by Jody Pardo
Copyright 2016 Jody Pardo
Warning, this novel is recommended for those who are 18+ as it contains adult content.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1517293222
ISBN-10: 1517293227
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
The author acknowledges the real people or places and copyrighted or trademarked statuses and trademark owners may appear within and use is limited to scope and reference.
Cover Model: Max O’Brien
Photographer: Shelton Cole of SC Photo
Cover Design: Katheryn Kiden of Indies InDesign
Edited by: Wendi Temporado of Ready, Set, Edit
Blood doesn't make family. The best family is our family by choice.
Max
I hated cowboys. Okay, so maybe I needed to move. Oklahoma was not the place to hate cowboys, or soldiers. Well, I didn’t actually hate soldiers, just the douche bags that occupied the uniforms that I saw come and go every few months in my town. Living where I did, you had two options: ranch or put on a uniform. I did neither. I was the minority, the third wheel, the outcast—I was invisible.
My family had lived next to Fort Sill for generations. My mom grew up on my family’s ranch, and like many of the town’s women, got swept off her feet by a military man. I was the product of their whirlwind romance. He was a career military man and my mom settled in as an Army wife, only working part-time here and there over the years. I think she just kept herself busy, and usually only worked when he was deployed.
I had lived just outside of base in the same house I grew up in with my parents my whole life. Dad had settled down in his old age, but I knew I was not the son he wanted. I always saw nothing but disappointment in his eyes, but I was an adult, and I just couldn’t wear a uniform. When he retired, he bought the bar right outside base gates called Brewer’s Taps. It was his way of staying connected. For me, it was just one more reminder of our divide.
Why do I even come here? All it ever was were the cowboys, the privates, and the hoochies. That’s right, hoochies. I’d grown up there, just like them. I went to the same school, graduated the same year as some, yet no one ever gave me the time of day, unless they had something that needed fixing. Then they’d call. Otherwise, I was invisible.
The bar was hopping on a Sunday night because those guys would be back on base by morning and the rest were gone riding by sun up. Not much changed there except the wenches' attire. Monday through Friday you could see the same women around town looking all prim and proper in their capri pants, polo shirts, and flip flops. Once Friday night arrived and the soldier boys started walking off base, the sharks swarmed with their blood-red, thirsty, painted lips and bulging, glittery cleavage planted in their cowboy boots and insanely high heels baiting young privates to their beds.
I could only think, Are they really that oblivious to their wiles? No one could be that stupid. Maybe they just weren’t thinking at all and their cocks were calling the orders Friday through Sunday. The soldiers bedded them nonetheless and had rows of ladies lining the gates returning them off to base at dawn each Monday.
Sometimes I would help out my dad by tending bar, but working weekends was futile since I never made any tips. The ladies of Brewer’s Taps ruled the bar on the weekends. Even though none of the bartenders would lay down with those guys and most had husbands or boyfriends at home, that didn’t stop them from flaunting their assets to boost their tips.
It was a mixed crowd, but only the men were buying drinks. Whoever said they never paid for pussy was either a virgin or had never been to Brewer's Taps on a Sunday night.
I got up from my corner table where I had been nursing my beer and went behind the bar for a refill. I wasn’t really a beer drinker, but I didn't like to hit the liquor unless someone else was buying. I kept a bottle of Jameson behind bar just for me. On the weekends, I wouldn’t take my bottle out or people would help themselves. My dad didn't mind; beer was cheap. The bartenders would probably spill more than I would ever drink in a night. I scooted past Memaw who was running the show that night to the beer taps.
Memaw worked every Sunday night because it was the only time she got to spend with her son, Rob, and his wife, Nicole. Rob, like most of the guys in there, would be gone before dawn for another week of moving cattle. King of Kings, Rob sat at the bar as his mom gushed over him with stories of the weekly antics of her grandchildren, and his eyes were firmly nailed on his wife's ass as she swished about serving other patrons making sure no one got too grabby. Not that anyone in there would, but sometimes there would be that rogue jerk that appeared and would need to be schooled.
Nicole was a beautiful woman with fire-red hair and a body to die for. She was all tits and baby-making hips with an itty bitty waist. I watched her grow up from that frizzy-headed kid with glasses and braces to the stunner she was today. Her milky skin was peppered with tons of tiny freckles that everyone used to tease her about in school that made men's mouth water on her ample breasts.
As I topped off my pint glass with a tip to knock off the frosty head, Memaw grabbed a hold of my elbow.
“Hey, Max, you flying solo tonight?”
“Yes, ma'am,” I said as I took a sip of my beer so it wouldn't spill.
“Just pace it out, okay, or I will pull your keys,” she demanded as she poked my chest.
“No worries, Memaw, I'm good. This is only number two. Some people have to work in the morning.”
“Good boy. Why don't you find a nice girl to dance with?” she said as she smoothed my shirt she had poked a dent into.
“When you find me one, you let me know,” I said as I shimmied behind her to resume my spot at the corner table.
