Military Control
By: Lucy Landish
© Copyright 2015 by Lucy Landish - All rights reserved.
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Military Control
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Military Control
Light switches have no purpose in a vacant house, but as soon as someone, even if it’s one person occupies the home, they serve a purpose - to flood light in the darkness. It was in darkness that Brett Park saw a shadow and murky red stains in his hands. The shadow of a guy triggered his inner light switch. He should have listened instead of being rough with the petite girl by his side.
Brett often had flashbacks of some of the soldiers trying to rape women in the foreign countries he fought in. He couldn’t stand when men were rude to women. He saw every woman as his mother, a mistress who was treated poorly by his father and paternal grandparents. Although his mother was sweet, his father’s family only ever saw her as the crazed American woman who tainted the infamous Park family name.
The Park’s owned Avenue Cosmetics, one of Korea’s largest brand name skincare companies. His father was the only son out of three daughters and heir to Avenue Cosmetics. Having a mistress meant nothing in the US but the generation before his father’s grew up in Korea where Avenue headquarters was, and it meant everything there. Maybe the situation wouldn’t have been so bad if his mother came from a good background, wasn’t white, and didn’t get pregnant. It didn’t matter, not anymore, Brett hadn’t seen his father since he was six years old when his mother took him and ran away from her marriage and the Park family.
A voice started to echo in his ear. It belonged to a woman, and it was accompanied by the wails of a siren. Slowly the darkness began to turn into dim streetlights, and the murky red that stained his hand was indeed blood. The blood belonged to the shadow, or rather a guy who appeared to be in his late twenties. His face was far too beaten for Brett to tell exactly.
Brett stumbled to his feet, no longer lost inside the darkness. He looked down at his hand he was in pain, subtle, still it was there. Blood dripped down from his hands. He wasn’t sure whether it belonged to him or the other guy, but Brett felt a little guilty. He was usually reserved and relatively calm.
Dam! Why did he get involved in these troubling matters? What was it that guy had said, “She’s my girl so mind your business?” Judging from his current location, he really should have left the guy alone. He was somewhere in the back alley sandwiched between a shutdown Mexican restaurant and a few clubs. Neon lights shined above him that read Gentlemen’s Lounge.
“Hey! I said are you alright?”
Brett whipped his head around and looked over at the girl. She didn’t look like a stripper - there wasn’t a skimpy article of clothing in sight. She wore leather pants, a white t-shirt and a ruffled leather jacket. Wide brown eyes stared back at him under a black fedora with a mop of blonde bangs poking out. She was pretty, of course, but he couldn’t tell too much since it was late at night and relatively dark. But if she looked pretty to him, she definitely looked good to a drunk guy.
“I suggest you have one of the bouncers escort you outside next time. Some guys don’t understand you do this to live and that’s all you do.” Brett replied and stuffed his hands in his jeans.
He gave her another quick once-over and shook his head sadly. He wondered how she ended up stripping when every inch of her was covered. The weather was harsh and cold, but the a few strippers that had come out to witness his shameful show wore variations of body-hugging dresses and skirts with tights. They looked the part, but she stood out.
Brett opened his mouth to say more he wanted to know more about this girl. He quickly changed his mind when he saw a cop car pull up.
He turned to walk away, but her voice stopped him. “I think you have the wrong—”
He wasn’t exactly sure what she meant. But before she could finish her thought Brett slipped away. The cops were getting closer, and he couldn’t risk being questioned by the police since he had a bit of a record. Maybe his ‘heroic/treason’ antics that got him thrown in many jails and kept him a measly foot soldier during the war had gone unnoticed and he was clean. Whatever the case, it was best he didn’t mingle with the cops.
Brett scuffed. ‘Captain America’ yeah right, his commanding officer would be surprised to find out he wasn’t the innocent, kind-hearted kid he thought he was. In reality, he was a villain. He fought hard for his country and always brought his comrades to the medics, so they had a chance to live no matter how slim so that he could live. The saying safety in numbers meant something in war.
Brett hid behind a trash bin and watched the girl in the black fedora hat. She was searching for him and luckily one of the tricks he’d learned hiding from the enemy was to never run if it could be helped. Most people ran when faced with conflict, which only made them more visible.
Brett peeked out at the girl and the officer questioning her. There was a bigger crowd gather now and more wails, but this time it sounded like the ambulance had been called.
Leaning back against the trash can, Brett dug the business card his therapist had given him out of his pocket. He was really getting desperate to resort to such a thing, not that he could really blame Doctor Marshall. He never talked to her, but it was still her who had sent him to this place and caused the dominoes to fall. Had Dr. Marshall noticed that he was a little deprived in the sex department? Had she seen him stare at her legs? He really couldn’t help himself he found Dr. Marshall’s pencil skirts that showed off her smooth legs to be sexy.
