The Beauty's Beast

by Eddie Cleveland

  No, wait, I do want to know. Send her my way.

  “Well, holy shit Captain, it looks like the whole state came out to see you,” Lopez mutters in awe.

  He’s not wrong, the street leading to the hospital is throbbing with people waving, shaking signs welcoming me over their heads and people giving me a thumbs up or salute.

  A thunderous roar behind us makes me jump in my seat and twist around, fraying my nerves. For a second, my mind flashes to the desert and I expect to see a formation of Humvees rattling through the dust. Instead, I see a motorcycle group is roaring their engines as they follow the car in a different sort of convoy. My heart stops beating wildly in my chest and instead, I feel myself fighting to keep a lump in my throat from forming as I watch the group trail us in a v-formation, like a pack of Canadian geese heading south for the winter, with our car leading the way.

  “I feel like I’m driving the president or something,” Parsons finally speaks again. I guess the crowd is even impressive enough to make him forget about the whole sperminator thing. For now, anyway.

  He slows to a crawl as we make our way past the smiling faces. I could get out and walk faster than we’re driving and I’ve got one leg. It’s not like he has much choice though, with all the kids jumping around the car and trying to run up beside us, we’ve got to be careful.

  Finally, we pull up to the rehab center and I catch my first glimpse of the media scrum waiting for us outside the front doors. The parking lot is overflowing with vehicles punctuated by full-sized, windowless vans with local and national news slogans and anchors faces plastered to the sides.

  “Talk about a hero’s welcome,” Lopez smiles back at me, but the corners of his mouth quickly settle down into a straight line when he sees my face. “Hey, are you ok, Captain? You look a little distant.” His eyes dart over my face as I swallow my emotions and give myself a shake.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting all this,” I answer truthfully. I won’t bother him with the detail about how just a noise brought me back to a war I left almost a year ago. He doesn’t need to know that simple sounds have the ability to make me jump outta my skin. No one needs to know that.

  “Whaddya expect,” Parsons interrupts, “he’s probably overwhelmed with how much pussy he’s gonna get here, right Forrester?” His eyes twinkle at me in the rear view mirror and I give out a laugh too loud for the joke.

  “Yeah man, you know it. Just scoping out my first hits back here,” I nod and Lopez watches me a bit too closely then nods back, and turns back around in his seat.

  “Alright, we’re here,” Parsons announces as he pulls the car up to the curb of the hospital. I can see that the staff have had the foresight to cordon off the crowd from the entrance so I’ll be able to make it inside without being mobbed. Or maybe they did it so the media would be able to get better shots of my arrival. Camera crews line both sides of the sidewalk leading to the front doors of the building, waiting for my big entrance. As Parsons jerks the car to a stop and the guys jump out to retrieve my wheelchair from the trunk, I curse the stupid procedure that requires me to wheel into the building rather than walk in like I’ve been practicing now for seven months.

  Once I’ve lowered myself into the chair, I can feel Lopez try to grab the bars behind me to push me toward the building, but I grab the wheels with both hands and jerk them forcefully under my control, making it clear I don’t need his help. He lets go and the two men flank my sides as we make our way up the sidewalk together.

  “We love you, Captain America!” I hear some women cry out and I scan the crowd to see if they’re worth acknowledging. My eyes settle on a small group of young, tight, blondes bouncing up and down with a glittery sign over their head. The sign itself gives me a moment’s pause as I notice that they’ve cut out a picture of the movie character, Captain America, in his blue tights and everything and they’ve pasted my face over his. Seeing yourself in a patriotic, skin-tight bodysuit is jarring, but I get over it pretty quickly as I watch them jiggle their perky tits in their tiny t-shirts. I imagine the four of them taking turns bouncing up and down on my cock like that, and all is forgiven about them making me look like a red, white and blue ballerina on their sign.

