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My mind had never been so full of perfection before.
All three men had tattoos. A lot of them.
Trance, however, was the one with the least. His chest and back were only partially covered, whereas Foster and Miller barely had a free spot on their torsos. Their arms were free of any identifying tattoos, which I suspected was due to their status as SEALS, rather than personal preference.
The sweat on their bodies dripped down, pooling in the waistband of their underwear, which rode up just slightly over the belt of their jeans. Funny enough, they all three wore the same brand. Fruit of the Loom.
Each man wore a hat, concealing their eyes and faces, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how well they could sell a calendar.
Each man was ripped.
Each man had scars scattered over their bodies, but Trance’s was the one I was most interested in.
His chest had a large bruise just above his chest bone from being shot the day before. Or I suppose nearly shot was more appropriate. It was purple, blue, yellow, and putrid green.
The slice on his temple was just as bad. It was inflamed and red, with the black of the stitches sticking out against his tanned skin like a shining beacon.
He had what I’d guessed were a few knife wounds, one gunshot wound that went from a point on his right belly to the back of his right flank.
A jagged scar that went from his left trapezius muscle at the top of his back to his right lower shoulder that bisected an eagle tattoo that dominated the upper portions of his back.
“What are you doing?” Trance asked me in alarm.
I had my phone up and I was snapping pictures of the three men standing shoulder to shoulder at the back of the boat.
Each man hadn’t even sat the entire four hours we’d been there, leaving me the comfy captain’s chair all to myself.
“This is a Kodak Moment, I figured I’d capture it for the women of the world.” I said happily.
Trance rolled his eyes and turned back to his bobber.
“Hey, send it to my mom. She’d like it.” Foster said offhandedly. “She doesn’t get very many of the three of us.”
“What’s her number?” I asked as I pulled it up into a new message.
Miller rattled off the number, and I hit send.
It was amazing how different it was to rely on my actual sight rather than my voice-activated features. I could seriously get used to this.
The reply to my picture message came instantly.
The boys’ mommy: Oh, My God! They are so adorable! Tell them to turn around and take one from the front.
I did so, and each man glared at me as I snapped another shot.
All three of them flipped off the camera.
I hit send, snickering the entire time.
The boys’ mommy: Tell them I’ll beat their asses. Tell them to smile this time.
“She says to smile or she’ll spank you.” I said jovially.
They turned reluctantly, not smiling, as I captured the picture and sent it off.
The boys’ mommy: Thank you. Who is this, by the way?
Me: I’m friends with Trance. My name is Viddy.
