the base.
In front of him, Messner and Danforth had just offered a couple of drinks to two girls that looked more or less like pros from the world's oldest profession.
Sometimes Ortega even suspected that Danforth might become the pimp of some of the girls that hung around the base.
And right then he saw Danforth and the girl exchange some money, and he flushed with rage.
He got off his stool, but an arm firmly stopped him.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
It was Barry.
Ortega did not reply, his eyes firmly fixed on Danforth, like two iron sights on their target.
“I am talking with you”
Up to then Rambo had just stayed on his own, drinking his beer, but seeing the scene he stood up and joined them.
“I want to teach a lesson to that dick head” said Ortega.
“No, you won't” replied Barry.
“He is a pimp, he smokes marijuana and he thinks he’s really something, but he is just sullying our team”
“Damn' it, Manuel”
Despite being right beside them, Rambo remained silent and just continued to look at Danforth with no facial expression.
Ortega tried to insist on rising from his stool and Barry had to put one hand right in the middle of his chest in order to keep him down with the necessary strength.
“You are not going to fight with anyone tonight, Ortega. You are drunk”
“Am I drunk? They are stoned! And if that fucking stoned doctor ever tries to put his dirty hands on me because I am wounded, then someone will have to help him”
“Oh, come on, Ortega”
In the end, Messner and Danforth noticed them.
Danforth tried to get to them but Messner stopped him just like Barry did with Ortega. The Baker team was full of older brothers.
In the end, everyone rose from their seats and reached each other to talk, but between Rambo, Messner and now Krakauer too – who had just joined the group – there were enough sober people to be sure that everything would go just fine.
The truth was that Ortega wasn't sure about being appointed as the team leader.
Trautman was undecided between him, Danforth and Coletta.
But the designated marksman required studies too intensive for Coletta to be a good candidate. With all of the extra courses Coletta had to follow, it was too difficult for him to be very good at most of the common ones. And being the best in most of the courses was the first requirement for a wannabe team leader.
The two true candidates for the role were Ortega and Danforth, and the two men, that night, faced each other speaking their minds.
“You'll never be our team leader” Ortega said.
“A Florida's loser won't be either”
Hearing that, Ortega started leaping at his throat, but Barry blocked him immediately. Rambo was right beside the two of them, ready to intervene if necessary.
“Hey boys – the bartender said, from the distance -, I don't want any trouble”
Up to that moment Coletta had been outside, smoking a cigarette, but he came in right at that moment.
“What's going on?” he said to no one in particular.
The one who replied was Barry, while giving Ortega's shoulder a pat and holding him tight at the same time.
“Just a little booze-rage. Isn't it, Skorpio?”
Coletta looked at Ortega, then Danforth, and then smiled.
“I guess we could sort this out old-school style, couldn’t we?”
Danforth's eyes lit up.
Danforth considered himself a street fighter... Forget hand to hand combat. And you could see a mile off that Ortega was none of that. Danforth was looking forward to an excuse to fight with that conceited daddy's boy.
On the other hand, Ortega looked like he hadn't heard Coletta's provocation at all.
His eyes were impassive, as if the rest of the world had just stopped existing.
“You are a dickhead, Danforth” Ortega said in the end.
Danforth burst out laughing.
“I did nothing to you, pal” Danforth shook Messner away from himself raising his hands at the same time, as if everything was fine, and he had no intention of starting a fight.
But he started coming closer to Ortega anyway, and so close that everyone held their breath...
Ortega tried to free hiself a little bit, but Danforth and Barry kept him tight.
Now the three of them looked just like some some drunks holding each other.
When Danforth backed away from Ortega, he said:
“I did nothing to you pal. Let me live”
A long moment of silence followed, than Danforth added:
“Let me live, loser”
Ortega swallowed but did not move. He said nothing.
Danforth hadn’t got what he wanted from him, so he talked again.
“Do you want to fix this old school? We should fix it here and now like real men. Let's go outside. I am going to take your fucking head off in three seconds””
Ortega looked at him for a while, then shook his head.
“No – he said with a calm voice -... No, buddy.”
Danforth pulled his head a little back in surprise.
“It's up to Trautman to decide who will command this fucking team, not us”
Then it was Danforth's turn to look straight into Ortega's eyes. But after a little while of reflection, he nodded once, then twice, and then he said:
“Fuck yeah, man... you are right about that for sure”
“Very well – Krakauer suddenly intervened - . A toast to Trautman, then!”
A while later, a tray full of Bud beer bottles arrived, and everyone picked one up.
“To Trautman, assholes!” said Coletta, rising his beer before anyone else.