Hot Rocket

by Stowe, Dani

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he blurts and barges in as I did earlier. “You okay?” he asks eyeballing me then Keiko, who looks rather frazzled. “Is this grunt bothering you again?”

  “She’s fine,” I say.

  “I’m fine,” Keiko agrees.

  We all pause. There’s an awkward silence until Fucks-it-Nicely interrupts it. “Are we still on for lunch?” he asks Keiko.

  “Um...yeah. I’m pretty hungry,” she claims and pulls her hair into a ponytail.

  What. The. Hell!

  Now I feel like a dumbass and Fucks-It-Nicely knows it as he winks. I don’t understand. I was about to bang her and she’s immediately going to ditch me for this guy? I’m vexed and I feel my face heating up.

  Keiko notices. “Jet, you’re getting red. Please. Let me explain.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to him,” replies Captain Foskett.

  I’m boiling again. “You know, sir, I did not realize what a handsome fucker you are.”

  “A lot better looking than you,” he says and Keiko steps in between us so I nudge her out of the way because the last thing I want is for her to get hurt and I step up to Foskett.

  “Well, you should be since your face is still intact as no one was holding you back last night while I took the sucker punches.”

  “Fuck you, that was a fair fight,” Foskett replies as he steps up as well.

  “Stop it!” snaps Keiko. “Jet, you’re in enough trouble as it is.”

  “Why are you fucking telling me?!” I’m seriously confused. She wanted me to meet her here. She asked me to come and I’m pretty sure she was about to let me fuck her hard, but then this guy shows up like a backup and she’s scolding me?

  “Because you’re an asshole,” says Fucks-It-Nicely. “You fucking left her two months ago.”

  I snap. “What the hell are you talking about? We left each other. And what’s it any business of yours?”

  “It’s all my business because I’m the guy that stepped up to take your place.”

  “That’s enough!” cries Keiko. She looks like she’s about to cry as she runs out.

  Fucks-It-Nicely follows her like a nice guy would and I’m left wondering what the hell just happened. I’m so fucking confused.

  Does she want the nice guy? I was that guy and she didn’t care to stay in contact.

  Maybe she wants the bad guy. I nearly brought out the bad guy—the Badass, and she seemed to like that guy a lot more, but now she’s running away and with somebody else!

  I’m not about to chase her. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Maybe Vollmer was right this whole time—maybe she’s not worth it. I’m her fuck toy and that’s it.

  I feel like shit. I need some good advice because I think I’m still in love with her. I don’t want to call my brothers since they would tell me I have to fight for what I want, for her, the way they had to fight for their wives. But I’m in enough trouble as it is. Damn it! I miss Dad, but I need to call somebody. And not just anybody.

  Chapter 6

  “Mama!”

  “Who is this? Bastion?”

  “No, Mama. It’s Jet.”

  “Bastion, where’s your father?” asks my mother on the phone. She sounds more confused than usual today, but at least she’s talking over the phone and not trying to use it as a weapon like the nurses say she does sometimes. Combative behavior, I’m told, is a common side effect of dementia and Alzheimer’s.

  I don’t answer her question; I don’t want to tell her again that her husband—my father, passed away.

  “Mama, I have a problem.”

  “Bastion, where is your brother, Gunner? Is he spying on Mrs. Martinez again?”

  I laugh.

  “And where’s Jet?”

  “Mama, I’m Jet. You’re talking to me right now.”

  “That little boy, I tell you, Bastion. You’d better keep an eye on him. If I get another phone call about Jet and his antics, it’s going to break my heart. I really wish I could spank that boy, but your daddy and I swore we’d never lay a hand on any of you; you’d all been through enough abuse to last a few lifetimes. If Jet keeps up with hurtin’ neighbors’ kids,” she sighs, “somebody is going to hurt him back real bad and I fear for him. He’s the baby, Bastion. You need to do what you need to do to keep him safe, even if that means from himself.”

  I swallow my pride for a minute. It hurts to hear my mother talk about me like this. We made things hard on them—always in trouble, always tearing up the neighborhood, and probably making them look bad to the neighbors in the process. But they never spanked us. I had no idea they thought about it, but they never laid a finger on us, unlike any of our biological parents.