  I push my chair up the path and soak in the scene as cameras flash non-stop. Even though it’s bright outside, the small explosions of light are distracting. Memories of explosives flashing as they flung fragments of deadly metal at us wash over me. The grip on my wheelchair tires tighten and I breathe deep as I try to ground myself. Before I have a chance to get my mind back under control, I see a man hop over the metal barrier holding back the crowd and jog toward me with his hand inside his coat pocket.

  “Shit.” In an instant the crowd evaporates and the village is behind me. My skin prickles with sweat and I can see the man pulling an axe out from under his billowy robes seconds before I know it’s about to plunge into Thompson’s skull. I jump from my seat, fist clenched and grab the man roughly by the arm.

  Lopez jumps between us and I lose my grip as he puts distance between our bodies. I blink as the village disappears and the man’s clothes transform back into a windbreaker and jeans before my eyes.

  The crowd shrieks and claps like a rock star just jumped on a stage when they see me jump to my feet. Our little situation on the sidewalk is blanketed with the sound of whoops and hundreds of clapping hands.

  The man looks at Lopez and pulls a pad of paper out of his pocket and nods at me, “Hey man, I just want an autograph. Can you sign it for me?”

  I look down at the folded up paper of Captain America’s face smiling up at me and cameras flash like strobe lights around us. My head spins and my stomach feels like liquid, but I manage to push it down and I think I’m even smiling. Hopefully it looks like a smile and not a snarl as I grab the paper and sign my name. The crowd seems satisfied with it as they erupt into another round of cheers. I stand taller and scan the unfamiliar faces. How many people came out to wish me well today? It’s incredible that so many people I’ve never met care about me so much.

  My eyes fall over old and young faces, none of them familiar, yet all of them friends. Wait, is that Lauren? I squint at the back of the crowd, closest to the door of the facility. Did she come out to see me come back after all these years? Her brown skin glows warmly and I can almost see the emotions in her eyes. Is she happy to see me? Or disappointed?

  “Sir?” A small hand tugs on my sleeve, stealing my attention. I look down into the face of a little girl, her round cheeks covered in freckles and her broad, gap-toothed smile. “Sir?” she repeats.

  “Yes?”

  “Can I take a selfie with you?” She blinks up at me and I can’t help but smile.

  “Sure kid. What’s your name?”

  “Bethany,” she beams at me and holds a cellphone up to me. The crowd is starting to have more brave souls cross the barrier ever since the first guy jumped over. I don’t have time to take pictures and sign a hundred sheets of paper. But, I’ll make time for this kid. I quickly hold the phone up and we both smile up at the screen as I click our picture. Bethany squeezes my hand excitedly as I hand her back the cell.

  “Thank you, sir. I can’t believe I got a picture with you. Thank you!” She smiles and reminds me of candle lit jack-o-lanterns on doorsteps in October.

  “No problem,” I smile back before looking back up into the sea of people for the one person I recognized.

  I search through the faces, eagerly looking for her, but Lauren is no where to be found. I must need more sleep than I thought. These late nights are catching up to me.

  Whatever, give your head a shake. You’re not here for her. Besides, with the look Lopez is giving me, I know I’ve got bigger fish to fry than wondering about some old girlfriend.

  Now if I could just get my eyes to stop searching for her in the crowd and my heart to stop beating her name.

  But, yeah, besides that. Totally over it.

  8

  Lauren
r />   2014

  Why am I standing here? I told myself I was gonna wait this out in the staff room until someone dragged me out from my feeble attempt to hide behind the curtains or something. Instead, I’m out here with all the other “Captain America” groupies and fans.

  Like Mack is just some guy I know from watching news footage of him kicking a grenade across the sand. Like I’m just another cheap girl in a crowd of cheap girls, trying to be noticed. Like we don’t have real history. Like we don’t have real love.

  Didn’t have, I mean. Of course we don’t still have love. When he left me for West Point ten years ago, I was left wondering if we ever did.

