by Margaret Kay
“I’ve got all I need here,” the Cajun said from behind him. “Do you need to stop at home?”
Sloan shook his head no. “I’ll just grab my go bag and meet you in the garage.”
Sherman beat him down and was waiting by Sloan’s SUV when he exited the stairwell. Sloan had his go bag, a black backpack slung over one shoulder, and his medical kit, a desert camo backpack in his hand. Keeping his medical kit on him at all times was a job requirement, as well as his weapon, a .45 which was currently nestled in its holster in the small of his back.
“Give me your keys and I’ll drive first,” Brian Sherman said.
Sloan threw the fob to him. He wouldn’t argue. He knew his brain was way too distracted to focus on driving through Chicago in the afternoon rush hour traffic.
“This is Kennedy, the chick you told me about.”
“The one and only. God, I can’t believe she’s dead, murdered.”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“The night we broke up, before I reported for basic training.” Sloan shook his head. “But I kept tabs on her for a while, through my brother until he got kind of pissy about it. He knew her sister, Kaitlyn, and they talked sometimes. Kennedy stayed in contact with her sister more than her parents and Kaitlyn was always eager to pass along what Kennedy had told her about her exciting career and all the famous people she was meeting out in L.A.”
“I can’t wait to meet this brother of yours.” Sherman knew that Sloan and his brother had a strained relationship. He wasn’t sure exactly why. Sloan had said several times they were just very different people. He suspected there was more to it.
“Yeah, I’m not as anxious to see him as you are.”
“At least he’s not a total fuck up like mine. I’m just waiting for the call that he’s in trouble again. I know that drugs are addictive, but damn, the kid’s been in rehab enough times that something should have stuck.” He shook his head with disgust.
Sloan was lost in his memories and unaware how long he’d been quiet. Then he realized they were damn near to the Skyway. Fuck! They’d been in the car well over an hour. “You never forget your first,” he said out of nowhere.
“Your first love or your first fuck?” Sherman asked.
“She was both when I was sixteen. There’s an attic over the funeral home.” He paused and smiled as he recalled it. “I fixed up a section without my dad knowing. I snuck in a couch, a bed, even a kitchen table set, my own little apartment. We spent so much time up there, just making out for the longest time until I convinced her to go all the way. Man, the next few years we had so much sex up in that room, until my dad found it towards the end of my senior year of high school.”
Sherman laughed. “What did he say?”
Sloan’s thoughts turned dark. “It doesn’t matter. He didn’t have the right to say jack shit to me about anything sex related. Turns out he was a kinky fuck. What I found on his body after he died,” Sloan said shaking his head. “Let’s just say there are some things a son should never know about his dad and I sure as hell wish I didn’t know what I know.”
Brian Sherman sat stunned for a moment, his imagination running wild with what he could have found. He knew Sloan joined the Navy immediately after his father’s death from a fatal heart attack. All Sloan ever said about it was that no son should ever have to embalm his own father. “Did you tell your brother?”
“Fuck no,” Sloan said. “It would have destroyed Allen to know.”
Sloan got quiet again and Sherman let him be with his thoughts. The sun set while he drove through Indiana. By the time they reached the Ohio state line, Sherman was starving. He pulled off at an exit and into the lot of a fast-food restaurant.
It was dark when Sloan opened his eyes. Sherman had just put the car in park. They were in front of a burger joint. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drift off.”
“No worries,” Sherman said. “Come on.” He nodded towards the building. “I gotta piss and we need to grab something to eat. We still have about three hours to go.”
Sloan pulled himself into the humid, hot night, from the cool SUV, readjusted his .45 in the small of his back and pulled his t-shirt over it. “Damn, it still has to be near eighty degrees.”
“Yeah, and about a hundred percent humidity. Feels like home to me, my brother.” The Cajun smiled. “After this little trip you’ll have to come down to my home. I’ll show you the bayou, Bourbon Street and the French Quarter, and we’ll go for beignets at Café Du Monde.” His accent got thicker as he spoke.
Sloan laughed. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve always wanted to see Mardi Gras too. Is it as wild as everyone says, half-naked drunk women, a party that lasts for two weeks?”
“Yep,” Sherman replied as he pushed through the door into the restaurant. “Let’s plan a Mardi Gras trip next year. We’ll hit up Lambchop and Mother to go with and finally take some of this leave time we’ve built up.”
They got into Cleveland late and checked into a hotel near the funeral home. The only room available had a king-sized bed. They took it. Sloan shot Allen a text to let him know he was in town, not expecting a reply as late as it was. Allen replied immediately and invited him to the house for breakfast if he got there by seven. He text messaged him back and told him he’d be there and indicated he’d be bringing a plus one.
The sun was just rising as Sloan pulled his SUV into the driveway of his brother’s house in the upper middle-class subdivision that hummed with the unmistakable sound of air conditioners. More minivans were parked in front of their two-car garages than not. All the lawns were well manicured, cut the same day by paid landscapers no doubt. Gary knew his brother sure as hell wouldn’t be cutting his own lawn.
