Chapter 31 Brighton #2
“Military brat,” she winks and wanders out in front of me to start greeting the guys without my introductions. I walk toward José, and he hands me a glass of beer I probably won’t drink.
José Garza is one of the guys I actually served with, a skinny little kid barely twenty-five with a wife and two kids depending on him.
He’s funny, though; his humor is dry, and the best part of all is that he doesn’t dig.
He knows more of my past than anyone in the room, but he never brings it up, and he never uses it against me.
“Where’s Sarge?” I ask, looking at him. Landon usually came around for these things when he was invited. Something about showing up for your community outside of hard times.
“Said he had something to do.” He shrugs. “Who’s the girl?” He asks, pointing to Rhea. She’s introducing herself to José’s wife and daughter while the rest of them toss me stupid looks.
“Rhea.” I consider drinking the beer. It would be easier than trying to explain to them what we are. “She’s my roommate. Guest room.”
“She’s pretty,” he notes. “Didn’t really think a scary dog was your type.”
“Don’t call her that,” I say, shaking my head. “And there’s no type. She’s here as a friend to shut you all up.”
“I do love it when a man dates the exact opposite of his ex-wife. You’re really sticking it to Ri, here, Black.
” Josè comments and starts to wade into the conversation.
Riona loved Josè, which only made the divorce harder when it came.
Splitting up friends was just as bad as splitting up time with Daisy.
“Fuck you, Garza.” I scowl and find an empty stool to pull on my bowling shoes.
Rhea finds me eventually and starts to do the same.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask her, but she’s hyper-focused on trying to pull the knot free from her shoe.
Her grunts of frustration grow, and the knot remains tight.
“Rhea,” I say, but she doesn’t look up as she brings the shoe to her teeth.
“Don’t—” I grab the dirty shoe before she takes it between her teeth.
She scowls at me as I start to loosen the knot before handing it back to her. “Do you want a drink?”
“Please,” she says. “And a burger.”
I nod, leaving her on her own to tie her shoes.
When I wander to the counter, I see Landon standing near the entrance with a birthday bag in his hand as he watches everyone at the other end of the building.
“Careful,” I say. “You’ll ruin the birthday with that ugly mug,” I say, after ordering quickly. He doesn’t respond to my joke, and it’s pretty clear that his head is elsewhere as I approach him. “It was just a joke, Sarge, no need to get bent up about it.”
“If you’re here, the party’s already ruined, Black.” He snaps out of his fog and gives me a half-hearted smile.
“Josè said you weren't gonna make it.” I stand next to him as he watches the party.
“Uh, yeah, I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t wanna disappoint anyone,” he says.
“Well, you’re here now.” I clap my hand to his shoulder and start to walk back, thinking he’s following, but I don’t hear his footsteps, and he’s exactly where I left him. “You coming?” I ask.
“Actually, I only came to drop this off,” Landon says, holding out the bag. “Will you bring this over?” he asks.
“Yeah…” I step back and take the bag from him. “You sure you don't want to stay, just for a minute… I— I brought a date,” I lie. It’s not a date. Not really. But the way I want it to be is dangerous.
“The mystery girl, that makes the man of stone smile?” Landon inhales, and the lazy smile returns.
“You should come meet her,” I say.
“Next time,” he says quickly. “Say hello to the boys for me.” Before I can convince him to stay, the front door is swinging open, and he’s nothing but a shadow on the pavement. Alright then.
I palm the present and start back to the table, worried that Rhea might be overwhelmed, but by the time I’ve returned, she’s completely taken over my friend group with her conversation.
I set her drink down on the table and watch as she giggles with one of the girlfriends over funny names to pick for the scoreboard.
She fits into your life like she’s always been there. Like she was made to fill the bullet holes in the wall you've been using as target practice your whole life with pure, unfiltered sunlight.
“We gave you Killjoy,” she smiles at me.
“What?” I shake my head slightly.
“Killjoy, like your rugby call, I couldn’t think of anything funny,” she says, grabbing her drink. “I hope you know I’m a bowling assassin. It’s actually a shame I have to kick your ass in front of everyone.”
“Alright, Hellcat, put your money where your mouth is.” I shake my head at her and walk past her to the lane.
The ball feels weightless as I send it down the lane and watch it crash into the pins, sending them all flying in a different direction.
Rhea’s bottom lip juts out in instant worry, her eyes trained on the back of the lane as her name flashes across the screen.
After three turns, it’s pretty clear that she was just talking shit, every ball she throws dies in the gutter, and she’s joking around, asking for assisted lanes.
“Assassin, hey?” I laugh at her as she hugs a large ball in her tattooed arms.
“I’m rusty?” She shrugs, clearly tipsy from the drinks, but her eyes are glassy with enjoyment. “And hungry.” She whines.
I point to the table behind her where two burgers sit, wandering around her as her eyes fall to the bright ring of red inside. Before she starts to eat it without complaint, I lift the lid, slide the tomatoes onto my plate, and swap in my pickles. Just like the girls always do for her.
She watches me carefully, doesn’t say a word, and picks up the burger.
Her face contorts, and for a second I think that maybe there’s something wrong, but she finishes chewing and says.
“Boone’s are so much better,” she sighs.
I nod, and as she sets down the burger with a sad pout, I fill her plate with my French fries and take the burger from hers. “You don’t—”
“After you’ve eaten pasta out of a bag, you’ll eat anything,” Josè says from our left.
“You’ve eaten pasta out of a bag?” Rhea looks like she’s going to be sick as Josè starts to tell her the horror stories of field rations.