  I look over at the ladies in the hoard of people and instantly regret my stupid decision to not wear make-up today. I wanted to look professional, not like I was trying to get a date. Next to these girls I look like a corpse with my dull skin and my hair in a simple bun. I smooth my hands over my uniform and fold my arms around my body as I watch Mack push his chair toward the front doors.

  Suddenly some idiot jumps over the barricade and moves toward Mack. When he stands up to greet the guy, everyone around me erupts into fervent cheering. Like he’s some kinda rock star.

  More like a cock star. If the stuff I found out on the internet about him is even half true, he’s gonna sleep his way through the women in this crowd two or three at a time. Not that I’m stalking him or anything. Just checking up, that’s all. Besides, from the look of these women, I don’t think they’ll mind being Mack’s toy for a night. There’s so much cleavage being thrust toward him; I’m surprised they aren’t begging him to sign their boobs with a sharpie by now.

  It’s not like I care, but it’s just kinda skanky if you ask me.

  Now that Mack’s standing, I can see his tattoos smothering every inch of his arms. There’s some sort of flowers etched across his neck, peeping out from under his tight shirt. Not exactly the young man who left Colorado after grad.

  Only Mack Forrester could lose his leg and still swagger back into my life and make my heart stop.

  Tattoos or not, I remember what every inch of that hard body looks like naked. My pulse pounds in my ears and heat rises in me like mercury in a thermometer. I don’t mean to let my eyes drift over his cut biceps and down over the pronounced ripples in his shirt announcing his glorious abs to the world. It’s not like I want to notice the curve of his tight ass and the bulge of his ….

  I snap my eyes back up to his face and he’s staring right into my eyes.

  I.Can.Not.Breathe.

  The air hisses from my lungs as I’m caught in the hypnotic trance of his blue eyes. So, I guess not that much has changed after all. The old feeling of butterflies erupts inside my chest, and even though their wings must be coated in dust after lying dormant for so long, they feverishly flurry around my heart.

  I’m sure it’s only a second. Hell, it’s probably less than that, but I swear I can see an eternity in his crystal blue eyes. The moment of recognition that turned to lust and then, something deeper and truer than that. It’s like the roadmap of our past playing out in a single glance. When he finally looks away and I remember to actually fill my lungs again, I realize there’s a part of me that hopes it’s the roadmap to our future as well.

  Part of me, all of me. Who’s keeping track, right?

  A firm hand on my shoulder nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I stifle a yelp as I wheel around to face Shannon. Somehow I manage to keep my eyes from rolling. Somehow I keep my mouth from tugging down at the corners. It’s not that Shannon is the most annoying or the most incompetent nurse I’ve ever dealt with.

  Oh wait, no, that’s exactly it.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Lauren,” her face denies that she’s feeling anything at all. Sympathy or otherwise. “I need you for a second inside.” Her flat, robotic voice has a way of cutting through the noise around me and sucking the jubilation out of the moment.

  Shannon. With her flat, bobbed hair plastered against the side of her head and her large, sad eyes she always makes me think of what Eeyore would look like in a nurse costume.

  “Can it wait?” I manage to smile and can almost feel my fake happiness being sucked into the black hole that is her personality. “I have to give the tour in ten minutes.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to the scene behind me and she looks up like she’s just noticed the hundreds of people and cameras for the first time.

  “No, sorry. I need you to sign off on Mr. Brookfield’s discharge papers or he won’t be able to leave in time to get to the airport. His wife is getting all upset. It’ll probably take less than ten minutes though.” She throws a bone of hope at me, but I know it’s a lie. Nothing in nursing takes ten minutes. However, there’s not much I can do. I knew I had to get that paperwork finished up this morning, I guess I just got distracted.

  I glance over my shoulder one last time at my distraction. I’m normally diligent about crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s, but I think given the circumstances that forgetting Mr. Brookfield’s papers is understandable. A group of young women start screaming like teen groupies, as if to confirm my story.

