The Grunt (4 page)
Terry Anderson was a Staff Sergeant in Recon as well. Divorced twice and one kid, the clean-cut surfer spent most of his time chasing skirts or riding waves when he wasn’t at the base. And he had developed quite a reputation on base and in all the surrounding cities for being a womanizer. However, he and Brett were close-nearly as close and Brett and Joe – because of the time that they had spent in Iraq together.
With his hand up against the vent of his stove, Anderson cooked baked beans and watched the young women as they passed by, sizing each one up for later. He finally looked over at Brett and shook his head. “Man that is fucked up,” he said in a deep, raspy baritone. His green eyes flickered under the light. “How is Cameron handling it?”
“He doesn’t know,” Brett answered solemnly. “I haven’t done
anything
a recently widowed husband is supposed to do. I haven’t contacted her family or made any arrangements. I mean, I’m at a fucking barbeque for Christ’s sake. If it weren’t already known how she had been killed, I’d be a suspect right now.”
Anderson lifted his brow. “How are you supposed to mourn her? She was ditching you.” Taking the pot off the stove, he emptied the food into a large bowl. “You know what you need to do? You need to go out there and pick one of those girls, take them into my bedroom and
long
stroke them. You’ll feel better.” He hit Brett on the chest as if he had just spoken the gospel.
“Don’t listen to this dumbass,” Joe said as a stern voice of reason. “How is
long stroking
some woman going to solve his problems, Anderson?”
“Once he gets some of the blue off his balls, he will be able to fix things. Right now, he’s too fucked up in the head,” Anderson answered.
“This is why he’s been divorced twice,” Joe said, hoping Brett didn’t see any merit in what Anderson was saying. “He’s an idiot. Been blown up too many times in combat. This mother fucker should be drawing down all 100% from the VA.”
Anderson put up his hands. “How long has it been since you were laid?” he asked Brett.
Brett hunched his wide shoulders. “I don’t know. Two months.” He was lying. It had been three.
“Two months,” Anderson said disappointed. “And you’re married…were married?” He was in complete disbelief.
Brett lowered his voice to avoid anyone hearing him. “Yeah, Amy and I were having problems,” he said a bit put off.
“You owe it to yourself,” Anderson said slyly as he put his hand over Brett’s shoulders. Pointing into the living room, he sipped on his beer. “Take your pick. There are short ones, tall ones, old ones, young ones. Whatever your heart desires. And you’re a fucking grunt. Women love that shit. Hell, they put out and don’t even expect a call back just so they can tell their girls that they’ve had a Recon man. What more could a single man ask for? Why take the job if you aren’t going to enjoy one of the main benefits.”
“The clap is not a benefit,” Joe countered.
Brett’s eye twitched. “I’m not
single
.”
“You’re not
married
anymore either. Till death do you part, man,” Anderson said, winking his eye at a woman across the room who waved at them. “Oh, yeah. She’s getting it tonight.”
Brett raised his brow at Anderson’s statement and sighed. While he had surely been an absentee husband most of his marriage, he had at least been faithful. However, Anderson was right about one thing. He was single. And the reality of what being single meant both exhilarated and depressed him. The dating scene was not all that people made it out to be. If it was, then why did all his divorced friends constantly try to remarry again? There was something to be said about the institution of marriage
as long as you weren’t married to Amy
.
Brett pulled away. “I’m going to step outside and have a cigarette,” he said, leaving Anderson to sniff out the woman sending mixed signals across the room.
Joe had made his way to the grill. He was definitely not here for the women. With two plates in his hands, even after Judy had just cooked for them, he focused on adding on a few pounds and guzzling down free beer. Eyeing Brett as he made his way towards the beach, he raised his half-empty beer bottle to him, mid-conversation, and went back to filling his plate.
