Dirty SEAL (A Navy SEAL Romance) (The Maxwell Family)

by Alycia Taylor

  “I need to get out of here. I’m thinking about scoring. Text me your address.”

  A few minutes later, she did.

  Chapter Two

  Elly

  I woke up to the buzzing of my phone. I groggily reached over to find it on my nightstand and my hand bumped into the picture of my boyfriend…my dead boyfriend. I was tired of him judging me. He died because he had no self-control. I’d spent months making that my problem. I grabbed the picture and slammed it down flat. Then I finally grabbed of the phone. It was a text from Tristan. It said that he was thinking about scoring. I sat up and text him my address. Then I sat the phone down and wiped the sleep out of my eyes.

  Realizing that I was hungry and Tristan might be too when he got there, I decided to cook some breakfast before he came over. I got up and went into the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth and pulled my hair back into a ponytail at the nape of my neck. I had on a t-shirt and panties, but it was hot in the apartment; Susie hadn’t turned off the heat before she left for work. I turned it down. I’d get dressed before Tristan got there.

  I went out to the kitchen and pulled out the stuff to make pancakes. While I was mixing the batter, my phone rang. I was afraid for a second that Tristan had changed his mind and he’d decided on getting high instead. I had worried for no reason though: it was my mom.

  “Hi, Mom,” I answered as I poured the batter by spoonful’s onto the griddle.

  “Hi, Sweetheart, how are you?”

  I was holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder. “I’m good. I was just making breakfast. I have chorus later this morning.”

  “Mm, what are you making?” she asked.

  “Pancakes and eggs,” I said.

  “That sounds good. Is Susie having breakfast with you?”

  “No, my friend…” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

  “Your friend who?”

  “A guy that I’m sort of seeing is coming over….”

  “You’re seeing someone? That’s great, honey. Your father and I have been so worried about you since…well, anyways, you’re a young, beautiful girl and I’m glad you’re getting back out there.”

  “Thanks, Mom. It’s just dating for now…” I still had guilt over the worry I put them through when my boyfriend died and I got into drugs.

  “You’re making breakfast for him. He didn’t spend the night, did he?” she went on to say.

  I rolled my eyes. I knew she worried, but she also still thought I was twelve sometimes. “No, Mom. He’s not even here yet.”

  “I’d like to meet him. Your father and I are coming out for your concert.” I could hear the curiosity in her voice.

  “No, Mom. We’re really not there yet. It would probably scare him off. We’ve barely started dating.” I changed the subject by asking her if she’d been watching the show.

  “We watch it religiously. I think Tristan’s going to win. Your father was sure that blonde girl…Brooke? I think that was her name. He was sure she was going to win. He thinks she must have been sick or something that last performance because she did so poorly. I wondered if maybe it was the sound system or something. Tristan seemed to have a bad time that same night.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a lot of pressure for them,” I told her. “It’s actually pretty grueling work to have to be on that much. Tell Daddy that I heard Brooke already got offered a contract, so don’t feel too bad for her.”

  “What about you, honey? They don’t work you too hard, do they? You still have time for your school work and yourself without having to stress too much? I don’t want you making yourself sick.” Oh, mom.

  “Yeah, I’m doing fine. I like the job a lot. Everything else is good, too. I’ve been doing well in all of my classes. I’m healthy as a horse.”

  “Did you meet your new boy at school?” I thought it was hilarious how she kept referring to him as a boy. Tristan would love that. I couldn’t tell her who he was though…at least not yet. She would worry herself sick.

  “No, Mom, I met him through work,” I told her. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “How old is he?” Oh, mother!

  “He’s twenty-eight.”

  “Twenty-eight? He’s quite a bit older than you…” I had known that was coming.

  “It’s only six years, Mom. Please don’t worry; I’m only dating him for now anyways, barely.”

  “Okay,” she said, but she didn’t sound like she wasn’t going to worry.

  “What day are you and Daddy going to be here for the show?”

  “Since it’s on a Friday, we thought we’d come on Thursday and stay through the weekend. Don’t worry though; we’ve already made hotel reservations. We won’t pile in on you and Susie. Your father and I can’t wait to hear you sing in the concert. Oh! Why don’t you invite your new boy to the show? He can hear your angel voice and we can meet him.” There was a knock on my door. Tristan must have left his house as soon as he texted me. He’d gotten there really fast.

  “Oh! Someone’s knocking on the door, Mom…”

  I pulled it open and Tristan looked me up and down with a raised eyebrow. I still had my mother on the line when he said, “Do you always answer the door in your underwear?”

  “Hey, Mom, I have to go.”

  “Is everything okay?” I was pretty sure she heard his comment. She was getting better at practicing her self-control.

  I laughed, “Everything is fine, Mom. Please stop worrying. I love you. Kiss Daddy for me.”

  “We love you, too.”

  I disconnected the call and said, “Come on in before my neighbors see me.”

  He stepped in with a grin and said, “I figured since you answered the door that way, they’d seen it all before.”

