Page 80 of Proof Of Life
I have enough anxiety roiling in my gut to age me at least ten years by the end of the day.
Brandt takes a deep breath and blows it out before asking, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Everything! I’m worked up over this award ceremony tomorrow. The more I think about it, the more reasons I come up with for why I shouldn’t go.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and then rubs his eyes. “I figured that’s what it was. Look, there’s not much I can say to make it better for you. We just need to go, get through it, and put it behind us.”
“It’s not just that. I can’t stop thinking about Stiles showing up for that ROTC jag. I should have supported him. It’s eating at him, at his conscience. He doesn’t want to do it, but he refuses to let his nephew down. And I gave him shit for it. He’s the real hero, not me.”
Brandt’s head snaps up, and he looks full of disbelief. “Stiles?”
“Yeah. And if you tell him I said he’s my hero, I’ll shove my prosthetic foot right up your ass.”
“Kinky,” Brandt teases with a smirk.
“You know what we should do? We should show up at the school to support him the day after tomorrow.”
Brandt’s smirk spreads into a genuine smile. “I guess you should activate the phone tree. Get the Bitches on the line, gather them together and give them marching orders.”
“Yes! Great idea. Except…I think McCormick is on that date tonight with that chick Carly. So you know he won’t answer.”
The smirk is back in place. “You look like you need a drink. Maybe it’ll help with that anxiety.”
“A drink? Why do I need a drink?”
“Think about it,” he says, as a wicked light shines in his blue eyes. “The Black Mountain Tavern serves two-for-one beer this time of night.”
The Black Mountain Tavern… McCormick. Carly.
“I think you’re right. I definitely need a drink. I’d give anything to see McCormick macking on the ladies, in full action. I’m dying to prove he has no game.”
We grab our jackets and head out, laughing the entire way. In the Jeep, speculation runs wild.
Brandt chuckles. “Do you think he makes her pay for half the bill?”
“Hard to tell. He believes in equality; it’s a sign of strength to him, but he’s desperate to get laid, so…It’s anybody’s guess.”
“I bet five bucks he’s wearing an ALR or Bitches shirt with a pair of jeans that has a hole in them.”
“And I bet he’s mentioned Stiles and the boys at least four times already,” I add with a chuff.
“Maybe he’s regaling her with his glory days from the Army.”
“Christ, he’s probably sitting alone at the bar by now because she split already.”
“Do you think he would tell her about his crush on Betty Beasley?”
“Crush?” I snort, “Try obsession.”
I spot his Harley as soon as we pull into the parking lot of the Black Mountain Tavern. “He either made her drive herself, or he’s giving her a ride on his bike.”
Only one helmet rests on the handlebars, which means he actually made her drive herself. And he wonders why he can’t find a date? McCormick is absolutely the worst catch imaginable.
We walk into the bar, but it’s not McCormick we see sitting alone at the counter, it’s Stiles.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Brandt asks. “Spying?”
“I’m not spying!”