***
The tranquil breeze coming in from the roaring ocean seemed to calm Brett’s thoughts. Cooling the sticky sweat around his shirt-collar as it whipped past him, he closed his eyes and felt the wind surround him. Funny how just one of God’s many invisible forces made him feel so small and insignificant. Running the cold beer bottle over his hot skin, he pulled off his shoes and walked barefoot up the quiet trail, wiggling his feet in the wet sand.
For a moment, he was allowed to just think. A flash of Amy in her simple, white wedding dress came to mind, the smell of her perfume, the flicker of golden hair under her veil. He remembered when she was just an innocent girl with hopes of a blissful future. They used to lay in bed on a Saturday morning and talk about what it would be like to grow old together. He remembered how she would make him laugh with her spontaneous new hobbies or attempts at fame.
He recalled a few years ago when she had emerged from the shower soaking wet and covered in suds, proclaiming that she was going to be the next American Idol. They had driven two hours to Raleigh to tryouts so that she could sing her own rendition of Elvis Presley’s
Love Me Tender
. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that she sounded horrible. Instead, he had chosen to act surprised when she had emerged from the auditions with teary eyes and a bad (in fact dreadful) response from one of the judges.
Still, he had enjoyed her vitality, when she still had it. He never could put his finger on when they had lost their way. It was somewhere in between the cities of Iraq and the fewer and fewer calls he made home. Every time he called, she was more distant and he was more occupied. Towards the end of his last tour, he simply left messages on the voicemail. Amy had stopped picking up, claiming always to be out running errands. If he were truly honest, he had seen it coming. They had simply fallen out of love with each other, yet he didn’t want to think that it could happen to him. He never thought that she would just leave.
Taking another swig of his beer, his thoughts quickly shifted. Anderson was right. It was most unusual that a couple so young would go so long without sex. He wondered if she had been involved in a sexual relationship with the Jermaine character from the phone. There had been so many accusations over the years. The rumor was that his Amy had a thing for officers. She always wanted him to be an officer, to go through the steps, to make the grade. She could never understand that he was happy being just who he was.
As the tide came rushing in, a figure in the distance pulled him from his thoughts. Carrying a purple surf board, a shapely dark-skinned black woman in a yellow bikini came out of the water. In one arm, she carried her board and with the other, she ran her hand over her long black locks that spilled over onto her muscular shoulders.
He was walking directly in her path and stopped for a moment to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. She was like a beautiful mirage in a hot desolate desert.
Throwing her board down, she pulled at the strings of her bikini and looked around. Planting her gaze on him, she raised her hand and waved. A perfect smile erupted from her lips revealing pearly white teeth.
He turned to look, making sure before he embarrassed himself that she was actually waving at him. Did he know her? Surely, he would remember her.
With a mean sway to her wide hips, she walked towards him, kicking the sand under feet. And with each devastating step that she took, she caused a strain in his heart. Her skin glistened even in the darkness. Confidence poured off her like the water that dripped from her moonlit hair. It was like he had seen an angel but without wings.
“Hey Marine,” she said in an upbeat voice. “Funny seeing you here.”
Brett squinted.
“Remember me from the library?” she asked, catching her breath.
As she got into full view, Brett realized that it was the librarian from Swansboro. His words caught in his throat as he watched her emerge from the blackness like a gift from God Almighty.
“Yeah, I remember you,” he said in a deep baritone. His eyes lit up. She kept having that effect on him. Every time she was around, he felt lighter, if there was such a thing.
Wiping her face again, she looked up at him with her hands on her hips. “You live over here?” she asked, looking back at the party a few hundred yards away. “Or are you one of Anderson’s friends?”
“You know Anderson?” he asked, raising his brow.
“Not in the Biblical-sense, no. I’m his neighbor…unfortunately.” She looked back at her board. “I figured since he was going to keep me up with the racket, I might as well catch a few late night waves.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” he asked, looking at the intense waves as they came beating against the shoreline. She had to be pretty brave to ride those.
