Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Chapter 14

Pepperoni pizza after an early morning swim might have been the closest thing to an orgasm. When the spicy kicked in, Samuel grunted and slumped against the chair.

Over a child's explosive laughter, Brandy and some other singer clashed over a boy. Samuel's Reeboks patted the footrest of the metal high stool in synchrony with the melody that would live in his head for days, no doubt. Why fight, though? The guy was clearly playing them both if they couldn't tell which one he wanted. What a waste of time.

Two corporals strolled across the plaza outside the Pizzarama window, where resilient wet patches slowly lost their battle against the blaring sun. No rain on field training, it seemed.

The water had been dirtier that morning, after a week of thunderstorms. Thick, slimy algae had wrapped around his ankles, slowing him. Rivers had shaved two seconds on his chase, but was still a long stretch from beating him.

Maybe one day he would let him win.

For now, Samuel had no choice but to destroy him.

It was a matter of principle. The only upper hand he had against Rivers and his ability to make him vulnerable or, even worse, comfortable in his crookedness and hate himself at the same time. The only weapon against those eyes that saw too deep and those brawny arms that called at him like a safe harbor.

Rivers was unapologetic in his beliefs that most of the time challenged the strict unit consensus. But his liberal, inclusive upbringing was a double-edged blade–one foot wrong, and Samuel would slip into swampy ground.

Just like that night in the duty hut.

He'd been so close to telling Rivers he was struggling. Not to confess his past, of course, but at least to let another soul know that drill sergeant life wasn't too hard on him; he loved it, in-fact. That he was so much stronger than what people perceived because, on top of adjusting, he was fighting his addiction with every shred of energy left in his body. He was so tough, he'd even kept all that to himself.

Samuel washed the pizza from his tongue with a sip of Sprite. Tossing a piece of crust in his mouth, he slid his Nokia from his shirt pocket and brought up Cheryl's number.

Her silvery voice greeted him on the first ring. "Hey, Smooch!"

"Hi, Pumpkin! Were you sitting by the phone?"

She chuckled. "Actually, yes. I was sending you a message. Guess what?"

"What?"

A shard of ice got stuck in the straw and Samuel sucked extra hard to dislodge it.

"I found us a band."

"Oh, that's–"

"Uh-uh. I'm not done."

Cheryl's chirpy tone pushed a smile onto Samuel's lips. He leaned on the counter, his grin like a ghost on the window.

"I found us a band, and it's almost for free."

"What?"

"Yes! So, I was on duty at the ER the other night, and I treated this little kid's leg. While I did the cast, I got to chat with the mother, who is getting remarried, too, so we talked wedding plans. Anyway, long story short, her brother plays in a band. It's four of them. She said they're trying to get a name in the Vegas area, so will do weddings and events like that. She gave me the contact, and when I spoke to Matt, he's the front man; he said since I cared for his nephew so well, he'd be happy to make a special price for us. They only asked for three hundred, plus a meal. And that includes everything, baby! Transportation, sounds, lighting, they'll take care of it all! They even said they'll write a personalized song if we want to!"