Max- Age 16
“Son, I’m sending you out with your Uncle Mike today for the long weekend,” my dad said.
“Why? I’m working on something.”
“It’s about time you started doing something besides building Lego houses and tinker toy frames. I can’t have you hanging out at the base all day, and you can’t stay home alone all summer. After dinner I will drop you off at the ranch”
“I like building things.”
“If you want to make some money around here, son, ranching is it. So it’s time to start learning, and you are behind the curve already. Some of these boys have been riding as long as they have been walking.”
“I like my feet on the ground. Walking is good.”
“Ranching puts food on the table.”
“Not our table. We aren’t exactly eating steak every night.”
“Well, the military pays the bills and buys our groceries, and has for the last sixteen years of your life, boy. It’s time you earned your keep.”
“Fine, whatever,” I spat.
“You better watch your tone with me. You better show your Uncle Mike some respect, too. He is one of the best ranchers and ropers in Oklahoma. You could afford to learn a lot from him.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I would never disrespect him; just doesn’t mean I have to like my holiday weekend on the ranch cleaning
stalls.”
“Well, you better start liking it quick. Don’t forget they are family, too. You help with whatever needs done over there.”
“Yes, sir.”
My dad sighed as he turned to leave the room. I couldn’t help but feel the waves of disappointment flowing off of him as he walked out. I knew he wanted me to join the military one day, but I don’t know if a soldier’s life was for me. I didn’t even like to tie my shoes, never mind spit shine them.
I started to pack my duffle bag with the basic essentials: pants, underwear, plenty of socks, long thermal underwear, t-shirts, my favorite hoodie, and my essential cowboy boots. I threw my travel toiletry bag in and zipped it shut. I dug out my heavy duty muck boots out of the back of my closet and clipped them onto my duffel bag with a carabiner. This is going to suck.
I could think of a million things I wanted to do on our four-day weekend, and ranching wasn’t one of them. With the weather starting to finally get warm again, I wanted to be outside. Once the rainy season ended, I started collecting wood. Lots of trees fell over the long winter months from heavy snow and harsh winds of winter. The rain loosened the ground so much that there was a lot of free wood to be had. I had a nice stack in the back of the garage, and I wanted to make some cool furniture out of it, but since Dad said I had to go ranching, I guess it could wait until next weekend. Maybe.
“Max, dinner’s ready,” Mom yelled up the stairs.
“Coming,” I responded and pounded down the stairs.
As I walked down the stairs, the aromas of my Mom’s cooking hit me. The smell of garlic, onions, and tomato sauce teased my nose and drew me into the kitchen entranced.
“What’s for dinner, Mom? It smells delicious.”
“Beef stew, honey, I figured I would make your favorite before your weekend,” she said as she smacked my hand with the wooden spoon when I tried to snag a carrot from the pot. “Hey, did you wash your hands?” Mom asked, waving her spoon at me.
I rolled my eyes and headed to the sink to wash my hands and avoid getting smacked with her lethal spoon again. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. How long did you know about this?”
“Your father only told me this afternoon. I had no idea.”
“Hhmph. Well, it’s not exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend.” I sighed.
“I know, Max. Just give it a chance, okay? For your father.”
“Fine, but for the record, I’m not happy.”
“Dually noted. Now, can you please grab some bowls? Let’s have some dinner, and you can be sore with your father later.”
I grabbed three bowls from the cabinet and headed into the dining room where my dad was already seated at the table.
“I thought your mother said dinner was ready?” my dad asked as he looked over the restaurant supply catalog.
“It is; she is right behind me.”
“Hold your horses, Rick. It’s coming,” my mom grumbled as she held the hot pot carefully with mitted hands, placing it on the trivets on the table. “Will you go grab the rice, Max?”
“Sure, Mom.” I went back to the kitchen to grab the bowl of steamy white rice from the countertop and returned to join my parents at the table, handing the bowl of rice to my mother.
As my mom served the rice and passed the bowl to my father, she asked, “Do you have any schoolwork for the long weekend?”
“No, with state exams in progress and all the test prep we have been having, the teachers are giving us a break, finally.”
“Good, then you can give your full attention to your Aunt Kelli and Uncle Mike at the ranch,” my dad chimed in.
I groaned my discontent as I shoveled spoons of stew into my mouth before I said something stupid. I didn’t want to ruin dinner or my weekend by pissing my dad off. All I needed was for him to call Uncle Mike with a “lesson to be learned” on the ranch. I didn’t need to add any components to the already crappy weekend I had in store for me.
Suzie
“Let’s go,” Bill said, practically dragging me by my elbow off the dance floor.
“Wait, why? It’s not even ten.”
“We are leaving, now.”
As we reached the coat check, his demeanor changed from sharp to smooth as silk.
“Hey, sweetheart, we are calling it an early night. May we have our coats please?” Bill asked as he slid the coat check ticket across the counter.
