Bad Boy SEALs

by Scarlett Avery

  "Well, the admiration is mutual," I say. Holden smiles. I shift my attention back to Amelia. "After my mother got remarried, Iron Man was my hero even more so. I hoped he’d protect me from Jarrett Finch the way he protected the people he saved in the cartoons."

  "Jarrett is your stepfather?” Amelia asks.

  "Was. Past tense,” I stress. Thank the fuck God for that. I take a long deep breath in before I speak again. “My father died at the young age of thirty-three from a heart attack—something about an undiagnosed heart condition. I was seven at the time. Mom was four months pregnant. She was only twenty-five. The shock caused her to lose the baby. It was a boy. A few months after Dad passed, this jerk Jarrett kept coming around the small house we lived in. I still don’t know how Mom met him. Not long after that Mom declared Jarrett was going to be my new father. I was horrified. I hated the asshole. He was abusive towards Mom and I. She married him anyways. A few weeks after that farce of a wedding—”

  “Why do you say that?” Amelia interrupts.

  “Not even Mom’s sisters showed up. Nor did my grandparents. There were only a few of her co-workers. She was a cashier at Food Chops. Jarrett had a few shady characters vouching for him. It was a real Kodak moment,” I smirk. “In any case, the dirt bag dragged us away from our rented house to Greenwood Heights, Brooklyn. At the time, that hellhole was considered one of the top twenty crime-ridden neighborhoods in New York." I shake my head, reliving the nightmare.

  "That’s terrible," Amelia gasps before hiding her face in the palms of her hands.

  "Yeah. It was just going to get worse for me. I just didn’t know it at the time,” I sigh. “Mom died of a lethal cocktail of prescription pills. I overheard a conversation amongst my aunts that Mom bought her medication off the streets. She was always so sad, and she said they helped. Within a matter of months, I found myself an orphan."

  “My God, Brandon.” Amelia reaches out for my hand. “Poor you.”

  “That’s exactly how I felt. Jarrett was a functional alcoholic. It was only a matter of time before he lost the functional part. Mom’s death three months after they got married and finding out she had left him as my legal guardian did him in—”

  “Are you serious? Your mum left you with a monster,” she shrieks.

  “Yeah. He had no aspirations to become a father, so he started drinking and fucking around with a vengeance. I think I saw more tits and ass during the few months I lived with him than in the Red Light District in Amsterdam.”

  “That’s horrible,” Amelia gasps. “Forgive me for saying this, Brandon, but your mother was irresponsible. She must’ve known he was a poor choice for a parent.” Amelia huffs before crossing her arms over her chest.

  “She wasn't emotionally stable. I’m not even sure she thought of that when she made that decision."

  "To say the least," Amelia frowns.

  “Yeah,” I nod. “There were women coming and going when Jarrett was home. It was like a whorehouse. I spent all my time locked up in my room. He ignored me. He didn’t even give a damn if I had food to eat. The fridge and cupboards were always empty. But I never dared to complain. I made myself as little as possible so as not to upset him. Luckily, Jarrett got the women he fucked to order takeout when they were at the apartment. Once everyone was passed out drunk or high, I’d eat the cold leftovers.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Amelia exclaims. “That’s abuse!”

  “Yeah. Jarrett was a prize,” I snort. “I had resigned myself that that was my life—”

  “That’s a sad life,” Amelia interjects.

  “It would’ve been, but God had other plans for me.”

  “What do you mean?” Amelia furrows her brow.

  “One night, not long after Mom died, two police officers banged at our door in the middle of the night to inform my mother that her husband—"

  "But your mum was already dead," Amelia points out.

  “They didn’t know that. My idiot of a stepfather lost control of his vehicle on Brooklyn Bridge while driving back to the apartment at two AM. Of course, he was drunk. He slammed right into a garbage truck as he was trying to cut off another vehicle. I thought the irony was hilarious,” I chuckle.

  “Quite fitting for the scumbag,” Holden says. He’s been quiet, listening attentively to a story he’s heard many times before.

