American Bad Boy: A Military Romance

by Eddie Cleveland

  Chris and Chelsea are on their tip-toes, even though there’s no one in front of them to block their view. I’ve never seen them so excited! I knew my son loved football, but didn’t realize that Chelsea was such a fan. With two minutes left in the game, they’re watching the field, unblinking, so they don’t miss a second.

  I’m pressed up against Mack on the bench, and happy to stay here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as red-blooded as every other American. I follow football and yell at my screen every Sunday, just like everyone else. However, right now, I’m a bit more interested in the sexy guy to my left.

  I sneak a peek at Mack and let my eyes wander over his rugged features. His brown hair is tousled just like when we were kids. But that’s where the similarities to the boy I once knew end. Sitting next to me, with tattoos sneaking out from under his white tee is a man. No question. My gaze falls down over his muscles and my mind wanders to how his hard body would feel against mine once I ripped that shirt off him. And those jeans. They’d have to go.

  I glance back at his face and feel my cheeks run hot as Mack watches me, smirking. So much for a subtle glimpse.

  “Are you bored with the game?” His voice is like velvet and makes me want to feel his arms around me as he whispers in my ear. “Or were you distracted by something?” His eyes twinkle mischievously. He knows damn well I was checking him out. He’s loving this.

  “No, I was, um,” my mind races as I try to save some face here. I’ll give Mack a lot of things, my body, my heart, my future, but I’ll never give him the upper hand. “I was just going to ask you how you got tickets this good. These seats are amazing.” I lie. Well, it’s not a total lie. I mean, those thoughts have crossed my mind in the past five hours. Just not when he caught me eye-fucking him.

  “Uh-huh. Tickets, huh? That’s why you were undressing me with your eyes? More like you were wondering how you can get tickets, to the gun show.” He lifts his arm, flexing his bicep jokingly. Even though he’s just kidding around, I have to remind myself to slide my eyes back over to his face when I see his cut muscle flexing tight against his sleeve.

  “Oh, give it up!” I nudge him with my elbow gently. “Not every look from a woman means she wants to sleep with you.” Why are his lips so distracting? Is there no safe space on his face or body that I can rest my eyes anymore?

  “Maybe not every woman, but you do.” His smile broadens like he’s just won the Super Bowl. God, he’s so arrogant. God, he’s so right.

  “Seriously, how’d you get these seats? This is amazing,” I sweep my hand out toward the field. I almost feel like, if I’m not careful, I might bump one of the players.

  “I have my ways,” he answers slyly. I bet he does. He probably got them from one of his little bimbos. Not that I care. Except, I do.

  Luckily, with only forty seconds left on the clock, the Buffaloes score a touchdown and the crowd erupts into deafening madness. Somehow, above the cheering and yelling, I can still hear Chelsea freaking out.

  I guess I made the right call inviting her.

  Mack and I stand up and join the crowd in their riotous screams of joy. On the other side of me, my son is happily jumping like he’s stolen a pogo stick from a small child.

  “Did you see that, Mom?” he screams over the noise. “This is awesome!” It does my heart good to see him so happy. After the year we’ve had, I was starting to wonder if he’d ever be happy again.

  Lieutenant Rogers did us a solid by getting him into that group therapy session. I took him to his first one on Thursday, and I feel like I’m already seeing a positive change in him. Between the therapy, and the way he and Mack have been bonding, I’m starting to settle into this once unfamiliar feeling of hope.

  “I saw,” I answer him, but he’s already back to watching the field. With the clock counting down, it’s obvious that the game is over, but Chris doesn’t want to miss a nanosecond.

  The timer erases numbers until it hits zero. The game is over, the Buffaloes won. This couldn’t have been a better day. When Mack first talked to Chris about taking me on a date, I was a little annoyed at how he played his hand. Going through my son to get a date with me was a bit sneaky. Now, I could kiss him for having such a great idea. And kiss him for having such sexy lips, and eyes, and abs … My eyes snap back up to Mack and he’s smiling down at me. Caught red-handed. Again! If I’m going to keep working with him at the hospital, I’m going to need to step up my game a bit.

