He nodded his head toward the cup.
I took a drink from the cup of coffee, and considered the analogy I was prepared to share with him. After another sip of the luke-warm java I began.
“During my first tour, we were looking for al-Zawahiri. Hell, we were searching for a lot of al-Qaeda officials, but at this point in time, he was our target. We received intel on where he was and why he was there. It seems he was having a summit meeting of sorts with every other high ranking Islamic militant within a three-hundred-mile radius. Without a doubt, on this particular night, we were going to bag this shit-bird and bring the war to a screeching halt. At least that’s what we were told.”
He sat and stared, his hood pulled over his head to a point I could barely see his eyes. A complete meal sat on a plate in front of him. Apparently, I had stumbled onto him during his morning breakfast.
I tossed my head toward his plate. “Go ahead and eat, this is going to take a minute.”
“So, based on this intel, they assembled a handful of us; three Marines, and seven or so SEALS. They indicated al-Zawahiri had gone into some shit-hole home earlier on this particular day, and he hadn’t come out. Hell, from what they said, no one came in or out after he arrived. It seemed his little meeting was underway, and all we had to do was get there before he left,” I pause and removed a cigarette from the pack.
As I chewed on the end of the unlit cigarette, I continued. “Now this being my first tour, I didn’t have much experience – and none in extraction to speak of – only training. All the brass wanted him alive if possible, so they’d preached protocol and rules of engagement to us all fucking day. We all sat around and waited for the cover of darkness while we planned what we were going to do. You know, studying the chicken-shit map they’d given us showing the supposed layout of the home, cleaning our weapons, and talking about how we were going to get this prick.”
“So, it’s zero dark fucking thirty, and we’re all waiting. About oh two thirty they round us up, take us as close as they can get us, tell us good luck and god fucking speed. We surround the front of this little mud hut and blow the door off this place, toss in a few flash-bangs, and in we go,” I paused and recalled the night of the raid, and what a cluster-fuck it ended up being.
“Needless to say, I’m as nervous as a fucking whore in church service. I’ve got diarrhea, my stomach is all fucked up, my head’s full of all kinds of thoughts on what may happen to me or to someone else, and what I’m going to do when it does. I’d gone over every possible god damned scenario based on the intel we have and who’s supposedly in this shit-hole. You see Dekk, men are just that; men. And men make mistakes. A man will give you an opinion, and portray it as an absolute fact. If you’re either gullible enough or dumb enough to believe him, you then make a life changing decision based on the inaccuracies of his beliefs.”
I gazed out into the parking lot, stared at our two motorcycles for a moment, and turned to face Dekk. “And you see, Dekk. It’s just that. It’s an opinion. It’ll never be any more or any less. If I had all of the lives we lost based on one man’s opinion of what was sure not to happen, I could fill this fucking diner with good god damned Marines. But I can’t, because they’re all fucking dead.”
“The opposite happened on this particular night. The shit-hole home was empty. No hidden exit. No tunnels. No way out except the doors which were in full view. And we had eyes on every fucking corner of this place. And after an assurance he and his band of merry men walked in and never came out – we went in after him. I was mad as fuck. Let down, depressed, and I felt kind of betrayed. They were wrong Dekk. They’re wrong more than they’re right. You know why? Because they’re fucking human and they gave their opinion.”
“You see,” I said. “If we’re forced to make a decision that has the potential to have a profound effect on our life, and it’s based on the opinion of one man, we must weigh the legitimacy of the man in question. And in my humble opinion, if the man in question is not God, his opinion is nothing more than an educated guess.”
He pulled the hood from his head and stared. After a few seconds, his face washed with what I would have guessed to be shame. I said all I came to say, and I hoped my little speech was enough to convince him to come home. As he gazed at me blankly, I stood, flipped the cigarette into my mouth, and nodded my head.
“I’m going to go burn this. I’ve been chewing on it for too damned long. Come out and join me?”
He nodded his head and stood from his seat.
I walked to my bike, lit the cigarette, and waited for him to come outside. Half-way into my four puff limit, and he was standing in front of me with a blank look on his face.
“So, you riding out with me?” I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I just…”
I shifted my eyes to meet his and glared. “You just what?”
The more I studied him the angrier I became. I tossed the cigarette on the ground beside the motorcycle, stepped on it, and stepped in front of him.
“You wanna give me your honest opinion as to whether or not you think you can whip my ass?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
I spread my feet shoulder width apart, and tugged against the thighs of my jeans. “You heard me.”
His eyes fell to my feet, back up to my face, and narrowed. I needed to make another point, and I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Desperate times, however…
“I have an opinion you won’t get one punch to make contact. Not a fucking one. You know why? Because you’re a washed up piece of overweight shit who’s scared to fight for the title fight. You’re scared to be amongst your friends, and scared like a little bitch you might have to become a man and raise a child who doesn’t fall within the limits what you perceive as perfect,” I said as I raised my hands in preparation of what was sure to come.
