Brad's Road Trip Ch. 07

I heard her sigh again. I wasn't such a big fan of the passive aggression, but then again, she knew fighting it head-on wasn't going to work.

"Fine," she said. "You don't want to help me, then you get to hear all about how jealous I am again."

"Yes," I replied, not even concerned this time. Truth be told, I kind of liked that she got jealous. "Of Stacy and Lynette and Becky and Belinda and all the others."

"Well, yeah," she answered. "I've already told you about all that. But this time, I'm jealous of you."

"Why?"

"Your road trip," she answered. "I love going on road trips. Just getting in the car, driving until it's time to turn around, no plans at all. It's a great way to kill a weekend."

"I agree," I said. "Or a couple weeks."

"Yeah, but you've planned this out, and that's fun too. You're getting to see a lot of places I've never been."

"I'm sure you've been some places I've never been," I answered.

"I've been to Tokyo, and Australia," she said. I'd never been either place. "I've never been to Europe though. I would love to go. Maybe you can take me sometime."

"Maybe someday," I said, laughing along with her. In the back of my mind, though, there was a little doubt.

*****************

"Hi, I have a reservation here tonight," I said, stepping up to the desk at the Palms Hotel, right on the Atlantic coast outside of Charleston.

"What's the name, sir?" the clerk asked, and before I could answer, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder.

"It's another one of my rooms, Frank," the voice behind the hand said, and I watched familiarly as the clerk scrambled around, frantically trying to make the man happy.

"Captain Lancaster," I said without even looking.

"Sergeant Carver," J.T. Lancaster said, and we wrapped each other in a hug. I know, I know -- men aren't supposed to hug. A fist bump or hi-five is supposed to be the limit. But when you've been through the things J.T. and I had overseas, the superficial stuff doesn't much matter.

"How was your drive, Brad?" my old platoon commander asked me. Now that we were all out of the military, we didn't have to use ranks, but this was the first time I'd heard him use my first name. It sounded a bit strange.

"Not too bad, sir," I answered, and he grinned at me. "Er, J.T. This is gonna take a little getting used to."

"Sure," he answered. "But this?" He waved his hand around the spacious, luxurious lobby, which only gave a small hint of what awaited in the room. "This you'll get used to in a hurry."

I nodded as the clerk handed me a room key and got my name. He was in his mid-50s at the youngest, and seeing him run around trying to make J.T. happy was kind of amusing. When we finished, he regarded J.T. anxiously.

"Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Lancaster?"

In addition to being a decorated Marine Corps pilot, J.T. was also the heir to an aviation fortune. His father founded and still owned one of the biggest air charter corporations on the East Coast. I was partially surprised his dad didn't own a house in Charleston - he seemed to own one in just about every other major beach city.

So, it made sense that the clerk was less focused on me, and more focused on the guy with the deep pockets.

"Come on Frank," he said. "I paid for the room, but Brad here is a guest, too."

"Of course, sir," the clerk answered. "Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Carver?"

I just laughed. "I'm good, thanks."

We took the elevator up to third floor. J.T. had reserved a block of rooms, all with an ocean view, for the entire week. He, his best friend and both of their girlfriends had come down from North Carolina, and several of J.T.'s cousins had also come in for a few days.

The view was nice, but we didn't spend much time taking it in. The sun was on its way down, and down in Charleston in the summer, even Tuesday was a party night. We quickly headed out of the hotel and walked southwest down Ocean Blvd.

"So how is everybody doing?" I asked.

"Well, I'm great," he answered. "Been dating my lady for a little over a year now, and things are going well. The business is going great. Dad's going to let me take over in a few years, I think."

"I definitely want to talk a little business with you later," I said. "But if we get started, we won't stop, and I think everyone else will kill us."

"Especially Sheila," he said. "That woman is more than willing to help me spend my money, but she has no desire to know how I make it."

"Good for her," I said as we stopped at a crosswalk and waited. "How's Captain Fetters?"

A shadow crossed J.T.'s face. Tim Fetters was J.T.'s best friend, and he was the other primary officer I served under during my one tour in the Middle East.

"Doing the best he can, I guess," J.T. said. "He told you his girlfriend dumped him, right?"

I stopped in my tracks. "You're kidding me, right? The stacked, drop dead gorgeous blonde, the one he was crazy about?"

