Page 2 of Tossing It

Chapter One

Leif

Sweat drips off my chin. I pump the bar up and down once more—my arms shaking from exertion. Sutter throws down weight next to me and grunts. I do one more bench press, lock the bar in place, and then hop to my feet. With my hands on my hips, I suck in several large gulps of air while my friend does the same. “What’s on the agenda today?” Sutter asks.

I raise and lower my shoulders. Fact of the matter is, it’s been slow around our base here at Bronze Bay these days. After the terrorist attacks that spanned our whole world, we opened up smaller SEAL bases outside of the ones in San Diego, Virginia Beach, and Hawaii. Now we are spread out across the United States. We have quicker reaction times when SEALs are needed. When we’re not needed, we’re hitting the gym and practicing the skill sets that make us the most lethal force on planet earth. “Want to go shoot at the range?” I ask. “Tahoe went over to the airport again. Hopefully we’ll be skydiving soon.”

Sutter nods, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel. “Fuck yeah, man. I want to get up in the air as soon as possible. I’m going to grab lunch at the diner and then meet you at the range after? What do you want to shoot today?” Sutter is a sniper, so he’s going to blow me out of the water no matter what we’re shooting. He knows that and he is only asking to rub it in later that it was my choice and he still shot better.

“Pick your poison,” I say. Smiling, he leaves the weight room and hits the showers, knowing I’m no competition. My cell phone rings on the bench in front of the mirror and I roll my eyes. It’s a ringer assigned to one of my sisters. The more annoying one. The decision to let voicemail grab it is easy. My sisters made my choice to leave Virginia Beach and move to Bronze Bay uncomplicated. Overbearing, loud, calculating in the name of sibling love, and utterly infuriating are the qualities attached to my sisters, Eva and Celia. My mom used to be able to control them when we were kids, but now all bets are off. They show up at my apartment and overstay their welcome. It doesn’t help matters that I am the baby brother. A grown ass adult male doesn’t want his sisters meddling, but they don’t believe me when I tell them. Like it’s so farfetched, I have to be joking.

When Eva married a nice, quiet man, I assumed the eldest sibling would be a monkey off my back. I had a vision of her riding into the sunset on horseback, never looking back. In reality, her stallion is a white sedan that sits in front of my house multiple times during the week. That nice quiet man is also a busy man who leaves Eva to her own devices much of the time. He’s also the reason they moved twenty minutes away to take a job so my sister could live next to family. His absence only made less intense by my immediate presence. My meals are cooked and prepped for me every Friday night, and it’s a nice gesture, but I’d much rather starve than have to endure the conversations that accompany the cooking. Eva asks if I’ve had any dates. Celia, who now lives a little farther away than Eva, visits a touch less but wants details—names, and descriptions of the women I’ve seen around town when she is here. When they’re together, they stalk around the quiet town of Bronze Bay to scope out prospects for me. At least twice, they’ve returned with the names and phone numbers of women they’ve met and deemed appropriate for me to take on a date.

For most of my life, I’ve been wrapped up in war and everything that means. Deployments, training, work up cycles when I’m away more than I’m home, missions to gain Intel, missions to kill bad guys. If it’s in the same vein as war or has anything to do with it, chances are, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in it. Being a SEAL is something that fell into my lap. Unlike a lot of my brothers, it wasn’t something I’d always dreamed of. It was a choice I made because of the climate of our world. Make a difference, my mother said when I was contemplating my future after high school. The military was appealing because I could get away from the tight love-noose my family created. The Navy was even more appealing because they couldn’t follow me into the ocean, right? Becoming a SEAL was something I knew would definitely give me an edge. I could make a difference and score chicks whenever I had the chance. With lots of work and a little luck, I made it through training.

My cell notifies me of a voicemail, and I grunt out of frustration. No one leaves voicemails these days. No one. Not unless it’s a spambot politician call, or my sisters demanding my attention. Scooping up my towel and phone, I hit the shower. A few of my brothers are exiting as I enter, and I nod at them and give them the plans for the day. It’s nice to have such a lax agenda after years of a punishing, demanding schedule that left most of us browbeat. Some of the SEALs that staff this base are here because they need a rest from the breakneck deployment pace, others are here because it’s more conducive to a family life and they need a change to help facilitate that. Some men have been sent here even though they don’t think they need a break. Those are the ones I have to watch out for. They don’t want to be here, and they’ll burn it all to the ground because of it. Sutter went on a sex spree so savage I was hearing about it for a month after. Small towns don’t offer secrecy in any amount.