  My real parents. They’re how I learned to hit and take hits. I was a punching bag when I was little before I got adopted. I really thought that was how families were supposed to behave until the state took custody of me. They made me go through all these intervention programs telling me the beatings were wrong and I shouldn’t do it to others.

  But I did. I beat bullies with my fists and my brothers, Bastion and Gunner, were always there. Sometimes they held me back; other times, they had my back, cheering me on. I hated my adoptive brothers at first, but we soon learned to look out for one another. We learned to support each other, trust each other, work in unison to accomplish things together. It was a lot like being in the military. Over time, we became the neighborhood police. We kept kids in line, the neighborhood at peace, and dogs on a leash.

  There was one time, unfortunately, my brothers did not have my back and rightfully so. Peyton Lock, the blue-eyed curly blonde girl from next door, found a baby squirrel and I wanted to see it, but she wouldn’t show it to me. She kept the squirrel wrapped in a white towel and spoke softly and cooed at it.

  I’d never seen a girl, other than my adoptive mother, look so genuinely in love with something so small, like it was something really special. My adoptive mother made me feel very special and I was a little envious of the squirrel. A little spark inside of me made me wonder if Peyton, who was the prettiest girl and supposedly nicest girl in the neighborhood, might coo at me.

  I asked her again if she would show me the little animal, but Peyton refused, saying I was “not a nice boy.” I grew irritated and she asked me to go away. So, I did the most natural thing I could think of—I reached over the fence and I tried to grab the squirrel from her, but she started running. So, I picked up a rock and threw it. It hit her right on the cheek where it made a small gash and she bled.

  Bastion and Gunner came quickly when they heard Peyton crying and my brothers picked me up and dragged me in the house and did the one unthinkable thing I thought they’d never do...they told on me.

  Within a few months, Peyton and her family moved. I felt bad; I knew I was the cause. But I felt worse knowing I had disappointed my father—someone I already respected.

  My mother, on the other hand, told me every day thereafter, to always come to her. She said if I ever had a problem with a girl, no matter what it was, I should always come to her to talk about it.

  But this is the first time I’ve ever chosen to take her up on the offer. I feel a little guilty for calling my mother, knowing not one of her sons has taken her in to live with them and allow her to live out her days in a nursing home. But she made us promise when she first found out her mind was deteriorating we would fulfill our father’s dream to continue his legacy as soldiers and proud sons with the hope we would become loving husbands and fathers one day.

  Our mother picked out her own nursing home—complete with a regular monthly disco night and an outdoor lanai near a river bend, which she said looked much like the one where our father first kissed her decades ago. My mother’s only request was we would never forget who we were before we were adopted. She wanted us to remember our abuse. She even encouraged Bastion to hold onto the steel rod that had been used to break his bones. She wanted us to remember so we would know we always ha
ve a choice. We always have options on how we choose to love—preferably with our hearts and not with our fists.

  “Bastion, are you listening to me?” asks my mother.

  “Mama, this is Jet,” I repeat.

  “Jet? Oh no, is he all red-in-the-face? Bastion, you do know what that means, don’t you?”

  I know I get red, but it’s rare and I’m curious to hear my mother talk about it. “What does it mean when Jet gets red, Mama?”

  “Well, it doesn’t mean that he’s upset. I know that’s what the rest of you boys think, and you’re all fearful of it, but I know what it really means.”

  Wait, what?

  I’m confused. “Mama, what are you talking about?”

  “Jet doesn’t get mad when he’s angry, Bastion.”

  “So, what does Jet’s turning red mean, Mama?”

  “Whoops, I think I just tinkled in my pants. Yoo-hoo, little lady,” my mama sings. I can only guess she’s calling for the nurse.

  “Mama, what does it mean when I’m red-in-the-face?”

  “Bastion, I have to go to go to the restroom. Remember, you are second in command—right after me. Your father thinks he’s in charge, but we both know better. Make sure Gunner brushes his teeth and pay attention if Jet’s cheeks should ever flush remotely pink then report that back to me asap.”

