Alphas & Fairytales: A New Year's Eve Anthology

by Molly McLain

Savannah clears her throat, noticeably shaken, but holding strong. “My sister and I were taught from a very young age what service truly means. And I believe whether military, veteran, first responder or civilian, it is our duty to give back to this country, and back to those who stepped up to serve and protect it. It is organizations like VETSports that ensures this happens. I thank you all for being here, for donating your time and hard-earned money to this organization I love so much, and for sharing this beautiful evening with me.” She puts two hands to her heart. Her beautiful red gown accentuating her curves in the spotlight.

  “And how about those fights?” She giggles. “I’m just truly thrilled to be able to bring together these two things that I love so much: service and mixed martial arts. Thank you all again. I’ll hand it back over to Ed now because I need to get back to that risotto.” She laughs, motioning for Ed before slinking back down the stairs. She nods politely to those in her eye line as she walks back to the table, the same rush of applause as before, if not louder now, soundtracks her movements.

  As she takes her seat, and the gentleman begins speaking again, I run over in my head what I just witnessed. Famous actress in her mid-twenties who is giving and generous…check. Intelligent, well-spoken…check. Loves MMA…big fucking check. What the hell am I missing here. I haven’t owned a TV in years because of what I perceive to be a dying generation. You flip through the channels and all you see is bullshit. In the day when Kim Kardashian is your biggest star, it’s time to take a good long look at the state society is in. If I wanna catch a game, or a fight, I’ll head to the bar. I just don’t even want that shit around me. Seeing someone from this generation making a real difference… it’s just not been my experience. Not that I’ve been paying much attention, to be perfectly honest.

  It’s not long before she catches me staring, an eyebrow arched as a smile spreads across her face. My eyes dart from chandelier to chandelier doing nothing to save myself from being caught. I take a deep breath, shaking my head when I catch Brad looking at me with a shit-eating grin.

  “Pretty impressive, huh?” he asks, nodding toward Savannah’s table.

  “Not what I was expecting, that’s for damn sure,” I mumble, bringing my hand up and checking my watch for no other reason than to quell the unease I’m feeling.

  “Her and her sister…holy shit, man. Smokin’ hot,” he says with a whistle.

  I narrow my gaze on him. “Okay. They’re our clients, Brad. C’mon.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up, dude. Don’t act like you didn’t notice. And don’t act like I didn’t catch you in the act of staring at her like a fucking creeper.” He laughs, giving me a good whack in the arm.

  “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just worry about the job, okay?” A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth, but I fight it.

  Brad leans over, scanning his left and then his right dramatically and catching Tito’s attention. He then straightens and shoots me a smug grin. “How much security is here, bro?” He scoffs. “I think we’re good.”

  “Yo,” Tito says, motioning for our attention. “You see that fucking dessert tray? Holy hell, I’d fucking bathe in that shit.” My stomach grumbles as if in response. I had seen the dessert tray, just as I saw the risotto and lamb before it. I’m dying to eat, and right about now I’m regretting ever having signed up for a fitness competition. What the hell was I thinking? The carb withdrawal and subsequent fits of anger are very real.

  “Yeah, we need to go out for some grub and some beers after this,” Brad adds. “I’m starving.” He looks at me with a face that says, you’re going whether you like it or not, but I intend to anyways. Even if it’s just a Caesar salad, dressing on the side, and some vodka waters. And regardless of the relentless shit I’ll get from Tito and Brad for it. It wouldn’t be the same if they stopped now.

  “I’m in. Hopefully this thing doesn’t last too much longer after dinner and fireworks,” I say, my focus shifting back to Savannah. She pushes her half eaten dessert toward the center of the table and turns back to her sister to converse. My mind drifts to the years since my injury. And finding my way back from it through work… and of course the loneliness that comes right along with that.

  I wasn’t ready to commit to anything for the longest time anyways. It was just too hard to open myself up to someone else; to let them see all of me, every dirty little bit of it, and enabling them to judge me for it. I could barely love myself and for a long time I didn’t, but to love someone else…nah. It just wasn’t in me. But lately, that’s changed. I think more about the desire for someone else, for their love…to feel fully connected with another human being.