  I had to take him by the arm and physically pull him in. I think he was hoping someone would see me, maybe as payback for the night he ran naked after me. Once I had him inside I said, “I got a phone call and didn’t realize how much time was passing. I planned on getting dressed…”

  “I’m not complaining,” he said. He stepped forward and grabbing my ass with both hands, he pulled me against his chest. “It makes you look like you’re ready to fuck. Since I’m always ready…that’s a good thing.”

  I pushed back from him and said, “No, Tristan! I have a class soon. I thought you needed to talk. I made breakfast.”

  He looked pissed. That was just fine. How dare he tell me he was in trouble just to get over here and get me in bed? Being his sex toy was getting a little old.

  “Okay then, let’s eat,” he said. I should have known he didn’t want to talk.

  I fixed him a plate and then told him I’d be right back. I went in the bedroom and pulled on my jeans. When I went back out to the kitchen, he looked me up and down again and rolled his eyes. Bastard really did think he was going to come over here and get a piece of ass under the guise of needing to talk.

  I fixed my own plate and sat down. After several minutes of silence I said, “So what’s going on?”

  He shrugged and said, “Nothing, really.”

  “I thought you wanted to…”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said, cutting me off.

  Then don’t fucking text me and say you do. I thought it, but I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t want to argue with him.

  The rest of our breakfast was basically silent. When he finished eating he got up and went over to the sink and rinsed off his plate. I found that a little bit amusing, considering the state his apartment was always in.

  “Thanks,” I told him, doing the same with mine. “I don’t want to be rude, but if you’re really fine, I have to get to my chorus class. We have a concert coming up.”

  “You sing?” he asked me.

  “In a group,” I said.

  “Are you any good?” he asked.

  “I’m okay. Anyways, I need to get there so…”

  “I’ll take you,” he said, quickly.

  “No, it’s o
kay. I can drive.”

  “I’m sure you can,” he said. “Let me take you. Don’t you want a ride on the bike?”

  “Really, it’s okay….”

  “Fine!” he looked pissed again. His moods were hard to keep up with.

  “Okay, don’t get mad. I just didn’t want to put you out. If it’s not an inconvenience, I’ll take a ride.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “I’m going to get ready. You can have a seat in the living room.”

  “Okay,” he said. He stayed in the kitchen, though, and after I got ready and came back out, I was shocked to see that he had cleaned it up.

  “Wow! Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

  He shrugged again and said, “Are you ready?”

  He was likely the most frustrating man on earth. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  On the way to the school, I held onto him for dear life. He drove like a maniac, weaving in and out of traffic. He’d given me the helmet, but it seemed small in comparison to what the asphalt or a two-ton car or truck might do to me. I breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled into the front lot of the university.

  “Is this lot close enough?” he asked. “I can drive you around if you want.”

  “No!” I realized I’d answered too quickly and I said, “No, thank you. This is fine.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips and I could feel him watching me all the way to the door. As I headed down the hall towards the music room I thought about my mother telling me to invite him to the concert and laughed. It wasn’t the sort of thing Tristan and I did together.

  Chapter Three

  Tristan

  It was time for round seven. There were only four of us left and here I was, sober and climbing the fucking walls. I had no fucking clue how I was going to make it through rehab. It had only been a couple of days and I already felt like I was crawling out of my fucking skin. I guess that was further proof that I was the “A” word, but I didn’t want to think about that. All I really needed was one toke, or two, and it would take the edge off of the anxiety that felt like it was crushing my fucking chest--even a beer would have worked, or maybe two. I couldn’t sit in that room, listening to the other three talk about how they were so happy for all of us and at this point it really didn’t matter who won. Fuck that! Maybe it didn’t matter to them. Maybe they weren’t nearly thirty years old and about to be homeless. It fucking mattered to me, but my thoughts were racing and my skin was crawling and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that shit without at least a hit of something.

  “Are you okay?” It was Elly. I was out in the hallway, pacing, and she’d stuck her head out the door to check on me, I guess. There were a group of techies and shit coming towards us down the hall and they’d heard her ask me that like I was fucking ten years old and needed a mother. I don’t know why women thought just because you were fucking them, it gave them the right to put their nose in the rest of your business.

  “I’m fine. I’d be better if you’d shut the fuck up and leave me alone,” I told her. It sounded ugly when it came out of my mouth and she looked like she’d been punched right in the face.

  The other people in the hall stopped talking all at once. Elly just then realized they were there. Looking mortified, she went back inside the other room. I looked over at the little group and they were all staring at me. Finally I threw my arms up and said,

  “What? Fuck!” That got rid of them. I didn’t give a shit what these people thought of me. They were not living my life. They had no fucking clue what I’d been going through. When one of them has to stop using the only thing that makes them sane most days and they are looking at being locked in a fucking rehab and talked to like they were a twelve-year-old moron, then they could judge me.

  When it was finally my turn, Elly sent her little friend out to get me. I guess she was afraid I’d yell at her again.