  “Damn right,” I agree. “From what the police told me it was a pretty bad accident that paralyzed traffic on the bridge for hours. There were other people who were severely injured, but only Jarrett died on impact."

  "Now that your step-monster was dead, is that when you went to live with your paternal grandparents?"

  “Step-monster? Good one. That he was.” I chuckle. “Yes. The police contacted Mom’s sisters. My aunt Pauline, the eldest of the family, suggested that the officers turn their attention to my grandparents because none of the four Walsh sisters could take on another kid. No money. No extra beds. Too many bills as is.”

  "How could your aunts just shut the door in your face like that?” Amelia darts angry eyes at me.

  “I hear you, sweetie,” I appease her. “They didn't see it that way. They saw me as a burden. One extra headache they couldn’t afford.”

  “But they’re your relatives!" Amelia shouts.

  “That wasn’t enough of an argument for them,” I explain.

  “That should be the only argument, Brandon. You were too young to fend for yourself. You were a child. It was their duty to honor your mother—their sister—by taking you in.”

  “Not for the Walsh clan.”

  “That’s utter rubbish,” she throws at me, her green eyes burning with fury. “Bloody wrong if you ask me,” she adds.

  I love her protective nature for the boy I once was. She’ll make a great mother one day.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie, it was for the best in the end.” I reach out and caress her cheek tenderly.

  “Really?” she asks.

  I nod. “I turned out okay, didn’t I?”

  She smiles wide. “You turned out great.”

  I return her smile before continuing. “The officers got on the phone and made the call that changed my life. My grandparents were at the precinct within an hour. They cried when they saw me. Both of them. The Walsh sisters never told them Mom had passed away, and that Jarrett had been awarded guardianship. Of course, Mom had cut ties with Nana Erin and Papa Michael when she hooked up with my step-monster.” I shake my head. “I left Jarrett’s hellhole crime-infested neighborhood and moved to East Liberty with them. It was still Brooklyn, but it was a huge step above Greenwood Heights."

  "Is that when you met Holden?"

  "Yes. It so happened that he had just moved in with his paternal grandparents who lived a few streets over. Since it was early summer, both sets of grandparents enrolled us at a youth program at the community center for kids who had lost a loved one.”

  “My God. What a tragic story.” Amelia shakes her head.

  “Brandon and I started out in this world in a very similar fashion,” Holden says. “That’s why we became fast friends.”

  "Are your grandparents still alive?" Amelia asks Holden.

  Holden shakes his head. “No. Mine died a few months from each other. I’d barely turned eighteen. That was another motivation for me to serve my country. I gave up their rented house right after my grandfather died. Nana Alice died first. I couldn’t bear to live there without them. For about a year, I crammed into Brandon’s room at his grandparents’ tiny house and worked odd jobs while we waited for him to turn eighteen. When he did, we both joined the Navy SEALs."

  Amelia moves her attention to me. “Did your grandparents also pass away?”

  "Yes. They died a few years apart from each other. I was serving when I lost them," I explain.

  Amelia’s green eyes widen. “Oh God," she says. “You weren’t able to say goodbye?”

  “No, I wasn’t. After my grandfather died, I suggested I retire from the SEALs and
stick around in Brooklyn, but Nana Erin wouldn’t hear of it. She kept insisting she was fine. It didn’t sit right with me because she was so gutted when her husband died, but I respected her wish. Six months later after Papa Michael died, I got the call while I was transferring back to the States from Berlin.”

  "It’s amazing that you were able to deal with everything life threw at you at such a young age. Now you’re unflappable.”

  “I don’t know about that, angel,” Holden cautions. “We’ve learned to cope. With time, you push the bad memories aside so they’re no longer the things that define you. The Navy SEALs’ rigorous training also keeps your feelings in check. My grandparents were adamant about making sure I knew I could do anything I set my mind to. They didn’t have money, but they instilled in me a great sense of, ‘It's possible’. That’s been my driving force my entire life."

