by BT Urruela
“What’s up, man?” I ask, wiping the sleep from my eyes with my free hand.
“Good morning, budddddy,” he says, a playful ring to his tone. “Really hate to bug you so early, but I got an interesting call last night from my boy Rock.”
He lets an awkward pause hang on the line. I have a feeling it’s far more awkward for me than it is for him.
“So, yeah, I’ve been meaning to call you,” I say with a nervous chuckle.
“Interestingly enough, he’s under the impression that I’m in Wyoming with your sister.”
“What did you tell him?” I ask, my eyes shifting to the bedroom door. My mind wondering if Gabi already knows.
“Man, first off, I think you owe me an explanation,” he says, frustration building in his voice. “We’re bordering on some stolen valor-type shit here that I’m not very comfortable with. I’m gonna guess your sis and her dude up there wouldn’t be happy with it either.”
“Listen, Irish, I’m sorry, man. I really am. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. She approached me before I was ready.” I pause for a brief moment. “She just caught me off guard. And I locked up. I froze. And I knew with the Rock connection, it might be an in for me. Bro… she’s in some deep shit.”
“I know.” He lets out a sigh. “Rock inadvertently filled me in last night. And I’m down here fucking torn having been the one to send you up there, knowing it’s where you need to be, while also knowing you got a woman down here who fucking needs you. She’s not doing very good. Her pops is falling apart, man.”
“Fuck, I don’t know what to do.” My head drops, my eyes close, and my mind drifts to the love of my life. The woman who steals my every thought. And how badly I wish I could be there for her.
“There’s nothing you can do. You gotta get shit figured out up there. But do it fast. She needs you, way more than she lets on, I can promise you that.”
“You trying to make me feel bad?” I ask, more defensive than I intended.
“Not at all, brother. Not one fucking bit. I’m just telling you the truth. Brandi and I are doing our best, we’re doing everything we can, but we just aren’t you.”
A thick, choking knot sits at the base of my throat. Tears well in my eyes and I fight with everything I have to keep them away. A few manage to escape anyway.
“I’ll make a trip down soon,” I finally say, wiping the tears from my cheeks with my palm.
“Okay. You do that. And bro…” His voice trails.
“Yeah?”
“Tell them the fucking truth soon. The longer you wait, the worse the repercussions are gonna be. Just be honest with her. She’ll get it. Until then, don’t worry about Rock. I played it off. Just make that shit happen.”
“Ok. I will, man. I’m sorry again. For everything.”
“Don’t mention it. Just keep your head up. Shit’ll work out. Shit always works out. Love ya, No homo,” he says, followed by a light laugh.
“I love ya too, bro. All kinds of homo.”
“Alright, talk soon.”
“Peace.” I hang up the phone and set it on the night stand. Shifting my legs over the side of the futon, I bury my head in my hands, hunched over my knees with my eyes tightly shut. How can I ever come out of this still standing when everyone is drowning around me? How am I supposed to be in two places at once? And how the fuck do I tell my sister who I really am?
Seven in the morning or not, it’s time for a fucking drink.
The stillness in my room without Shane is unnerving. My mind wandered all night—to him—to the years we’ve spent getting to know each other, supporting each other, loving each other. And yes, I do love him. I truly do. I’ve denied it over and over and over again over these last seven years, but the emptiness I feel right now without him is undeniable. There’s just no way I’ll ever tell him. No way I’ll ever be able to give him what he needs.
I pull a pair of pajama pants on and control my hair behind my head in a hair tie the best I can.
Standing from the bed, I slip my feet into slippers and head to the door. Opening it, I find Chase seated on the couch and flipping through the channels. He turns to me and smiles, lifting a cup of coffee.
“Good morning!” he says, the smile still planted on his face.
“Well, aren’t you just chipper this morning,” I grunt, making my way to the kitchen and grabbing a cup from the cabinet. Spotting the Baileys on the counter, I turn back and smirk.
“Ahh, now I get it.” I chuckle, filling my cup with both coffee and a little Baileys too. Why the hell not?