  To be able to show someone all of yourself and to be accepted for it regardless… novel idea, right? But I’ve seen so many failed marriages throughout my time in the Army. Situations where the love slowly died and wilted away, and a disgusting mess of divorce and children forever changed following soon after. I always wonder what could’ve gone wrong and I’ve always feared seeing myself in the same position.

  I shake my head, burying a finger and thumb into my eyes and rubbing them out. How did my thoughts stray here? How do they always stray here these days?

  Shake it off, motherfucker.

  Chapter 4

  As the last of the dishes are cleared from each table, the massive dance floor beside it is strewn with dancing couples, some better than others, and a mess of people in clusters surrounding it. The lights are low and a live band plays from the stage. Strobe lights dance around the room and make it hard to see everything that’s going on.

  “You were staring at me earlier,” a voice calls out from behind me. The little hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. I turn and see Savannah approach, a wide grin spread from ear to ear. I try to hide my surprise as I hadn’t had eyes on her like I should have.

  “Ma’am, I’m your bodyguard. I think it’s my job to watch you.”

  She stops, tilting her head. “You know what I mean.”

  “Intrigued, that’s all,” I say without any real thought to it. My eyes remain steady on hers, beautiful little specks of blue in the dimly lit room. I slip a nervous hand into my pocket.

  “Intrigued, huh?” She raises an eyebrow, standing to my side and watching half her friends dance like idiots on the dance floor with me. I motion out toward them, turning my head to her and smiling.

  “Interesting bunch you got there. I mean, for a charity event and all,” I say, a touch of sarcasm to my tone.

  She giggles, putting a hand to her mouth. “Yeah, but they’re fun. If you got to know them, you’d see there’s more to them than meets the eye.” Her eyes remain on them, her broad, powerfully white smile still there. “They’re beautiful people, really.”

  “So intrigued, huh?” she repeats, looking back at me now. I’m still watching her friends, but I can feel her eyes on me. It makes my damn palms sweat.

  I motion around the massive room. “I mean, all this, at such a young age. It’s impressive.”

  She looks at me, faking offense. “Such a young age? How old do you think I am?” she asks.

  “Well, I do research my clients. Enough to get the gist at least, so I know you’re twenty-five.”

  “And that’s such a young age to you? Well, how old are you?” she asks.

  “I’m thirty-two. Turning thirty-three in August.”

  “Ahhh, you are an old man,” she says, giggling.

  “Precisely.”

  “Well, you don’t look like it,” she says, and just as I turn to thank her, I spot a man coming up swiftly behind Savannah, lifting her up and carrying her a few steps. Her eyes are wide with terror.

  I’m two seconds from slipping the crook of my elbow under his chin and choking him the fuck out when Savannah turns and looks at the man. Recognizing him, the terror leaves her face and a toothy smile replaces it.

  “Mattyyyy,” she says through a laugh. “You let me down right now!” She swats his shoulder with her free hand and he obliges. They immedi
ately embrace as I take a few steps back, my hands coming together in front of me. He eyes me, sizing me up when he lets her go.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it?” she asks, his eyes falling back on her. He’s dressed in a tux too, but his jacket is shed and sleeves are rolled. I’m highly envious.

  “I didn’t think I was, but Travis and I left the wedding early. It was lame as fuck,” he says as he drunkenly sways back and forth. Savannah looks behind him, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

  “Is he here?” she asks. And it forces me to intuitively glance behind him as well, even though I don’t know who it is they’re even talking about.

  “No, no…he’s waiting for me at a bar down the street. I just wanted to come by and say hi real quick,” he says, leaning into her closely.

  “Matty, how can you even hang out with him still after… after everything? I just don’t get it.” Her hands meet her hips and she backs up a step.

  “I was friends with him first, Savannah. He’s a man in love. That can make you do some crazy things sometimes.”

