“Deacon! What the fuck are you doing, bro? Sonny sees that shit and he’s gonna flip the hell out. What’re ya thinking?” Leo asks incredulously.
The answer is I’m not. I can’t think of anything other than Frankie and that fucking asshole, Drew. I’ve never held on to a mad this long when it’s come to Frankie. Not even with all of the Flashdance bullshit. And that’s another thing eating away at me. Where the fuck is he while I’m a couple thousand miles away? You know damn well he’s not just sitting back doing nothing when he knows Frankie is alone. My only saving grace is that Reggie’s there and can’t stand Cristiano any more than I can. I’m not worried about Frankie either—there’s no way she’s fucking around with him. But the thought of Flashdance there with her has me pissed off. And not necessarily at her, just with the situation. I’m a fucking mess.
I reach out a hand to help my sparring partner up. “Sorry, man. You okay?”
He nods as he rubs at the shoulder I nearly popped out of joint. “I’m okay, I think I’m done for the day though,” he tells me as he leaves the Cage.
“Where were you, Hitman?” Leo hands me a towel, watching me.
“Fuck if I know. I was in my head, acting on autopilot,” I tell him, swiping the towel over my face.
“If Sonny were to see that shit, he’d have both of our asses. He barely trusts me with you as it is,” he says, half jokingly.
“And that’s the truth. I think I’m done for the day too. I have to get my mind right, Yoda. All of this shit with Frankie is fucking with me bad. I’ve never had such a problem disconnecting. Especially when I step into the Cage,” I say in disgust.
Leo scoffs. “That’s because you’ve never given a shit.”
He’s right, I haven’t. But I do now. Too much. “What the fuck am I gonna do with her, bro? I’m still so mad I don’t even want to speak to her, yet all I want is to hear her voice because it’s the only thing that anchors me.” Shaking my head, “I get all fired up, can’t fucking think straight, and she’s the one that calms the chaos. Ya know?”
“I do. You have to make a decision. Choose a side, brother.” Smiling like that’s all there is to it. “Do you want to call it quits with her? Where’s your head?” Leo questions.
“No. No, I just don’t want to be near her right now. She let me down and I’m not sure what to do with that,” I admit.
“You know what you want, and you have a right to be upset. Just make sure this is the battle you want to wage and what you hope to achieve by fighting.” I tell him the very basics of what’s going on with her. I never could keep anything from him. “So now we both know that you’re going home to her when this is all said and done and you’re finished being pissed. But you need to allow yourself to just be pissed, stop pussy footing around it so that you can move past it.” Leo claps a hand on my shoulder. “And don’t ever put a sparring partner in an armbar like that again or I’m gonna snitch on you to your brother,” he jokes.
“Just remember, bro, snitches get stitches.” I toss him to the side and exit the Cage, laughing my ass off as he hurls good-natured insults at my retreating back.
Twelve. Twelve days I’ve been away from the Princess. And I’ve felt every single one of them. Her texts still come every day, sometimes they’re just song titles, other times random shit, but they’re not coming as frequently. At first, at any given time of the day, I could look at my phone and see something from her, but after my lack of response, she’s down to just two a day. I always read them. Always. I just don’t always respond, instead keeping busy at the gym. Mr. New Recruit turned out to be a great sparring partner. Tough, willing, and able to take a punch.
I’m hurting her, but I can’t stop. I can’t fucking get over her going to see Andrew. I talked it out with Yoda . . . again, and he said I need to stop punishing the two of us, but fuck if I can find it in me to do that just yet.
A knock at the apartment door pulls me out of my head. I throw the door open to find Jodi on the other side.
“Your phone broke?” she asks.
“No, I forgot to turn it back on after my workout. What’s up?” I ask, moving back so that she can enter. When she doesn’t, I just raise my eyebrows in question.
“I can’t stay, I just got on, but your mates want you to meet them down at the Sandbox. They called and asked me to deliver the message when they couldn’t get a hold of you.”
I look down at my watch and see that it’s only ten P.M. and my gym time isn’t until noon tomorrow. Plenty of time to have a couple of drinks and still be in top form when my brother gets his hands on me. I usually don’t drink when I’m training this hard, but after the goodnight text from Frankie, I need a distraction.
Frankie: I miss you. I wish you would come home or at least call me. xoxo
“Thanks, Jo,” I call to her retreating back. Hand raised in the air, she gives me a little finger wave.
Stepping into the foyer, I snatch my keys, wallet, and phone out of the bowl on the side table and head back out. As I walk past the reception area, Jodi calls out, “Oi, you going out to a Marine bar wearing a pink shirt?” I glance down before looking over at her.
“I’m more than man enough to rock pink. Plus, the ladies dig a man in pink.” I toss her a wink and a wave and continue out the front door. Ignoring her yell to stay away from the ladies and their pink.
The bar is packed when I walk in. There’s a band playing in the corner, writhing bodies taking up every square inch of the dance floor, and not an empty seat in the house. Not stopping, I head to the back of the room where I’m sure I’ll find the guys at a secluded table. A round of catcalls and whistles rip through the air when they spot me. I lift my chin in greeting at the men I used to spend so much time with. Men I’ve trained with, fought beside. Braedon, Eddie, Cisco, and some guy I don’t know nod back, and Leo kicks a chair out for me.
“Well, don’t you look pretty with your pink shirt and your hair in a bun?” Snickering at himself, he signals for the waitress to come over.
“Don’t be mad that this is the only pink you’ve seen in a while, bro.”
The table erupts in a chorus of laughter as I give the girl my order and kick back on the legs of my chair, smiling at Leo.
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be in complicated relationships with our hot as hell best friend. Can we?” he snipes.
“Wait! You’re fucking Frankie?” Braedon groans. “You were supposed to hook me up with her, you asshole!”
