Collapse

by Xavier Neal

“As you should be,” he grunts and turns his body. “The rescue mission will have further details potentially in the next few days, but I wanted the three of you to be aware you are now on high yellow alert and to prepare for close hand to hand combat. No guns if possible.” My face twitches in the urge to smile. This is my specialty. When they were preparing us to be enlisted, we were sent to different training areas to sharpen the skills they deemed were our best. I am a master with my bare hands in combat and in the bedroom. Both required hours of practice. Hours I am happy to put in. “Now if you three will excuse me I have a phone call to attend. I expect more obedience next time and less questions.”

  Director Shepard dismisses himself from the room without another word. Before any of us have a chance to say something Jazz snaps, “What is wrong with you?” Our faces turn to her and the rage in her eyes is something new. “Have you all lost your minds? You don't ever question him like that.”

  “They were not out of line questions,” Grim defends us.

  “It doesn't fucking matter. If he told you you’re going to go over the rainbow to chase lucky fucking charms, the only thing that would be okay to ask is if he wanted the leprechaun alive or dead.”

  In an attempt to lighten the situation I ask, “How do we really know there's leprechauns?”

  Grim shoots me a death glare and a quick shake of the head.

  “We're not entitled to question anything in this unit?” Grim stands up at full attention. “Is that new?”

  “That's not new. That's just a rule you've always been 'lax with,” she says pointedly at him. “And I suggest you fucking remember your place or the next time Director Shepard is gonna put your head on the chopping block and I'm going to be the one who has to hand him the goddamn knife.” Our mouths remain closed. “Now, you two get down to the physical training center. Lordy you're expected in Director Shepard's office in 28 minutes.”

  Pushing past us she storms out of the room clearly on a mission. Once she's out of earshot I sigh, “Who pissed in their bland flavored oatmeal?”

  “Don't mention food,” Lordy grumbles. “Haven't fucking eatin' and at this rate I won't any time soon. I'm gonna grab a shower.”

  The two of us acknowledge him leaving. When I turn my attention to Grim he shakes his head at me. “But I didn't ask anything.”

  “I don't care what you wanna ask. The answer is no.”

  “How do you know the answer is no, if you don't know what the question is?”

  “Because I know you and you're gonna ask something pointless, unnecessary or perverted. Not in the mood to hear any of it.”

  He has a point. A valid one. It helps soothe the anguish that living the life of a Marine is often filled with. Like sex, humor helps me hide from the anxiety that tries to suffocate me every open chance it gets.

  “Let's go.” Grim walks out of the room, now in the same pissy mood as the others who left.

  Downstairs in the physical training center I jog on the treadmill. It's something I hate. If I have to run, I want it to have a purpose. To get away from something. To get somewhere. Protection. Direction. Running on this fucking machine feels like a waste of time, but running outside is not an option. After several miles, I hop off and relocate across the room to where Grim is doing crunches. His favorite.

  I wipe the sweat off my forehead and ask, “Spar?”

  Grim stops on the last crunch sitting up. “I'm not touching you. I don't know where you were last night.”

  “I don't know where I was either.”

  His dark eyebrows lower at me. “That does not make the situation more better.”

  “Sure it does,” I joke. “If neither of us knows, there's no harm. No foul.”

  “You're foul.” Grim shakes his head. “I doubt you've brushed your teeth. I know you haven't showered. I'd rather not take home whatever STD you picked up from the stripper you went home with.”

  “STDs can only be given one way.” I wink.

  “Don't wink at me,” he sighs and falls backwards to return to his crunches.

  Walking away from him I head towards the dangling kick boxing bags. My favorite. Immediately I get my hands in gloves and start a few warm up jabs before laying heavily into it. I alternate between punches and kicks. Light movements and sharper ones. The entire time my eyes and energy are focused on the bag helping me get lost in the adrenaline pumping through my system.

  Unexpectedly, an arm strongly grabs me around the neck from behind putting me in a choke hold. The movement is accompanied with the bastard evil chuckle that only belongs to one person in this unit.