“Oh, isn’t that cute. He’s concerned.” Turning away from him, she headed back to pick up her board. “I actually enjoy surfing at night. The moon, the wind, the peace and quiet. I don’t know. It blows my skirt up,” she screamed down the beach as she walked. It was like she knew that he wouldn’t go anywhere, that he would stand at her feet like a lapdog.
“Let me help you with that,” Brett said, darting in front of her. He ran down a few feet, picked up her things and turned to her. A pause in his words revealed his budding thoughts. “I’ll walk back up with you. It isn’t safe for you to be out so late.”
“Well, there it is ladies. Chivalry isn’t dead.” Courtney smiled. She liked his concern, although completely unneeded. Nodding, she hunched her shoulders. “Okay, devil dog. Lead the way,” she said, motioning down the beach.
Walking in-step with each other, Brett looked down at the perfect part in her curly hair and smiled. “You look
different
after work,” he observed. It was the understatement of the year. She looked amazing nearly naked and soaking wet. Just the sight of her awakened his groggy libido. But there was something else about her that aroused his other senses, something unique to her and her alone.
“I guess you could say that I have a split personality,” she answered of her late-night pursuits. “Did you find what you were looking for at the library today?”
“I actually ended up not needing it,” he said, biting his lip. “She…uh...died today.”
Courtney stopped walking. Alarm thickened the moment. Was she talking to a murderer? Did he come here to attack her for knowing that he had been researching a divorce?
Brett immediately realized how it all must have sounded or worse looked and quickly explained himself. “The big plane crash earlier today took her with it. It was all over the news. I didn’t have any hand in it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just ask Anderson. He hated her, but he wouldn’t lie for me.”
“Oh,” Courtney said with a frown. She had seen the plane crash and there was no way to lie about that one. She quickly relaxed her tense shoulders and began walking again. “And you’re out celebrating?” It still didn’t seem right to her.
“No, just trying to figure things out.” He looked into her eyes for approval. “Is that weird? Is it wrong?”
She blinked. “Depends. Where was she going on this plane ride?”
Brett couldn’t help but notice her deep southern drawl. It was worse than his, almost Texas-like. All she was missing was a big cowboy hat and pair of chaps, which he wouldn’t mind seeing her in at the moment.
“She was going to Japan to be with her lover,” Brett finally answered after he pushed thoughts of her in leather chaps out of his mind. Anderson was right. He did need to get laid.
Courtney shook her head. “Ouch. Well, I don’t guess I much blame you for needing to figure things out then. Sorry for your loss, just the same.”
“Thanks,” he said sincerely.
As they passed the growing crowd out on Anderson’s deck, she pointed at the empty condo directly beside his. On the patio was a small umbrella covered table and hanging flowers with a small but very patriotic flag waving in the wind. It looked like a place for a single woman.
“That’s me,” she said proudly, reaching her arms out for her board. The gold bracelet on her wrist dangled in the darkness against her dark skin.
Brett passed her the board and smiled. “Thanks again for helping me earlier. It was nice to run into you. We should do it sometime again.” He wanted to groan as soon as he said it. Was that the best he could do after so many years? Was that his best pickup line?
Courtney looked over at the crowd and frowned. “Would you like to come over and have a cup of coffee? I don’t know you well, but that really doesn’t look like your scene.” She turned back and looked at him; her hazel brown eyes sparkled and sent warmness down his spine like he had just dipped his feet in hot water.
“Well?” she asked again, realizing that his mind had gone somewhere else. She moved her body into his view. “Do you want to come in?”
Brett was ecstatic that she asked. He counted back five seconds before he answered to keep himself from looking too eager. “Sure,” he said, repressing a grin. “I’d love a cup.”
“Good,” she said, opening her patio door. Cold air rushed from her apartment into their faces. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to throw on something more appropriate.”
Courtney’s home smelled clean and fragrant like vanilla extract and shampoo. The small one-bedroom was whimsically designed with fresh daffodils in vases strategically placed around the living room to add color and accents of yellow and pink. Each lamp was an acrylic masterpiece shaped like a garden of bright flowers, making the place seem like a retro Tide commercial.