I would give anything to have a relationship with a woman and have a child. If God so chose to have that child be born with special needs, so be it. I’d welcome him into the earth with all of the love, care, and hope for a future that he or she deserved. For Shane to run from his responsibilities made my temper flare to a point I really didn’t care if I had to fight him to make my point.
As he stood and glared at me, I continued.
“Did I hit a nerve? You afraid if you and Kace raise a special needs child someone might eventually call him a retard?”
His eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw flared.
Good, it’s working.
“You’d get mad if they called your little boy a fucking retard. Huh Dekk? Your little retard boy?” I asked, attempting to lure him into a fight.
His right hand twitched, and I swung my left arm upward in anticipation for one of his signature heavyweight right hooks. As I stepped into the punch, allowing his arm to go under my armpit, I turned, pulled my knife, and held it to his throat.
I chuckled a light laugh and pressed the knife to his throat. “You see Dekk, you threw the punch under the opinion you were going to teach me a lesson. But here’s the thing. I made those comments about your child knowing – absolutely knowing – I had to do so to make my point. You swung because you’re going to defend your child regardless. Special needs or not, he’s yours. Subconsciously, you’re already committed to him being your son. And you’re his father. You’re just fucking scared. And there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I pressed the knife with slightly more force, just to make sure he was paying attention. “That doctor gave you his fucking opinion based on the amnio test they performed. He told you the kid might have some chromosomal disorder. He said he could be born with Down Syndrome, and you fucking disappeared. Well, I got news for you. My nephew is special needs. More specifically, he has Down Syndrome. And he’s one of the best damned people you’ll ever meet. Ever,” I growled.
“You see; special needs are nothing more than that. He has needs that are special. It doesn’t mean he isn’t deserving of
anything and everything that every other person on this earth is deserving of. It only means he has a few needs unique to him – and they’re described as special. Special. You know the definition of special?” I asked as I released my grasp and pushed him to the side.
He stood with swollen tear-filled eyes and stared.
“Better or more important than others,” I said as I pushed the knife into the pocket of my jeans.
Without speaking, he began to softly cry.
“I didn’t mean a word I said about your child, Dekk. I was making a point, you need to know that,” I said.
He nodded his head.
“Now, you know what we’re gonna do?” I asked as I patted him on the shoulder.
“We’re going to get on our sleds and ride to Austin. You’re going to apologize to Kace, Ripp, Vee, Austin, the old man, and everyone else who’s been worried about you. I could give two shits whether or not you’re going to fight for the championship, makes no difference to me. But you’re going to support Kace through this. And the day will come when your little boy will be born. And every fucking one of us will love him – because he’s part of you, and he’s part of Kace. Now, you ready to ride or you want me to wad you up into another ball and cut you this time?” I asked as I bent down and picked up the cigarette butt.
“A-Train?” he asked.
I stood and shoved the cigarette into my pocket. “What is it, Brother?”
“I’m scared,” he said.
I nodded my head. “Been there plenty of times, Dekk. Generally, I’ll ask the man upstairs for spoon full of courage.”
He bit into his lower lip and nodded his head.
“You know what? He hasn’t let me down yet,” I said as I wrapped my arms around him.
I held him in my arms until he finally stopped crying.
After I released him he gazed down at the ground for a long moment. While clearing his throat, he glanced up with swollen eyes.
“Let’s ride,” he said.
“You lead the way, Brother,” I said. “I’ve got your back.”
And, little did he know it, but I had the back of his unborn son, too.
Chapter Two Hundred Sixty-Three
Fall 2014, Austin, Texas, USA
The soon to be births of the children of my best friends put a damper on the feeling of necessity to start a new chapter for our motorcycle club. Although Shane, Ripp, and I enjoyed riding our motorcycles together, I felt no real desire or benefit in devoting any amount of time to the idea.
In recent months I was happier than I could ever remember being. I was slowly seeing a side of myself I had never seen, and was quite pleased with the transformation. Still much the Marine I had always been, I was evolving nonetheless into a man with different desires, feelings, and hopes.
I realized my former relationship was not necessarily a relationship at all – only a person to unwind with after each deployment. My entire adult life had been spent at war, and my time with Suzanne had been roughly one month a year – most of which I spent recovering from the horrors of battle.
Now spending time with a woman for all of the right reasons, life seemed so much different. Sitting at the bar with Shane and Ripp, however, reminded me some things were likely to never change.
“I can’t fuckin’ wait for this kid, Dekk. I been goin’ to the store, and when I go, I’m eyballin’ the aisles with kid shit in ‘em instead of the aisles with guns and fishin’ poles. Who’d a thought that?” Ripp said as he tipped up his bottle of beer.
Dekk shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Not me.”
“Hell, Ripp, I might be more excited about these two kids than both of you combined. I’m fucking giddy,” I said.
Ripp wrinkled his nose and lowered his bottle of beer. “Giddy?”
“That’s what I said,” I said.
He shook his head, glanced at Dekk as if seeking support, and upon getting nothing in return, turned to face me. “High school girls are giddy.”
I cocked my head to the side and widened my eyes. “Add me to the list.”
