Paul Gillebaard - USSR Hoax

When Tom reached the refrigerator he saw a note on the door. He slid the magnet aside, unfolded the paper and read the hand-written message:

Tom, I thought it would be nice to celebrate your good news over a steak dinner. Peter is over at the Grants. Meet me at the Seville Club. Love, Anne.

Tom looked over at the dog chewing his treat. “Looks like I’m eating steak tonight, buddy.” He knelt down and opened a bottom kitchen cabinet where the bag of dog food was kept. Tom quickly scooped out Dino’s dinner, dumping it into a bowl on the floor. “Enjoy, my friend!” As the dog dug in, Tom gave Dino one last pat before hustling out of the kitchen.

Tom knew how much his wife hated sitting alone, so he went straight to his car and raced to the Seville Club. When he entered the elegant restaurant he instantly smelled the cigarladen air. The dimly lit room with its polished cherry wood furnishings and deep, red velvet drapes was a favorite drinking hole for many of the astronauts. Through the smoky haze he began to search the scarcely crowded room for his wife. Unable to locate her at first glance, he walked over to the bar. Maybe she stepped into the bathroom?

Nabbing one of the available leather barstools, Tom took a seat and motioned to the bartender.

The man walked over and set a white paper napkin in front of Tom. “Can I get you a drink?”

Tom answered with a mischievous smile. “Absolutely.” What do I want? He began scanning the bottles on the glass shelves in front of him when he noticed the reflection off the mirror of an attractive blonde sitting alone a few barstools over. “Tell you what, how about a martini.”

“Got it.”

To get a better view of the blonde, Tom decided to do a more thorough search of the room for his wife. He slowly swiveled around on the bar stool until he was facing the pretty lady. He casually checked her out. The blonde had her back to him, smoking a cigarette, wearing a form-fitting white mini dress with white high heels. Nice. He eventually turned his seat around so his back was to the bar. He scanned over the handful of tables in search of Anne, but she was nowhere to be found. Where could she be?

Frustrated, he swiveled back around to find his drink sitting in front of him. As he took a sip, he was surprised to see the blonde had moved one barstool closer, her back still toward him. That’s odd. Without looking too obvious, he took another sip while nonchalantly peering over his glass, studying her. He smiled big when he spotted Anne’s wedding ring on the girl’s hand. This beautiful lady he was ogling was his own wife, wearing a blonde wig. He was tickled pink she actually went through with the crazy idea. He decided to have a little fun. Grabbing his drink, he slid over to the barstool next to her. He moved in close, whispering into her ear, “Hello, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”

Without turning, Anne let out a puff of smoke and answered in an uncharacteristically deep and seductive tone. “That would be wonderful. A martini please.”

At that moment, Tom felt amazingly close to Anne. He wanted to hug her right then and tell her how much he loved her, how much he appreciated her little scheme. But instead, he kept his cool and played along. He caught the bartender’s eye, and, pointing to his drink, signaled he wanted another. After the bartender acknowledged the order, Tom turned back. “My wife was supposed to meet me here, but it doesn’t look like she’s coming. I think you’re very attractive, and I have always had a thing for blondes.”

Anne set her cigarette in the ashtray and turned slightly.

Tom got his first glimpse of the big, round sunglasses she was wearing, similar to the Jackie O style of glasses. His grin got bigger.

“I assume your wife isn’t a blonde?”

“Correct. She’s an attractive brunette and she’s a wonderful lady. But sometimes you want to try something new, if you know what I mean.”

Anne turned completely toward him, and her look showed she knew that her cover was blown. “You sound like you love your wife. Is it worth risking all that for one night of fun?”

“Good point. I have an idea. How about we pretend you’re my wife in a blonde wig?”

The bartender arrived with Anne’s drink. She took a sip seductively, before tilting her sunglasses down and looking Tom in the eye. “That’s an interesting concept. Ask me that again after a few martinis.”

Tom couldn’t hold back his news any longer. “Since my wife isn’t here, how about I tell you some exciting news.”

Anne set her drink down. “I’d love to hear it.”

Tom looked around to double-check no one was within earshot, leaned closer to her and whispered, “You are looking at the commander of Apollo 16.”

Anne broke out of character, letting out a high-pitched squeal before jumping off her barstool into his arms. “That’s fantastic news. Congratulations, Tom!”

Hugging his wife, Tom wanted to stay in character. He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. “How do you know my name is Tom?”

She hit him playfully on the chest. “Silly, I know you knew it was me.”

He smiled. “You look nice as a blonde.”

Anne settled back into her chair. “Don’t get too comfortable with it. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“It was incredibly special and I very much appreciate it. Of course, you look good no matter what.”

Anne took off her sunglasses and flashed him a wink, “Right answer.” She took another sip of her drink and said enthusiastically, “I’m so happy for you. We need to celebrate.”

Tom wiggled his eyebrows. “We will, later tonight. Me and the blonde.”

Anne smiled. “Wow, my husband will be walking on the moon.”

“Yep, and I’m sure he’ll be missing you.”

She put her hand on his leg. “We’ll miss each other. But what an adventure it will be.” Her face turned serious. “Honey, I really have to pee. I’ve been sitting at this bar for almost an hour waiting for you.”

Tom chuckled. “Sorry. I’ll pay the tab so we can go to dinner.”

Leaning over, Anne gave Tom another kiss, this time on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” She flashed a seductive grin before slipping her glasses back on. She spun around on the barstool, then hopped off. She patted his knee before walking with a spring in her step toward the restrooms.

With a lecherous grin, Tom watched his wife’s backside sway before he turned back to the bar. The bartender was standing right in front of him casually wiping the inside of a glass with a towel. Tom pulled out his wallet. “I’d like to settle up our bill.”

The bartender leaned over the bar and asked with a smile, “What’s up with those sunglasses on that lady? She’s been in here for over an hour smoking cigarettes. You wonder if she can even see anything with those on.”

Tom smiled. “That’s my beautiful wife, and she has an eye infection.”

“Oh, sorry about that. Sure, bud, I’ll get your tab.”

1972

During the two years since landing the commander slot on Apollo 16, Tom and his crew had been working their butts off training for the moon mission. When the three weren’t training together, Dusty and Tom were working on preparing for the lunar landing and moonwalks, flying all over the country doing specialized training and geological field trips. Their crewmate, Kirk Cooley, was just as busy doing his own training as the Command Module Pilot. With a little over a month before launch, their schedules were getting even more hectic. The reality that the three would soon be circling the moon was starting to set in.

No matter how hard Tom worked, he couldn’t help feeling he was behind on the studying aspect of the flight. He needed to be fully up to speed on the equipment manuals, lunar maps, and star maps as well as becoming a geology expert. The scientific community wanted science to be the number one priority on Apollo 16, putting added pressure on the trained pilot. As the commander, Tom had to make certain his team could carry out all the science-related tasks and still be able to handle emergencies and all other spacecraft duties the mission would require.