Family Needs Me Pt. 01

Everyone having sex is at least 18. This story is a work of fiction. I made it all up. Check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help and making this a better story.

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Chapter 1 - Help

I have just walked off base as a civilian for the first time in twenty years. There is no parade, no rush of the family to see me, no girlfriend in tears. I have no vehicle; I have been deployed most of my twenty years. No friends to take me somewhere, I am a loner. I never have been what you would call a people person. I was a top-notch soldier, trained in everything. I can fly, drive, or sail almost any vehicle. I can operate solo or in teams. You name it, I have been trained in it. I took every class they have; I am the most educated Ranger ever.

That doesn't make me the best Ranger ever. I was never better than average at anything. I looked, but never found anything I excelled at. Hence, all the training and disappointment. Both my commanders and I were disappointed in my performance. Therefore, I moved around a bunch, and that added to me being a loaner.

I have no medals and don't have nearly as many kills as others with my experience have. I did okay at saving money. I have no need to work for a while, but I want to. There is a decent looking motel across the street. I walk across the highway, dodging cars, and get a room. They have a dining room for dinner later. I get out my laptop, it's an older model, nothing special. I get online to check my personal email and Facebook.

Nothing new on Facebook and 178,893 unread on my personal email. I had been using my military email, so I didn't need my account ... until now. I sort by company and delete by the thousands. It's slow. The numbers are so huge, everything takes a while. Deleting 10,000 emails, that's like five minutes.

I delete, wait, un-filter to all, wait, filter on a name or word, wait, delete, and more waiting. I spent all night and until early in the morning to put a sizeable dent in the email. While un-filtering, a single email catches my eye. The subject says, "Help." Obviously, with a subject line like that, I must open it up.

I notice it's almost five years old. Damn. It's from my mom. She was an English teacher. So, when I see several spelling mistakes, and it's short, she wrote this in haste, "Your father is dead, I am taking JoAnn and Tammi to my brothers in Washington."

That's it. How did my dad die? Why are they in a rush? Why is there no more email from her? The internet and the local paper give me some answers. Five years ago, my sisters had just turned eighteen on the day, that's odd. On their birthday, my dad was gunned down in our driveway for no reason. That's odd as well.

I remember mom's brother living in some tiny town up near Seattle. The only thing memorable about that town is that it had a strip club, a big one. They were up near the headquarters of a large famous computer company. A lot of wealthy geeks up there with lots of disposable money.

I wonder if anyone would recognize me? When I left home, I was six feet tall but only 140 pounds soaking wet. I was a birdman, no muscle at all. I had darker brown hair, freckles, and my ears stuck out. I was Big Ears to the entire school and area. My lack of muscles was a considerable hindrance through basic training. I was a great runner but carrying a pack, lifting a gun, and climbing walls with said pack and gun were torture.

Over the years, my hair has been short, but my hair turned black. I outgrew the freckles, and my ears don't stick out as much. Maybe they do, but with my more prominent melon, it doesn't look as bad. I grew three inches and a hundred twenty pounds. I filled out some. Mostly, it's muscle, that hard work was like a twenty-year weight-lifting class.

Not everyone is as big as I am, I purposely lift weights to add bulk. Now, lifting anything is a breeze, it's the running I work hard at so I can meet minimums. For me, running was mostly desire. I needed to want it to stay in the service. It's part of why I volunteered for so much. You don't have to qualify if you are in combat.

Ok, new plan, bus ticket to Seattle and then a ticket to small-town USA. I spend several more hours deleting the email. Tomorrow at noon I need to catch a Greyhound for Seattle.

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Stepping on the bus is hard, there isn't much room. I am a big man while the seats and the aisle are small. The seating is far better than a plane. That doesn't help when the person next to me is bigger than I am. Every woman stares at me as I walk down the aisle, hoping I am next to them. Lucky for me, I am next to a small sixteen-year-old child traveling to her grandmothers. Her parents were recently murdered. She clung to me immediately.

We talked a lot about life and school. I pointed out how important a good education was. I wanted to be a good role model for her, this was an important transition in her left. She left the bus when I did ate where I did and slept when I did. I waited at the bus station until her grandmother showed up. I got a good hug goodbye, and then I waited for my bus. Twelve hours before a bus was going past the town I wanted.