  “Seriously, Matty, I have a feeling you haven’t heard the half of it.” She puts an arm around him, taking him in for a hug and patting his back. “Thanks for stopping by to say hi, doll. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?” She lets go and he stands for a few brief moments, his eyes unsteady.

  “Okay, Savannah. Okay. If you wanna meet up with us later, we’ll be at Madigan’s. You should really stop by.” He pauses for a moment as if in thought, then continues, “He really needs you.”

  “Oh God, just go, sweetheart. Have fun,” she says, kissing her fingers and touching his cheek before motioning toward the exit. He remains standing for a moment, analyzing the room and then Savannah again, before staggering back out the way he came, glancing my direction and mumbling under his breath as he does.

  She looks at me, shaking her head with a quick eye roll before standing beside me again.

  “Friend of yours?” I ask.

  “Something like that. His dad is my MMA coach. Has been for years, so we run into each other quite often.”

  I look at her, catching her eyes, as my brow scrunches in confusion. “Did I just hear that right?”

  She giggles and shrugs. “What… a girl can’t fight? Haven’t you ever heard of Ronda Rousey? Holly Holm? C’mon, man.”

  “Hey, I’m not hating on it. Just surprised. Seeing you dressed to the nines putting everyone else to shame, it’s hard to imagine you rolling around on a mat.”

  “Well, surprise, surprise…you’re not the only one around here who can kick some ass. I’ve been fighting since I was in high school,” she says, pausing and then smiling. “And thanks for the compliment by the way. You’re looking devilishly handsome in that tux there yourself, sir.”

  The compliment sends a subtle tingle down my spine. I shouldn’t be doing this, I shouldn’t be getting personal with her, but I don’t want to stop.

  “So where does this Travis guy come into play?” I ask and her eyes fall to her feet.

  “Long story there, but he’s my ex. He’s an MMA fighter himself. I met him in training, obviously.” She looks back up, deep lines in her forehead as she looks to be in thought. “He used to train under Matty’s dad too. When Travis and I broke up and Matty’s dad chose me over him…” Her eyes meet mine again and they’re full of concern. “It just hasn’t been good.”

  “Shit,” I mutter, chiding myself for not being aware of this sooner. I’m about to continue speaking when my attention is pulled to her group of friends near the back of the dance floor. Savannah’s sister is motioning toward us and pointing at Savannah. I point back toward them. “Looks like you’re wanted,” I say, and her eyes drift from me to them and then back again.

  “Continue this later?” she asks, a wanting look in her eye that grips me in a way I wasn’t expecting.

  “If you’d like,” I respond, a grin pulling at my lips and a nervous beat in my heart.

  She smiles and then glides across the dance floor to her people, and it takes everything I have not to watch her ass sway as she does.

  It’s odd that as I watch her conversing, dancing and cheering the night away with her friends, I’m over here wishing she’d come back and talk to me. It’s not a feeling I’m used to having. As the band jams out a heartfelt ballad and a distracting ache takes root in my nub—a hot sharp pressure on all sides from the carbon fiber socket—I can’t help but think about how much I’d like to take a drink each time the waiter passes. This pain is something stupid, and though I’m no pill head, I medicate in my own way. It is what it is at this point. You either drive the fuck on or you wallow in defeat; you figure out what it takes to feel better, to get better, and you fucking charge forward.

  I don’t know any other way.

  Scanning the room once more, I catch Savannah eyeing me over the brim of her martini glass. She doesn’t look away, but keeps her bright eyes on me under the twinkle of the strands of light above her. A mess of her friends stand beside her, some dancing, others talking, but her focus is on me. I tell myself to nod her over, but my conscience chimes right in. I know I’m here for work, to protect her. I’m not supposed to get to know my clients, I’m not supposed to befriend them, and I’m certainly not supposed to crush on them. But with that smile on her face when she lowers her glass, I can’t help but to wave her over, a selfish desire burning inside. She doesn’t respond for a moment, simply tilting her head, the smile broadening on her face. My heart picks up, worried I may have made the wrong move, that my professionalism is taking a blow, but then she does walk forward, a slow, purposeful walk across the dance floor, to where I stand with my back against the wall. She doesn’t say anything right away, but turns and stands side by side with me. I notice Tito and Brad motioning to each other from across the room and chuckling at the situation, but I choose to ignore them, instead glancing over at Savannah and smiling.

