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It’s the only explanation that makes sense. I may have dedicated my life to keeping people safe, but Bastien doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know me at all. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably be just as suspicious.
I know I’m making assumptions about Bastien here, and that’s not fair. You know what else isn’t fair? Bastien’s sudden interest in my welfare after assuming I must be a drug dealer or prostitute.
My hands finally reach for the wheel, only to see the tape still encasing my knuckles. I tear at the wrapping, taking out my anger on the protective strips. By the time it’s all off, bits of tape are scattered all over the inside of my car.
I’m pissed off. Irrationally? Maybe. Time will tell if my anger is justified or if Bastien sincerely wanted to help. I think I know a way to speed up the process.
For now, I squeal out of the compound and head home to deal with things less frustrating—my demons.
Bastien
Less than five minutes after I walked in, I decided home was too quiet for my state of mind. In under ten, I’m showered and grabbing my hat and keys on the way back out the door.
Nearly all the color has leeched from the sky by the time I reach the Virginia Beach area. Without conscious decision, I drive to a bar near Little Creek frequented by my former team and other SEALs. The place looks the same as I remember, like an oversized bait shop.
Guided by the same neon lights, I walk through the doors for the first time since my discharge. The inside hasn’t changed, either. It even smells the same: lemon polish, beer, and spice from the boiled peanuts the place is famous for.
“What the hell?” I hear yelled from across the crowded room. The familiar voice draws my eyes toward a table in the back, right where I would have expected to find some of my team in the past.
In the service, you never knew who would be congregating here at any given time. Tonight, it’s Jackson, Chris “Fish” Hill, and Gunner “Devil” Murphy.
Fish grins, having been the one to spot me coming in, and Jackson nearly spits out his beer when I reach the group. I shake Fish and Devil’s hands and accept a hug from my friend. The men with Jackson are part of the platoon he took over when he was promoted. I know them, but not as well as he does.
Jackson and I served together in a SEAL squad before he was tapped to become a platoon leader. “Never thought I’d see you in here again,” he says.
I shrug and take the chair Devil indicates. “I wanted to see if O’Reilly was still keeping you guys in line or if having a kid mellowed him any.”
The men around the table laugh, which is all the answer I need. “Guess not.”
The table falls silent as I rest my elbows on the surface, and I wonder if I interrupted a sensitive conversation about The Teams. Even the possibility makes me wish I hadn’t come. I feel like an imposter, out of place, no longer part of the brotherhood. Just before I decide to bail, Devil leans forward to ask, “How’s life working for Knot?”
A waitress walks by then, and I order a beer, so I’m obligated to stay until it arrives, at least. After she walks away, I answer, “Knot’s a good man. I think Sadie is tougher than he is, though.”
The men all laugh. “Yeah, we know all about Sadie,” Fish says. “We’ve worked with her a few times, her and Aaron.”
Devil continues, “I heard about your man that was killed. Losing him the way you did had to be tough.”
A solemn nod. “Life has been… different since then.”
I glance at “Clothespin” Bennet but don’t say anything more. We never had to face betrayal like that in the SEALs. Sure, the Navy has its share of assholes, but I never once had reason to question a SEAL’s loyalty while deployed. Let’s say we at Knot Corp are slightly more cautious these days.
Each man seated around the table has questions swirling in his eyes, but I didn’t come here to talk about what happened in Iran.
Conversation slows again, and Fish stands, dropping money on the table. “Bash, it was good to see you again. I hate to run, but I’ve got to pick up my daughter from dance class.”
Devil joins him, tipping his head before walking away.
“Alone at last,” my friend says with a grin.
His smile soon fades, and he taps my beer with his. “I’m glad to see you, even more than I am surprised.”
I lift my hat and run my hand through my hair. “I’m a little surprised myself.”
“So, what brings you out this way? You come to get details about our old squad meet-up? Maybe see a picture of the woman I plan to introduce you to?”
A bark of laughter spills from my lips. “The last thing I need is another woman to worry about.”
“Another?” he asks with wide eyes.