"Yeah," J.T. said. "They spent all weekend having sex, then she told him she wanted to see other people."

"Wow," I said. "When did that happen?"

"More than a year ago," J.T. replied. "Doesn't surprise me that he didn't tell you. He's not coping very well."

I just nodded. I had tried to help everyone I'd met so far on this road trip, but Tim and J.T. had been my superiors. I'd offer my support, but I wouldn't pry.

We crossed the street and headed toward the restaurant. When we got near the front door, it opened and Tim headed out to meet us.

"Sergeant Carver, I don't care where you've been and where you've partied," he said to me. "This little joint right here, Windjammers, is one of the coolest, most laid back places on earth."

"Captain Fetters, if it carries your recommendation, I don't doubt it for a second." We embraced as well, and I could smell a heavy dose of whiskey on his breath. "Surely your judgment in drinking establishments wouldn't be clouded by getting hammered in one of those establishments, would it?"

"Oh, it would," J.T. said, pushing past us toward the door. "But even drunk, he's right. This is the hottest place on the island."

We went in and headed for the back of the joint. There were a few people already sitting at our table, and introductions were quickly made. I met J.T's girlfriend, Sheila, as well as a smoking brunette, Julia, whom Tim introduced as "just a friend." Travis and Billy were two of J.T.'s cousins. They both had short hair and pretty muscular builds, but Travis was probably 6-foot-3, while Billy was a few inches shorter. I knew they had to be either active duty or former military.

J.T. and I sat down, but Tim headed up to the bar. When Julia and Sheila started chatting, I leaned over to J.T.

"I thought you said he wasn't coping well," I said. "If that's not coping well, I think I need to get myself dumped."

"She's Sheila's best friend," J.T. explained. "They've been 'seeing each other' for a month or two, and by seeing each other, I mean, horizontally. And that's about it."

I nodded. "That should give him some time to get back on his horse. Does she know she's the rebound?"

"Yes," J.T. said, grinning. "And she has absolutely no intentions of staying a rebound."

I laughed. "Let me know how that works out."

We ordered food and spent two hours just laughing, talking and reminiscing about what we called "the good old days," which were closer to the worst part of hell when we were actually living them. As I thought, Billy had been out of the Navy for a couple years, and Travis was just a few months out of the Marines, too, with a Purple Heart to show for his tour in Afghanistan.

Empty pitchers and a dozen or so glasses with nothing but ice littered the table, and we were contemplating heading down the beach to a different bar when something caught Travis' eye. I followed his stare to the front door, where two women had just walked in. They were just barely old enough to be here - legally, anyway - and they were turning some heads.

"You got your eye on something?" Tim asked Travis.

"Yep," he said. "The redhead."

"Good choice!" Sheila exclaimed, tossing her long red mane over her shoulder. Travis had good taste -- the redhead was definitely the hotter of the two, but her blonde friend was pretty good-looking, too. Neither of them had anything on Stacy or Lynette, but that was like discounting a T-bone because you'd just had filet mignon. The redhead seemed like she was already feeling no pain, but the blonde might as well have been wearing body armor. She couldn't have been more obvious if she'd had the words "Don't Fuck With Me" tattooed on her forehead.

They sat down at a table across the bar from us, and Travis waited about 20 minutes, to see if anyone was going to join them. We watched amused as several different guys approached the table but were systematically shot down by the blonde. The redhead didn't get a chance to say much, but she smiled and tried to be polite as each guy walked away.

"Uh oh, buddy," J.T. said. "She's got a bodyguard."

"Yeah, I'm gonna need some help on this one," Travis said, and glanced at Billy.

"Don't look at me," he said. "I know this doesn't mean much to all you single guys, but..." he trailed off as he displayed his ring finger. "I'm a happily married man, and have no plans to change that just to watch you get shot down by some hot chick's overprotective friend."

Travis' vision swung in my direction, and I grinned.

"Yeah, I got your back," I said. We stood up, and after a stop at the bar to pick up two more of what the girls were drinking - sex on the beach for the redhead, and a margarita for the blonde - we approached the table. The blonde glared at me from 30 feet away and rolled her eyes.

"Look, Christine," she said. "Two more ignorant idiots who aren't observant enough to see that we want to be left alone."

"Mm hmm," I answered. I think Travis might have been ready to turn around, but I didn't budge. Travis sat Christine's drink in front of her, but I held onto the margarita. "I bought this for you, but I got no problem giving it back."

