Page 2 of Warrior's Walk

“Bullshit,” Warren coughs. “I designate Ormen.”

“I designate your mother,” Ormen shouts.

I chuff, shaking my head. It’s always like this. Someone was dumber than dirt, someone’s mother was knocked up by the entire battalion, and someone drew the short straw and life sucked extra hard for them.

Luckily, today it’s not me or my mother.

The Footlocker is far from the nicest bar in town, but it’s close to the base and has good drink specials after nine PM. We gathered a group of six guys, including myself, in two cars.

Our waitress places a platter of chicken wings and loaded nachos on the table, and you would think we were rabid pigs, the way we tear into the food. My buddies aren’t the kind of guys that use a napkin to wipe their greasy fingers. No, their jeans suffice just fine.

I tip back my bottle, squeezing my eyes shut as the lager burns the back of my throat. “Damn, that tastes good after a long day in the field!”

“Shit, horse piss tastes good after a long day in the field,” Ormen argues.

“He’s not wrong,” Biddell seconds.

“What do you think it’s gonna be like over there?” Warren asks.

Villaro snorts. “Shit, my buddy came back, told me it’s hot as donkey balls, and all you do is choke on the fucking sand.”

“To donkey balls!” Mandell toasts.

I tune them out after that, scrolling through my phone. The less I think about what it’s going to be like, the better chance I’ve got at keeping my cool and not freaking the fuck out. Am I nervous? Hell yeah. But I’m also excited. No doubt, I’ll live to regret that sentiment—if I’m lucky.

A text from my mother makes my phone vibrate.

Mama:

Call me before you leave. Love you always, xoxo

She’s the fucking best. If I ever meet a woman half as good as my mama, I’ll marry her in a heartbeat, but it’s not gonna happen. My mama has them all beat.

My buddies are usually a rowdy bunch, but they get louder suddenly, and it catches my attention, my head snapping up. Warren is flirting with a girl across the room. She’s seated at the bar with her girlfriend, making come-fuck-me eyes at him.

Warren slaps a twenty on the table to cover his bill and pushes out his chair. “Shit, I don’t know about all you losers, but this is my last chance to get laid before we deploy. I’m out. I’ll catch you back at base.”

Cue the peanut gallery and all their stale jokes.

Biddell smacks my arm. “She’s got a friend, Marsh, and she’s looking at you. What’re you gonna do about it, my man?”

I glance over my shoulder to check her out, and sure enough, the cute blonde is staring back at me. “She ain’t lookin’ at me, man.”

Truth be told, I’m more interested in the man sitting beside her, but he’s obviously straight, talking to a woman. Not that I can show any interest in him in front of my buddies. The chick is cute, but she don’t look like she’s gonna offer much resistance, and I’m the type of guy who loves the thrill of the chase. Usually, men tend to put up more of a fight. They make you work for it, and that gets my dick hard.

“Hell yeah, she is,” Biddell insists. “Look at you. Black hair, green eyes. Dimples.”

“They’re hazel.”

“What the fuck ever. You gonna go talk to her? Or are you passing your sloppy seconds on to us?”

My mama would slap the taste right outta my mouth if she heard us talking about a girl like this. Thank God Mama isn’t here. Like Warren had, I drop a twenty on the table and approach the bar.

“Evenin’ doll. How’s your night goin’?”

“Better now that I’ve got you to talk to.” Her coy smile is framed by glossy peach lips. Damn, I want to know what that gloss tastes like.

“Is that right? I’m Rhett, by the way.”

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