another. The whiskey made a soft bed for his anger. Maybe he hadn't done anything wrong, he thought. Maybe it was just that age-old disconnect between men and women, the impossibility of either sex understanding the other. Why should he expect it to be any different between him and Selena? He was damned if he was going to let it spoil his day completely. But still, it pissed him off.
It hadn't been that way with Megan, back when he was almost done with his first tour in the Marines and ready to make the move into civilian life with her. It might have gotten that way after a while but he'd never had a chance to find out. She'd died in a plane crash as he watched, unable to do anything to save her. A piece of him had died that day as well, until it came alive again after he met Selena.
The whiskey helped. He debated having a third and decided against it. He paid for the drinks and left a five dollar bill and walked out into the fall afternoon.
I guess the ring is on hold, he thought. Maybe it's a good thing.
CHAPTER 8
It was the evening of the same day. Nick sat with Ronnie and Lamont at a table in The Point, a bar popular with current and former members of America's Special Forces. For a while the three of them had been barred from the premises, after a wild brawl provoked by a patron who'd taken exception to a song they were singing. Since then, all had been forgiven. The joint had a jukebox loaded with rock 'n roll. Sweet Home, Alabama played in the background.
Ronnie had a glass of club soda with a lime in front of him. Lamont and Nick were drinking beer. Lamont had lost weight in the hospital. The corded muscles that lined his wiry frame seemed more prominent than usual. His coffee colored skin was pale from being indoors. The scar he'd picked up in Iraq stood out like a thin, pink snake running across his forehead and the bridge of his nose. But the blue eyes he'd inherited from his Ethiopian forebears had lost none of their intensity.
It was early and the place wasn't crowded. It made conversation easy.
"How you feeling, Lamont?" Ronnie asked.
"Better with this beer."
The last few years had been rough on Lamont. He'd been badly wounded in Jordan. He'd almost died in Cuba. Now he was ready to come back and Nick was glad to have him. But he could tell Lamont had something to say.
"Better spit it out, Shadow," Nick said. Lamont 's mother had named him for Lamont Cranston, The Shadow of radio fame. His Navy SEAL teammates had dropped the nickname on him. It was a natural.
"What do you mean?"
"Come on," Ronnie said. "You've been sitting there like you're hatching an egg, all quiet."
Lamont grinned at him. "Hey, I'm a quiet guy, you know that."
"Not when you've got a beer in front of you," Nick said. "Not usually."
Lamont fooled with his beer bottle, making rings of condensation on the tab le top.
"I've been thinking," he said.
"That's dangerous for someone like you," Ronnie said. "You ought to be careful about that."
"At least I can think, which is more than I can say for some people I know."
Nick signaled the waitress for another round. "So, what have you been thinking about?"
"I had a lot of time in the hospital to do nothing but think."
"And?"
"And I think it's about time for me to hang it up."
Nick and Ronnie looked at each other.
"Hang it up?" Nick said. "What would you do?"
"There's a dive shop for sale down in Florida. I called the real estate agent. It'd be perfect, just what I'd always dreamed of. I'd have to upgrade some of the gear but the price is right. I've got enough money saved up to take care of the down payment and I can borrow the rest."
The waitress came and set a new round of drinks on the table.
"You sound like your mind is pretty well made up," Nick said.
"Yeah, I think it is."
"There you go with that thinking stuff again," Ronnie said. He was joking but Nick could see he wasn't happy about what Lamont had said.
I should've seen this coming ,
It hadn't been that way with Megan, back when he was almost done with his first tour in the Marines and ready to make the move into civilian life with her. It might have gotten that way after a while but he'd never had a chance to find out. She'd died in a plane crash as he watched, unable to do anything to save her. A piece of him had died that day as well, until it came alive again after he met Selena.
The whiskey helped. He debated having a third and decided against it. He paid for the drinks and left a five dollar bill and walked out into the fall afternoon.
I guess the ring is on hold, he thought. Maybe it's a good thing.
CHAPTER 8
It was the evening of the same day. Nick sat with Ronnie and Lamont at a table in The Point, a bar popular with current and former members of America's Special Forces. For a while the three of them had been barred from the premises, after a wild brawl provoked by a patron who'd taken exception to a song they were singing. Since then, all had been forgiven. The joint had a jukebox loaded with rock 'n roll. Sweet Home, Alabama played in the background.
Ronnie had a glass of club soda with a lime in front of him. Lamont and Nick were drinking beer. Lamont had lost weight in the hospital. The corded muscles that lined his wiry frame seemed more prominent than usual. His coffee colored skin was pale from being indoors. The scar he'd picked up in Iraq stood out like a thin, pink snake running across his forehead and the bridge of his nose. But the blue eyes he'd inherited from his Ethiopian forebears had lost none of their intensity.
It was early and the place wasn't crowded. It made conversation easy.
"How you feeling, Lamont?" Ronnie asked.
"Better with this beer."
The last few years had been rough on Lamont. He'd been badly wounded in Jordan. He'd almost died in Cuba. Now he was ready to come back and Nick was glad to have him. But he could tell Lamont had something to say.
"Better spit it out, Shadow," Nick said. Lamont 's mother had named him for Lamont Cranston, The Shadow of radio fame. His Navy SEAL teammates had dropped the nickname on him. It was a natural.
"What do you mean?"
"Come on," Ronnie said. "You've been sitting there like you're hatching an egg, all quiet."
Lamont grinned at him. "Hey, I'm a quiet guy, you know that."
"Not when you've got a beer in front of you," Nick said. "Not usually."
Lamont fooled with his beer bottle, making rings of condensation on the tab le top.
"I've been thinking," he said.
"That's dangerous for someone like you," Ronnie said. "You ought to be careful about that."
"At least I can think, which is more than I can say for some people I know."
Nick signaled the waitress for another round. "So, what have you been thinking about?"
"I had a lot of time in the hospital to do nothing but think."
"And?"
"And I think it's about time for me to hang it up."
Nick and Ronnie looked at each other.
"Hang it up?" Nick said. "What would you do?"
"There's a dive shop for sale down in Florida. I called the real estate agent. It'd be perfect, just what I'd always dreamed of. I'd have to upgrade some of the gear but the price is right. I've got enough money saved up to take care of the down payment and I can borrow the rest."
The waitress came and set a new round of drinks on the table.
"You sound like your mind is pretty well made up," Nick said.
"Yeah, I think it is."
"There you go with that thinking stuff again," Ronnie said. He was joking but Nick could see he wasn't happy about what Lamont had said.
I should've seen this coming ,
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