  “Ok, let’s pack it in,” I ignore Mack’s knowing smile and direct my attention at Chris and my sister. “Traffic is going to be a nightmare, so we might as well make our way to the car.” I gather up my water bottle and check to see if I’m leaving anything behind.

  “Wait a sec,” Mack puts his hand on my arm and a tingle shoots through my skin.

  “What’s going on?” His eyes stop me in my tracks though. His hypnotic blues are playing their old tricks on my body.

  “You’ll see,” he nods over my head toward the field and I turn around. Running toward us with his helmet tucked under his arm is the quarterback of the Buffaloes. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.

  “Mack! Hey man, good to see you again,” he walks up to Mack and claps his shoulder.

  “You too, Armstrong. Great game out there, man.” Mack shakes the quarterback’s hand.

  Armstrong. That name rings a bell, wait, Cameron Armstrong? From our graduating class? Well somebody grew up!

  I look over at my sister to give her a look. After all, Cameron Armstrong had once spent an entire afternoon trying to pick her up. Back then, with her being two years older than us and already graduated, it felt like she was practically old enough to be his mother. I remember she enjoyed the attention, but shocked the high school junior when she passed on his rare offer.

  If Chelsea remembers any of this, it doesn’t show on her face. In fact, the only thing that does show on her face is lust. She practically looks like a human emoji with large hearts for eyes.

  “Hi, Chelsea.” Cameron’s voice cuts through to whatever planet she’s on and she startles back into the moment.

  “Hey,” she looks at him, confused. Yeah, she doesn’t remember him. But, obviously the same can’t be said about him. I’ll fill her in later.

  “Hi, thanks for coming out today. Did you enjoy the game?” Cameron looks at Chris and I think there’s a very real chance that his head might burst.

  “It was awesome! You guys rocked. Oh my God, that last touchdown too, I couldn’t believe it.” Chris rattles on excitedly.

  “Yeah, I was hoping we could make that work, but you never know. It’s just as much luck as it is skill sometimes.” Cameron looks at Chris and then over to me. “Hey, do you think it would be ok if I take Mack and, I’m sorry, what’s your name?” He looks back at my son.

  “Chris.”

  “If I take my old Captain here and Chris for a tour? I mean, if you’d be interested of course,” he looks back at Chris and I can’t guarantee he won’t faint.

  “Yes! Can I, Mom? Please?” His voice has a tinge of whininess to it, like a toddler begging for a cookie.

  “Your old Captain?” I ask Cameron before answering Chris.

  “Yeah, this guy led my platoon over in Afghanistan. Hell of a leader, as you all know,” he looks over at Mack, who gives me a knowing look.

  “See, I told you I had my ways to get these tickets,” he puts the puzzle pieces into place for me. I find myself secretly relieved that it wasn’t another one of his fan-girls throwing gifts at him in exchange for God-knows-what.

  “Well, thank you both for serving our country,” Chelsea interrupts and Cameron looks over at her. You can almost see the rest of the world disappear from their vision in the look they exchange. Jeez, get a room!

  “Mom!” Chris pleads from my side.

  “Yes, oh, yeah. Of course you can do a tour. Chelsea and I will meet you guys out in the car, ok?” I look over at Mack and he nods.

  That’s all Chris needs,
he’s on the field quicker than an Olympic sprinter having a false start during a race. “Awesome!” he cries out, excitement trembling through him.

  “Ok, well, I guess I should go then,” Cameron mumbles but his eyes still don’t break contact with Chelsea’s.

  “Alright, thanks for doing this for us, man.” Mack claps Cameron on the shoulder, bringing him back from whatever imaginary field of flowers him and my sister seem to be running through in their love struck gaze together.

  “Yeah, ok.” Cameron’s eyes come back into focus and he looks over at my son. “Let’s do this. I’ll give you guys the grand tour.”

  “Cool!” Chris jumps from foot to foot.

  “I’ll, um, see you around.” He looks back at Chelsea again and I want to gag. “I hope.”