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The door closes behind me, and I start my walk to the hotel. The bar looks the same, but everything else has changed. There is much more town here now. A motel, some restaurants, a few tourist stores, a police and fire station, and your standard set of buildings that all small towns have. Hardware, grocery, clothing, shoe, pawnshop, and a jeweler. The last one seemed odd. Can they really do that much high roller sales out here? Four gas stations close out the town. Two work on cars while two only sell gas. The bar/strip club is called Bella's. It looks run down, and I can hear the music out on the street.

I don't remember the brother's name or where they live. I believe that they still live here and eventually will be in town. I will recognize them and mom. The girls would have changed too much and probably went to school and never came back. I wouldn't recognize them anyways.

I get a room and then go to the diner where I can get something to eat. I go in, and there is a young woman there waiting tables and an older man on the grill. The woman is cute but a few pounds over-weight, many would call her chunky. I call her Lisa, it's on her name tag.

I say, "Hi, Lisa. I need a coffee, the special, gravy on the side, I like my fries crispy."

Lisa looks at me blankly, she can't move. The guy yells at her, and she jumps. She turns bright red and scribbles down my order. When I did get my order, I get a Coke, a hamburger, and tater tots. She didn't get anything right. It looks good, I am hungry, I eat it. Others are there, and she helps them. However, her eyes are on me all the time. The same is true of three wives and two daughters. What's the matter with this place?

When Lisa comes back, I use my loud commanding voice to say, "SIT. Why are you and every other female over age eight staring at me? Is something written on my face?"

Lisa smiles and says to me with a soft, quiet voice, "You are young and cute as hell. Only poor, old, and ugly men stop by. Guys like you spend all their time at the strip club. The two husbands, they're dirt poor, they can't afford the women across the street."

I smile at Lisa, "I need a chocolate milkshake. I haven't had one in over twenty years."

Lisa practically ran to make the milkshake. She ignored the customers. They didn't care, they are watching Lisa and me. She serves me the dessert. I slowly pick up my spoon, touching her hand as it's still in her hand. I spoon a spoonful of milkshake, raise it up, and then slowly bring it to my mouth. I slowly open my mouth wide to receive the prize. After licking the shake, I moan in appreciation of how much I like this milkshake.

Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm. As I say that, I roll my eyes, swirl my head, and then pop my lips in satisfaction. This is some of the world's finest over-acting, practically the definition. They are all eating it up. Then I make a motion like I am hot.

Lisa helps me out, "Our air conditioning doesn't work. You may have to take off your shirt."

Wow, if I said that to a woman, I would be in jail. I unbutton my six buttons and then pull off my shirt. I have a white sleeveless undershirt on, my long muscular arms are on display. I don't move, but flex my arms causing the muscles to bulge. I grasp my cup and start drinking directly from the container. No spoon or straw. Now I can flex my arms and my chest.

OH FUCK! I was putting on a show and drank too much milkshake. I have a BRAIN FREEZE! Damn, that hurts. I need to be careful. While freezing my brain, I flex my muscle hard because of the pain. The guys are looking at the floor and walls. Every female is staring intently at me, I hear them moan.

That was fun. I finish my milkshake, pay my bill, and walk across the street to Bella's. It's a strip bar, I must check it out. All those things made a few women very unhappy. I put my shirt on but don't bother buttoning it.

The inside of Bella's is a whole lot nicer than the outside. It's modern looking with an awesome looking bar and a high-tech stage with LED lighting and digital sound. The women inside, from dancers to whore, to waitresses, are all spectacular looking. I should have had dinner here. There are two bouncers by the door.

Immediately, one says to me, "Hey dude, we don't want no trouble. You act out, and we will shoot your ass."

I hate his attitude already.

I get in his face and say with a low mean voice, "People have been shooting at and hitting me for twenty years. You better bring a big gun and shoot straight, or I will rip you in two with my bare hands. I am not here to cause trouble; I have seen a lifetime of that. I am a retired Army Ranger. Just stay out of my way, and you will survive the night."

He asks me an unusual question, "Who are you looking for?"

