Chapter 1
Know what they don’t tell you about getting out? Sometimes civilian life sucks. Six years of bullshit details, three craptastic deployments, about twelve billion hours of wishing my time was done, and two months out, I stare at the recruiting office some days, thinking to myself, it wasn’t so bad was it? I mean can’t be worse than working for this shitty temp agency, or spending my days in a bar right?
Now sure, I usually think things like that while spending my days in a bar within sight line of the recruiting station before realizing, yeah. It was that shitty. This just happened to be one of those days even if it was slowly turning into one of those nights. Charlie’s wasn’t a bad place to park your ass and have a few, decent dive, your classic combination of crotchety old timers, working class, and young kids, who were probably pregaming the cheap happy hour for a night out at more expensive clubs. Service is good, most of the bartenders are hot in that leave me alone kind of way, and they serve the cheap shit. Never have been one for fancy beers.
“Another, love?” I looked up to see Annie hovering near my almost empty beer. She had this wonderfully maddening come hither look that you knew wasn’t meant for you, but you hoped anyway.
“Yes ma’am.” I smiled up at her as I finished the ass end of my beer, and placed the empty bottle back down on the well worn wood of the bar.
“You calling me old again John?” Annie nabbed the bottle with feigned indignation, and replaced it with a full one.
“Uh…” I tried to stammer out a response.
“Ain’t no one’s Ma’am.” She said as she walked away, moving on to tend to one of the other patrons.
Damn.
“Smooth move there Casanova.” I turned to the guy next to me, quip at hand, then swallowed it. Guy was massive, better half of six feet easy, and arms that probably weren’t the size of my thighs, but not that far off either. All topped with an oddly jovial face, odd in the fact that it gave the impression that he’d be smiling in that charmful way while he crushed someone’s skull.
“Eh, can’t win them all right?”
“Not with that attitude you can’t.”
I chuckled, taking further stock of the guy in front of me leather cut, with a few patches told me he was affiliated with some MC, though I wouldn’t be able to tell which one until he turned around. The patch on his left breast read Silverton, which put him a few hours out of his club’s town.
“So what brings you here friend? Other than pointing out other guys failures?”
“I need another reason?” I chuckled, and he looked at me with a discerning eye, “Mother lives here, just visiting.”
I could tell he was lying, I usually can, it’s why I was so good at my job, but I figured it really wasn’t any of my business, so I nodded and turned back to my drink. I’ve come to learn pressing people, especially ones that could pop your head like a pimple isn’t really in my best interest, even if I was curious.
“You serve?” My large companion caught me a little off guard in asking.
“What makes you think that?”
“Clean cut, mostly shaved, and your boots, half expect you to wearing your fucking tags. You’re not one of these assholes that have their unit tattooed to their arm or something are you?” I turned to regard him sizing me up. I got the distinct impression he wasn’t all that impressed.
“Nah, no tats. You serve?”
“Yep.” He said grinning as he rolled up his sleeve revealing a tattoo a dagger, crisscrossed by two arrows, De Opresso Liber written beneath it. That confirmed it, don’t fuck with this guy.
“One of those assholes then?”
Did I mention I’m not a very smart man? I probably let out an audible sigh when he just laughed and offered his hand.
“Miles.”
“John.” I shook his hand, which was roughly twice the size of mine and felt like his grip might accidentally break my fingers.
“So what brings, you around here John? Not exactly a happening town, and you ain’t from here.”
“Just got out, didn’t have enough money to get back East, temp agency in town was hiring.” I shrugged, “Besides, I kind of like the quiet.”
“Hear that.” He glanced over at my beer, than rose his hand, “Bartender, back up my friend here?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. Congrats on getting out.” He raised his own mug, then glanced out the window, I followed his eyes to the recruiting station, “Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot.” With that he drank the rest of his beer, slapped me on the back, slightly knocking the wind out of me and walked out, leaving way too much money on the bar.
“You got generous friends John, should bring them around more often.” Annie, scooped up the excess cash, throwing it in a bucket behind the bar.
“You calling me cheap Annie?” I put my hand over my chest and put on my best shocked face.
“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt and say broke.”
“Thanks.” I tried to look sullen, which was a feat looking at that grin of hers. I knew she was just teasing to get a better tip, I also knew I was going to leave one. Seriously, did I mention I’m not a smart man?
A few hours and a few more beers than are wholly appropriate for a Wednesday night later I made the oddly intelligent decision to wrap up my night. Charlie’s got a bit more local after dark, and if I was really being honest with myself I didn’t quite belong yet. I looked at the cash in my hand, bit my lip then just threw it all on the bar. What can I say? I’m a sucker when I’m drunk.
“You ain’t driving, right John?” Annie asked as she took the money and wiped my previously held section of bar.
“Nah.” I held up my phone, showing the car service already on its way.
I’m super eloquent when I’m drinking.
“Alrighty, you have a good one then.” She smiled, I grinned stupidly, it was sad really.
“You to.”
It was cool night, not cold, but you could tell it probably would be in a week or two, and it was misting, because of course it was. I looked down at my phone’s display, and realized I had a few minutes to wait. Mistimed my exit again, typical. Not wanting to make that awkward walk back into the bar I just left I moved over to the curb and settled in. It wasn’t long before my ass was wet, and that fine mist had begun to accumulate into thoroughly wet clothes, but I was buzzed enough not to care.
There’s something peaceful about those last few moments of a night out. Alone, waiting for your cab, numb enough that you don’t shit, just you and the stars. Or at least there would be stars if I lived anywhere other than a Seattle suburb where all I got was blackness at night and grey during the day. I reached into my pocket for a smoke before I remembered I’d quit, then promptly cursed my sober self for deciding to do something so epically fucking stupid.
I took out my phone again to check my cab’s status, and caught the reflection of someone hovering behind me. I turned just fast enough to see the pipe crack into the side of my face.