  “It’s the same for me. They took me in despite the fact they didn't have much. I don’t think I would’ve turned out this well had my mother lived,” I chime in. “It sounds like a terrible thing to say, but it’s true. Mom was frail, erratic and very emotional. When you combine that with Jarrett, I was this freaked out boy who was afraid of his own shadow. Nana Erin and Papa Michael had a great influence on me and just like Holden, I thank them for caring since no one else in my family did. That said, I’d have to credit Holden for helping me grow balls.”

  “How so?” Amelia asks.

  “I've been on countless tours of duty with him and we've faced some pretty gruesome scenarios, but not once did I see him break. Even before we ever enrolled in the Navy SEALs, Holden has always been a pillar of strength. He's always this larger than life unstoppable force. I won't lie, I’ve fed off of his courage more than once in my life,” I admit.

  “I wouldn’t be much without our unshakable friendship,” Holden confesses.

  We stare at each other, exchanging one of our trademark silent conversations. We rarely open up about our past. It’s something we carefully keep locked up. For some reason, revealing this part of me to Amelia feels right. I suspect it’s the same for Holden or else he’d clam up like he usually does when someone probes him.

  “I might not be able to identify with anything you lived through, but I know exactly what it’s like when your parent marries a step-monster.” Amelia’s words snap us back to reality.

  “Your father’s wife, I assume?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” she pulls her lips up in a disgusted grimace. “Granted I was an adult when she married Daddy and she never laid a hand on me. Still, she’s manipulative and she’s always quick to put me down.”

  “Can I ask a question?” Holden treads carefully.

  “How did my father end up marrying her?”

  “I guess it’s a common question,” he retorts.

  “More than you can imagine,” she rolls her eyes. “Especially from people who knew Mum,” she grimaces again.

  “Not that we know much about… Abigail? That’s her name, right?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Estelle had cautioned us before the ceremony. Since you were your father’s date for the evening, we never met your step-mother.” She does that face again. “According to Estelle, your father’s wife isn’t Britain’s golden child and it seems the press doesn’t like her very much,” I pause. “Estelle’s words not mine,” I add.

  “Estelle is right,” she sneers. “Abigail is a train wreck because she’s so desperate to prove herself by outdoing Mum. Good luck with that.” Amelia lets out a sarcastic laugh. “How tacky is it to try to outshine a dead woman?” She shakes her head. “Until eighteen months ago, I had a fairly perfect existence. Daddy, my brothers and I had somewhat learned to live without Mum. Then suddenly this woman started showing up at every single charity function Daddy was invited to. It’s as if she had a copy of his calendar. Since Daddy is a big believer in any group that supports those in need, Abigail was always looming around like a vulture. I guess she somehow caught Daddy’s eye and he eventually invited her out for dinner.”

  “She’s an attractive woman,” I say.

  “Whatever.” Amelia rolls her eyes.

  No love there.

  “Abigail Clementine Kent tricked her way into my father’s life and bed. Six months after they officially became a couple, Abigail announced she was pregnant. When my brothers pressured Daddy to find out how the hell that happened, he was a bit confused, stating that he had been careful, aka they used a condom, and Abigail had promised she was on the pill. It didn’t take long for Witch Abigail to start weaving her web. She constantly nagged about how much of a scandal it be would for a Prime Minister to have a child out of wedlock. She was thirty-eight at the time and kept harping on about the fact that this might be her last chance at motherhood. She wanted to have the baby in a respectable way and she didn’t want to walk down the aisle showing. Daddy proposed. They got married. My brothers didn’t attend, and I managed to find myself stuck in Seoul.”

  “Didn’t your father mind?” Holden asks.

  “My brothers didn’t mince their words. Neither did I. Daddy’s best friend Grayson was the best man. He’s one of the sharpest divorce lawyers in Britain. I’m not sure if Grayson was there to support Daddy or to justify why he had forced my father to present Abigail with the longest and most detailed prenup in the history of this country,” she smirks.

  “It makes sense that your dad would want to protect his assets,” Holden says.

  “Abigail didn’t see it that way. She refused to sign it. She threw a tantrum that would make a three-year-old jealous. Daddy told her it was non-negotiable. Reluctantly, she did sign it in the end.” Amelia flashes us an evil grin. “The British press has been trashing Abigail since day one, calling her a gold digger given her precious three marriages to extremely rich men. I mean it was brutal, but my father is a man of honor, so he did what he had to do. A week after the wedding—”

  “No honeymoon?”