Instantly, I am weary of my new friends, "You're far from the east coast cities. I like the forest and the green in the northwest. I am looking to enjoy my retirement, find an easy job, and take it easy for a while. I haven't planned much out. I will know when I see it."

I go to the bar and order a beer. I am expecting trouble; I want to be clear-headed. I nurse a beer for two hours. Sure enough, two big men stop by the bouncer, look my way, and then they circle their way to me. I see all of this in the mirror in front of me.

I ask the two men as they walk up to me, surprising them, "How much pain do you need to endure?"

The first guy says to me, "We won't be receiving, so it really doesn't matter."

I tell him, "How about you go back to your sissy boss and suggest he get at least two more guys so it will be a fair fight. You two aren't even military."

He laughs at me, "We are MMA fighters in training."

I am serious when I ask, "What's MMA?"

The first guy, the smaller of the two, tries to sucker punch me, I was expecting it. With the number of sit-ups I do, I don't even block him, I just smile at him. There is a huge crowd around us, and they want to see a fight. His partner hits me twice in the face. I grab him and wrap an arm around his neck. I have him in a sleeper chokehold. He soon passes out. I set him down in a chair and let him fall forward on the table.

The guy walks towards me again, and I shout, "STOP! Your boss got the demo he wanted. The only thing yet to decide is how smart you are. Are you willing to let this go and walk out of here, or will you push me and walk out of here with a busted face?"

To help him make up his mind, I make a classic bodybuilder bulging of the arms. He deflates and walks away.

I yell at the crowd, "The show is over, look at the stage, it's a better show."

A cute waitress offers me a free drink, "Thanks for not hurting Matt and Tom. They're good kids, they just have bad influences."

I stop her, "I told your boss I am looking for a job, and I want to enjoy my retirement. I don't want to be a bouncer. He should have thrown you at me first, you had a better chance.

I get up and walk out. I have had enough of this. I think several writers came here before they wrote their movies. This place is straight out of Hollywood. I go back to my room; someone has been there. The clear scotch tape is broken. Interesting, nothing has been touched. Nope, they have touched, they just put it back. They aren't military, they did not follow the standards. I can tell, they were looking for something, probably a weapon. I don't have one. Interesting, in the fights, the guys touched my hip, and behind me, they were looking for weapons.

I should be a lot less offensive now. Maybe they will leave me alone. They know I am military; they know I can be a handful if motivated. Even an average Ranger against civilians is an unfair fight. I am proficient in every weapon and excelled at the hand to hand combat. In every course, you learn something new. With taking all twenty-four hand to hand classes, I know a lot. I am above average with a rifle, machine gun, pistol, knife, and throwing knives.

All of that means squat now, I am a civilian looking for my family. With as touchy as these people are, I need to watch what I say and what I do. Those are two things I excel at; I am a quiet introvert. Growing up, I was a nerd, a loner, and nobody that anyone paid any attention to. As a Ranger, there were bigger, better, stronger, and faster. I got by because I was average at everything, I had no severe weaknesses.

There is a soft, timid knock at my door, I answer it. Standing there is a gorgeous mid-twenties woman. Tall, huge tits, and thin. She looks like a stripper.

The lady says to me, "They said you need a job. If you say yes, you get me for the night."

Well, isn't that interesting.

I ask the bombshell, "And what might I have to do to get such a nice prize as yourself?"

She looks bashful as she says, "The bar would like to hire you as a bouncer. Best job for the money around here."

I smile at her, "Yet they want me, and tossed you in to sweeten the pot. You make at least twice what I made in the military. I can see them wanting better bouncers. However, I have been fighting for the better part of twenty years. I have seen enough death, blood, and fighting for ten lifetimes. That whole bar doesn't interest me. I will look at some government jobs like a park ranger, hardware store, or as a mechanic. Maybe I put out my shingle and work as home repair.

"Tell your boss, no thank you. Nothing personal, just not what I want to do. You are cute enough, but it bothers me that someone would offer someone else. Almost like you are a slave."

She cringed when I said slave, that hit too close to home. Why am I not surprised? Is there anything about this town that isn't cliché?