  “Mama, this is Jet. What does it mean when I get red?”

  “Love you, dear.” My mother hangs up and, although I’m more confused on whether I should act on my feelings about Keiko, I do feel a little bit better.

  My brothers and I knew how afraid my mother was when she was diagnosed; we could see it on her face, although she tried hard not to show it. We could see her desperate to hold back tears, trying to be strong for the three of us—afraid to burden and leave us after we’d just lost our father to a heart attack. It was at that moment I knew my mother was the strongest of all of us. My father was a kick-ass, proud, righteous Badass. But my mother—she was the pillar, the strength, and the foundation behind the muscle. My mother was the ideal behind everything my father stood for.

  My shoulders shake as I laugh to myself and think about the conversation I had with Bleau and Vollmer the other day. It’s ridiculous to consider the thought, but it’s probably true—my mother is a sexy chick. She’s the reason a Badass, like my father, and men, like me, go to war.

  I stop laughing when I recognize I am warring with myself. I’m in love with a girl who’s truly a stranger to me; plus, she doesn’t really know me either. The differences between us—it feels like being among my unit after we’ve been dropped in a foreign hostile zone. I’m trained to be there, I know my mission, but the territory is still unfamiliar, so we rely on each other—the unit, to persevere through the unknown. But with Keiko, I have no one to rely on, not even my brothers.

  Gunner is a trustworthy straight-shooter, but he also puts fear in people, as a gunman should. Once he’s got his aim on something, he won’t back down until he’s able to pull the trigger. He would tell me to get a fix on my target and keep going.

  Bastion seems cool on the outside, but internally he harbors explosive devices. Bastion would say to get behind him as he took the lead.

  As for me, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do. Should I stay confined to my dorm room since I’m about to get demoted? I’m also supposed to stay away from the girl I’m in love with—a girl who hours earlier left crying with some other guy.

  I feel hot. I know my cheeks are red and damn it! I wish Mama would’ve told me what it means.

  Fuck it.

  Deep down, I know exactly what I’m supposed to. I’ve just been fighting with myself about it. I need to fix my aim, take the lead, and keep going. Maybe, Keiko will eventually get behind me and love me. But then again, she’s also a soldier. Maybe, I need to get behind her. Be her pillar. Love her.

  Either way, I know one thing for sure—that woman is a sexy chick and I’m going to fight for her.

  Chapter 7

  I awake reminiscing about sex and the scent of Keiko’s strawberry-candied perfume perforating my nostrils.

  Her aroma—I feel like I can almost smell it.

  I dream of Keiko’s neck, painted with my leftover saliva from the last time we made love and I dream of making her neck sloppy wet again with each lick of my tongue.

  Her taste—it’s still at the tip of each taste bud and I remember how it felt to dig my tongue into her open mouth and stroke my tongue slick and heavy against hers.

  Her mouth—I want to plunge into it.

  I recall how it felt to have the tip, just the tip of my dick slip between the outer lips of Keiko’s wet pussy, putting pressure on the gateway as it awaited the order to invade her warm body.

  Her pussy—I’m obsessed. I want to conquer and claim it.

  “Is it too soon?” I remember asking. We had just had sex a few hours earlier. “I don’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable,” I said. “I want this to be nice for you.”

  What the fuck was I thinking?! The girl didn’t want nice. What girl wants nice?

  Keiko huffed, though I didn’t understand her action then. Looking back at our time together those five days, maybe I was a little too nice and not naughty enough. I fucked her hard at times, but I never made her scream. Now that I know she’s a pilot and after what happened in her office, I have no doubt she was hoping to get an adrenaline rush out of me at some point. She’s probably tired of nice guys. The world is expecting her to be with a nice guy, but she’s over the Fucks-It-Nicely types.

  Sure, she liked the guy that I was in the coffee shop and I liked being the nice guy sharing coffee and laughing with her, but she wanted the Badass in bed, which I didn’t give her and that’s why she didn’t care to exchange numbers or stay in contact.