True to her profession, Courtney had lined neatly against nearly every wall tons of books – mostly classics. He didn’t have time to check, but he was willing to bet that they were alphabetical. A huge picture of Jimi Hendrix was the focal point of the small living room right under a nostalgic yellow leather sofa. The floor was maple-colored hardwood covered by a green and yellow rug shaped like a patch of flowers. Overall, it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. And it was refreshing to be in a house that had a personality, unlike his own house that was drab and lifeless.
When he realized that he had analyzed her entire apartment, he wondered if Amy hadn’t turned him gay. What man paid attention to such things? The answer - a sexually suppressed man. Brett Black, king of the blue balls.
Sitting down on the diminutive yellow sofa, he nearly hid it with his size. It squeaked under his weight and the soft padding under him quickly deflated. Still, he sank down in comfort and rested his head back. A deep breath finally released from him and caused a strain in his chest.
Wow, this has been one hell of a day
, he said to himself.
Moving a multi-colored pillow from behind his back, he waited for her to come back out to join him. And for a minute, he wondered if this counted as a date. There were candles, a nearly naked woman and nice quiet apartment. This was something that he had not experienced in a while. It felt good, though it was on the eve of his wife’s death. A tinge of guilt overcame him as he dwelled on how premature this makeshift date was. Life was a strange thing and often better than fiction.
Courtney didn’t make him wait long. She sprang like a flower from her bedroom wearing a pink halter sundress that brought attention to the suntan lines on her dark shoulders.
Brett sat up a little, watching her every move. His mouth firmed involuntarily as he swept her body. Even in the dark, he could see her nipples pebbled against the soft cotton covering her skin. The first thought that came to mind was that she looked touchable.
“So do you want hazelnut or Columbian brew?” she asked, going to the kitchen.
Brett watched her as she popped into the kitchenette and opened up her pantry. Staring back at him with a smile she waited.
“Columbian, please,” he answered, wondering if she could tell he was attracted to her and wondering at the same time if she was attracted to him. Oddly enough, he wanted her to be.
“One fresh cup of
Columbian
coffee coming right up,” she said, pulling a gourmet tin from the cabinet. As she did so, her damp hair fell over her face and suddenly Brett wanted to move it out of her way. He wanted to touch her soft as silk skin.
Her hazel brown eyes flashed at him before she went back to the task in front of her. That single moment of acknowledgement stung at him like a thousand bees. Was he supposed to feel like this? He could not explain it but she did something strange to him, something no other woman had ever done before.
With great effort, he managed to peel his eyes off of her and look around her place once more to calm himself. As she had hinted at, the music from Anderson’s apartment banged against her wall. But inside her little safe haven, there was utter peace. After lighting a candle in the corner on the table, she brought over two cups of coffee and sat them down on the table in front of him.
“There you go,” she said, bending over to put down the two paisley-colored mugs. The fleur-de-leaf golden necklace fell between her breasts and lodged itself against her firm orbs.
“Thanks,” Brett said, sneaking a peak down her dress. She had full ripe breasts that made his mouth water. As she looked back up at him, he felt it in his groin. Desire.
Sitting across from him in a small chair, she put her feet under her and took a deep breath. “So,” she said with a smile, “what does a man do when he goes from divorced to widowed?”
The question floored him. She was very direct. Rubbing his itchy, tired eyes with his index finger, he slumped down in the sofa and stretched out his long legs. “Well, I don’t quite know yet,” he answered honestly. “A lot has happened in the last twelve hours.”
“Tell me about it,” she said with a knowing nod. “I was told today that the county is cutting back and has to eliminate my job. So, I have to figure out another way to pay for my tuition. And I seriously doubt my parents will help.”
Brett tried to focus. “Why?” he asked
“Because this is like my third try at it. I’ve changed my major too many times, and my dad hates indecisiveness. I went from wanting to be a doctor to a lawyer to a cop and now I’m going to become a librarian. Wait. That’s four majors, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you’re a scatterbrain?” he frowned, wishing he hadn’t said that. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her. She had been the only woman who had been nice to him in years.
