“Class of 2002, huh?” Geo said loudly. “I thought BUD/S classes had three-digit numbers. Learn something new every day!”
By then the guy had caught on that Geo might be the real thing. He paled, stammering, “Hey, look, dude. I was just joking.”
Geo kicked the bottom of his barstool. “You lying sack of shit.”
“That’s enough.” Tightening his hold on Geo’s arm, Tariq tried to ease him away. “You humiliated this asshole in front of his date.” He nodded his head toward the woman staring at them, wide-eyed. “He’s learned his lesson, I think.”
Jerking his arm free, Geo growled, “This piece of trash is impersonating a brotherhood he doesn’t have any right to even think about, much less pretend to be.” He grabbed the guy by the front of his T-shirt, yanked him to his feet and shook him hard. “You think it’s funny to brag about kill counts? You think it’s cool to pretend to be something you’re not, compare yourself to Chris Kyle? How about other SEALs who died? You gonna bring up their names, too, you fucking loser?”
Geo was shouting now, and the guy put his hands up. “C’mon, man,” he babbled. “I was just trying to impress a lady. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, no disrespect, I swear.”
“Fuck you and your no disrespect. How about we step outside?” Geo swung the man around and shoved him toward the door, only to find his path blocked by one of the bartenders wielding a baseball bat.
“I’m about to call the cops, buddy. Let him go.”
Tariq grabbed his arm again. “George, knock it the fuck off,” he whispered urgently. “I can’t be picked up by the cops, you know that.”
The words bounced off Geo’s rage like water on Teflon. He let out a bitter laugh when the poser scuttled around behind the bartender. “Fucking coward,” he sneered. “A real SEAL would stand and fight.”
“Okay, no one’s gonna fight,” the bartender grunted. “And you need to leave. Now.” He planted his legs wide, brandishing the bat, his face glistening with nervous sweat.
“What? You’re kicking me out?” Geo snarled through clenched teeth. “He’s the asshole!”
“I’m asking you to leave before there’s any more trouble.” When Geo took a step toward him, the bartender raised the bat to his shoulder.
“Goddammit, George!” Digging his fingers hard into his biceps, Tariq dragged him across the bar and through the door. “Sorry!” he called back over his shoulder. “We’re leaving.”
Once outside in the parking lot, Tariq shoved him away. “You came this close to getting us both arrested,” he snapped. “What the actual fuck? If anyone runs my prints, man, my cover’s blown to hell.”
Geo wanted to care, but the rage coursing through him hadn’t abated. When he caught sight of the wannabe SEAL hovering in the doorway to the bar, gloating, he charged toward him. “What’re you looking at, dickstain?”
As he drew closer, several of the bar patrons aimed their phones at him and started recording. Tariq saw them at the same time. “Fuck, I’m out,” he hissed, and melted away into the darkness, leaving Geo alone.
Spreading his arms wide, he faced the crowd. “If anyone wants some of this,” he yelled, “come and get it!”
Despite the fact that Geo was intoxicated and outnumbered, when some dude—his balls firmly in a bottle—took a swing at him, the fight was on. Grunts and shouts, the smack of fists on flesh, along with the high-pitched screams from the onlookers, all coalesced into a maelstrom of sound and exhilaration that buffeted Geo like the winds of a hurricane.
In the moment, his only goal was survival. He didn’t have to think about Lani, or Tariq, and how he’d disappointed them. He didn’t have to think about anything that hurt, especially Cade and that stupid bet, the bet that’d ended up carrying Geo through BUD/S and into a career most men could only dream of.
Most of all, he didn’t have to think about the fact that while he owed Cade everything, when Cade needed him in return, Geo’d been nowhere to be found.
Crack!
The lucky punch caught him directly in the jaw, and as he crashed to the ground, as his vision filled with flashing blue and red lights, then dimmed, he thought, “How much longer can I go on like this?”
Then everything went black.
* * *
“Let’s go, Monteverdi.”
The metal door whirred as Geo pushed himself up from the hard plastic bench. He waited for the detention officer to cuff his hands in front of him, then shuffled next to him down the hallway where they were buzzed through yet more sets of metal doors. At last the uniformed man unlocked the handcuffs and pointed toward a counter. “Go get your personal property.”
As he processed out, he could see his troop’s command master chief, Alex Cairel, pacing in the waiting room on the other side of the bulletproof glass. The officer handed Geo a manila envelope containing his wallet, phone and keys.
“You’re free to go.”
One more metal door, and then Geo was facing Alex, a tall Filipino man with colorful tattoo sleeves on his arms and a thunderous look on his face. “What the fuck, dude?”
Geo knew better than to say anything as they made their way outside to Alex’s SUV.
Alex railed on. “You’re the last guy I’d expect to get arrested in a fucking bar fight. Jesus Christ.”
The drive was made back to the bar in a miserable silence. Alex pulled up next to Geo’s truck, but before Geo could get out, he ordered, “Wait.”
Geo froze with his door halfway open.
“I know you went through a lot with your last platoon,” Alex said quietly. “I’m wondering if you’re dealing with it.”
Swallowing hard, Geo croaked, “Yeah, I’m—”
“Because I don’t think you are,” Alex interrupted. “When you first came on board, I talked with your former CMC. He told me you refused to see the Navy psychologist they sent over after Barlow’s death.”
His gut churning, Geo let out a bitter snort. “That guy was a fuckin’ joke, Master Chief. He wasn’t there to help us, he was there to satisfy his own morbid curiosity about what happened.”
Painful memories flooded him, of how the psychologist’s questions in their group session had focused on what everyone saw and heard, and what they thought Cade was feeling the moment he pulled the trigger.
“Who cares? The dude’s dead!” Geo had wanted to shout. “We’re the ones who need help now!” But he didn’t shout it. Instead, he’d clamped his lips shut and stared at the toes of his boots. Afterward, when the guy tried to set up one-on-one appointments with the platoon, Geo had refused to go.