She eyed the margarita and after thinking for a few seconds, she nodded at me. I sat it next to her mostly empty one, and slid into the booth next to her.

"I don't remember saying you could sit down, just because you bought me a drink."

"That's good, because I'm pretty sure I didn't ask," I said. Christine's eyes bugged out as she stifled a laugh. "Christine, would you mind sliding over in the booth a little so my boy Travis can sit down?"

"She's not interested," the blonde said, but her friend betrayed her, scooting in to make room for him.

"Hi," I said, extending my hand to the blonde. "I'm Brad."

She laughed. "Yeah, right. Did you even wash your hands?"

I ignored her. "Christine, I hate to keep asking you for favors, because really, we only came over because Travis is interested in you. But your friend here is incredibly rude. Would you mind telling me her name?"

"It's Beth," Christine said, earning her a glare full of daggers.

"Beth!" I shouted, loud enough for half the bar to hear me. "Nice to meet you, Beth." I stuck out my hand again, and this time, she rolled her eyes and made a big production out of exhaling as she shook it. Seeing that, I tightened my grip, and her eyes locked onto mine. I liked the fire I saw in them before she wrenched her hand free.

"You guys are just wasting your time," Beth said, breaking the eye contact and looking down at the table.

"Is that right?" I asked, and she nodded. "Well, lucky for us, it's our time to waste." I took a big pull off the Newcastle I'd ordered with her drink. Travis may have been following my lead to get in the door, but he didn't need my help now. He immediately struck up a conversation with Christine.

"So, Beth," I said, trying to keep her occupied. "I'm not from this area. What is there to do in Charleston?"

"This town sucks!" she said, loud enough to draw several angry looks from nearby tables. "Beaches are only cool if there are hot guys, and every guy in this town is fat and hairy and disgusting."

I tried to be diplomatic. "Fort Sumter is nearby, right? And other Civil War monuments?" I'd actually spent a few hours earlier in the afternoon checking out Charleston's rich military history, so I knew what was nearby. I just wanted her to calm her down some, but it had the opposite effect.

"Who cares?" she said, and that's when I really started getting pissed off. "Shit that happened 150 years ago, hello? Just a bunch of old bricks and stones. Tear that shit down and make room for more restaurants and stores. Or a water park. It's so fucking hot here in the summer. I can't believe the humidity and..."

She kept going for a few more minutes, but I quickly tuned her out. I stole glances across the table to make sure Travis was still making progress. Otherwise, listening to this chick ramble and rant and rave was seriously not worth it. Her drink was running low, so I signaled for another, and the bartender quickly brought it over. He gave me an apologetic grin as he walked away.

It was a shame, because she wasn't too far from sexy. From this range I could easily see that she was a bottled blonde, and she'd obviously paid for bigger breasts. Her face was a little mousy, and her body was a little on the stick-figure side. Still, she had clear skin, great teeth, and her hair hung in loose curls on both sides of her face.

Nowhere near hot enough to make up for this vapid, holier-than-thou, self-centered -- in a word, awful -- personality.

"So you thought you'd come over here and play 'wingman' and talk to me while your friend Travis tries to get my best friend into bed, huh?" she asked right about the time I started paying attention again. "Why do you idiot men think that shit actually works?"

I didn't answer with words. Instead, I grabbed her hand again -- the same fire roared back to life in her eyes -- and pointed toward Travis and Christine. He whispered something in her ear, and she giggled.

"You're right," I said. "I have no idea why we idiot men think that shit actually works."

Beth's jaw dropped when she saw her friend's hand on Travis' right bicep. "Christine! Stop that! He just wants to get in your pants."

Travis tore his eyes away from Christine and focused on us now. He'd let me deal with the pitbull to this point, but this time he took matters into his own hands.

"Listen," he said. "You don't know me. You have no idea what I'm looking for, or what I want, or why I'm over here. Somebody obviously screwed you over big-time, woman, but it wasn't me, and I'm not into you, anyway. If Christine wants me to leave, she can tell me that."

He didn't wait for Beth to answer, and I didn't either. He went back to talking to a half-drunk and very attentive Christine, and I turned my attention back to Beth. I didn't think he'd need a whole lot longer to seal the deal.