Everyone talks. It’s exactly as horrible as you’d expect. The old women click their tongues when we walk by, upset we took over their land, and part of their beach. The local diner is a hotbed of hearsay. Within a few weeks of moving here, I knew more about the residents of Bronze Bay, Florida than I ever knew about my best friends back home; including the fact Irene McAllister’s curtains matched her carpet. The slow pace of life mixed with the location—far away from any large cities, force gossip like the gospel. That’s not something I signed up for when I became a SEAL. Typically, we are a close-knit community with many secrets. This is a whole new experience in every way. One I love and loathe in equal measure. Do I miss the thrill? The heart in my throat feeling when I’m rounding a corner about to fight fire with fire? Yes. Idle hands, idle minds, and all that. This beach town doesn’t provide much thrill, and the monotony of the daily grind wears on me, but I know I’m serving a purpose and one day my reason for residing in Bronze Bay will come to light. If anything, I am a motherfucking team player.

I let the voicemail from Eva play on speaker while I shower—the shrill ring of her voice alerting me and anyone in listening distance that she’s upset I didn’t pick up her call. She tells me she’s coming over after work today and wants to talk about the details of our mother’s birthday.

“Great,” I mutter, soaping my body.

“You should have answered it,” Aidan replies, his body hidden by a wall. “You could have thwarted her attempts to rule your life.” Aidan is the king of comedy. He makes jokes or inserts humor any chance he gets. He also inserts his dick into anything in female form, anytime, any chance he gets. It gets him into trouble. He’s a good operator. A damn good one. When it’s time to work, he’s the one I want covering my back. I wouldn’t trust him with a girl for all the money in the world.

“I know,” I growl. “They’re ruining my life. We can plan something for Mom’s birthday over the phone. I don’t get her need to be in my business constantly.” It’s not just my opinion, everyone around me agrees my sisters are over the top.

“It’s not normal,” Aidan chirps, rounding the corner dragging a white towel over his head. We talk a little bit about how his family stays out of his way. He doesn’t have annoying sisters or my troubles of breaking free of his family’s clutches. If I were to tell them both to fuck off, I think that would drive them to hound me even more than they already do. At the end of the day, they’re all I have. I’ve had several romantic relationships. None of them ever lasted more than a few months. My schedule combined with their need for attention wasn’t something that ever worked out. I’ve been called cocky, self-centered, altruistic, and cynical. I’ve been called heartless, cold, smug, and inconsiderate. I can’t confirm or deny if there’s truth to any of it. I’ve never been attached long enough to self-evaluate. Moving on is what I’m good at.

When Aidan brings up the fact my sisters are meddling with my sex life, I have to defend myself. “Listen. They thought me being reassigned to Bronze Bay meant I was going to settle down in all ways. They’re disappointed I haven’t yet. I can’t be sure if they really would be happy with any woman I chose. You have to admit the fact that everyone talks, and it seems everyone is friends here, halts a lot of our sex lives. I’m not like you, I’m not opposed to finding a girlfriend per se, because that would be sort of mandated if I don’t want to get Bay blacklisted, but it would come with so many strings, I’d trip up even the best of candidates.”

Aidan laughs. “Candidate? This isn’t BUD/s man.” It would be easier if it were.

I crank off the water. “It’s not, but I might as well treat it as such. It’s a small town. Can’t afford to not screen well.” The thought of having a girlfriend is utterly terrifying. I’ve got a long-term relationship with my job. That shows I’m commitment worthy, right?

“Good luck with that. I’ll just continue my underground app trolling. Did you see the chick Tahoe’s talking to?”

Drying off, I throw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and slide into my flip-flops. “I’d stay away from her, man. That one has his name written all over her.” Tahoe is fucking smitten. We all know it, but we’re waiting for him to finally admit it to himself. Let him live with the turmoil a little while longer.

