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“What would you have done if I saidno?”
“Have Lucy askyou.”
“You play fucking dirty.” It was one thing arguing with him, but there was no way that’d happen with Lucy. I would’ve caved inseconds.
“I also figured it would get you out of town so shit can cool down for a minute. Win-win.”
“I don’t need to let shit cool down.” My muscles tense as I hold back my rage. This conversation pisses me off more than the joboffer.
He gives me a stern look. “I don’t want you to do something you’llregret.”
“I’m not going there.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That shit is off limits right now, you hearme?”
“I understand, brother. I’d be one furious motherfucker,too.”
* * *
There’s no missingthe curious stares that trail me when I talk through the beat-up door of The Down Home Pub, the hot spot in town if you’re craving a beer and a good time, or want to drown your sorrows on abudget.
It’s where I got shitfaced on my twenty-first birthday. Where I got my first beer from at thirteen. Not because they illegally served minors, the owner’s son stole a case for us, and we spent the night chugging the cheapest shit they serve in my family barn. I got a good ass whooping when we got busted. But it was worthit.
Ass whoopings come and go, but memories stay with you forever. Good memories will always conquer the bad–at least that’s what I used to think, but my optimism has been sinking into the gutterslately.
Fuck positivityis my currentmotto.
Dallas forced me to come out and have a drink with him–a pick me up for the both of us, is what he called it. My dumbass should’ve known it’d be more than grabbing a quick beer and shooting theshit.
A blue banner is hanging across the front of the bar with the wordsWelcome Home Hudsonpainted across it in white. The pub is packed with familiar faces–ones I’ve known for as long as I canremember.
A year ago, I would’ve loved a homecoming like this, but facing these people isn’t something at the top of my to-do list now. It’s floating near the bottom, right before being waterboarded.
I’ve lived in Blue Beech, Iowa my entire life. It’s a small town where everyone knows everyone’s business. People say that about all small towns, but Blue Beech is the real deal. These people knew my fiancé was fucking around on me and planning a wedding with my best friendon our scheduled datebefore I did. News doesn’t travel as fast as word of mouth when you’re overseas with limitedcommunication.
Cameron sent me one of those bullshit Dear John letters. Every word I read was like a stab in the gut. I ripped the paper up and burned the pieces, along with our relationship, while the guys patted me on the back. The destruction of relationships and marriages were a regular occurrence in the military life. I’d been just anotherstatistic.
I grunt but smile at the same time Dallas shoves a beer in my hand. I chug half of it down in one go, savoring the bitter yet delicious taste of malted barley, before I even make it to the bar. I slap my hand down on the counter, telling the bartender we’re ready for another round, and carry the bottle with me while moving around the bar to thank everyone forcoming.
I don’t want to socialize. I see the pity on the faces around me, but my momma would have my ass if I acted like an ungrateful dick. I have manners in public but am crazy as hell everywhereelse.
A group of guys I played football with in high school are huddled around a table, their wives next to them, and I stroll their way. I’m stopped before I make it by someone sticking their foot out to tripme.
They fail, but I’mpissed.
What thefuck?
I turn around, ready to take my anger out on the jackass, but that outrage dissipates when I seeher.
“Well if it isn’t the biggest asshat in the world. Sorry, I’m late. The hospital has been a madhouse with women popping out babies like the female population is about to go sterile,” Lauren, my younger sister, says, attempting to wrap her short arms around me in ahug.
I chuckle and pat her dark hair when she pulls away. “No biggie. I got here a few minutes ago–only because Dallas dragged me out of the house with his bullshitlies.”
She grins from ear to ear. “I’ve missed you. Guys aren’t scared to mess with me when you’re gone. I’ve had to resort to my pepper spray and AK-47.”
“You don’t own an AK-47.”
“I know, but doesn’t it sound badass when I say it? You should probably buy meone.”
“I’m never buying you a gun. Knowing you, you’d end up shooting some poor motherfucker that said the wrong thing toyou.”