“I only had a few cups,” he says, in the same cheerful tone.
“Sounds like you’ve had a little more than a few.”
“I’ve been up awhile. Didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, as I take a seat on the couch across from him. He stops on ESPN and I’m thankful. I can’t do the damn news. I have more than enough drama in my life.
“Yeah, me neither.” I let out a heavy sigh.
“You and Shane good?” he asks, setting the remote down and taking a big sip of his coffee. He sets it to his lap, eyeing me. I take a drink of my own, my eyes drifting to the TV and then back to him.
“Don’t worry about answering. It’s none of my business. Just heard you guys going at it a little last night and figured I’d ask.”
“No, you’re fine. We’re good.” I grin. “It’s a love-hate type of thing between us. Always has been.”
“I can understand that.”
“This thing… uh, with Javi…” I swallow hard, my eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s not good. It’s not good at all. It has him stressed.”
There’s a wrinkle in his brow, and he runs a jerky hand through his hair. “I know. I’ve been around long enough to read people. I could tell from the moment I saw that Javi guy. Even before that shit yesterday.” He pauses, looking away, and as if he’s pondering his next words. “What are you going to do?” he asks, a still silence sitting in the air.
“Fuck if I know,” I finally respond.
“I’m going to have to go back down to Missouri soon because my g—” He stops abruptly, his face turning slightly red and he takes a thick swallow. “My wife just isn’t doing well. She’s got a lot going on and I need to spend some time down there…” He pauses again. “But I’ll be back up to help in any way I can before it gets down to the wire.”
For a moment, I don’t say a thing. I can’t. All I can do is wonder why the hell this perfect stranger is so willing to help. I can tell he reads the puzzlement on my face, and he just shrugs.
“I mean…you gave me a place to stay and all.”
I laugh, loud and abrupt, catching both of us off guard. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Is this like a crush thing? Are you wanting to fuck me or something? Because I don’t really even know who you are. You don’t know me. And these are some hard, ruthless bastards. Worst of the worst and I’m not kidding when I say that.” He nods as if he actually can comprehend the capability of Javi and his crew. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. There are things that I’ve witnessed him do that haunt me worse than anything I’ve seen or done at war. He is an animal through and through.
“You call Rock family, right? Well, he’s family to me too.” He stops for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It is what it is. No need to make it a big thing.”
“Alright. I guess I can live with that.”
There’s a long silence left in the room that’s almost unbearable. A tension sits idly between us.
“You want me to find Shane?” he blurts. “Maybe talk to him. Do you know where he might be?”
“Jesus, man. You have got to be kidding me.”
“Hey.” He looks offended and I can’t help but snicker. It’s actually kinda cute. “We’ve hung out a lot the past week or so. We’re pretty much bros now.”
“So I’ve noticed,” I say, dryly, and I roll my eyes. “Speaking of, didn’t you say you came up here for work?” I ask, laughing.
“Yeah, oops,” he say
s with a grin. “Well, I could grab a few beers with him. Or breakfast I guess.” He laughs, looking at his phone and shaking his head.
“Oh no. I can guarantee you he’s at the Six Shooter bullshitting with Jimmy. If he’s not here or out doing business, he’s there.”
My mind drifts to his plan. Three trucks. Three cities. One Day.
Shane was an explosives expert in the Special Forces. If anyone could pull a plan like that off, it’s him. And Rock… well, Rock is just a bad motherfucker. A weapons expert with our unit, if shit went down, he’s the guy we want on our side. But it’s still not enough. There just aren’t enough bodies. And more than likely not enough time.
“I’ll head to the Six Shooter then.” He finishes off his coffee and stands, heading toward the kitchen. I can only shake my head and wonder what the hell this guy’s motives are.
“Whatever you say, guy. Whatever you say.”
Six beers down and a fuck ton of small talk later and I’m finally breaking through to him. Over the past week, we’ve spent a lot of time together, and I’ve gotten to know him a little, but Shane is a quiet man all around. He doesn’t share much.
He shifts the fedora on his head, exposing the cigarette behind his ear.