  “How ya feeling, Ms. Jordan?” I ask.

  “I’m feeling just fine, Mr. Stockwell. Why do you ask?”

  I smirk, scratching at my bearded chin. “I’m just saying, I’m shocked they have any vodka left.” I look back toward her and her eyes are narrowed on me, her brow scrunched.

  “Have you been keeping track, Dad?” she asks, putting her free hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

  “No, not at all. I just noticed the majority of the waiters are hovering around your group and business is good.” I chuckle. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m envious.”

  “Why don’t you grab one then?” she asks, motioning to a passing waitress.

  “Not on the clock. No, ma’am,” I say in all seriousness.

  “Well, I’m paying you and I say go for it,” she says, winking at me and taking a slow sip of her martini.

  “As much as I’d love to join the party, it wouldn’t be too professional of me. A lot of potential clients here.” I nod toward Tito and Brad against walls on either side of her group of friends. “And of course then Tito and Brad would take it as the go ahead to start drinking themselves. And that’s not something our business can recover from.” I laugh, shaking my head at the thought.

  “That bad, huh?” she asks, inching in a little closer.

  “Well, we may be infamous in some places.” I turn to her, a sly smile on my face. “And wanted in others.”

  “Oh really?” she asks, eyes wide. “Now that I must hear about!”

  “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. But we are Army guys. So we have our fair share of stories. And we definitely aren’t welcome back some places.”

  “Army, huh? I guess I knew that. Sorry I didn’t mention it before, but thank you for your service,” she says.

  “No, thank you for what you’re doing with all of this.” I motion around the room. “I think it’s pretty damn impressive. Coming back…” My gaze drifts to the packed dance floor, and the band jamming on the stage; to the strands of lights like stars overhead, and the brilliant floor to ceiling
windows across the room. “…it can definitely be tough. I think it’s cool what y’all are doing. And your dad…”

  I look down at her and she still has a smile on her face, a buzzed gleam in her eye. “Just nothing but respect,” I continue.

  “I appreciate that. He’s our hero,” she says, motioning to her sister who is drunkenly dancing. Savannah giggles, shaking her head at her sister’s spastic movements. “And he’s the reason I’m where I am today. I live my life in his honor… to make him proud.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I say, thinking back to that God awful day in October. The RPG explosion, nearly taking our chopper out, and then Rocco falling for what seemed like forever.

  Screams that shook me to my core.

  “Why were you so quiet before…in the month or so you’ve been working for me,” she asks, leaning forward, a slow smile building.

  “Three weeks, two days, actually.” I grin, feeling her eyes on me, but not looking at her. The band finishes another song, and the boom of the lead singer’s mic draws my attention.

  “Answer the question, Mr. Stockwell.” She nudges me… just barely, but enough to get my focus.

  “I misjudged you,” I say, my eyes remaining on hers.

  “Ohhhh, did you now?” she asks, a silly little bounce to her words. It’s about all I’ve got to not take her incredible body into my arms and kiss her; ignoring every last motherfucker in here. I can’t of course, but it doesn’t mean the thought of it doesn’t parade around my fucking mind.

  “Yeah, I really did. And I’m sorry for that,” I say, laying a hand against my chest. She sets her own hand against my arm and it gives me a desire I could have never imagined having when this night began.

  “Oh, stop it, Mr. Stockwell. An apology isn’t necessary…” She runs her fingers down my sleeve slowly before returning her hand to her side. It immediately brings my eyes to Tito and then Brad, both of whom are preoccupied for now, bringing me some relief. My face must be red right now. My desire to have her hand on me again, overwhelming.