by Teagan Kade
I raise my beer, looking around the bar. “To shitholes.”
“To shitholes,” he grins, clinking his bottle against mine.
I see Shannon enter. She looks around stunned. Like she said, bars are not her natural habitat.
Jason twists and follows my gaze. He turns back. “That her?”
I nod.
He whistles. “Jesus, you sure know how to pick them, Senior.”
“Easy,” I warn, “she’s a civvie.”
I stand and call Shannon over.
She smiles when she sees me, making her way over with her handbag held in front of her.
Jason stands as I make the introductions. “Shannon Bailey, meet my good friend and former colleague Jason Hart.”
Her eyes dart to the eye patch as she takes his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He pulls out a stool between us for her. “And you. Can I get you something? A stick maybe, to beat off ol’ Blue Eyes here?”
“A ginger beer?” she queries, like it might be illegal to request such a thing in a dive like this.
“Sure.”
Jason calls down the bar for it.
“So,” Shannon starts, clearly nervous, “you were in the SEALs with Gabe?”
Jason nods solemnly, his eyes flicking to me for approval. Discussing the fact you’re a SEAL with a civilian is taboo at the best of times, which is why I gave Jason a heads-up over the phone. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “SEAL Team Three, based out of Cali. The Chief and I have certainly had some wild times. Ain’t that right?”
I tilt the neck of my Bud towards him. “Watch it, Petty Officer. The lady doesn’t need to hear about our former indiscretions.”
“’Indiscretions?” laughs Jason. “I’ve got a few other names for it, names my mother would wash my mouth out for speaking aloud, but if you insist.”
“You’re retired?” asks Shannon.
Jason nods in the affirmative. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got myself a skydiving school about ten miles away. It keeps me entertained enough.”
Her eyes light up. “Skydiving. Wow, I’ve always wanted to go, but…”
“But…?” I question.
“I think I’d need someone to push me out the door,” she laughs.
“Happy to oblige.” Jason winks. “But seriously, why don’t you swing by when you get a chance? The first one’s on the house.”
“Because it’s the first and the last,” I whisper to Shannon.
“Pfft,” whistles Jason. “Don’t listen to Big Boy here. I run a tight, safe ship out there. You’re in good hands.”
I want Shannon in my hands is what I want, her body mine and mine alone, but after last night I’m not sure how to approach the situation. She was so into it at first, but then she was pushing me away, telling me she’s sorry… I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Because you rushed in like it was a frontal fucking assault.
If she wants to take it slow, I will. I’ll do damn near anything to taste those lips again.
“Don’t you get sick of it?” Shannon asks Jason. “I mean, you must have done a lot of sky-diving in the SEALs, right?”
Jason looks past her to me. “You remember training, Gabe?” He shakes his head. “They’d fly you up, drop you… Fifteen minutes later you’d be back up in the air for another, over and over again. I remember this one time, at night, flying low, just looking down at a line of traffic, people sitting in their cars eating candy bars, kids watching movies in the backseat. A minute later I’m jumping out the back of a plane. It can be surreal like that, you know.”
I nod in understanding. “You’re a sucker for punishment, you know that?”
“Says the pot calling the kettle black,” he laughs. “Remember that time you and Triss commandeered that van in Islamabad? The damn thing was firing on one cylinder. We would have been better off in a wheelbarrow.”
Shannon catches the name. “Triss?” She faces me. “Who’s that?”
My throat catches. “An ex.”
“You were together overseas?”
“Fuck yeah,” Jason continues. “Triss and Gabe were like Kim and Kayne out there. One time I caught them fu—”
“Jase,” I cut in, the old authoritarian back, “she gets it.”
I’ve got to change the subject again, derail this before it goes any further. “Say, did you know Shannon works in the film industry?”
Jason straightens up. “I did not.”
I stand. “I’ll be right back.
I leave them talking and head to the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror, hands gripping the vanity so hard my knuckles are white. What the fuck are you doing?
I thought inviting Shannon out here might be fun, let her meet Jason and get to know a bit about Navy life, but now I realize this was a mistake. There are parts of my life I simply can’t allow her access to. All of us, SEALs especially, have our little boxes, our minds nicely segmented and compartmentalized so the horrors of the past don’t overwhelm us. You take that pain, that shit, and box it up. That’s how you get through it.
You sure about that?
I splash water on my face and head back out.
Keep. It. Together.
Jason’s deep into the story about how he lost his eye, can’t help but bring it up every time we go out.
“I didn’t even see it coming,” he finishes.
“Wow,” says Shannon, unsure how to respond. “Did it hurt?”
“Oh, it hurt like a motherfucker,” laughs Jason, “but the morphine helped. They had me dosed up so high on the way back to base I swear I met Saint Peter himself.”
I take a seat, nodding towards his eye patch. “If you ask me, it’s an improvement.”
Jason points his beer at me. “See what I have to work with, Shannon? You try bunking with this guy for three years.”