“Gabriela’s a complicated woman,” he mumbles, following it up with a shot of Jim Beam. He grimaces and clears his throat before continuing, “She’s strong.” He balls his hand into a fist, shaking it a little as he looks me dead in the eye. “Strongest fucking woman I’ve ever known. But she’s been through a hell of a lot.” He drops his hand to the bar and strokes his beard with the other. “This shit though.” Shaking his head, he grabs his pint glass and takes a swig of beer. “This shit’s bad.”
“You say she’s been through a hell of a lot. Does that include her childhood?” I ask and he eyes me curiously, which I can fully understand. It’s a question I didn’t give any thought to, and one that’s completely ludicrous in the context of our current relationship.
“You’re an odd fucking dude, Chase. An odd fucking dude.” He pulls the cigarette from his ear and lights it.
“I ever tell y’all about the time my sister touched my goober?” Jimmy the bartender interrupts, much to my benefit. He’s got a silly grin on his face and waits patiently for a response, as if what he’s just asked isn’t absolutely absurd. Shane shakes his head.
“You’re fucking ridiculous, Jimmy,” he says, taking a slow drag of his cigarette.
“Now hear me out, man. It was consensual.” He looks at us dead serious now, and I can’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter. Shane, who has obviously gotten his fill of Jimmy over the time he’s been here, remains straight-faced.
“Gentlemen, I’m tryin’ to have a serious conversation here. She was my first love. Have y’all ever loved before? I have. Many times. But my first love, well, that was my sister.” He sets two fresh pints of beer down before us, a shit-eating grin taking up his face. He soaks up the chorus of laughter he’s managed to pry out of the both of us now and shoots an air pistol at us with a click of his tongue. He then struts his way back down the bar.
“Is that guy for real?” I ask, still choking for air.
“You have no idea. He’s straight out of east fucking Jesus, Alabama. He’s the real fucking deal.” He rolls his head to me. Making a finger gun, he pretends to shoot and then winks at me. “He’s the doomsday prepper type… end of the world shit. Motherfucker’s got a compound full of all kinds of goodies. I haven’t seen it, but that’s what I hear.”
He takes one last drag of his cigarette before batting it out.
“Her childhood wasn’t bad,” Shane says out of nowhere, catching me off guard completely and eyeing me through the smoke. I keep my cool.
“Her parents, well, her adoptive parents, they were great while she was growing up. Loved the hell out of her. It’s when her mom died that shit changed.” He shakes his head. “She doesn’t share that shit with anyone. I’m lucky.”
“Fuck. What did she die of?” I ask, knowing full well that I’m pushing my luck, but risking it anyways, hoping the alcohol has helped ease him up a little, and desperately wanting to know anything and everything about this sister I’ve lost so much time with.
“Cancer. She was a big time smoker. They were older when they got Gabriela.” He removes his fedora and sets it on the bar, running a hand through his thick brown hair. “Her dad always had a hard time with the booze and when Dotty passed… well, let’s just say the tap ran freely.”
He eyes his beer, a little smirk on his face and he shrugs, finishing it off and replacing it with the fresh one.
“But that’s what led to the Army… And man, she loved the fucking Army. I never got into it. Hated the authority. Hated the fucking bullshit and cocky ass officers.” He lifts his beer to me and nods. “Well, you know.”
I chuckle and tip my beer to him, my mind racing back to the long hours I spent listening to Irish gripe about the military. I set the pint glass back to the bar. “I’m an officer myself, but I started out enlisted. I always kept that in mind.”
I can’t help but think of Irish and our phone call earlier. I wanted to tell the truth to Gabi right then and there, when we were sharing coffee in the living room. I just couldn’t. I don’t have it in me. Not yet. After I get back from Truman Valley, when I’ve seen Paige and I’m rejuvenated, I will be ready to tell them the truth and face this mess of a situation. Just not yet.
“I can appreciate that,” Shane says. “Your type has always made the best officers.” His demeanor changes, his focus locked onto the aged bar, his teeth clenching so tight I can see the ripple beneath his skin.