They were met at the front door by Allen, who opened it as they reached it. Allen was an older, clean-cut, straight as an arrow version of Gary Sloan, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt with a freshly pressed black suit, and a conservative tie. Sloan couldn’t help but think how proud of him their father would be.
He watched Allen’s eyes flicker to Sherman. Sloan’s lips quirked into a small grin knowing Sherman was not what Allen would have been assuming his plus one to be. Allen’s eyes raked over him. Sloan could see him processing his appearance, judging him based on it. Then Allen’s eyes came to Sloan, that gaze evaluating his own brother’s appearance as well.
“Hi Allen,” Sloan said reaching for the screen door to open it himself, given that his brother hadn’t. “This is my partner and friend, Brian Sherman.”
“Hi,” Allen greeted Sherman, his right hand extended, sizing this taller man up.
The two men shook. Then Allen stepped back and motioned the men inside. There was no handshake or hug for Gary from his brother, both Sloan and Sherman noted. They followed him through to the kitchen. Within the sunny room stood Allen’s wife, Leslie, looking the same to Sloan as always. She was two inches taller than Allen, had a slender build, with an attractive face that was aging well. She had her brown hair secured in a ponytail. She wore shorts and a t-shirt. Gary knew she’d never go into the funeral home looking like that. She must not be working this morning.
“Gary,” she greeted with a smile. She crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him. “It’s great to see you. I’m sorry for the circumstances bringing you home though.”
Sloan returned her hug. “Thanks, Les. Me too. I can’t believe she’s dead.”
Leslie hugged him again.
“Leslie, this is my partner and friend, Brian Sherman,” he introduced.
“Welcome to our home,” she said to him with a smile. She shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then her attention returned to Gary. “You got here fast. Allen said you were coming right away, but we had no idea where you were.”
“We were at a job in Chicago when Allen called,” Sloan said.
“So, you’re a work friend of Gary’s?” Leslie asked Sherman.
“Yes, ma’am. We’re partners, known him sin
ce BUDS,”
“Where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”
“A small town out in the bayou in Louisiana that I’m sure you’ve never heard of, ma’am.”
Leslie smiled. “The kids will be right down. The boys can’t wait to see you. They’ll have their normal questions, so be prepared.”
Sloan laughed. Allen’s two boys were the coolest kids he ever met. His two girls were quite young the last time he’d been home. He wasn’t sure if they’d even remember him. He was sure Allen never talked about him.
“It’s been too long,” Leslie added before moving back in front of the stove.
“Yeah, I know, Leslie,” Sloan remarked. His eyes went to his brother who stood sipping his cup of coffee.
“Do either of you want a cup?” Allen held his mug up to them.
“Thanks,” Sloan said, nodding.
“Yes, thank you,” Sherman added.
“I’ll get it,” Sloan said. He slid behind Leslie and stopped in front of the coffee pot. He opened the cabinet above it. The cups were still kept there. He was sure everything in this house was in the same place since the day his brother and his family moved in.
“There’s creamer in the fridge,” Leslie said.
“Black is fine,” Sloan said. He handed a cup to Sherman. “Do you want any help with that?” He asked Leslie. She stood at the stove cooking.
“Nah, I’m almost done. Allen, can you please call the kids for breakfast?” Her eyes went back to Gary. “The boys have swimming lessons this morning and then will help Allen at the funeral home this afternoon.”
“They have to be what, twelve and thirteen?”
Leslie smiled and shook her head. “Fifteen and fourteen. AJ starts drivers ed next month.”
“Wow, fifteen?” Sloan said, running his hand through his hair. How did that happen?
“Yeah, life continued on without you here, bro,” Allen said as he passed by Sloan, heading to the dining room table. “Come, sit.”
Sloan ignored him. He grabbed the platter of pancakes and handed it to Sherman. “Take that in, will you?” Sloan said. He grabbed the plate of bacon and hash browns. “You didn’t need to go to this much trouble for breakfast, Les. I hope you didn’t do it for me.”
“No, you know your brother. I cook for the family every morning. At least I know the kids are getting a healthy breakfast.”
“Yeah, and Allen too.”
Leslie flashed him a knowing grin.
“Uncle Gary!” A teenaged version of Allen’s oldest, Allen Junior, greeted as he came into the kitchen. He engulfed Sloan in a fierce hug. Leslie took the plate from Sloan’s hands so he could return the hug.
“AJ, damn, look at you.” AJ was the same height he was, and his shoulders were damn near as wide as his own.
AJ backed away and a boy a few inches shorter than he was, who Sloan never would have recognized as James embraced him. “Welcome home, Uncle Gary.”
“James, how in the hell did you get so tall?”
The boy laughed. “Don’t let Dad hear you swear in the house. We have a swear jar, so stupid. It’ll cost you a dollar for each one,” he whispered.
“All I have on me is a five, so I guess I’ll throw out a shit, piss, fuck,” Sloan whispered with a smile. He winked at his smiling nephews. “What are you two up to?”