  “Nothing more than a pretty fucking face,” Tyger growls in my ear. “JZ fucked up when she picked you.”

  Hearing someone call me a mistake surges rage through my system and ignites my elbow to thrust backwards. He flinches slightly, not enough for me to break through, but my movements don't stop. My foot stomps on his, then nails him in the shin, forcing him to stumble creating a window for me to escape. That's all I need. I break free from the asshole's grasp and lay into him like I was the bag just moments before. The two of us exchange blows and blocks, around the center of the room now, an audience of other members now forming. Tyger, who enjoys the attention, turns it into a show. Taunting me with his words, trying to irk me into making the mistake of coming at him to give him the advantage.

  One of his team members yells, “Take him out Tyger!”

  Becoming frustrated with my dodging and counters, he lunges for me not anticipating how quickly I can move out of the way, tossing him to the ground. Instantly I land on his back, my weight pressing into him, both legs pinning his arms down, my hands locking his head to the cold floor.

  “At least I have a pretty face,” I sneer and shove his face harder into the ground. “And it's gonna stay pretty.”

  “Glove,” Grim calls to me, a couple feet away. With just the one word, I release him, and offer him a hand to help him up.

  “I don't need your fucking help,” Tyger bites.

  “Show some respect Tyger,” Director Shepard's voice takes me by surprise. “At the very least he earned it.” Tyger huffs and uses my hand to get up. “Tyger, my office.” “Shit,” he grumbles something under his breath before speaking loudly. “Yes sir.”

  “Jacket,” he says downs to me from the balcony above that oversees the area. “You and the others are dismissed for the day.”

  “Yes sir,” I respond. When he disappears I shoot Grim a look before he walks over to my side. Under my breath I mutter, “Fucking Tyger...” It's not enough the guy looks like we should be a member of the same fraternity, he actually acts like it.

  “You did well,” Grim compliments. A rarity. Grim isn't the type of guy to say anything without heavily thinking it through. Contemplating each and every word before he speaks. The complete opposite of me.

  “Shocked you huh?” the playful tone in my voice causes him to roll his eyes at me.

  Having Grim in my life is like having a big brother. Something I never had. I was almost always the oldest foster child when I got bounced from home to home.

  Lordy comes around the corner, a look of frustration on his face. Tossing his head Grim asks, “You okay?” He shakes his head in response. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Can't,” Lordy clarifies as his eyes cut to behind us.

  On instinct I glance behind me to see Jazz leaned against the wall with a file in her hand, a similar expression to Lordy's on her face.

  “You comin' over?” I change topics and focus to Grim. He hesitates. “Aw. Come on! Lordy's back! It's not like I'm suggesting we go out and see some titties. Though now that you mention it--”

  “I didn't mention it. You did.” He folds his arms across his chest.

  “Well now that it's on the table--”

  “It's not on the table.”

  “But I could be on the table. We could--”

  “I'm not going to a strip club,” he grunts shaking his head.

  Lordy tos
ses an arm around my shoulder in a brotherly fashion. “Pizza? Couple beers?”

  “Bring the old ball and chain,” I suggest.

  Immediately he slugs me in the arm, a small burn appearing from the contact. Man has fists filled with lead. Slow but deadly. Another way we're opposite. I've got speed on my side. Both deadly combinations on the same team.

  “Don't call her that.”

  The subject of Haven will always be something sensitive to him. She's the substance that made him more human. Lordy and I are thankful for that. And envious.

  “I don't know Grim, it's kind of kinky,” my comment forces his hand to slug me again. “Damn it Grim!”

  Lordy starts laughing and he scolds, “You know he behaves better when you're not around.”

  With a crooked smirk Lordy looks down at me. “That true?”

  “Nah.” I insist. With my eyes back on Grim I ask, “You comin'?”

  “We'll see...” he answers and starts heading towards the parking lot with us at his side.

  **

  A couple hours later, I'm stretched out on the couch while Lordy is in the recliner arguing with me over the basic principles of action hero movies and how nowadays so much of the real thrill is gone because of special effects.