“Sure, I'll get them for you." The young lady in the coat room went to fetch our jackets as Bill continued to squeeze at my upper arm. He only released me when she handed him my coat. He plastered on an award-winning smile and held out my coat for me to put on. He didn't bother to put his own on, draping it over his arm, and grabbed me once more leading me out of the banquet hall.
I knew better than to talk to Bill when he was in such a state, but I just didn't understand what he was so upset about. I would surely have a bruise on my arm in the morning. We walked to our car at the end of the drive, and Bill thrusted me inside with his palm on top my head as an officer would with a criminal, except I had no idea what my crime was that time.
Bill drove home a man on a mission. I tried to keep my composure, but when he took a turn too hard and I braced myself against the window and the dashboard, it simply amused him.
“Do you actually think I would wreck my car? You don't have to worry about getting hurt, I wouldn't scratch my car for that.” He chuckled menacingly.
After that, I believe he took the rest of the turns on the way home at top speed just to scare me.
When we got into the apartment, he went straight for the liquor cabinet. He poured himself some whiskey as I sat on the couch. When he banged the glass down on the counter, it startled me.
Bill came around the sofa, yanking me by my hair to look up at him. “Why are you so jumpy? Guilty conscience, you whore?”
“The glass …” I didn't know why I bothered saying anything; I was fucked either way. When he was in a mood like that, there was no right or wrong answer, even if it was the truth.
He released my hair, returning back to the counter and his bottle. He poured himself more whiskey and came back to the sofa.
“This glass?” he said, taking a long swig. “You're scared of this glass?” He wrapped his hand in my hair again, jerking my head back so I would look up at him.
I couldn't nod or move my head if I tried he had such a firm grip on my hair. I whimpered as I felt hairs being pulled from the roots.
“Stop your crying, I'm not even doing anything to you. No more than that guy did to you on the dance floor,” he yelled in my face, and the strong smell of liquor hit me.
I tried to rack my brain to think what he could possibly be talking about. The only guy I danced with was the guy in the design department’s boyfriend. “Marvin?”
“Is that the guy’s name you were rubbing up on all night?”
“Marvin is gay.”
My reply was so fast, and my instinct to roll my eyes preceded me. Before I could say anything more, the sting of the hard slap scorched my cheek, making my nose run and my eyes tear. I cupped my cheek in disbelief.
“You think I'm a fool?” he screamed in my face. “He had his hands all over you and in your hair. You want hands in your hair? I can yank hair too.”
“Bill, you don't understand; he's a hairdresser. This is all a misunderstanding,” I pleaded my case.
When his hand came back to hit me again, I tried to duck. Instead, he caught me across the eye and the nose. The blood started to pour out of my nose and on to my chest.
“You had to ruin the evening. We were having such a good time. Now look at what you've done. Clean up this mess,” he spat down at me as I held my face in my hands in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding. He chugged the last of his drink, then threw the short tumbler glass against the wall.
“This better be all cleaned up by the time I get back.” He grabbed his jacket and left me there bleeding.
I didn’t think he would do it again. Last time he was so a
pologetic, but this time he made me bleed. My nose and lip were bleeding, and all I could do was slump against the wall in shock. I couldn't do it anymore. He would surely come back drunker than when he left with whatever punishment he had in mind. I thought of my last resort. I grabbed my cell phone and called my best friend, my lifeline, the one person I could count on no matter what.
“H-hello,” a groggy Aubrey answered the phone.
“Aubs, it's me, Suzie. I need you”
“Oh, sweetie, what happened?” She was instantly on full alert.
“I need you. I have to get out,” I pleaded.
“What? Out? What happened?”
“Bill …” I couldn't even get the rest of the words out before my chest began to ache and tighten stealing my breath, and all I could do was cry as Aubrey spoke into the other end of the line trying to call me down.
“Suzie! Listen to me. Are you listening?” Aubrey screamed into the phone. “Suzie, get in your car and go to the Greyhound station. Take your purse and whatever will fit in a backpack and get your ass on the bus. Understand me?”
“I don't have any money; payday isn't until next Friday.”
“I will order you a ticket online as soon as I hang up. Just go pick it up and get your ass on the bus.”
“What? What about work?”
“It's Friday. We have until Monday to figure it all out. Now, go move your ass. Grab some clothes and let's go. It will be okay. We will figure it out.”
“I love you, Aubs”
“I do too, Suzie. I will see you in a few hours.”
I hung up and stared at my phone until the screen went black. As I continued to stare, I saw the swelling on the left side of my face as the bruise began to form around my eye and the drying blood crusted my lower lip in the reflection of my phone.
“How did I become this woman?” I asked myself as I slid along the wall to stand and walked into my bedroom. I grabbed my purple gym bag that was fairly large and grabbed all the clean underwear and socks in my dresser drawer. I opened my closet, and there was no way I could carry all of it. So, I just grabbed my favorite jeans, some yoga pants, a couple of T-shirts, and my favorite purple hoodie. I didn't know how long I would be gone, but it was enough for a few days. I stuffed my laptop in-between my clothes to protect it, zipped up my gym bag, and headed to the door.