Page 13

Chapter

Thirteen

ROSCOE

T hree days later, Mr. Harper posts bail, and I sit quietly in Schuster’s car, my hands folded as I contemplate my next move. As if reading my mind, he says, “No offense, Ranger, but you could use new clothes and a barber. If I’m going to successfully defend you, it would help if you quit feeding the media with your unkempt, stereotypical lone-wolf appearance. You look like the Unabomber, for God’s sake.”

I nod, stroking my beard and ignoring his comment. “Former JAG?” I ask with a grimace.

“How’d you guess?”

“You guys all hold yourselves the same,” I reply, and he laughs.

The car trip relaxes as we discuss the various branches of the military and the ins and outs of civilian life. Unlike me, a total failure at reintegration, Schuster’s done well for himself. He gives me hope about turning my own life around and doing better, bringing his pep talk to an end at the Hyatt located directly across from the New Brunswick Hospital.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I work hard not to jump out of the car and race inside to find my girl.

The corners of Schuster’s mouth turn down. “Do Ginger a favor and get cleaned up first. You’ll find a barber shop around the corner, with an appointment booked for you in one hour, and this will come in handy when you visit Ms. Harper.”

I look down, shocked, as he places my old military ID and Driver’s License in my palm.

“How did you get these?” I ask, inhaling sharply.

“Your mother. She expects a visit tomorrow. She also packed a bag of your old clothes that’s in the trunk.”

My Carhartt jacket and Henley were entered as exhibits. So, I wear a dirty undershirt and pants, socks, and boots that must smell godawful.

“But will the hospital allow me visit Ginger, considering the charges against me?”

“They can’t stop you if she consents, Mr. Vaughn. If you encounter any problems, I’m a phone call away.”

I shake my head, reeling at everything the man says. “But why is Mr. Harper doing all of this for me?” After all, the man has to know his daughter and I had sexual relations during our brief time together. It’s plastered all over the goddamn news.

Schuster raises an eyebrow. “You’ll know in due time. Take good care of Ms. Harper, or you’ll hear from him much sooner. Not something I’d recommend.” He delivers the last sentence in menacing tones.

“Of course.” I shake his hand firmly.

“Call if you need anything, Mr. Vaughn, and keep your nose clean. You’re legally far from out of the woods.”

And neck-deep in debt to Mr. Harper. In fact, it feels oddly like I’ve just sold my soul, something I’d do without hesitation for Ginger.

I nod, my pulse pounding at the realization I’m one short sprint away from Ginger. I only hope her feelings for me didn’t die in the cave with our fire.

“For fuck’s sake!” I exclaim, bobbing my head from side to side as I look in the mirror, my eyes bugging out.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“No, I love it. But I forgot what I look like,” I chuckle, transfixed by my reflection.

“Charlie Hunnam. The girls will be all over you.” Alfonso, the barber, stands next to me, a thirty-something Italian man with the best fade I’ve ever seen, wading through unruly piles of my blond hair. His shoulders bounce with laughter as he enjoys the reaction to my makeover.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

Alfonso blinks, staring at me expectantly for the punchline that never comes. When he realizes I’m not joking, he shakes his head. “You meant it when you said you’ve been living under a rock.”

I nod. Turning my head again, I run my hand over my angular cheeks and jaw. I stare at a ghost, one I haven’t seen since my 75th Batt days.

Besides the missing beard, my hair is perfectly trimmed, though longer on top to avoid looking high and tight. My Ranger days are long gone. No need to keep the haircut.

My overgrown mugshot has been plastered everywhere over the past five days, to the point where I felt semi-relieved to be in jail. After all, how do you walk down the street when the court of public opinion has already found you guilty of kidnapping, sexual assault, and murder? So, getting cleaned up as Felix Harper suggested and radically altering my appearance is exactly what I need. At least until the media gets wind of the change and starts hounding me again.

I’ve also had a shower and changed into one of the outfits my mom packed for me. My heart overflows at the kindness and generosity of those around me despite my abrupt disappearance four years ago.