Courtney laughed at his observation. Her light hearted giggle made him smile. “I used to be a scatterbrain. I went from Yale to University of Wilmington to the local community college. But what I always loved was books. So, once I realized that I decided that being a librarian would be best. I only have a year left in school. I actually stuck to his one.” She said so with a grin, proud of herself and her accomplishment.
“Well at least you seem upbeat about it,” Brett said, taking a sip of his coffee. “What did you do to this? It’s great.” The best coffee he had ever had or maybe it was because she had fixed it for him.
“Thanks,” she said, watching his full mouth touch the mug. His features were striking to her, a strong chiseled jaw, tanned skin, piercing blue eyes, dirty-blonde hair, a straight perfect nose and naturally arched eyebrows. Was he a grunt or a model? She bit her lip. “I added a few special touches. I’m good at fixing coffee.” Moving her hair behind her ear, she shook her head. Why couldn’t she stop flirting with him? It was driving her insane.
“Maybe you should change your major?” he said playfully. “Go into coffee.”
Courtney laughed again. “At least you didn’t lose your sense of humor.” Her smile left as a thought crossed her mind. “How’s Cameron?”
“Umm.” He put down his mug. “You remember his name?”
“You sort of left an impression.”
She is very direct
, Brett thought to himself. He was impressed. “Cameron doesn’t know yet.” That was the second time that someone had asked him about how his son had taken the news. Maybe it was time that he told him.
Brett rested his head back on her couch and looked up at her ceiling fan. The chestnut-colored wooden blades turned quietly. “Like I said, I have a lot to figure out.”
“Eventually, you’re also going to have to mourn her, I imagine.”
Brett looked over at her. “Eventually.” His deep voice trailed off as his eyes started to close.
After such a long exhausting day, his mind and body began to involuntarily shut down on him. Plus, her place was inviting and warm. It begged for him to let his defenses down and rest. He did so obediently.
As the soft music played in the background and the candles danced about them in the darkness, Courtney watched him fall off to sleep. Slowly, his balled up fists relaxed. His large chest expanded with every inhale. Tight, perfect muscles lay rigid under his white Calvin Klein t-shirt. Shiny dog tags fell over on top of his beating heart. And Courtney, while looking at how peaceful he suddenly seemed, came to the realization that Brett Black was beautiful in a masculine sort of way.
Carefully putting down her coffee cup on the table to make sure it didn’t make a sound, she went to her linen closet and pulled out a plush pink blanket, then carefully laid it over him. As she tried to put the pillow behind his head, his eyes shot open. Startled, his large hands shot up defensively and clenched her small waist.
Alarmed, she let out a gasp. Her long, damp hair fell over the two of them, smelling of shampoo and perfume.
“It’s just me,” she said in a whisper only an inch from his face. Her fingers rested on his wide, concrete shoulders.
His eye flinched. Adjusting his sight in the darkness, his gaze swept over her and recognized that she was not a threat – not in the normal way at least. He growled in a sensual low tone that made her rigid body go to liquid. Clenching her tighter as she relaxed, he pulled her in between his open legs.
Courtney was not shy. Her long dark arms wrapped around his thick muscular neck as she snaked her body into him. With hot breath hissed against his skin, she ducked in and stole a kiss from his parted lips. His hands quickly moved from her waist up her back to her shoulder and finally to cup her face.
Her mouth was warm, wet. He kissed her slow and easy. Searching it for every taste and every flavor, he pulled her to him, hungry for human interaction and was amazed by how good her body felt against his own, how soft the flesh inside her mouth felt as his tongue moved around it. She seemed to melt into him like they were meant to be. And for a moment, he couldn’t get close enough.
