Page 6 of Forty

Could I go back and do it right this time.

‘Cause every day’s another chance to get it right.

Isn’t it?

2

FORTY

The woman is a definite maybe. She’s tall, and she works in an office. It’s our third date. I’m still not exactly sure what she does, but “the system” goes down a lot, and it’s always Mike’s fault.

It’s unclear what Mike is doing to the system, but she’s convinced he’s the problem. I asked her if she wanted me to rough him up. She laughed. So, I laughed, too. Guess that’s a no.

I took her to Broyce’s tonight. It’s a great place. Started out fifty years ago out as this dark dining room. Then they built on the bar, the buffet, the party room, the outside patio. None of it level. You got to step up to the bar, step down to the buffet. Best steaks in the county, though. She ordered the surf and turf.

She’s probably planning on putting out. She got her eyebrows done. The skin above her eyes is red under her makeup. Bet she got her pussy waxed, too.

I check in with my dick. See if that thought gets a rise. Negative.

I force myself to unclench my teeth, try not to let the stress fuck with my face. Women already find me intimidating.Peoplefind me intimidating. When I’m with civilians, especially women I might want to fuck, I have to be mindful. Harper Ruth calls my normal expression “Terminator with its skin off.”

There’s a kind of woman who’s into that, but that’s not what I’m looking for. I want a good woman. Loyal, decent, with good common sense. A woman who can hang with the club. Be a good mother. Low maintenance. Hard working. I don’t see why it’s such a tall order. Been looking a few years now, but no luck.

“What are you thinking about?” The woman, Amelia, leans over and rests her hand on my forearm. Her pupils are glassy. She’s on her second Chardonnay. I’ll have to switch her to water. If we’re going to fuck, she needs to be sober.

I ask her one of my go-to questions. “Do you like the wine?”

That sets her off about the winery she toured on vacation last year, and how she thinks this year she’ll go to Cabo, or she might go to Punta Cana. If Mike can figure out how to work the system without her.

Amelia is talkative. That doesn’t bother me. I like listening to women talk. It’s something different.

My mother got sick of dealing with my dad’s shit when I was eight. After she skipped town, Dad basically let the club raise me. When I enlisted, I was infantry, and I went to Ranger school before there were any women. Except for those three years with Nevaeh in my ear 24-7, I haven’t spent much time around women. I like how they talk. Like I said, it’s different.

I feel my jaw clench, so I crack it and try to refocus on Amelia. She’s saying something about getting a free hotel by sitting through a timeshare presentation.

That’s sounds like a bad idea.

“Have you been to Mexico?” Amelia leans over the table, rolling her shoulders to squish her tits together. She doesn’t have much up top, but that’s all right. She checks all the boxes, physically. Tall. Straight hair. Athletic, sturdy, and thick physique.

“Not yet. The only places I’ve been overseas were with the service.”

Her eyes warm with pity. We haven’t had the conversation yet. She hasn’t pried, which I appreciate, but she’s seen the burns. On our second date, we screwed around in my truck when I dropped her off. She unbuttoned my shirt. The scars don’t cover much except my arm and side, but they’re nasty. She didn’t mention them at the time. I figured it would come up tonight.

“Where did you serve?”

“I deployed a few times to Afghanistan. I was injured in Germany. My Black Hawk made a hard landing.” I don’t make her ask for the details. Everyone wants to know. Curiosity is natural.

“There was a fire. I was pinned by some shrapnel. Took a little while to get free.” The phantom scent of burning flesh fills my nose. I breathe through it. It’s not real.

“Oh, my God.” Amelia grabs for my hand. I’m still holding my steak knife. I don’t know what to do. She’s holding my hand. I’m holding the knife. I freeze. “You could have been killed.”

True. I wish she would let go of my hand so I can put the knife down.

“Did everyone make it?”

“We lost two men.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Were they friends?”

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