Aidan scoffs. “Whatever. He hasn’t said anything to let me know otherwise, so I’ll do what I want.” There is the true Aidan. Rolling my eyes, I grab my bag and scold him over my shoulder. He waves me off, that challenging look in his eye. Tahoe is going to crush him. Aidan will undoubtedly earn it.

______________

The gun range is a decent practice session. Keeping up with my skills feels good. It reminds me that I am, in fact, a SEAL regardless of where I’m situated geographically. Sutter kicks my ass via three different weapons, but it’s okay because Ialmostwon once which makes him grumpy. We close the day with a meeting, which is an informal occasion—a bunch of dudes in civilian clothing sitting around a conference table. The updates stream into our system as we’re briefed on what’s going on in the world. Terrorist quads lurk everywhere, but they’ve stayed in hiding because we’ve gotten so good at rooting them out. For the first time in a long time, we can breathe a little easier—take our time in deciding our next course of action.

Civilians have no clue what really goes on in the name of keeping America safe. It’s easier that way. There would be panic and disbelief, conspiracy theories and outrage. Instead, our military has created a false sense of security—increasing our presence around the United States. Reports of incidents aren’t shared as effortlessly as they were at the beginning of the war. To preserve the sense that we have everything under control, it’s now a weekly recap that spews from the mouths of reporters late at night. We’re confirming reports of such incidents right now.

The email flashes on the large overhead screen. “That one looks good. Send it on.” Someone brushes past me, in a hurry to wrap and get out of here for the weekend. The email is forwarded on and the last one pops up as I speed read expecting more of the usual. It’s not. It’s the name of a bad guy we’ve been going after for years. A name of a guy I personally missed by the hair on his chinny-chin-chin. The sole name on my list of bad guys I must dispose of before I die. He’s up to no good again, trying to recruit more sinister assholes to keep me gainfully employed. I nod at the guy working the laptop. “Email me that one. I’ll come back later tonight to finish up. Let’s get out of here.” The guys know the name—and my feelings about the fact he’s still at large.

Adrenaline hits me, my fists clenching by my sides as I remember the last mission I was on. Nothing compares to the thrill of the chase and the close call that inevitably follows. They’re all close calls in one form or another. It’s why there’s no room for errors on the Teams. Every mission is a no-fail mission. Before we leave for an operation, we’re confident we’ll be successful. That mindset trickles into my everyday life, but I’m acutely aware of the difference. Bronze Bay has taught me that.

Even if it’s hard to admit, the slow pace of life and the sleepy beach town has done wonders to detoxify my mind. I can ride my bicycle or moped most places. There’s plenty of water to wakeboard, fish, and boat. There’s time for me to have a life outside of the grind for the first time in a long ass time. From the day I graduated BUD/s to the day I landed in Bronze Bay, life has been one seamless work cycle with little blips of non-work experiences. I love my job. I loved being busy and making a difference, but there’s also something to be said about calm. I ride home on my shiny black moped on a deserted road. The scent of saltwater and sand clinging to every breath I take. Yes, it is indeed a love-hate relationship.

I see Eva’s car pulling into her usual spot as soon as I turn into my small apartment complex that faces the bay. There are four large units, and we share a dock and a little slip of beach. Old Mr. Olsen is sitting in his lounge chair on his porch when I walk by. He tips his worn-out straw hat as I approach. “It’s a beautiful day, son. Stop and smell that breeze?” he chirps, voice hoarse from years of chain-smoking Marlboro Reds. He stopped a couple years ago when his pesky cough turned out to be cancer, or so he’s told me. Sometimes I smell cigarette smoke early in the morning, and I know I’m not imagining it.

“All the way home, Mr. Olsen,” I reply, holding up my dorky helmet. If I’m going to die, I better be shot through the heart or blown to pieces. I refuse to be road kill in this town. That’s a hard line in the sand for me. Safety in all non-hazardous areas of my life, and caution to the wind when I’m downrange under fire. “Enjoy your night. Let me know if you need anything,” I say.

“You do the same,” he croaks. “Though it looks like it may be difficult.” His sly gaze flicks to Eva pacing my tiny front porch, fingers laced behind her back.

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