  “You will,” she assures.

  “And, I’ll see you later,” Mack gives my hand a quick squeeze and it takes my breath away like he kissed me.

  I watch as my son and his father walk across the field with the gridiron bad boy we went to high school with. It’s amazing how a week can change everything. Last week, life couldn’t look any bleaker than it did. Now, I feel like I have my son back, and possibly Mack back too.

  I can’t wait to see what next week will bring.

  20

  Mack

  2014

  “And that’s pretty much it,” Cameron walks us back out on the field. It’s not like there’s a lot of behind the scenes besides the locker room and the coach’s office. “What do you think, Chris? You wanna play college ball one day?” Cameron scoops up a football from the abandoned mesh sack of them at the players’ entrance to the field.

  “For sure. I mean, first I want to make the middle school team though,” Chris looks around the nearly empty stadium in awe.

  “You’re not in middle school yet? Man, how old are you? Someone’s been eating their Wheaties!” Armstrong chuckles at his own joke and Chris looks up at him with question marks in his eyes. “Never mind,” he mumbles, realizing the reference is lost on his young audience.

  “I’m nine, in grade four. Well, I was in grade four anyway. Till I got kicked out of school.”

  “Kicked out? What for?” Armstrong was never one for turning down gossip. It’s good to see some things don’t change.

  “I dunno, I set off some cherry bombs in the toilets and the principal freaked out.” Chris shrugs.

  “Well, that sounds like a dumb reason to get expelled, but I don’t know much about that. I do know that you’ll never play college ball if you don’t get into middle school. Hey, you two want to toss the ball around a bit out here?” Armstrong holds the football up in his hand and Chris’s eyes light up.

  “Can we?”

  “Yeah, man. Let’s do it.” Armstrong jogs about ten feet away and I do the same in the other direction until the three of us are in a triangle.

  Cameron tosses the ball to Chris and he catches it effortlessly. “Great catch!” Cameron encourages him. Chris stands a little taller and chucks the ball my way.

  I cradle the ball in my arms before tossing it back Cameron’s way.

  “Thanks. And, I know that I need to get back in school. I’m gonna try not to mess it up when I get back in,” Chris catches the ball.

  “I had to go to some group thing for kids who lost their parents and they told me that I haven’t had closure yet, or whatever. I dunno.” Chris chucks the ball at me and looks at his feet. “I don’t really know what they meant.”

  My hand freezes in mid-air with the ball in it and I look over at Cameron. I talked to him ahead of time about Chris’s situation, so this isn’t news to him, but he’s not letting on.

  “You lost your dad? I’m really sorry to hear that,” I can hear that the sentiment is heartfelt.

  “Yeah, I haven’t said it yet, but I’m sorry you had to go through that shit,” I agree. “That’s an unfair hand you got dealt, Armstrong and I know how important it is to get closure though. Don’t we?” I chuck the ball back at my old Corporal.

  “Yeah, man. That’s no lie.” He nods.

  “You know, when I first got back from the war, I was really struggling with closure too. I lost some great men over there. Men I’d trust with my life. I did trust them with my life, and I felt like I let them down when I stepped back on U.S. soil and they didn’t.” I confess and for a moment, no one remembers to pass the ball. Instead, Chris and Cameron simply listen respectfully.

  “What did you do? To get closure, I mean?” Chris prods and I’m grateful for the interruption in where my dark thoughts were heading.

  “Hmm? Oh, I visited their graves and talked to them,” Chris looks at me like I just grew another head.

  “What?” he sounds like he thinks I’m pulling his leg.

  “No, really. I mean, it’s not like I thought they would answer me. I’m not crazy,” I try to explain, “I just needed to talk to them though. To tell them I was sorry I let them down and that I let their families down. I had to tell them how it was an honor to serve with them, and that I wouldn’t forget them.” My voice grows thick and I swallow hard, trying to push down the memory with it. “It really helped.” I admit to the ground.

  I look up and Armstrong is watching me closely. He seems to suddenly remember that he’s still holding the ball and he throws it over to Chris. “You know what, man? I did the same thing.”