Chapter 2 - I Find a Job

That night in my motel room, I apply online for a Park Ranger job. Lots of forest out here, they probably need the help. The pay is ok. About the only skill I don't have is horseback riding. Shoot pistol, shoot rifle, police experience (MP), knowledge of the forest, survival training, tracking, and I can fly a helicopter.

I walk down to the garage that fixes cars. They have several vehicles for sale. One is a 2014 Ford F150 pickup. 100,000 miles but it is a V8. We haggle a lot, and only after I walk out the door, does he accept my offer. I was moments away from turning around myself. Great, now I have a car.

I check the local paper, and the hardware store needs help. That would be safer but not nearly as much fun. Now I look for a place to live. I want to rent for a while, just in case I need to move on. With more houses than people, the rates are cheap. It's early still, so I ride up into the forest to look.

The first is one of three that are available. These are the slums, not living here. The second one is in a small area with six houses. All look nice and are well kept. Not perfect, they all need work, but all in all, not bad. I call the phone number and tell the lady I am interested in the rental home.

Misty tells me, "Well, if that is you in the driveway, give me a minute, and I will show you the place."

I tell her, "I will meet you there."

I get out of my truck; the sun is starting to set. Misty comes out of her small house and looks me over while I am looking her over. This girl is also mid 20's and built like a stripper. Short blond hair, lots of makeup, huge round breasts, two softballs sit on her chest, perfectly symmetrical. Her body is tall but very thin. Unusual, no tattoos. She is checking me out and likes what she sees.

She lets me in, and it's a sparsely populated house. More house than I need, it will do fine. Misty grabs my hand and drags me to her place. It's cute and very girly looking. She places me on a big chair and then retrieves two beers from the kitchen. I hear her stomach grumble. I look at her, and she is afraid. Something odd is going on here.

I ask Misty, "Would you like to go for dinner and discuss business down at the diner? I could use a piece of that country apple pie."

Misty blushes, "I ran out of money and was forced to drink this old beer from my last boyfriend. I would love to go out for dinner."

We both stand up, and she holds my hand up until I open the car door for her. She slides next to me rather than sitting by the door. This didn't take long. I can't say I mind, this girl I beautiful. I walk around and open the door for her, she grabs my hand. On walking in, she lunges at the waitress, and they hug each other.

Lisa asks, "You little slut, didn't take you long, did it?"

Misty acts hurt, smiles, "He is looking to rent my second house. We are here for dinner."

Lisa looks suspicious of me now, "You mean you are here for dinner, Romeo had dinner earlier."

Misty looks embarrassed, "Ooops, he did say he wanted a piece of country apple pie. I need the special with extra everything, a milkshake, coffee, and a piece of pie as well."

Lisa takes off, and Misty asks, "I don't even know your name. Who did you say you are?"

I smile at her, "Everyone calls me Edi. It's short for Edi-cated. I took every course they offered in the Rangers. I am a reader, I read everything."

Misty smiles, "Well, that is rather unique."

The food is served, Misty has a hollow leg, and she was starving. I order a side of fries for myself. I ate five of them. Misty's hands managed to make their way over, often.

Now I feel at easy to ask, "So, most strippers I know, make fantastic money. Why are you starving?"

Misty laughs, "This part of the country is a lot different. I have debts. My family has debts. You renting my place will help a bunch. I can throw in some handjobs if you like."

Shocked, I ask, "What, not throwing in everything? I have had at least two offers so far."

She is pissed at me now, "NO! I won't let them. You can beat me all you want, but I will fight to the death to not sleep with a guy."

Taken back by her aggressiveness, I put up my hands, "Sorry, I give up, I surrender. I just want a place to live. I mostly want to be left alone."

Now she is defensive, "Then why are we here? I thought you wanted me? Don't you find me pretty?"

She has tears in her eyes. Damn, this girl has a fast lifestyle.

I take a deep breath, then I use a soft voice, "You are probably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Not even close. However, we are here because you were hungry. I have money, a truck, and you needed to eat. Now I can say I know someone in this crazy town.

"Since stepping off the bus, I have eaten here three times now, had a beer at the bar, got into a fight, my room was broken into, I had a woman offer me a job and her body, I bought a truck, and then I went looking to rent a house. Now I sit here eating dessert with a beautiful woman that will be sleeping by herself tonight."