“I start drivers ed soon and I think I’m going to make Varsity this year. Football camp started two weeks ago, and the coach has me practicing with Varsity only,” AJ said
“There’s this cadet program at the firehouse. I’m eligible when school starts, and Dad is going to let me do it. As long as I still help out at the funeral home Dad is okay with me dropping out of football,” James said excitedly.
“Table boys, now,” Leslie said to all three of them.
“We’re getting in trouble with your mom,” Sloan said. He pointed to the dining room. He noticed the girls were at the table. Wow! They too had grown so much that he didn’t recognize them. “Hey Samantha, Molly, look at you both!” He said with a smile.
The girls just stared at him.
“Girls, you remember your Uncle Gary, don’t you?” Leslie asked.
The youngest, Molly, shook her head no.
“Well it was a long time ago. You were pretty little,” Sloan said. He motioned to Sherman. “Brian, these are my nephews, AJ and James,” he introduced, pointing to the boys. “Boys, this is my best friend and my partner. We went through BUDS, Hell Week, and served in the same unit when we were over in the Sandbox, and we still work together.”
Sherman came to his feet and shook each boy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Gary, really, language,” Allen moaned.
“That’s what it’s called, Hell week, because it is.” He shot a sideways glance with a smile at the boys, who both smiled as well.
Allen just sighed.
Sloan smiled at the two little girls again. “So, if the boys are fifteen and fourteen, Samantha you have to be nine by now and Molly has to be nearly eight.”
Samantha smiled. “I remember you, Uncle Gary. You don’t look like your picture in the family room anymore. Your hair is really long.”
Sloan laughed. He ran his fingers through his locks. “Yes, I guess it is.” He knew which photo she meant. It was his graduation picture from basic training, so long ago. His head was practically shaved in it.
“How long are you in town for, Uncle Gary?” AJ asked. “Do you think you’ll have time to come to one of my scrimmages? I’m a running back, just like you used to be.”
“I’m not sure, but I’d like to come watch. I’ll have to let you know, buddy.”
“I’ll give you my cell number,” AJ said. “And you can text me if you can make it.”
“When are you leaving?” Allen asked.
Sloan’s eyes went to Allen who gazed at him with a glare. “I don’t know how long we’ll be in town. Brian and I are on call. We may have to go back to work without much notice. So, right after breakfast I’d like to go to the funeral home.”
Allen nodded.
Sloan pulled his cell phone out. “Give me your number, AJ, and I’ll text you, so you have mine.”
AJ looked at his dad. “There’s usually no cell phones allowed at the table.”
“It’s out, you might as well do it now,” Allen said in a beleaguered tone. Then he recited AJ’s phone number.
Sloan plugged it into a new text. He typed out a short message that read, I love breaking the house rules. Then he hit send. He heard the muffled vibration of AJ’s phone receiving his text as he put his away. He flashed the boy a conspiratorial smile.
“So, Brian, you said you and Gary met in BUDS,” Leslie said, trying to diffuse the tension in the room. “Are you also a medic?”
“No ma’am, I’m a spotter. Gary and I got paired up during sniper training and have been partners ever since.”
Leslie flashed a confused stare to her husband. “Sniper?” Then her eyes went back to Brian and Gary, who sat next to each other. “Gary, I thought you were a corpsman?”
“I am, also got selected for sniper training because of my accuracy.”
“He’s being modest. He’s one of the best medics and the finest damn sniper in all the Teams. I’ve seen him make shots no one else can.”
“Please,” Allen moaned, holding his hands up, making a stopping gesture. He motioned to the girls who sat staring at them with wide eyes.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Sherman said, nodding at Leslie. Though he seriously doubted the girls knew what he was talking about. “And, I apologize for my language.” His gaze swept over the boys who both looked at him with excitement. They definitely wanted to hear more. He found it odd that Sloan’s family didn’t know he’d been a sniper.
“That’s okay,” Leslie said quickly. “Well, if it can work out that you are here long enough to see a scrimmage, that would be great. The team looks good this year and AJ is probably going to make Varsity as a sophomore, w
hich is pretty awesome. The first game is in two weeks, right before school starts.”
Gary nodded at AJ. “I hope it can work out.”
“Me too, Uncle Gary,” AJ said hopefully.
“So, I know James is going to do the Fireman Cadet Program, what do you girls do?” He flashed the girls a smile. Molly shrank back in her chair. Samantha stared at him with those same wide eyes. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with both of Allen’s daughters, except they didn’t have a clue who he was. He was sure his name never came up in discussions in this house.
“They both do dance and take swimming lessons,” Leslie said. “Samantha wants to try soccer this year. The season starts right after school starts. Those games are on Saturday mornings for her age group, with a couple of practices a week after school.” She flashed a smile at Gary and Brian. “I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to be in two places at one time. Allen isn’t happy about it, but I’m going to have to cut the number of hours I work at the funeral home.”