Brett’s stained hand left a red imprint on the card. He sighed. Tonight wasn’t the night for him to relax inside Eros Nightclub like Dr. Marshall wished. He’d have to let his treasure be unsatisfied for another night as he wasn’t in the mood for jail either.
When the crowd started to walk away from the scene, Brett stepped out from behind the trash bin and walked beside two guys with cigarettes in their hands. “Got an extra I can bum?” Brett asked the man closest to him.
“Yeah, no problem. Are you coming from the theater?” The guy asked, and tapped out a cigarette for him while his buddy tossed him a match.
Brett lit his cigarette and looked down at his faded rolled up black jean outfit, then looked at what they were wearing - slacks and button up shirts. It seemed in his time away he’d forgotten that what was considered trendy in small foreign countries had yet to be recycled back to the United States.
“You can say that.”
Brett replied and let out a cloud of smoke.
“Grease, right?” The guy who tossed the lighter asked.
“West Side Story?” His buddy asked.
Another cloud of smoke had disappeared into the night air before Brett decided to answer.
“I can’t tell you since I haven’t officially been hired. They won’t even tell me everything.”
“Theater people can be weird.”
“Yeah. Let’s go back inside. Good luck man.”
Brett nodded his head and headed toward one of the yellow taxis lined up outside of another club. Holding his bruised hand, he leaned back into the cushy taxi seat and told the driver his address. He squeezed his eyes shut as the taxi driver pulled away from the curb and hurried toward his house.
Sounds of bombs, gunshots, and bought him back to reality and his eyes flew open.
An elderly Arab man was turned in his seat, looking over at him half annoyed and half concerned.
“Are you alright? I’ve tried to wake you repeatedly and you seem to be bleeding.”
Brett was disoriented, but looked out the window at the beige and peach Spanish villa that he called home.
“I’m fine I fell on some spilled liquor inside the club. I’ll cover for the damages.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to send you to the hospital?”
Brett shook his head and tried to get out of the taxi. Everything started to blur and the driver’s voice became distant.
**********
In the cold night air, a strong gust of wind nearly blew the black fedora off Kat Richards’ head. She shifted anxiously from foot to foot she wished the police officer by her side would hurry up with her line of questioning. She had been at it for the twenty minutes now. Her face was about to be frozen solid if she didn’t quickly finish.
What did she care if Jin was hurt badly? Jin had already been dispatched to the nearest hospital, not that he deserved it. A breakup is a breakup and how dare he think he can kiss her, and all would be forgiven. Just thinking about the whole situation made her boil. On top of everything Jin even thought she’d have sex with him in an alley. He must have mistaken her for one of his groupies.
Who was that guy that came to her rescue? He looked fairly nice, but maybe it was the street light playing tricks with her. From what she could see in the dark, he had a sweet face and looked like an angel. His angelic face didn’t match his fury, but then again she should have known not to trust a guy dressed like he was a cast of Grease.
“Can you describe the man who assaulted your boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend…” Kat could describe him in perfect detail. How many people came to the red light district dressed up like John Travolta’s Danny Zucko? “He was in black rolled up pants, a black rolled up t-shirt—”
“I meant how tall would you say he was. Did you see his eye color?”
Kat thought for a minute. She only caught a small glimpse of his face before he started ripping Jin to shreds. How could she describe his features, saying he had an angelic face didn’t seem like a good description. The only other thing she knew about him was he was muscular. His biceps rippled every time he made a punch, and his left arm had a tattoo sleeve. Other than that, she really couldn’t describe him. She didn’t even get a good look at his arm to see any distinguished tattoos.
“Oh, I didn’t pay attention to that just his clothes. Dressing like a cast of Grease is weird, right?”
“Not really - Playhouse Productions is about six blocks over. Maybe he wanted to grab a drink.”
So that guy was an actor? It did make sense because if he looked that good under the dim streetlights, he must have been model-good-looking during the day. For once she met a handsome savior instead of another jerk, like Jin. Why was she so unlucky in love? Other than her military pen pal all the guys in her life were real bastards and treated her poorly.
“I should point out I’m not pressing charges tonight….I’ll count it as poetic justice.”
“Then this Jin guy was trying to—”
“Hold the drama. He refused to believe we’re no longer together. Unless you can send him to jail for cheating.”
“Sorry, no.”
Kat watched the police car drive off and suddenly, she didn’t feel like going to work. She reached down in her jacket pocket, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Eros.
“Max? It’s Kat can you—”
“I already called Wilderness, I can’t believe that guy and right by your job!”
“Thanks, I’m going home.”
Five minutes later, Kat was in the back of a taxi being whisked home. She rolled down the window a crack and allowed the crisp air to fill the stuffy taxi. She stretched out her legs and leaned against the window. Stupid Jin. He really had ruined what could have been her night to make it big. Eros was known for turning underground brands into hit makers. Jin might have been okay with being known as the Indie King, but she wanted something more. She wanted to be like Blondie.
