by R. R. Banks
“That's what I keep asking,” I say. “But you know Brooke. She likes being the one in charge.”
“True enough.”
Dana stands up and leans over, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. “Call me later, okay? We should do dinner this week.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“And think about what we talked about.”
“What you talked about,” I correct her and laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, semantics,” she smiles back. “Seriously though, think about it.”
I snap her a quick salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”
“Love you, bitch,” she says.
“Love you too, whore,” I reply, completing our little ritual – a ritual we'd had since high school.
I sit back in my seat and think about things. Am I really all that different from James? I have my own routines and rituals – just as he does. Sure, I don't schedule out our sex down to the very last minute and prefer to have a little spontaneity in some things – but, truth be told, there is some comfort in the expected. The familiar. At least with the expected and familiar, you don't find yourself getting smacked upside the head by something out of the blue.
That line of thinking of course, inevitably leads me to think of him.
And although there is still a dull ache back in the deep recesses of my heart when I think of him, it's nothing like it used to be. I've learned to cope a lot better than I knew how to before. Now, there is a whole lot of anger mixed in with the sorrow.
But, thinking about – him – isn't doing me any good or serving any purpose. I push those thoughts back into the box where they belong and lock them up in the attic of my mind – that place where all of the dark and depressing things are stored – again. Finishing up my coffee, I stand and head out to help my sister at the shop.
Chapter Seven
Caleb
“Dude, you're such a dickbag,” I say and laugh.
“Not my fault,” Tony replies. “You didn't do your homework. Like always.”
I take a drink of my beer and set it back down on the table. We're sitting in McGill's, a bar in Huntington Beach, winding down after having gotten Angel processed and over to lock up, where he'd remain until his trial. Once you jump bail, you don't get a second bite at that apple. Dumbass.
“You could've given me a heads up.”
Tony takes a long swallow of beer and nods. “Yeah, I could've,” he says. “But then, we wouldn't have this awesome story of you getting your ass whooped by a ninety-pound girl.”
“A ninety-pound girl with a frying pan and a home run swing like Barry goddamn Bonds,” I reply.
Tony shrugs. “But still, a ninety-pound girl.”
“Fuck off,” I laugh and take a drink of my beer.
The crowd in McGill's is loud and lively – typical of the place on a Saturday night. Though the large crowd of obnoxious as hell frat boy types annoys me, I can't help but admire the crowd of sexy sorority girl types that come with them. The atmosphere is filled with electricity, the sound of laughter and music, and of course, the aroma of expectation.
Most of the guys who come into McGill's are looking to go home with somebody by the end of the night. It is a well-known hook up joint in Huntington. Which is why I particularly liked the place.
“How's your arm?” Tony asks.
I flex it and rub the spot she'd clocked me with the frying pan and smirk. “I've had worse,” I say. “But I'm telling you, with a swing like that, that chick could probably play DH for any club in the Majors.”
Tony chuckles and shakes his head. “You know, if you'd read the file, you would've seen that Angel had a girlfriend with a temper.”
“Or, you could've just told me,” I repeat.
“Now, where would the fun in that be?”
“Asshole,” I smirk at him as I take a drink of my beer.
I look around the bar and notice a small group of girls clustered together at a nearby table. They're laughing and giggling, a couple of them looking over at Tony and me. Obviously checking us out. They're cute. Early twenties, long hair, tight bodies, perky tits – this would probably be too easy. Tony and I are big, fit, muscular guys. We're in great shape and I'd go so far as to say, we're pretty good looking.
And when the chicks find out we're Marines and ex-Special Forces, they usually can't get their panties off fast enough. God Bless America. I should be ashamed to say it's a card I've played to get laid on plenty of occasions – but I'm really not all that ashamed about it.
“You ever going to settle down?” Tony asks, noticing the group of girls checking us out.
I laugh. “Please,” I say. “Why in the hell would I do something stupid like that?”
Tony smirks and I give him a lopsided grin and a shrug of the shoulders.
“No offense, man,” I say. “Marriage looks good on you, bro.”
He laughs. “Yeah, you should probably stop digging and quit while you're already behind.”
“All I mean is, I'm not the marrying type,” I say and nod toward the girls. “I mean, how in the hell can I pass that up?”
Tony takes a long sip of his beer and looks at me. “You know,” he says, setting his bottle back down, “you're one of the bravest assholes I know.”
I tap my bottle against his. “Damn right.”
“You'll charge your ass into the middle of a firefight without a second thought or hesitation,” he says. “And yet, whenever the subject of marriage – or hell, even a committed relationship – comes up, you turn white as a fuckin' ghost, man.”
I laugh. “That's bullshit.”
Tony shrugs. “Just tellin' you what I see, man.”
I look over at the girls and give them a smile and a nod. “All I'm seeing right now is a couple sweet pieces of ass,” I say. “And if you're not going to take one for a spin, I may just need to take 'em both out for a ride.”
He laughs again. “Hey, I'm not judging,” he says. “Just making an observation. But I've known you a while now and it just seems like you have some sort of aversion to anything that lasts more than a night or two.”