  “Really?” Chris looks at him, tilting his head.

  “Yeah, I went to the grave of my old buddy. I had to say good-bye to him, you know? I wanted to let him know that I got out of the military and came here,” he points to the empty seats surrounding us. “I don’t know why, but it really worked. I felt peace after that. Like I was finally closing a door on that part of my life.”

  Chris looks at the ball in his hand, then at Armstrong and I. We’ve obviously given him something to chew on.

  “I dunno if that would work for me,” he talks to the football. Armstrong walks in toward Chris and I follow his lead. I clap my hand on the boy’s back dragging him out of the dark place I can see him going to, like he just did for me.

  “Hey, maybe talking to your dad at his grave won’t be the way for you. I’m just saying it worked for me. You gotta do what feels right for you, ok?” I explain gently.

  “It’s true,” Cameron interrupts, “whatever you’ve got to do, just get that closure though. It’s the only way you can move on and keep living, man.”

  Chris nods, but doesn’t respond. I wonder if it’s because he can’t trust his voice right now. I decide that’s probably our cue to get going. Besides, the ladies are waiting in the car for us.

  “We should probably get moving, Armstrong.” I step out to shake his hand. “Thanks for this,” We shake hands, the same hands we fought to save each other’s lives with. The man who told me I was as good as a blood brother to him. Only now, I’m ready to hear it.

  “Anytime, Captain.” He smiles at me. “Hey, Chris,” he looks over at Lauren’s son, “you wanna keep that ball?”

  That does it. Chris’s crestfallen face forms back into the cheerful smile he had when we started this tour. Thank God. I didn’t want to depress him. Just the opposite, really.

  “Yeah? That would be cool. Thanks!” Chris clutches the football like he was just given a diamond.

  “No problem. Just remember to keep working that arm, ok? And, no matter how you gotta do it, get that closure. You’ll feel like you’ve been given a new life when you do.” Cameron sticks out his hand to shake Chris’s and I can’t help but feel a strange twinge of pride when the boy returns the handshake.

  “I will.” From the look in his eyes, I think we’ve done some good for him today. At least, I hope we have. He looks determined, maybe this is what he needed to turn a new leaf. No child deserves the tragedy and upheaval that Chris has had to deal with. I hope that this is the beginning of being able to put it behind him.

  And I find myself hoping that I’ll be able to keep being there for him, helping to gui
de him through it in the future.

  21

  Lauren

  2014

  “Do you remember that Halloween when my father caught you and your friends trying to t.p. my house?” Heat flushes through my cheeks as I laugh at the memory. Of course, the diminishing bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table probably has something to do with it.

  “Oh, man. How could I forget? Your dad was so pissed. I thought he was gonna hand me my ass in a sling.” Mack’s eyes twinkle as he throws his head back and laughs. “I would’ve deserved it though.”

  “Nah, his bark was worse than his bite, but yeah, he caught you red handed.”

  “We were so dumb about it too,” he runs his palm over his beard, “I mean, we had a laundry basket of toilet paper.” He shakes his head and then takes another sip of the white wine we’re polishing off.

  After they finally came out to the car, Chris and Mack were joking around like lifelong friends. It did my heart good to see my boy so relaxed and happy again. I guess none of us were in a hurry to say goodbye. After Mack agreed to come over for dinner, him and Chris went outside and tossed the Frisbee around until the night sky grew chilly. Then they decided to warm up a bit by playing video games, talking smack the whole time. I swear, for a couple of hours, I wasn’t sure if I had one kid or two.

  Chris went to bed hours ago, but Mack and I are still up, basking in the glow of our sentimentality. That glow burns a lot brighter when you pop the cork on the third bottle of chardonnay.

  “I still remember what he said, too,” Mack continues. He puts his glass down on the table and straightens up as he imitates my father’s posture. “One of you boys better have a serious bowel problem,” Mack drops his voice like dad’s signature baritone. “Because if I find you throwing that toilet paper on my property, you’re gonna need every single sheet when I beat the shit out of each of you.”