  “No. Daddy was in the middle of too many critical matters to leave London. Abigail had a hissy fit, but Daddy remained indignant.”

  “Wow,” Holden exclaims.

  “Yeah, that marriage was doomed from the beginning,” she replies. Another demoniac grin. “As I was saying, Daddy was to attend the G8 Summit held in Lyon, France. Of course, Abigail accompanied him. Her sister Maude and her husband Milo Wallis also decided to take a trip there and stay in a separate hotel—that way Abigail wouldn’t get bored when Daddy was in meetings. On their second day there, Daddy was in the middle of a meeting when he gets an urgent call. Maude had contacted Daddy’s secretary to relay the message that Abigail wasn’t well. When he arrived at Maude’s hotel, Abigail was in bed sleeping. Maude—who’s a prenatal nurse—explained that her sister had lost the baby after she had been hit with a series of terrible cramps. Apparently, Abigail was bleeding like crazy on the bathroom floor. She was in such severe pain, Maude had to sedate her.”

  “God, that’s tragic.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Whoa.

  “I understand you don’t like Abigail, but that’s a harsh answer, angel,” Holden scolds.

  “You don’t know my step-monster,” she retorts.

  “Fair enough,” Holden concedes.

  “When Abigail woke up, she refused to go to the hospital. She refused to let Daddy fly his physician in from London to take care of her. She refused to see a French doctor. Maude and her kept insisting that she’d be fine. She just needed a bit of rest. Maude had supposedly given her the proper care. Daddy was appalled, but Abigail kept reminding him that her sister was a professional and this wasn’t the first miscarriage Maude had dealt with. Abigail begged to go back to London. Maude said she’d come with her. Daddy didn’t argue.”

  “That’s fishy,” I say. “I’d think you’d want to see a doctor in an instance like that.”

  “Exactly,” she nods. “Daddy just couldn’t get over Abigail’s reaction. Suspicious, Daddy asked to use the loo. He said that there wasn’t a spec of b
lood in the room. It was spotless. Maude claimed her husband had done a great job cleaning up. Milo just gave Daddy a creepy smile. They didn’t even call room service.”

  “Weird,” I say.

  “Very. From the way Maude was going on, Daddy said it sounded like Abigail had lost half the blood in her body. And, when Abigail returned to London, she did everything but rest. A few trusted staff members voiced their concern when Daddy returned. Seems like Abigail used shopping therapy to get over the loss of her baby.”

  “Is that uncommon?” Holden asks.

  “Not that I’d know first-hand, but Daddy’s secretary Rosalyn Lloyd had frowned upon Abigail’s behavior. Rosalyn has first-hand experience—it took her three miscarriages before she conceived for good, and she said after each lost baby she dove into a deep depression. She didn’t lose herself on the third floor of Harrods or Selfridges with credit card in hand like Abigail.”

  “Did your father confront his wife?” Holden asks.

  “More times than I can count. She brushed him off each time and told him his staff needed to mind their own business. To my surprise, Daddy dropped the subject. He didn’t push. I never understood why.”

  “Wow,” I say. “I’m surprised your father wouldn’t try to get more answers.”

  “I feel the same way. After she lost the baby, Abigail medicated with shopping, Botox, collagen, and her pretend charity.”

  “It doesn’t sound like they’re close?” I conclude.

  “Daddy and Abigail?” I nod. “I don’t think they ever were, but lately, they seem oceans apart. Daddy barely mentions her. I’m not sure what’s going on, but he’s very distant with her, which is unlike him."

  "Maybe he’s having second thoughts about his marriage," Holden offers.

  She shrugs. "We've had many discussions lately where he drops weird hints about Abigail, but refuses to go into detail. My gut says that there's more, I just don't know what."

  "Do you think he'd consider a divorce?" I ask. "If he isn’t happy, what's the point of staying in a crappy marriage?"