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14
Ethan
Going backto work with a drunk hangover is difficult. With a love hangover, it’s damn near impossible.
Concentrating on case law, reports, filings, and dealing with the obligations of military protocol is draining under the best of circumstances. With my head fit to burst with the memory of all the emotion and pleasure I shared with Rylie, let’s just say my work has become extra difficult. Not to mention that having to interact with the Lieutenant Colonel is confusing.
On the one hand, he’s my best buddy, plus we’ve been through a lot of trials along with the proverbial tribulations together. On the other hand, I’d promised Rylie that we’d wait and give our new relationship time. Then, once we were sure the timing was right, we’d talk to him together.
I enter the Lt. Colonel's office and wait for him to speak.
“Sit,” he commands.
“Sir,” I say sitting across from him.
“You seem distracted. What’s on your mind?”
I think for a moment and remember my promise to Rylie. “It’s this thing with Lisa,” I say. I know he understands this problem. His ex is tricky, mine’s just psycho. “She’s been extra flaky lately. It’s hard on Caden.”
“We’ve got some major shit coming down the pike,” he barks, coldly. “Get your personal stuff handled.”
“Sir, yes sir,” I gruff firmly. “Will do.”
Frank’s always gruff even across a barbecue grill but this is like a sock to the jaw. He’s never shut me down like that. I can handle it but I’m surprised and a little concerned that, as Rylie mentioned, he suspects something.
We discuss business, and for an hour the subject of his daughter never comes up.
After work, I head out to meet a couple of buddies. In what seemed like a miracle, Lisa showed up and picked up Caden from school. That seems strangely out of the blue, but I know my little trooper missed his mother in spite of her continually letting him down. My ex-monster claimed the latest boy-toy is out of her life and she’s committed to being a good mom. Yeah, right. But for Caden’s sake it would be nice if for once it were true.
I enter a small local bar, The Big Wave. There's a couple of pool tables, a row of old pinball machines, and decent music playing. A group of my cadre from Schofield Barracks is shooting pool and drinking cheap beer with half a dozen Navy SEALS from Pearl Harbor.
“Yo, Ethan,” Gavin Reed says swinging a pool cue around his head. “Wanna lose a game?”
“SEALS always cheat,” I say, “so no.”
“I’ll spot you a ball,” he says.
“Still no.”
“I’ll spot you two balls."
Sucker. “You’re on for a hundred bucks.”
“Um,” he stalls.
“Who’s showing fear now?”
“SEALs don’t know fear,” he says, all puffed up. “I’ll take your bet.”
He pulls out a crumpled hundred dollar bill and sets it on the edge of the pool table. I place a crisp hundred on the table next to his.
“Fucking lawyers,” someone says.
I turn around and see it’s one of the guys from my office, a recent transfer from back East, Blake Graham.
“Well, takes one to know one,” I toss back.
“I know myself,” he answers laughing. “I’m a douchebag. That’s why I became a lawyer.”
