“Three little words,” she said. “Oh. My. God.”

Rosanna simply could not contain her squeal. It pealed out over the courtyard, attracting bemused and irritated looks from the other tables.

“I knew it!” she cried. “Didn’t I know it? I could tell from the moment that guy laid eyes on you, baby. He was gagging for it! How’d you bag him?”

“I think it was the riot yesterday. That dude I had to fuck up. I think it kind of excited him. Or maybe he was just too scared to say no.”

“Was he, you know, equipped for the job?”

Julia blew out her cheeks, as though she’d been stuffed as full as a Christmas goose. Another shriek pealed off into the brilliant blue sky. Rosanna seemed to be enjoying herself almost as much as her friend had.

An elderly couple at the adjoining table allowed their cutlery to clatter noisily to their plates, but if they thought the two women were about to pay them any heed, they were wrong.

“Time check?” giggled Rosanna.

Julia held up one finger, then two, then three, then four, and then all of the fingers on one hand. She paused for dramatic effect, before holding up two more.

Natoli’s mouth dropped open as wide as it possibly could. No screams emerged, but a series of short, high-pitched squeaks, before her lips slammed shut again.

“Seven fucking hours. Literally. I think you might be dating Superman,” she said.

“No,” said Julia, shaking her head. “Superman’s a fag compared with this guy.”

“Was he, like, old-fashioned.”

“For a while.” She smirked. “He’s over that now.”

“Bragworthy?”

“Bragworthy.”

“Goddamn,” said Rosanna in wonder.

The aged tourists stood up with as much dignity as they could muster and huffily left their table. The woman, whose hair was tinted a confrontational shade of blue, hissed as she passed by the journalists. Julia simply smiled at her.

“Exit’s that way, you old crone. And while you’re there, why don’t you get a fucking life?”

The woman’s mouth dropped open like a ventriloquist doll. She snapped it shut before anything could fly in.

“Well, I never!”

“Damn,” said Natoli, “Did she just say what I thought she said?”

“Yeah,” said Julia. “It’s like we’re living in two-D black and white.”

The far-off drone of a hovercraft coming ashore about a kilometer up the beach drifted into the courtyard. Rosanna peered off into the bright morning light. About twenty task force personnel, mainly officers from the Leyte Gulf, had overnighted at the hotel. A few of them had partnered up with locals. Rosanna made a show of checking out a chopper pilot who’d bagged herself a rather dashing destroyer captain from Spruance’s task force.

Dan Black returned and laid down a tray of fruit salad, which was very heavy on pineapples, and a plate of bacon and eggs.