  “You're full of shit you know that?” I hop up at the knocking on the front door. In a couple strides, I open it to a sight that always kicks my heart into my throat.

  “Pizza and beer, bitches!” Mandy, Grim's wife's best friend and now secretly one of my own, exclaims with the four over-sized white pizza boxes in her hands.

  “Beer bitches? Where?” I pretend to look around her as she struts inside the apartment. My comment makes Grim who comes in behind her slug me. “Damn it Grim!”

  “Be nice,” Haven fusses at him before standing on her tip toes to kiss my cheek.

  With a scowl he gives her a fierce look. “Do you want me to hit him again?”

  I shut the door at the same time she squeaks, “For what?”

  “For your lips touching on him,” he reaches out for her hand to pull her into him. Protectively. Dominantly.

  “How is that my fault?” I whine as Mandy tosses me a cold beer before putting the new beer Grim carried in, into the fridge.

  “You know how he is,” Mandy sighs sipping her own beer. “Lives to protect and serve the girl.”

  Lucky bastard. The girl I would love to protect and serve just handed me a beer and rarely takes me seriously. Rarely looks at me. Rarely even notices that my entire world shifts when she enters the room. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I'm not good enough to ever be on the same level. Even if I was, she deserves better than a guy who isn't even man enough to survive without burying himself in beer or pussy to hide from his demons.

  Swallowing the anxiousness she brings, I playfully say, “Bet he serves her well.”

  Haven giggles as Grim makes his way over to punch me another time. She grabs his arm to stop him at the same time Mandy adds, “From what Haven says, he serves well.”

  “Haven.” He raises an eyebrow at her.

  “What?” She giggles again biting her bottom lip, a clear look of adoration on her face. Staring up at him she innocently says, “It's not my fault you're really good at that stuff.”

  Grim's face is turning shades of red but his chest is clearly swelling with pride. I repeat. Lucky bastard. She leans up and lays a kiss on him that soothes the beast inside we all know and secretly fear. Damn near instantly, his rage meter is non-existent. All because he found a love worth fighting for. Quickly I look away, the anxiety from wanting something I shouldn't want becoming overwhelming. I head for the couch where Mandy has landed in my spot.

  “That's my seat.” I flop down beside her.

  “I didn't see your name on it.”

  “It's written there.”

  “In what? Crayon?”

  “Beer paint.”

  “Ugh. Whatever. Deal with it,” she snips back playfully. Pulling her long dark brown hair to the side of her face she gives me a challenging look. “I'm not moving.”

  “Yes you are,” my insisting is accompanied with me scooting closer to her until I'm childishly squishing her against the arm of the couch.

  “Ou! Ou! Michael! Michael! Stop!” her anger is overpowered by her giggles. A sound that I crave nowadays as much as sex. I don't understand how one person can burrow their way into your life and make a difference with such a small act, but she does. I may never get what Grim has, but fuck me if this isn't a close second.

  “I told you you were in my spot.” My ass pushes against her harder and her laughter gets louder.

  “Child!” She jabs me in the ribs.

  “Brat!”

  “Both of you,” Haven says over the noise we're making. Her soft voice stops us and she raises her eyebrows. “Come get some pizza before it gets cold.”

  “Yes!” I jump up and offer a hand to help Mandy up too. “Please tell me there isn't one with pineapple. That's just fucking weird.”

  “It's not weird Michael,” my name rolls off her tongue like it's permanently imprinted there. The frustration that it's not has me tossing back a swig of beer. “It's delicious. Classy.”

  “That's not classy.” Lordy joins us in the kitchen at the same time Haven starts handing paper plates around.

  “Would you prefer pepperoni and peaches Georgia boy?” Mandy teases dipping her thin slice of blasphemy she calls pizza into her mouth.

  A hint of his accent comes out as he gripes, “We are not all about peaches.”

  “You are,” I quickly correct piling pepperoni and supreme on my plate. “And the drunker you get the more references you make about them come out.”