  “Tristan, you’re up,” she said. She was judging me too, I’m sure, but I didn’t give a fuck about her, either. I pushed past her and as I walked into the contestant room; I suddenly felt like everything was out of focus. I felt exhausted and my whole body was aching. Fuck! I couldn’t go out on stage like that; I’d never make it through my set. I grabbed a bottle of water off the table and opened it. Then, I poured it over my head. I knew they were all looking at me, but I had to get some control before I went out there. We were live and I was a fucking mess. I smacked my face in my hands, took a deep breath and ran out on stage. The lights felt like they were beating down on me, scorching my skin, and the fucking judges were looking at me like they had something to say about me delaying the show. I signaled to the band to start up before they could. I wanted to tell them to fuck off in front of ninety million people.

  I tried to let the music guide me. I played to the audience, bouncing from one side to the other as I sang. The girls were yelling for me and everyone was clapping along. I felt good—finally. It was all I needed. I was playing to my audience and rocking out and I felt great! I’d just needed to get that nervous energy that was bottled up inside of me out. When the song was over, I went back to center stage and waited for the judges to have their moment in the spotlight.

  Diva went first, “I loved your energy, baby. That was great….but the vocals tonight, sweetie, not so good.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I gave her a look. She thought she could say whatever she wanted, and as long as she added in a baby or two, that made it okay. She didn’t know when to quit either. She went on to say, “I’m being nice, baby. I can tell that what I’m saying upsets you, but I don’t want you to get eliminated, so I hope you’re taking this all to heart.”

  I was going to tell her what I thought, but before I could open my mouth, the country star had his say. “She’s right, Tristan. The energy was great and when it was just you and the music, I wanted to get up and dance. But your vocals were way off. You sounded like you couldn’t get your breath….”

  “Got it!” I said, dismissing him and looking at the last judge: the asshole that got his rocks off by making people feel like shit.

  “I hope you’re not expecting anything different from me, Tristan. Your dancing and playing to the audience was fine, but that didn’t disguise the fact that your voice sounded like crap. You didn’t get enough sleep, or….I don’t know what it is. I do know that a better attitude would also do you wonders.” I didn’t need this cunt telling me what I needed. That was where I lost it.

  “You all act like you know so fucking much!” I knew this wasn’t good, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You,” I said, pointing at Diva, “you were washed up back in the nineties. You think some Botox and a boob job will make you famous again? You’re wrong. And you,” I said to the country boy, “you’re a fucking nasal-ass country singer. What the fuck do you know about my kind of music? Don’t they have some hillbilly show that you can be the judge of?”

  I was about to start in on the last son of a bitch when the host came over and said, “Tristan, you need to stop. We’ve gone to commercial but they saw most of that live before we did. You need to get it together.”

  “Fuck you! You don’t want to know what I think of you. Fuck all of you!” I threw down the mike and stormed off the stage.

  Everyone’s faces looked like they were in shock. Just because they went around being all fucking politically correct and kissing ass, didn’t mean that I had to. I passed Elly in the other room and she said, “Tristan, what are you doing? You’re going to blow this! I know you don’t want that.” Fuck her too!

  “Whatever!” I said as I brushed past her.

  I threw my guitar against the wall in the hallway. That was a fucking stupid move, but my thoughts weren’t exactly rational at the moment. I stormed out of the building, climbed on my bike, and drove down to Sunset Ave. I found my guy, right where I knew he would be and spent twenty-five of my last hundred dollars on a gram of coke and some weed.

  I took it and headed back to my place. When I got inside the door, I was past noti
cing how clean it still was. My hands were shaking as I found the mirror and my blade and tapped out the beautiful white powder. I sat down and started chopping it. Just one line was all I would need and then a couple of hits off the bong—that I threw away…fuck! I could find something to roll it in. If not, an aluminum can would do. I couldn’t feel like that all the time—and fuck Elly and everyone else if they didn’t get it. I couldn’t even think straight. I’d just had a shit fit in front of nine million people. How the hell was I supposed to live like that? Everyone had their vices, right? This was mine. I was an adult, and if that is how I wanted to relax, it was my own fucking business.

  I got the coke cut down and then I made a line. I had to go dig through the kitchen drawers to find a straw, and when I finally did, I cut it in half. When I sat back down at the table, my phone buzzed. Shit! I looked at it; it was a text from Elly.

  “Please don’t do anything you’ll regret. I’m here for you if you need me.”

  Such a fucking Pollyanna! She thought she has a clue what I was going through. She had no idea. I heard her talking to her mother on the phone. Her mom sounded like fucking Carol Brady. Anyone raised like that couldn’t possibly understand. She probably smoked a joint or two and panicked and then checked herself into rehab. I would have bet she was never really addicted to anything in her life.

  Shit! I slammed my hand down on the table and the line I’d just painstakingly created was suddenly all over the place. I hated that shit. I couldn’t keep doing it…letting shit control me. I was not that fucking weak. I was not the kind of pussy who couldn’t live or think or be creative without a crutch. It wasn’t about Elly and what she wanted, or that fucking show and what those people wanted; it was about me and what I needed. I picked up the mirror and the vial and the baggie of weed and took them into the bathroom. I flushed it all and threw the mirror into the trashcan.

  I looked at myself in the mirror then. My eyes were sunken and my face was really thin. I hadn’t been able to eat; I always felt sick to my stomach. I was a fucking mess. Shit! I slammed my hand into the mirror on the wall.