“Life is a wonderful buffet, my man,” I reply. “And I want to sample everything before I die.”
“Well, you certainly do seem to be making your way down the menu,” he says. “Seriously though, haven't you ever thought about settling down?”
I finish the last of my beer and signal the bartender for another round. “Not really,” I reply. “Not really my style.”
The truth is, there was one time in my life when I could actually picture myself settling down and being happy. But that was a long time ago in a completely different lifetime. That day had passed and I had no desire to revisit it. My life is different now. And I'm enjoying the hell out of doing what I do. And as the girls flash me a shy little smile, I smile back, enjoying who I'm doing it with.
Tony shrugs. “Fair enough,” he says and looks at his watch. “Speaking of which though, I should probably get my ass home.”
I laugh. “Just one of the many reasons I'll never get married, bro,” I say. “I don't like curfews.”
“Yeah well, it's really not so bad once you get used to it,” he replies. “It's actually kinda nice to come home to the same person.”
I give him a mischievous smirk. “I'm sure it is,” I say. “But it's not nearly as nice as banging two sorority girls and never having to see them again.”
He laughs. “Well then, happy hunting,” he says. “And thanks for the backup tonight. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, man,” I say and shake his hand. “I mean it. Anytime. I've got your back.”
“I know you do,” he says. “And I got yours.”
Tony walks out of the bar, leaving me alone. The brunette watches him go and I can see that she's bummed out. She'd obviously been hoping to hook up with him. But the blonde gives her a nudge and they walk over to where I'm sitting. I turn to face them as they stand there, smiling.
“I'm Kayla,” says the
blonde. “This is my friend Michelle.”
“So, is your friend coming back?” Michelle asks.
I give her a small smile. “He actually had to go home,” I say. “To his wife.”
I can see the regret in her eyes, but I can also see that she would have screwed him knowing he was married anyway.
“That's too bad,” Michelle says.
“But hey,” I say, “I'm still here. Nothing saying the three of us can't have a drink or two together.”
“Nothing at all,” Kayla says, her smile mischievous. “Sounds fun to me.”
They sit down next to me and although Michelle looks a little more hesitant than Kayla, I can tell that she's game for it. My kind of girls. I wave to the bartender to get us a round of drinks and then turn to them, already counting down the minutes until I can get them out of the bar and into a hotel room.
“So, you were in the military, huh?” Kayla asks me.
I nod. “Twelve years in the Corps,” I answer. “Ten of them in Force Recon.”
“What's Force Recon?” Michelle asks.
I give her a smile. “Special forces.”
“Kinda like Navy SEALS or something?” Kayla asks.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Cool,” they respond in unison.
I can already tell their panties are halfway off. Now, it's just a matter of sealing the deal. Usually, throwing a few war stories out to them did the trick. There's something about war stories that seem to charm the panties right off the ladies. Don't know what it is and don't really care, actually. It does the trick and that's all that really matters to me.
The bartender sets three shots of tequila down in front of me and I hand one to each of the girls. Taking my shot glass, I raise it up.
“What are we drinking to tonight, ladies?” I ask.
“New experiences,” Kayla says, giving me a salacious little smile.
“What do you think, Michelle?” I ask. “New experiences?”
She hesitates for a moment before looking at me, a devilish grin tugging at her mouth. “Absolutely.”
“Excellent,” I say.
We toast each other and then down our shots. I'm in the process of signaling for another round when I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the caller ID, recognizing the number instantly. And it sends a jolt through me.
“Sorry, ladies,” I say. “I've got to take this. I'll be right back, okay? Just sit tight and have a couple of drinks.”
I step away from the bar and answer the call. “Hold on,” I say. “I need to get somewhere I can hear you.”
I walk out of the bar and walk down the sidewalk a little ways, trying to get away from all of the music and noise.
“Mikey,” I say into the phone. “Long time, man. How goes it?”
“I'm good, man. It has been a long time,” he says.
I don't know what it is, but I know he's about to deliver some bad news. I can sense it. Hear the slight flutter in his voice maybe. I can't explain it, but just like I know when I'm not alone in a house, I know when somebody's about to drop some bad news on me.
“So, how you been, brother?” I ask.
“Been good,” he replies. “Wife, kids, all good.”
“That's good, man. But I know this isn't a social call. I can hear it in your voice,” I say. “So, go ahead and lay it on me. What's going on up there?”
I hear him sigh. “It's Rick, man,” he says. “He's – he died, Caleb.”
Although I knew he was delivering bad news, I hadn't expected – that. The news hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut and left me winded for a moment.
“You okay, Caleb?”
“How?” I asked. “How did it happen?”
“Car accident,” Mikey replied. “He got clipped by a drunk driver.”
“When?”
“Couple of days ago,” he says. “Cassie wants you to be a pallbearer.”
I looked up to the sky and felt my head spinning. Death is a part of life – and God knows I've seen my share of death. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. But when it's somebody close to you, no, you never really get used to it.
