– Harlow
As I straighten the collar of my uniform, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and notice that my hand is shaking.
Stop being a pussy, Harlow, I tell my reflection.
I’ve been to war, fought in battles, and barely survived full enemy attack. Yet someone once said that public speaking is the biggest fear of all, and I’m beginning to believe they were right. This is not the first time I’ve appeared at a conference for Dr. Davis, but I’m beginning to think it will never get easier.
“They’re ready for you,” one of the conference organizers tells me, and I pull my shoulders back and walk onto the stage, hoping that I look much more confident than I feel. Here goes nothing.
Dr. Davis introduces me to the crowd of people who have gathered to hear him talk and see him win an award— the reason that both he and I are here tonight. He had been discussing his state-of-the-art facial reconstruction methods, using my photos to illustrate his talents, but now it’s time for him to point to me as his real live Exhibit A. Even though I’m grateful that Dr. Davis has done so much for me, sometimes I feel like his freak show creation, in addition to being his guinea pig.
I look at the large projection screen above me, where my face— the “after” version— is still prominently displayed. Purposefully not giving myself enough time to change my mind, I step forward, joining Dr. David at the podium, and the crowd politely claps.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Harlow Bradford,” Dr. Davis says.
“Go Harlow!” chants everyone in the front row, and I turn and nod at my boys.
The SEALs. My figurative brothers, and of course Jensen and Ramsey, my literal brothers, have shown up to support me, as they do at many of these presentations and conferences. No one can believe how well I’ve pulled through, not even my own brothers. Not even me.
Jensen’s not in the service anymore. Instead he works for a private contractor, training recruits to do what we do. But he’ll always remain part of the unit in spirit.
And Ramsey, our oldest brother, is the one who got all of us started down this exciting, yet sometimes insane, journey, by joining the Navy out of high school and inspiring Jensen and me to do the same. We were so excited after all three of us had survived the difficult training, passed the grueling tests and become SEALs together. We had a great run of it, but apparently all good things must come to a fucking end.
My unit is about to deploy again, and I’m pissed that I don’t get to go with them. I’m still officially on medical leave, although my recovery was much faster than anyone in the Navy predicted.
Dr. Davis certified me as physically and mentally fit to return to service, but he says that there’s some kind of hold-up with my official clearance. I’ve been wondering if it’s because he works for the Air Force and I’m in the Navy.
But he assures me that has nothing to do with it, that the different branches of the military share resources and that he’s the best of them all so they send service members from all branches to him. He tells me not to worry; whatever the little glitch is, it will be cleared up soon. So, I have nothing to do now but twiddle my thumbs and wait for Dr. Davis to let me know when I can officially return to active duty status with my unit.
Turning my eyes away from the front row, I look at the women in the audience: some of them are service members in uniform or fatigues while others are civilians in regular clothes, but all of them seem to be staring up at me in awe. I know I could take any one of them home tonight, if I want.
I remember last night’s conquest, a busty redhead who giggled too much. Everything was “nice to meet you, tee hee,” “I like your bachelor pad, ha ha ha,” and even “your big cock feels so good inside me, hee hee.”
It got to the point where I couldn’t stand how silly she sounded, but it didn’t matter. I never see a woman again after we fuck. And I make it my goal for us to fuck as soon as possible. Which, in all honestly, isn’t very difficult. Chicks line up to fuck me.
As Dr. Davis was just explaining to everyone here, I’m an American hero, after all. And while I’ve never had any complaints in the looks department, thanks to the miracles of Dr. Davis’ work, now I’m even more attractive than I started out, which is one of the few good things that came from my disastrous injury— the other one being that I didn’t die. I only came close.
I was never that interested in relationships anyway— I’ve only seen bad things come out of them. I just like to have a short and sweet rendezvous now and then. But I probably won’t be taking any of these chicks home tonight. It ruins it for me when they see me as a medical project, a pity-party-turned-miracle-boy.
There is one woman in the audience who catches my eye. She’s sitting off to the side near the front, in a makeshift aisle. She’s dressed in civilian clothes and she looks like just my type. I can tell she’s nice and curvy even from her seated position, and she has olive skin, dark hair and dark eyes.
“Let me show you an example of how far Harlow has come,” Dr. Davis says, snapping me out of my thoughts of the lovely mystery lady and back into reality.
That’s right, I remind myself. I have more important things to do than think about banging this woman in the audience.
It’s time to shine, to impress Dr. Davis and the military Powers That Be that judge my recovery performance, and complete my mission of re-joining my unit.
Distractions from any mission can be deadly, and I know that fact all too well by now to let myself daydream over some chick, no matter how hot she is. I have more important things to do, which require all of my focus and energy.