But I mean to make up for it now, and it starts with seeing Ginger and finding out if she still wants me or if the rush of emotions between us in the cave was only temporary. For my part, I’m ready to live and die by the feelings we cultivated together in less than twenty-four hours. An unbelievable, rash, and foolhardy proposition by the standards of the world. But I’ve never cared what the world thinks. Why start now?

During the cut, Alfonso noticed the thick scars running down the back of my neck and beneath my shirt, asking what happened to me. I shook my head, initially refusing to say more. But instead, I gave him the basics, realizing each retelling of the story not only heals a small piece of me but allows me to remember and commemorate my fallen comrades.

Now, he shakes his head and whistles in disbelief. “I should’ve taken before and after pictures. The transformation is wild.”

“Yeah, I don’t fucking recognize myself.”

“You’re getting lucky tonight, brah. Your girl’s gonna be all over you.”

This comment is my own damn fault. I couldn’t stop talking about Ginger throughout the appointment, although I was careful to avoid using her name. But I spoke about her incessantly, so much so that I half-expected Alfonso to drown in my verbal deluge.

“Well, like I said, she’s in the hospital, so that won’t be happening. But I am curious to see what she thinks.”

“Luckily, if she doesn’t like your ugly mug, you can always grow back the beard. Well, maybe grow back thirty percent of it. I’m going to fill whole trash bins with everything you’re leaving behind today.”

I chuckle, glancing at the ground. “Are you sure you don’t need a hand cleaning up?”

“Please consider leaving a generous tip,” he says with a wink.

“Done.”

He rests his hands on his hips, standing behind me and staring into the mirror in front of us. “Shampoo? Conditioner? Pomade? Gel? Are there any products I can get you before you leave?”

I shake my head, not knowing how to answer his questions. It’s been way too fucking long since I dealt with this many people and a city, although New Brunswick is anything but large. Still, I find myself moving slower than most people, taking my time answering questions, and remaining quiet more often than I speak.

“No, but can you direct me to a flower shop and a nice jewelry store nearby?”

He rubs his goatee, grimacing deep in thought.

“Yeah, I’ll write the addresses on the back of one of my business cards. Remember, we do facial hair trims, too. So, even if your old lady wants you to grow the beard back, you’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you,” I say with a polite nod. “Hopefully, she won’t find my bare face too ugly.”

Alfonso laughs, leaving me with a fifty-fifty impression when it comes to his opinion. Charlie Hunnam? Whatever.

After realizing Mr. Harper’s covered the barbershop bill, I drop a one-hundred-dollar bill on the counter, causing Alfonso to run out and hug me as I leave. I nearly put the guy in a headlock, not used to such interactions. Fortunately, we part with smiles and a handshake.

I head out on my shopping odyssey, the thought of seeing Ginger again twisting my insides. So many things remain unsaid and up in the air between us.

The cocky, young Ranger version of me would walk into her room empty-handed and nonchalant. Not pushing for any one outcome but playing it cool. Back then, I was the young buck that women threw themselves at. I’m not that guy anymore, though. Not by a long shot, even if I now resemble an older, wiser version of him.

Fortunately, I’ve lived long enough to know what I feel for Ginger is one-of-a-kind and once-in-a-lifetime. God, I hope she feels the same way.

Considering everything Mr. Harper’s done for me, I have to hope she does. But these might also be the actions of a father trying to repay the man who saved his daughter. Or a man who’s looking to indebt a soldier of fortune to him for God knows what…

Only one thing is clear. I have to do this right with Ginger, prove to her the feelings in the cave don’t have to be a one-time thing. They can last forever. The thought puts a tight knot in my throat.

It also cements my resolve to start living again and to let my comrades and what happened in the AOR go. I’ll join them soon enough anyway. My time will come. Like everyone else’s. No need to hasten the journey. But there is need to live my life the way they would want me to, savoring every moment.

Fortunately, my broker called this morning, finally confirming available funds from my liquidated crypto wallets. I need to show Ginger how special she is to me and that I can actually take care of her—not half-ass survival, unprepared and haphazardly.

My arms ache to hold her again and to see with my own two eyes how she’s recovering. But first, I have to ensure our next meeting won’t leave her with any doubts about my feelings.