Shannon smiles at me, no doubt conjuring up what sleeping arrangements with me would entail. I’m thinking the same—waking up to her perfect body, my sheets wrapped around her ass. It’s the kind of thing you dream about abroad. Home. Always home. The simple things everyone else takes for granted. I promised myself I wouldn’t, but now I’m here life still seems to be floating by me.
The bar starts to fill up as afternoon turns into night—Air Force mostly, but familiar faces all the same. Four beers down and Jason’s tongue is getting way too loose for my liking.
I decide to cut things short before he starts digging out the truly dirty stuff, but he’s on a roll.
“Tell her about the thumb thing, man. That shit was badass.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think she wants to hear about my war stories.”
“No,” says Shannon, smiling, “tell me.”
I exhale, beer bottle hung between my hands. “It was in Afghanistan. We were supposed to meet up with our POC.”
“Point Of Contact,” clarifies Jason. “Don’t bamboozle her with the jargon, bro.”
“Right. Our point of contact,” I continue, “was a no show, but a bunch of insurgents did show up in his place.”
“Oh no,” squeaks Shannon. “What did you do?”
“Nothing we could do. They had us holed in real good.”
“The thumb,” Jason presses, his enthusiasm getting the better of him. “Tell her.”
I can’t believe I’m telling this one again. “They stripped us down, piled us into the back of this pickup, our hands handcuffed behind our backs.”
“But you escaped, right?” says Shannon. “Clearly.”
Jason goes to finish it, can’t contain his excitement, but I ward him off with my hand. “We had to get out of there. It was do or die. So, I dislocated my thumb.” I hold up my left hand and wiggle my thumb. “Right here.”
Jason laughs seeing Shannon’s face screw up. “I know, right? It sounds like some bullshit urban myth, but he did it. There were witnesses. He fucking well did it.”
“How?” asks Shannon. “It doesn’t sound like an easy thing to do.”
&n
bsp; I put my hands behind my back to demonstrate. “Easier than you’d think. You get leverage on it like this, and then use your bodyweight to fall into it, make a clean break of it. It’s the swelling you have to watch out for. You’ve got to work through the pain, get out of the cuffs as quickly as possible.”
“You’re not joking, are you?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t recommend it, of course, but when you’re desperate…”
Shannon’s shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know if I could do it.”
“Given the right situation, you might not have a choice. It’s incredible what you can force yourself to do when the pressure’s on.”
“And what happened after that?”
“It’s classified.” I wink.
Jason moves the conversation into a detailed description of the drudgery of Navy life, but when he starts to skirt around talk of Triss, I stand.
I slap my hands against my thighs. “I guess we should be getting off then.”
“You two?” Jason sniggers. “Getting off?” He takes a swig of his fifth beer. “Oh, I bet you will.”
He goes on laughing.
“Ignore him,” I tell Shannon. “Another beer and he’ll be on the floor.”
He stands—or tries to, at least—to see us off, taking Shannon’s hand and kissing the top of it. “It was good to meet you, Shannon. Don’t let Senior Chief screw you over, you hear? If he does, you come tell me. I’ll sort him out.”
“You can’t even sort your taxes,” I laugh.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Shannon replies, reaching down to collect her handbag.
Shannon and I head outside, the din of the bar dissipating. The night air’s cool. I take off my jacket and wrap it around Shannon’s shoulders. “Better?”
“Thanks,” she nods.
A plane takes off in the distance, a red streak across the sky.
“Do you need help getting home?” I offer.
She looks down between her feet, suddenly sheepish. “I can get a taxi. It’s fine.”
I take out my keys. “I’ve only had two beers in six hours. I insist.”
“Alright,” she agrees.
I place my hand lightly on her back and direct her towards the parking lot. Even this lightest of touches is serious cock torture. It strains in my pants desperate to be released.
A military bar this might be, but that doesn’t mean it’s free of scum. I’m not going to let anything happen to Shannon on my watch—not now, not fucking ever.
I help Shannon into my four-wheel-drive before heading to the driver’s side and starting it up.
I head out onto the highway. In the small space of the cabin I can smell her, that intoxicating scent she wears so naturally. I want to bury my face between her legs and lap it up. “How’s work? That boss of yours giving you any more grief?”
Shannon looks to me, her eyes glinting as the highway lights rush past. “Actually, he was on my case today about another, supposed incomplete file, but I stood up to him.”
“You did?” I don’t mean for it to sound like surprise.
“I told him the file wasn’t incomplete; the available information I had to work with was. I said if he had a problem with that he should give me better resources.”
“Wow, I’m proud of you,” I say, and I am.
She’s smiling, staring out the windscreen. “Yeah, it felt good… not being helpless, you know? In fact, I felt kind of elated. I still do.”
I don’t know if it’s a hint or not, but I’m happy to take it all the same.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHANNON
“Here we are,” I huff. “Home, sweet home.”
Gabe looks across me at the house. “Wow, you’re lucky to get a property of that size so close to the city. What’s the rent like?”
“It was my father’s house, actually,” I reply.
I see Gabe take in the tense. “Right.”
I swallow hard. I shouldn’t be this nervous, but there’s a hot, insatiable need building inside me that’s going to burn me alive if I don’t take action. “Would you like to come in for a moment?”