Courtney had completely lost herself in him. Tilting her head to taste every part of his mouth, she felt her heart pounding against his chest. The smell of his cologne transferred from his body to hers. The kiss went from slow and easy to hard and passionate, igniting heat down in her belly and causing him to push his hips up to reveal his ramping need.
Straddling him while they kissed, she felt his strong hands as they cupped her bottom closer to him. His muscular arms bulged with pure power as he embraced her. Laying his head back, she fell into him deeper, kissing him faster. Another moan escaped, only no one knew from whom. He cursed in between their kisses as he looked down at her dress slowly easing down with all of the movement, barely hiding her breasts. Holding her small back in his hands, while the balls of his feet pushed up to help his knees arch her into his throbbing penis, he sank deep into her kiss, so deep until his burden did not feel as heavy anymore.
This was going too far. He wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. It was every part of her that drove him mad, her beautiful face, her enchanting body, her sensual smell, her soft touch. This room. The candles. The music. He wanted her more than he wanted to breathe at that very moment, and she wasn’t stopping him.
“Easy,” he whispered against her mouth as he panted. Exhaling a deep breath, he looked into her eyes. Unable to help himself, he kissed her one last time before he ramped it down. “You’re…fucking amazing.” His heart beat against her own. Her eyes were bright as she listened quietly.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said, moving her hair behind her ear. She sat up on him and pulled her dress up. Looking around dazed, she wiped her mouth. “That’s never happened before.”
He looked down at her still on top of him and rested his head back on the couch. “Unfortunately, that has never happened to me before either.” His hands were still clenching her waist. Slowly, she moved and stood up. As she did so, he felt the strain of their distance. Cool air replaced the hot steam between them.
“What did you put in that coffee?” he asked with a frown.
Courtney laughed. “A little splash of happiness.” Her bright eyes warmed his heart.
“I’m not stopping because I want to,” he explained in a deep low voice. His lips were still wet with her kiss.
“No. We need to stop. I’m sorry. I…I am very attracted to you, Brett. But I don’t normally behave this way.”
“Maybe it’s the stress,” he said, looking away.
“Maybe…” she said, walking back over to him. Pulling the blanket over him, she kissed his forehead. As she did, he rubbed his hand over her back, unable to stop touching her.
“Get some rest. You’re exhausted. I can see it in your eyes and I don’t even know you,” she said quietly.
“I’ll just…rest here until my friend is ready to go,” he said, feeling his eyelids grow heavy again. “You’re house is like a freaking tranquilizer.”
Courtney stepped away with a smile. “Shh…go to sleep.”
***
The sun came creeping through the patio door to wake Brett from his hard sleep. As his eyes slowly opened, he looked around confused. Where was he? He sat up on the couch, tucked tightly in a pink blanket and realized that he had actually spent the night at the librarian’s house. Jimi Hendrix played on the radio in the kitchen while Courtney cooked eggs and bacon and hummed to herself.
Throwing the food on a plate, she walked over to him. Now showered and dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a pink polo, she placed his food down on the table beside a single yellow rose in a green vase that wasn’t there the night before.
“Morning, sleepy head,” she said with a smile. Her brow spiked at him. “Did you have pleasant dreams?”
“Morning,” Brett said in a scratchy voice. “Better than that. I didn’t dream at all.” He looked down at his watch. 9:00 in the morning. Cameron! “Shit,” he said, popping up. “I need to get to my son.”
She looked up at him as he sprang from the couch and towered over her. He seemed even taller today. “Your friend, Joe, said he was taking him to his place. He came out on the beach calling for you just a few minutes after you passed out. I told him that you were sleeping. He said that you could pick him up this morning when you felt better. I didn’t think that you would mind. You were exhausted – in no shape to watch a young child.”
Brett sat back down, rested back a little easier and felt for his phone, but his pants were gone. He eyed them across from him laid carefully over the arm of her chair.
Courtney followed his gaze. “Hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t see how you’d be comfortable in those jeans all night. I mean, I sleep naked. So, I stole them from you last night. It was hard to do. You’re sort of muscular.”