  There’s a pounding at my door that awakens me from my thoughts.

  “Hey Badass!” Vollmer yells as he pounds again.

  “I’m coming!” I say and I throw on a pair of jeans then look at my phone. It’s nine in the morning. “What’s up, man?” I ask as I open the door and see Vollmer with his Instalove girlfriend of fewer than two weeks, Shayna.

  I’m surprised to see Bleau, but even more surprised to see a tiny dark woman with a black curly bob—just as short as Bleau, but super cute with plum cheeks. I have to squint to make sure I’m getting a good look at the two of them. Bleau and this girl, who I’m sure he just met last night, are holding hands.

  “This is Alani,” introduces Bleau and Alani smiles and waves.

  Vollmer smiles, too. “Bleau and I are taking the girls to the hangar to show them the planes. Wanna go?”

  I don’t want to go. I’ll be a fifth wheel. “Nah, man. I’m not supposed to leave my dorm room.”

  “We heard you got in trouble over Captain Matsuura,” says Shayna with a peculiar smile and blushing cheeks. I can’t tell if the smile and rosy cheeks are out of embarrassment for me, since she had encouraged me to meet Keiko, or if the smile is a compliment—I got into a scuffle over a girl for the sake of that girl. “You know, Keiko will be at the hangar, don’t you? Unfortunately, Captain Foskett might be there, too. I heard they’re buddies. Maybe more. But I also heard she prefers grunts, like Alani and me.”

  This feels like déjà vu. I hope Shayna is not the type to get turned on by scuffles because I have no intention of getting into another one.

  I rub my face. Ah, who am I kidding? My cheek doesn’t hurt that bad anymore and I just told myself I was going to fight for the girl I love. If Shayna wants to see a good fight between a captain and a grunt, I’ll put on a good show and hopefully, this time, no one will be holding me back. I’ll bring the Badass that I know Keiko wants and all three girls can watch me kick Fucks-It-Nicely’s ass.

  “Let me get my wallet.” I turn around and I hear the girls giggle. They are hoping to see a fight.

  As I walk through the small kitchen area, the smell of fresh brewing coffee fills my nose once more. I had
it set to brew on automatic this morning and I hate that I’m leaving yet another cup of coffee in the pot; it’s been days since I’ve been caffeinated.

  “Hey, Badass!” yells Vollmer and I leave the pot to head over to the dresser and get a shirt.

  “Hold on. I’m coming,” I shout back. I hear the girls giggling again.

  “Badass!” calls Vollmer again, sounding impatient.

  “Just let me get my shirt on, damn!”

  “I don’t think you’re going to need to,” blurts Shayna, as I hear a knock on the open door.

  I look up and there she is—Keiko in the doorway with my friends making exaggerated funny faces behind her.

  “Jet,” Keiko says to me.

  I walk over to the door, grab her by the arm and yank her inside then slam the door behind her and lock it. I hear my friends calling to me from outside, but I can’t make out a word they’re saying because I don’t give a fuck. I’m so hot. I can’t control myself.

  From behind, I push Keiko into the hard cinderblock wall—her back to me and I reach around to undo her button and fly to her skinny tight jeans.

  “Jet,” she says through her hair in her face.

  I put my mouth to her ear, pushing my head hard against hers. “You fucking piss me off, you know that?”

  “I know,” she says calmly.

  I grab her pussy, digging my fingers hard into the heat seeping out of her center through her stretched jeans but she doesn’t fight me.

  I pull up her shirt then yank up her bra. She clings to the wall as I pull her jeans and her snug black panties down to her thighs.

  I unbutton and unzip my own fly to pull my Instahard dick out above the elastic band of my boxers. “I think you want to piss me off,” I say as I lean the shaft of my cock to push up and down along the crack of her ass cheeks.

  I hear her swallow hard. “Jet, I want to apologize. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I figure we need to talk. I need to explain my friendship with Foskett. In the last week, I really needed someone to talk to and he’s been a great support. But you and I...” she licks her lips. “We had a nice time together two months ago and I regret not keeping in touch, especially since—”