  “I'm...I'm not that bad,” Lordy insists as Grim snakes an arm around Haven's waist before placing a thank you kiss on her cheek for making him a plate. I try not to let the gesture grab my attention, but it does. It always does. Ever since I watched him go from heartless asshole to compassionate brother. I stand in awe. In envy. He found his reason to fight harder on that field. Something to come home for. I want that. I've always wanted that. Just because I've never confessed it out loud doesn't mean it's not true.

  The five of us gather in the living room where we eat, drink, and watch a couple of classic action flicks from the 90s. Grim sits with Haven pressed firmly in his side while Mandy sits next to Haven and drops her legs in my lap, a position typical for us.

  Mandy is Haven's best friend. One of her only friends really. With the past she has, I can't blame her for being selective. From the moment I met Mandy I knew she was different. Special. The small piece of humility lacking from my existence. The piece that I buried when I signed my soul to the Marines. The piece I thought I left behind with a broken promise. The piece that I never expected to come back. Definitely not in the form of a long legged brunette, with a slim waist, perfect olive skin, a perky ass, deep chocolate eyes and an attitude that mirrors my own. Over time we've developed our own weird relationship that we call friendship with questionable moments. But the line in the sand that it'll never be anything more has always been there, even if it's not always crystal clear.

  “You tired angel?” Grim asks in a soft voice he only uses for Haven.

  “A little.” She grins, the hint that she means something else obviously.

  Immediately Grim declares, “We're out.”

  “I'd rush home too for a little r&r.” I comment feeling at a safe distance with Mandy between us. “And I don't mean rest and relaxation. I mean rough and--”

  “Finish that sentence and I'll finish you,” his threat closes my mouth.

  Haven giggles and shoots me a look. “Well you're not wrong Glove.”

  Grim grumbles, “Haven...”

  “There won't be any rest or relaxation for at least a couple hours,” the words make me smile widely and tip my beer her direction while Grim's face begins to have a very distinct ruby glow.

  She giggles again and winks at me.

&nb
sp; “Don't wink at him,” he gripes.

  With another laugh the two of them get up, say their goodbyes, and exit. As soon as the door shuts Lordy yawns. “I'm gonna grab a shower and crash.”

  “You already had a shower.”

  “That rinse off barely counts as a shower. Besides, you spend that long...” his voice trails off realizing Mandy is still in the room, her knowledge of what we do isn't nearly as informed as Grim's wife who knows more than even spouses should. “....in another country and see if you don't miss the running water of your own shower.”

  “Where were you?” Mandy ponders.

  “Training op,” the coded lie is followed with him standing up.

  “I meant which country?”

  “One where they don't speak English,” I distract from him having to answer.

  “You're a moron. Almost everywhere speaks some English. I think it's an unspoken rule.”

  “Not everyone follows the rules.”

  Lordy says on a light chuckle, “Have a good night Mandy.”

  “Night.” She waves and has another sip of her beer.

  Curious I ask, “You bailing too?”

  “You kicking me out?”

  “I'd rather kick you into my bed.” The comment is accompanied with a cocky smile.

  She rolls her eyes and reaches over for the remote, scrolling through her Netflix choices. I expect her to move now that there's couch space, but when she doesn't, a small relief settles in my veins.

  About fifteen minutes into the next movie, she puts her beer on the coffee table and sighs. Not a simple sigh. The typical chick wants to talk sigh.

  “Michael, I need a favor.”

  “Is it a naked favor?”

  She tilts her head at me. “I'm serious.”

  “So am I.”

  Mandy pushes at my chest accomplishing nothing. “What the hell? Are you made of steel?”

  “Like Superman baby.”

  “Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “Child.”

  “What do you need brat?”

  Our playful nicknames for each other make her smirk. “Now hear me all the way out...” Her finger points warning me. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a few weeks.” The shock of her words send a jolt of laughter out of me. With a balled up fist she hits my chest harder than before. Shaking her hand loose she demands, “Be less built!”