“Will you come?” Mikey asks. “Come be a pallbearer at Rick's funeral?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, “Of course. Tell Cassie I'll be there.”
“I'll email you the details,” Mikey says. “Just let me know your flight information and we'll have somebody waiting to pick you up.”
“It's okay,” I say. “I'll grab a rental. I'd rather be able to drive around on my own.”
“Cool,” he replies. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but it'll be good to see you again.”
“Yeah, you too man,” he says.
I disconnect the call and sit down on the curb, staring off into the darkness of the ocean across the street. I've lost a lot of people in my life – war does that. But very few who are as close to me as Rick is – was.
“Shit,” I say.
I stand up and walk back to my car lost in memory, all thoughts of the girls inside gone. I'm just not in the mood anymore.
Chapter Eight
I step out of the SeaTac airport and make my way to the rental car lot. There's a nervous flutter in my stomach as I realize I'm back in Seattle and headed back to my hometown – a place I'd put in my rearview mirror a long time ago. A place I'd vowed I'd never set foot in again.
Yeah, death has a way of fucking up even the best laid plans.
It's not that I have all bad memories of growing up in Sheridan Falls – there are some good ones too. Unfortunately, the bad outweighed the good and one conversation a long time ago was all it took to make me realize I needed to go. Needed to move on.
Deep down, I know that what he said to me was all shit I already knew. He simply confirmed it for me. Convinced me that it would be in everybody's best interest if I just – disappeared. He convinced me that nobody would miss me and my disappearance would go unremarked upon. That I was nothing and had nothing to offer the town of Sheridan Falls.
Of course, the fact that the conversation was had with the father of my girlfriend at the time – a man who hated me to his very core – should have made me think twice about leaving. Should have – well, it should have done a lot of things. Set off a lot of bells in my head.
But the truth of the matter is that I was in a bad place. I was – vulnerable. Hell, maybe I was even looking for a reason to get out. To start somewhere new. Fresh. To be somebody different. God knows my home life sucked. I had two drunks for parents – a father that regularly kicked the shit out of me and had a reputation as a no-good drunk around town. And a mother who not only didn't give a damn about her husband kicking the shit out of me, but had a reputation around town of her own – she was the town whore. Of course.
My lovely mother had been responsible for the breakup of a couple of marriages I knew about because she didn't really care who she slept with or the consequences of doing it. Not that my father was any better about screwing around. About the only thing that could be said for him was that at least, he didn't actively pursue married women.
So yeah, I came from a real white trash family. And my girlfriend's dad only confirmed those things I believed about myself. Those things that deep down, I always feared were true. I did my best to be different – I got decent grades, played sports, had a lot of friends. I tried to be – normal. But I was never able to outrun the shadow my family's reputation cast over me.
So, I'd taken what he'd said to heart and left quietly in the middle of the night. I'd just turned eighteen, enlisted in the Corps and the rest is history, more or less.
There are very few people I kept in contact with after leaving Sheridan Falls. Rick is – was – one of the few. He'd been my closest friend in high school and I probably spent more time at his house than I did my own. His family knew my situation and they treated me like one of their own – and never made me feel strange or bad about it.
Rick was the o
ne person I always confided in. The guy I knew I could spill my guts to and never have to worry about it being used against me. There are only a few regrets I have about leaving Sheridan Falls, leaving everything and everybody behind, and he's one of them.
And now he's gone.
I've been so lost in thought, the hour and a half trip from SeaTac to the outskirts of Sheridan Falls passed in the blink of an eye. I've been gone a long time, but somehow, some way, I found my way back without having to think about it too hard. Apparently, some memories never fade – no matter how hard you try to scrub them from your mind.
I turn off the main highway and followed the directions on my GPS. There's a stop I need to make before I get into town.
It doesn't take long before I come to the site of the accident – a narrow stretch of road with thick forest on either side. Miller's Road. Flowers, candles, stuffed animals, and a wide array of personal gifts are gathered in a cluster on the side of the road. I pull off the road and stop the car. Staring through the windshield, I look at the colorful display. A lot of people paid tribute to Rick. Rightly so. He was a stand-up guy. One of the best I ever knew. And I'm going to miss the hell out of him.
With a sigh and a heavy heart, I get out of the car and walk over to the memorial display. There are pictures, handwritten notes, and little mementoes that marked Rick's life. I sit down next to the display and pull a flask out of my pocket. Twisting off the top, I raise it high.
“I'm going to miss you, brother,” I say.
I take a long pull of the liquor, wincing as it burns its way down my throat. It's a cheap whiskey – not my usual drink of choice anymore. But it's what we used to drink back in the day, so it seemed only fitting to imbibe the cheap old stuff. I smile at the memories that come floating to the surface of my mind.
I've seen Rick a bunch of times over the years I've been gone from Sheridan Falls. We kept in touch and met up somewhere to hang out more than a few times. Even into adulthood, we remained as close as we'd been back in high school. Losing Rick is leaving a huge fucking hole in my heart.
“That's a little disrespectful, ain't it?” he says, shattering my reverie. “Drinking to honor somebody who died in a drunk driving accident?”