His voice slurred badly on the last word.

The club music switched to a fast steel drum rhythm.

I could hear wind hitting the microphone on his phone.

“It’s nineteen hundred hours,” I said.

“I’m asking you for your exact location.”

“You smother me,” Derek said.

“You leave for a six-month deployment and then you call and demand a report like I’m one of your logistics recruits.

I have a life too.”