Twenty-one
Base Commander Gordon Corsi had held his exotic position within the military for almost two decades. He reclined in a kitchen chair next to Derek with the manner of a man that had seen most of the things that most men hadn’t – at least enough to make a healthy guess on the probability of where things would go. He saw a freshly rolled king-size joint on the kitchen table which he took, lighting it slowly and recognising that despite all that was likely to follow, he would enjoy Derek’s company.
‘So . . .’ he began but broke off with inhalation before blowing smoke about the room, impressed. ‘That is a very good smoke, Derek. I’ll assume that you or yours grew it? I’ll take the recipe for that as well as everything else.’
Derek smiled at the commander and the commander did so i