Gabs nods casually. “I’d love to.”
I fish out my keys at the doorstep, opening the door and stepping inside to various calls from the back.
“Your friends?” asks Gabe.
“More like kids. Once they hear the key in the lock, they go wild.”
I stand there flustered. The top of the house is a disaster.
Says the clean freak.
“Why don’t we go downstairs?” I offer.
Gabe’s right behind me. “Sure.”
He follows me down into the lower level of the house where Dad’s den used to be. Dad set up a bar on the side, even had a neon sign made reading ‘The Zoo’ across the top of it.
I see Gabe take it in.
“I know, all these ‘The’ bars lately. It’s weird. Whatever happened to old-fashioned bar names like Gaston’s or Gallow’s End?” I suggest. My mouths yapping away with whatever comes into my head. I’m a mess.
“I don’t think those are real bars,” laughs Gabe, “but ‘Shannon’s’ has a nice ring to it.”
I don’t even catch that, too busy looking across the labels of the bottles on the wall. “I’m not sure how old this stuff is, but would you like a drink?”
That’s the way, Shan. Booze him up so he won’t be able to get it up.
Somehow I doubt erectile dysfunction is going to be an issue…
Easy now. You’re still on first base, remember?
Gabe remains standing in the middle of the room. “I’m good, thanks.”
Damn. I was hoping it would give my hands something to do other than flit and flap around like an inflatable man.
I see Gabe pause by the small shelf next to the bar. He points to the framed picture of Dad. “Your father?”
I come up beside him, thankful for the conversation starter. “He looked pretty good in a uniform, didn’t he?” I direct Gabe’s attention to the Medal of Honor on the next shelf down. “He was injured in combat, though he passed away years later.”
Gabe takes it in. “Were you close?”
I push that rock in my throat back down. “We were.”
“It sounds like he was a great man.”
“He was.”
Gabe nods to the medal. “They don’t just hand these things out like candy, you know. Any man who has received one of these has my respect.”
I smile. It’s natural. “He would have liked you.”
“Because I’m a SEAL?”
“Because you’re good to me.”
Gabe laughs. “Am I? I’ve pulled you into a crazy lie.”
“And I’m going along with it… willingly.”
Gabe smiles back just as another squawk-fest starts upstairs. He looks up. “You raising some sort of hell-beast up there?”
“It’s just the kids. They’re always hungry.”
“Are we talking teenagers or animals here?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?” I smirk.
“I was a teenager once, you know.”
“With a copy of Playboy under your bed?”
He gives another laugh. “It was a copy of Soldier of Fortune, actually.”
“Wow, so even back then you knew what you wanted to be?”
Gabe looks back to the medal. “They make it seem glamorous, to pull you in.”
“And it’s not?”
“It has its moments, but expectation rarely lives up to reality.” He’s looking back to me as he says it. I’m not sure if there’s an implied message there, but I clear my throat and start to head to the stairs.
“Want to meet the kids?”
“So, we are getting serious.”
I’m walking back up the stairs feeling like a child myself about to show the cool new kid across the road my room.
Whoa there, sister. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
And there it goes again. My brain’
s become a dirty old man. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex—that’s all it thinks about these days.
You know very well why, and here’s your chance. It’s right there behind you—all six foot of muscly, manly goodness. Sprinkle it with sugar and dig in.
I roll my eyes at myself, leading Gabe into the sunroom down the back—more of a ‘night room’ now given the sun set hours ago.
I switch on the light.
Gabe takes a step back in surprise.
“Don’t worry. They don’t bite.”
“Do you?” he jokes.
He stops by Aragog first. “Who’s this guy?”
I’ve seen grown men practically dive out the window meeting Aragog for the first time, but Gabe doesn’t seem to mind.
I move up beside Gabe, can smell him, feel the warmth of his body brushing against my side. “That’s Aragog.”
“You’re a Harry Potter fan?”
“Isn’t everyone?”
He moves onto the lovebirds’ enclosure. “Wow, these two are living large. This thing’s bigger than my apartment.”
“They enjoy the room.”
“What species are they?”
“Lovebirds,” I reply. “Pikachu and Ash.”
He peers in at them. “Nice to meet you, feathered Pokémon people.”
“They’re inseparable.”
He looks at me, his sapphire eyes aglow. “I see.”
There’s scratching at the door. I unlock it to let Tripod in.
Gabe crouches down and scoops him up.
I’m shocked. Did he just do that?
Amazingly, Tripod goes to him easily, curling up in his arms. I’ve never seen Tripod do that before. Normally he’s terrified of people.
“He likes you,” I note.
Gabe examines him. “What happened to his leg?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. The vet thinks a car maybe. We don’t know for sure.”
Gabe smiles at the furry creature he’s cradling. “Let’s just call it a war wound, hey, buddy?” He places him down gently on the floor.
“Percy, my crested gecko, is outside,” I continue, but he gets real lazy come nightfall. He’ll be out there somewhere.”
I turn and undo the latch on the gliders’ cage, scooping them out. “And these two little guys are Buffy and Angel.”