I snort out a laugh. “There was no way in fuck I was ever letting you get anywhere near her, dude. Ever.”
Cisco looks at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “Really? You honestly thought that would happen?” He looks so dumbfounded I can’t help but snicker.
“Why not?” Braedon asks, offended. “Hitman let me take her out once when she came to visit,” he says in total indignation.
“He let you give her a ride back to base because he had been drinking. That’s not taking her out—that’s playing taxi.” The whole table is laughing now, remembering the night Leo is talking about except the one guy sitting with us I don’t recognize. I’m just about to ask Leo who he is when he speaks up.
“So Frankie is a girl then?”
Braedon turns wide eyes on him. “Oh, yeah. She’s a girl. A dancer. With the hottest ass and ra—” I smack him upside the head before he can finish.
“No talking about my girl’s ass or her rack, fucker,” I bite out, shooting him a warning look before turning back to the new guy.
“Like a stripper?” he asks, clearly intrigued.
Eddie bites back a laugh. “No, man. Like a legit dancer. Try not to piss the Hitman off before we even introduce your ass.”
Looking embarrassed, he raises his hand in surrender. “No disrespect, bro. Nothing wrong with dating a stripper. I think they even wrote a song about it or some shit.”
The table breaks out into laughter at his rambling to cover his ass.
“Since she’s not a stripper, it’s all good.” I smile and reach a hand out, “Deacon. The boys call me the Hitman, but either is fine.”
His hand stills before reaching mine. “Like the fighter?” Groans from the guys drown out whatever else he’s saying.
“Fucking hell, Tommy. Don’t feed that massive fucking ego of his.”
“Wow. I’m a huge fan. I didn’t even recognize you with clothes on.” The hoots and hollers only get louder and more obnoxious. “I mean with a shirt on. No, not a shirt, it’s just that I would recognize your body anywhere—I’m going to shut up now.” Tommy bends and thunks his head against the table in embarrassment.
Eddie elbows him in the ribs. “You all done now or do you want to crawl under the table and get reacquainted with his body?” This kid is never gonna live this shit down.
He’s saved by the cocktail waitress with the next round. They quiet down to just an occasional chuckle at Tommy’s expense while she doles out everyone’s drinks. Once she leaves, Leo raises his bottle. “To the Hitman and his recognizable ‘body,’ it’s good have you back, brother.” We clink bottles and let out a loud, “OORAH!”
Way too many drinks later, we’re sitting in the same place we’ve been all night, shooting the shit, telling stories about missions gone bad, brothers we lost, pranks we pulled, and Sergeant Major fucking Fraterelli. How a hardass like me survived him I’ll never understand. Leo is right in the middle of telling a story about Braedon nearly pissing his pants when Fraterelli made me climb into the boxing ring with him one day just to prove to everyone that I wasn’t as tough as I thought. He was right. Chuckling as Leo stands on his chair and animatedly embellishes the fuck out of the story, at least from what I remember, I down a shot and let it work its magic. Coursing through my bloodstream, I feel the effects of it and the eight others before. Body feeling weightless, eyes at half-mast, I let the numbness takeover. The chaos in my head quiets for the first time since I’ve been here. I’ll need to call a cab, but this little reprieve from my thoughts and all of the fucked up feelings that go with them is worth it.
I lean back in my chair, feet planted wide, to listen to the rest of the story. My head falls back as I bark out a laugh at Eddie laughing so hard he shoots beer out of his nose.
“You boys sure are rowdy tonight,” the hot blonde suddenly standing next to my chair teases, then glances my way with “fuck me” eyes for days. Her skirt is short, barely covering her ass and her shirt is cut low. Low enough to let me know that her tits are fake and she’s not wearing anything under it. She reaches out and runs a hand over my stubbled cheek and points to my hair. “Man bun, huh? You’re definitely not a Marine then.”
I smirk. “Once a Marine always a Marine, honey.”
The boy’s slur out a little “OORAH.” Her peach tinted lips spread into a smile as she sits in my lap, pressing her tits into my chest, leaning in. “I’m Lisa,” she whispers, flicking her tongue against my lobe then sitting back a little, not so subtly grinding her ass into my cock as she does. I don’t introduce myself. She doesn’t really care what my name is anyway, just how good I’ll fuck her. How many times I’ll make her come. Chicks like this are all the same. Just looking for a Soldier to show them some glory. She’ll drop to her knees on the dirty bar floor and be calling me Sir, all I have to do is pop my fly. I know her type. I’ve fucked her type more times than I can count.
The band breaks, the bartender throwing on the sound system in their absence. “I Belong to You” by Lenny Kravitz fills the room, making me smile as I think about how I played it for Frankie before everything went to shit. Lisa squeals excitedly and straddles my lap, throwing her arms around my neck, rolling her hips, thrusting out a lap dance to the beat of the song. I glance down to where we’re connected and see that her skirt is now bunched around her waist, flashing her purple panties at me with every gyration. My dick hardens, which only makes her work me over even more. Pressing down so that my fly hits her clit with every movement.
Another time, another place, I would have taken her up on her very blatant offer, probably in the fucking bathroom before the song ended. Hell, right here in a bar full of people with my boys sitting at the table. That’s not the man I’m trying to be anymore though. Regardless what my cock thinks. I don’t even miss that guy. All the nameless faces and meaningless fucks were fun, but nothing compared to what I have with Frankie. Once you get a piece of something real, bury yourself so deep inside of it that you don’t recognize who you are anymore without her . . . there’s no coming back from that. I don’t want to come back from that. Ever.
Without warning, I stand, nearly dumping the chick on her ass. Saluting the table as a whole, I walk out of the bar, never glancing back. Behind me is my past, some of it good, some of it . . . not so much. I need to go after my future. I need to go home to my girl.