“Others aren’t so good,” he grumbles, shooting me a quick glance before averting his eyes once more.
“What’s up, man? Something you wanna share?” I ask, still analyzing his expression.
“Fuck, dude,” he says, finally breaking his wandering gaze and looking over at me. “If Gabriela knew I told you this, she’d probably fucking kill me. And the only reason I am telling you is because since you met Javi yesterday, you’re kinda wrapped up in all this already. And because I’ve had three shots too many.” He motions to the shot glasses turned over on the counter. “But people gotta know about this shit. It’s been kept quiet for far too fucking long. The Army is always brushing it under the rug. Blaming it on the woman. ‘She asked for it.’ ‘She just wanted a promotion.’ Fuck that!” I just nod and remain silent, waiting for him to continue, but knowing full well where he’s going with this. It wasn’t long ago Irish told me about the terrible things that happened to my sister. Shane looks back to his beer and takes a deep breath.
“End of her last deployment in Afghanistan. I was out before that, but Rock was still in with her. They were only a few days out.” He squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grinding. He clears his throat and looks at me. He doesn’t just look at me, his eyes see right through me, to a different time…a different place. “A few officers gang raped her. Tricked her into opening up her door… and that was that.” There’s a still silence between us for a moment, his eyes straight ahead before he finally looks back over at me. “I should’ve been there.”
He scoffs, lighting up another cigarette and squeezing the filter mercilessly between two fingers. I don’t dare talk. I just wait for him to continue. “And the motherfuckers got off. There wasn’t enough evidence. There wasn’t fucking any. And her commander was the cock sucking ring leader. Nothing. She got out. They retired on some fat fucking pensions. Some of them are still leading troops in battle.”
“Jesus. You gotta be fucking kidding me,” I mutter, my mind racing to all the things Gabi must be feeling right now… what she’s been feeling for years. I knew she had been raped, but this? I just can’t even imagine. We’ve been apart for so long and somehow this cold world has distributed both of us our fair share of pain and suffering. A throbbing tightness buries itself in my heart and I’m hit with an intense
desire to tell her, to find the strength somehow, so that I could hold her and let her know I’d be there for her no matter what. That I always will be.
“I wish I was. But I’m not. It happened. And it fucking ruined her.” He pauses, his eyes drifting to Jimmy, who quickly makes his way toward us. It looks as if he’s fighting back tears.
“There’s so much dick in here I feel like I’m hanging out in Kim Kardashian’s asshole. Ya know what I mean?” Jimmy says, two more cold beers in his hands.
“Jimmy, you have terrible timing,” Shane says, shaking his head and slipping his Ray-Bans on.
Jimmy pulls the beers to his side and looks offended. “That’s not what your empty fuckin’ beer is saying,” he grunts and nods to the empty pint glass in front of Shane. He rolls his eyes and sets the fresh beers down. A nauseating tightness takes hold in my stomach. I’ve had way too much beer already before noon.
Jimmy remains standing in front of us, a hand to his gut and a curious look on his face.
“Y’all ever seen midgets run track?” He smiles, a twinkle in his eye that one can’t help but grin at. “That shit’s funny as fuck.” He pauses, his focus drifting to the ceiling as if he’s recalling a past memory. “I had a cousin who fucked a midget once. Said that shit was tighter than an Amish sheep’s asshole, but her heels kept banging into his stomach like a fuckin’ drum. Bruised him up real good.”
And with that, he makes his way back down the bar, whistling away as if the shit he just spewed were as normal as hello.
Shane lets out a deep breath, grabbing his hat from the bar and putting it back on his head. He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a wallet. Flipping through it, he grabs two twenties and tosses them on the bar.
“I’m not trying to drink another beer. Jimmy will finish these, I can promise you that.” He turns to me, standing from his stool and pocketing his wallet. “You wanna go grab some chow?”
A feeling of relief washes over me, my stomach immediately craving anything that’s not alcohol as I finish the remainder of my beer. I set it on the bar and stand along with him.