“You alright, Bro?” he asked.
“Quite,” I said.
“Sister of mine’s got you all fucked up. Shit before long you two’ll have a kid of your own,” he said.
“Not yet,” I said.
“Better be careful. Knock her up and Pop’ll make you get married,” he said.
“Don’t have to worry about that,” I said as I reached for my bottle of beer.
“Ain’t shootin’ blanks, are ya?” he asked.
I coughed a laugh. “No, as far as I know my ammunition’s fine. We’d have to have sex first. That’s what I meant.”
He leaned forward and pressed his forearms onto the edge of the table. As he fixed his eyes on mine, he cocked one eyebrow and cleared his throat. “Couple a months and you two ain’t fuckin’?”
Normally such a question would have been rewarded with an escorted trip to the parking lot or a punch in the face. As Katie was his sister, and he really meant no disrespect, I decided I would allow it.
“Listen. Most men ask questions after a guy dates a girl for a while like have you fucked her yet? Or is she good pussy? I don’t ask those questions, and I don’t appreciate them asked of me. Those things aren’t my reason for being with her. If they’re meant to be, they’ll happen. If they’re not, they won’t. But when they do,” I paused and reached for my beer.
I took a long drink, placed the bottle to the side, and leaned onto the edge of the table. As he met my gaze, I locked eyes with him.
“It’ll be between Katie and me,” I said.
After a few seconds of our eyes being locked, he leaned back in his seat and grinned. “Fair enough. It’s nice knowing you ain’t takin’ advantage of my sis.”
I nodded once and reached for my beer.
Ripp twisted in his seat for a moment as if uncomfortable, drank the rest of his beer, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. As he rubbed his hands together, he fixed his eyes on mine.
“What?” I asked.
“You whack off all the time, don’t you?” he asked.
Dekk choked on his turkey sandwich and I let out a long belly laugh.
“No, actually I don’t,” I said.
“Shit. I whack off while I’m getttin’ ready to have sex. Sometimes after,” he said as he leaned into the back of his seat.
“Good to know,” I said with a laugh.
“You know why I like it so much?” he asked as he pointed at Dekk. “Don’t answer, Dekk. Dekk knows, and I don’t want him spoilin’ it.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Dekk said.
There wasn’t anything to spoil. I didn’t give a half-ounce of fucks why he whacked off as much as he did. But, as much as I fought against it, my mouth curled into a smile. “Why?”
“Because the whole fuckin’ time, I’m in control. Speed. Passion. All of it,” he said.
Passionate masturbation?
I stared at him in disbelief. “Passion?”
“Yep,” he said as he waved his hand at the waitress. “I can make it rough sex, passionate, slow and easy, fast and light, fast and rough, hell the possibilities are endless.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Well, I choose to exercise more control than that. Keeps me strong, alert, and more passionate about relationships.”
He tossed his head toward Shane. “Sound like Dekk, now. He ain’t much for whackin’ off either.”
“What can I get for you?” the waitress asked.
“Two things,” Ripp responded. “Bring us a glass of water, and two more beers.”
“Is that it?” she asked.
“No,” Ripp said. “I said there was two, that’s one. Here’s the other. I got a question.”
She placed her hand on her hip and glanced at each of us individually. “Okay.”
“Who here has the most self-control?” he asked.
Without shifting her eyes away from him, she responded.
“Those two. Probably a dead tie. My guess is you’ve got none.”
“Seriously?” he asked.
“Yeah, seriously,” she responded. “Is that it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s it.”
“Sharp girl,” I said.
“Is it that obvious?” he asked.
“Just as well have it tattooed on your forehead,” Dekk said.
Ripp shifted his focus to Dekk, and glared. “Shut it, Dekk. You ain’t got that much self-control. You beat the fuck out of people for a living.”
“So do you,” Dekk responded.
Sitting at the bar with Ripp and Shane wasn’t much different than being at Sunday dinner. It was anyone’s guess what the topic of discussion would be, and there was never a doubt that Ripp would be the center of attention. He didn’t do it out of necessity or desire, it was just that he was a very outspoken person with very little tact.
“Whatever, Dekk,” Ripp said with a wave of his hand.
“Back to the original subject,” I said. “I’m pretty excited about this kid thing. And if anybody needs a babysitter, I’m your guy.”
“No shit?” Ripp said.
I nodded my head. “I’m serious. I love kids.”
“Know anything about ‘em?” he asked.
“Damn bit more than you, if I was forced to guess,” I said with a laugh.
“Ain’t never had any though, huh?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, not yet.”
“Got any nephews or nieces?” he asked.
I had never been a man to lie, and now wasn’t the time to start. In some respects, I led myself into the question and needed to answer it, but I sat staring at my bottle of beer trying to decide just how to answer it without answering it in full.
“My sister had a little boy. I haven’t seen him in years,” I said.
“Must not like ‘em too much,” he said.
Now I have to answer….
“Actually, I do. She put him up for adoption. I don’t have any right to see him any longer.” I said. “Long story.”
HOT as F*CK Page 289