"Besides, who says I was just over here to talk to you? Sometimes, the wingman is actually interested in the friend he's trying to distract."

She looked me up and down, clearly taking her time and sizing me up. The gaze lingered a bit longer in all the right places. Suddenly, she laughed again. "Yeah, right. Some of the losers who tried before you were way hotter than you."

I matched her laugh. "Maybe so," I said. "And yet, they're not sitting here, and after 20 minutes, I still am."

She pondered that for a moment, and polished off what was left of the margarita I'd bought for her. She looked at me expectantly, but I did nothing.

"So you're really interested in me?"

I'm not really sure what came over me then, but I leaned in and kissed her full on the lips before she had a chance to argue. It wasn't electric or anything like that, but she had nice, full lips and they were moist from the margaritas. When I pulled back, she was about to say something -- I'm sure it wouldn't have been very pleasant -- but I snaked my hand behind her neck and pulled her to me for an even harder, longer kiss. It got sloppy instantly, and I could taste the Cuervo as our tongues battled in her mouth. I felt her hand running up and down the length of my left thigh, and when I bit down gently on her tongue, her fingernails dug into my quad muscles.

"Wow," I heard Christine say from across the table when we finally split apart. "That was a pretty hot kiss."

"We can do better," Travis replied. Before Beth could swing her glare back to the other side of the booth, I put a hand on her jaw and kept her looking at me.

"What's not to be interested in?" I asked. "You're cute, you have a nice body, you can obviously handle your tequila, and you know how to kiss."

Her eyes were glued to mine and a little glazed, which was my most obvious hint that she was more than just a little interested in me. Still, they weren't enough to stop me from landing another zinger.

"Plus, you have such a warm, friendly personality that any man couldn't help but love."

The gaze turned to a daggerish glare in an instant. She might have unloaded on me with another 10-minute diatribe, but she saw Travis and Christine making out across the booth. Her milky white cheeks flushed rapidly.

"Christine!" she shouted, getting her friend's attention and making her turn her face from Travis' lips. "You two need to get away from us. Now!"

"Not likely," I said. "That's not what you were telling me a few minutes ago. Besides, what's your friend think?"

"I don't care!" Beth exclaimed. "Security!"

Travis tossed a worried look at me as one of the bouncers approached the table. He was a big, beefy black dude, and he looked like he knew how to handle himself. Of course, I had plenty of training in that area, too, but a brawl with security wasn't the blueprint for a great night.

"Is there a problem here?" the bouncer asked. He'd been standing nearby, and I was sure he knew everything and realized what was going on. He didn't want to have to kick us out -- I could see that on his face -- but it was his job to handle any confrontations.

"Not at all," I said. "My buddy and I were just leaving the lady and her pet Doberman alone. Sorry for your trouble."

I heard a pissed 'Excuse me?' from behind me as Travis and I stood up, and I grabbed my wallet. I palmed a $20 and slipped it into the bouncer's hand as I leaned in close.

"When the blonde gets up to go to the bathroom, let the redhead know where we're sitting."

He nodded subtly at me. Travis and I headed back to our table, and as I passed the bar, I looked at the bartender. "Take those two margaritas off my tab, would ya?" I asked loudly. "You can leave the others, but I don't buy drinks for girls who think anal is just an adjective instead of a type of sex."

If I had stopped to listen, I'm sure Beth would have cussed at me, but I kept moving toward our table. I had no idea whether the bartender would actually do as I asked, but it was said more for Beth's benefit.

"Wow," Travis said when we got back to the table. J.T. and Tim just looked amused. "What a bitch."

I stretched my arms out wide. "Of biblical proportions."

"Didn't stop you from shoving your tongue down her throat," Tim said.

"She's a bitch," I said. "But I'm drunk, and she's not an ugly bitch."

Laughs bounced across the table.

"So that's it?" J.T. asked. "You're giving up?" He was asking Travis, but I answered.

"Oh, no, he's not. He's just being patient."

Travis had no idea what I meant, but I just winked at him. Everyone else wanted to go, but I convinced everybody to stay for another half hour. It was only 11 o'clock anyway, still an hour before some of the hotter clubs on the beach really got busy.

Sure enough, about 20 minutes later, Christine peeked around the corner. Julia saw her first and pointed her out to me, and I immediately walked toward her. "Come on over," I said. "Where's Beth?"