  I look back into Shannon’s dead eyes and sigh. “Ok, let’s go.”

  9

  Mack

  2014

  “And if you look out, across the field there, you’ll see our outdoor track. Now that spring is here, I’m sure you’ll put it to good use with your program.” Dr. Galt smiles quickly at me and then holds his smile painfully for the cameras flashing around us. “But, since it is Colorado, you always have the option of the indoor track if we happen to get a freak snow storm in June or something,” he chuckles at his own joke, the same joke he told when he gave us a tour of the inside track about twenty minutes ago.

  I smile politely and try to pay attention, but damn it these nurses aren’t making it easy for me. I can see that as the chief of medicine here, Dr. Galt is very proud of his facility. And he should be. It’s top notch. From the indoor, Olympic sized pool and the state of the art physio equipment, he has every reason to wanna show it all off. There isn’t a surface that isn’t gleaming or a face that isn’t smiling. It’s just that my eyes are having a tough time paying attention to the shiny surfaces when there’s just so many sultry smiles to focus on.

  Every time I wheel through one of these stations, there’s another piece of ass in a nurse’s uniform giving me a wink as she runs her tongue over her lips, giving me ideas about what else she can do with that tongue and where else she can wrap those lips.

  With all the media here, it’s no surprise that all the ladies are looking their best. With their hair perfectly styled and enough make-up on that they look like they might be strippers dressed as nurses instead of medical professionals.

  However, I know that it’s really for me.

  As if to confirm it, whenever a camera is rolling around them, the ladies are textbook class and professionalism. And as soon as the media strolls on by, the tits pop up and they start looking at me like the hungry kittens they are. Not that I mind. I’ve just gotta make sure I’m a bit more discerning with the ones I fuck at this place.

  After almost a year in rehab at the military facility in Maryland, I had nurses practically clawing each other’s eyes out when I spread myself too thin. This time I’ve gotta try to avoid the drama and be a bit choosier. Besides, I’m only supposed to be living here for a couple weeks and then I’ll be doing the outpatient program during the day and going to my own place at night. That should make it a little easier to keep the ladies warming me up under the sheets under wraps.

  Parsons looks like he’s enthralled by the tour, ignoring all the easy pussy around us and hanging on the good doctor’s every word. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a little notepad out for jotting down the highlights from how interested he appears. Lopez, on the other hand, is scouting out the pickings, giving me raised eyebrows and tiny nods each time we turn a new corner and come across more tits and ass.

  “If you’ll follow me,
down to the left,” Dr. Galt interrupts the unspoken conversation between Lopez and I, directing us down another hall, “over here is where you’ll find your room.”

  Finally! My attention fully snaps back into focus as I wheel behind Galt to see my new quarters. A sparkling rehab center is all well and good, but if they’ve got you stuffed in a broom closet with a bed, then none of it matters. Not that I’ll have a problem breaking in the bed, even if it is in a broom closet.

  My fears are quickly quelled when I follow the Dr. into the sprawling room. The bed looks comically small in the expansive space. With a leather couch against the wall and a huge tv mounted across from it, it’s clear that this room isn’t in a military facility. With the view of rolling hills out the window and the massive bathroom with a soaker tub and a walk in shower, I feel like this could be a suite at the Hilton, not a room in a hospital.

  The camera crews and news anchors easily fit inside the space, carefully capturing my expression and the details of the décor for the five o’clock highlights.

  A sweet little brunette in a pencil skirt and heels clicks her way across my room and sways her hips on over to my window. She acts like she’s interested in the view, but I can see from how she’s popping her heart shaped ass that she wants to make sure I’m the one soaking in the sights. Give the lady what she wants, that’s what I say. I’m here to please.

  “Captain, do you mind if Phil gets some footage of you checking out your room? I think the viewers will really be happy to see you looking settled in.” She turns around from the window and smiles warmly. Her camera guy shuffles across the room and points the unblinking lens in my face, waiting for me to “act natural”.