“Thanks.” Kat said and handed money to the driver.
She opened the door to her place, changed into her telly tubby pj’s, and put her retainer in her mouth, just like that she was her thirteen-year-old self again.
Seriously though who was that guy? Someone who often frequented Eros? Did he have a crush? There was just no way a random guy would go so crazy over her unless she meant something to him.
Kat grabbed a bag of popcorn out from her cabinet and tried to think if she knew any actors. She didn’t so maybe that guy was just a fan of hers. A lot of people did like Alley Cats.
**********
A few minutes later, Kat found herself snacking on popcorn while watching a romantic movie when suddenly, she heard keys at her front door. She immediately grabbed the signed baseball bat by the T.V. stand. Her landlord said that she would be overseas in Korea and that she wouldn’t be back for several weeks. Kat ran toward the front hallway, closed her eyes, and started swinging wildly.
“Why are you in my house?”
Kat stopped swinging the bat and opened her eyes. Her breakup with Jin had apparently been messing with her head. Why was it that his voice sounded so sexy to her? Deep, firm, and crisp like a radio DJ. She stared at the guy standing in front of her. Since she was a lead singer in a band that played nightly at clubs, she had seen her share of good looking guys, but this guy he really was gorgeous. He looked like an anime character, complete with wide slant amber eyes, and dark shaggy black hair.
“Squatting is against the law and even worse - you’ve treated my house like a landmine.”
Kat looked around at the weeks clothes she discarded on the floor the second she got home and plopped down in front of the T.V.
“I’m not squatting.” Kat folded her arms across her chest. Why did this guy come here? Didn’t Ms. Park say she’d only rent the place to her? She had fallen behind rent recently, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t quickly add a shift at Eros to make more money.
“Then do you know me?”
Kat recovered from her thoughts, looked carefully at the guy, then snapped her fingers. “It’s you!” She recognized his faded rolled up jeans and the tattoo sleeve - it was the guy who saved her. Just as she thought before, he really was good looking and not even dim streetlights could hide it. He looked less like an angel now, though, but his face was still sweet and boyish. His eyes were the problem because they were definitely the kind that spelled trouble. Any girl would be mesmerized by them, and would be able to tell he was a bad boy disguised as an angel.
“Get out.” He replied and gently started pushing her toward the front door.
Kat shook herself free. “Really— ”
“I’m not in the mood to be bothered with you so leave.” The guy said, squeezed his eyes shut, and quickly grabbed hold of the wall.
Kat looked down at the bandage on his hand and the bag in his hand that said Pharmacy.
“I’m renting this place from Ms. Amanda Park.”
“Strange since this is my house.”
“I didn’t know that and if you have a problem—” Kat stopped speaking when he put his hand up and moved away from the wall. Slowly he walked over to the phone on the table in the hallway that separated the living room from the front entrance.
“Ma! Why did you rent out my house without my permission? What if I brought home a girlfriend and she misunderstood the situation.”
Ma? Kat sunk down into the barstool off to the side. What would she do if he actually did force her to leave? Since it wasn’t really his mother’s house, she could be thrown out.
Kat heard a loud thud, jumped from the barstool and saw that the guy was on the ground for a split second. Kat thought to call the ambulance, but she wasn’t sure if he’d ask her to pay for the bill. Fainting wasn’t really something to call the ambulance over was it? She quickly grabbed his arms, and with every strength in her petite body she dragged him to the living room. She wasn’t sure she could get him up on the couch.
Lifting up his legs she placed the sofa cushions under them and his head. Kat touched his forehead and it seemed like he had a slight fever. In romantic comedies, the heroine always nursed the guy back to good health. She’d take it as her chance to star in her own production. It wouldn’t be so bad to comfort this guy, aside from his sharp tone he didn’t seem so bad.
**********
Brett sat up and looked around. He thought to himself when did I get back from the hospital? He’d forgotten about his encounter with the girl he’d saved earlier that night. She really didn’t have any respect for his house, and he wondered why were the cushions for his couch on the floor?
Why did his mother always do such useless things? Renting the place out to single girls was just another way for her to play matchmaker, just in case he came back from the military. He wasn’t the type to be tied down and now he had these troubling flashbacks to war. He was prescribed sleeping pills, but he didn’t always take them.
However tonight he would take his pills, eat a nice sandwich and hopefully get a good night’s rest. Brett pushed himself up and walked toward the kitchen for some breakfast.
Just a few minutes later, he was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling fan in the hallway, with blood dripping from his nose. Brett held his nose and looked up at the squatter girl in his house.
ROMANCE: Military Control: A Dark Military Suspense Romance Page 1
