Big Luke
The next morning, I woke up before Brittany and took a shower. It was still rather early so I let her sleep in. I had taken a clean set of clothes into the bathroom with me along with my shirt from yesterday. That way I could try to get the stains out in the sink. I got most of the mascara out but there was still some of Chris' blood on the cuff of the sleeve. War trophy, I thought as I rubbed on the stain.
I stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed. I saw that Brittany was awake and was examining the white bathrobe that she was still wearing. The cut above her eye was practically nonexistent. Her hair was a little bit of a mess but it still looked good if you asked me. She looked at me with this mixed look of confusion and shock.
"Jon Luke? Did we do something last night?" she asked.
"You don't remember?" I asked back.
"I remember you carrying me up here but I'm a little fogged over after that," she responded staring at the loose clothes on the floor. "Did you put me in this or did I?"
"You did. I went back down stairs to get our bags and when I came back you had changed into that. I tipped the valet-."
"The valet saw me like this?" she asked with shock in her voice.
I nodded. "You really want to know the rest?"
"Please, tell me I didn't do anything with the valet," she asked anxiously. She really didn't remember what happened.
"No, you didn't but you almost did something with me," I replied. "You passed out before you could get my shirt off."
"I'm so sorry. I didn't push you too hard, did I?"
"A little but I didn't put up much of a fight," I replied. "You want some breakfast?"
"Not that crappy hotel breakfast, is it?" she whined.
"I'm already paying for it. Might as well use it. Hey, maybe they'll have biscuits and gravy!" I said with fake enthusiasm and she laughed.
"Ow," she said as she placed her palm on her forehead. "Think ambrosia can cure a hangover?"
"I don't think so. You're probably just going to have to live with it for a little while," I said.
"Stop yelling," she complained still holding her forehead.
I smiled, thinking back on my first hangover. "You want me to wait for you up here or do you want to meet me down in the breakfast room?"
"Could you wait for me?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied and laid back down on the bed.
I grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. I started rifling through the channels attempting to find something decent to watch. Brittany just stared at me with the same kind of look she gave me last night. I didn't even have to glance at her to know that she was looking at me, I could just feel it.
She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks for being a good sport," she said.
"You're welcome," I replied with a little smirk as she stood up and opened up her suitcase to pick out something to wear for that day.
She finally found something and moved into the bathroom to shower. I sat there patiently flipping through the channels. There was nothing really on so pressing the button on the remote was more entertaining than anything. I easily got bored and walked over to my suitcase.
I pulled out my 1911 that I had snuck into the bag last night when the valet wasn't looking, and a cleaning kit. I walked over to the table and started to clean the weapon. I just kind of let my hands work as my mind rambled on.
Today, I had to give David and Brandon a call to see if they were going to fly to camp on their own and I would pick them up at the airport. I had a feeling that Brandon was going to be a few days late since he was graduating high school. David still had another year to go. Then there was the little dude, twelve year old Mathew. And then his dad who didn't like me for some reason.
I was just putting the slide back on my 1911's frame when Brittany walked into the room behind me.
"Gods, that stuff stinks," she complained, referring to fumes of the cleaning solvent I was using.
"I'll admit, the smell of burnt gunpowder is better, but it's really not that bad," I replied, cycling the action a few times to work the lubrication on the slide rails.
I slipped the magazine back in the gun and chambered a round. I would have to remember to put another round in the mag to top it off.
"You ready to go to breakfast?" I asked.
Brittany was packing up her suitcase as I put my 1911 back in my own suitcase.
"Yeah, just about. I need to put my shoes on," she replied which reminded me that I also had to put my boots on.
I stood up and walked over to where my boots were left at the foot of the bed. I sat down and started lacing up the size fourteen black, eight inch tall gunboats right next to Brittany who was lacing up her small white sneakers. She put her shoe up next to mine. The difference in size was astronomical, my foot was almost twice as long and certainly double the width. Brittany had dancer's feet, small and narrow. I had soldiers feet, big and wide.
"Holy cow!" she exclaimed as she gawked at my foot.
"Yeah. I know it's big. You ready?" I asked.
We stood up and walked out with our luggage. Like a gentleman, I carried everything. Lucky for me, Brittany's nylon refrigerator had little plastic wheels so it rolled easily. When we made it to the bottom, I walked out and placed our bags in KATE's trunk. Brittany stayed inside and grabbed us a table in the breakfast room.
"Good morning, Jon Luke," greeted KATE when I walked up to her trunk.
"Morning," I responded.
"How was your evening in a single-bed hotel room with Brittany?" she asked as I stuffed the trunk with the gigantic suitcase.
"It went fine," I replied, trying to play it off.
"Does she know about the other woman in your life?" she asked.
"KATE, I told you not to mention her again," I scolded her. "Like I said, she is just a friend from my childhood. We went out for drinks to catch up. It was a one time deal."
The second part was true, it was the only time I went out for a drink without cleaning my gun. It was also the first time I had to initiate KATE's autopilot while I was still in the car. The first part however, was a little, tiny, itty, bitty, little, white lie. We kind of dated for a while before I shipped out to the Marines.
It was the last night I was in town down in Louisiana on my vacation. That night, we went out for drinks and then a night on the riverside. We started out just talking about old times and then I kissed her to some old Alabama in my drunken state. Our faces never left each others until sunup. I drove her home and skipped town. She said that she wanted to see me again but I wasn't sure. It was complicated.
Her name was Penny Ann. She was earning her Master's at LSU in agriculture. Why she needed her degree in that was beyond me; she grew up on a farm her whole life. She was average height and had been since seventh grade. That night, she was wearing some Daisy Duke shorts and a flannel shirt with a white tube-top underneath. The flannel shirt was tied up in the back. She was wearing the same New Orleans Saints baseball cap that she had since tenth grade turned backwards on her long brown hair. She was all tanned up from working in the sun all day at the university. Something was different from what I remembered; she had a barbed-wire tattoo going around her left bicep.
"And you better not tell Brittany about her," I threatened my car.
"My lips are sealed," said the car.
People walking down the street were staring at me as I talked at my car and wagged my finger. One guy almost tripped and fell on his face.
"That's what you said last time. You don't even have lips!" I exclaimed as I heard footsteps behind me.
"What last time?" I heard Brittany's voice say behind me.
I turned around and she was standing with most of her weight on her right foot and her fists on her hips. She had this stern look on her face that I swear, could stare into my soul.
"If you don't tell her, I will," threatened KATE.
"And if you do, I'll reinstall you into a minivan!" I countered. "I got the perfect one picked out for you: Chrysler Town & Country because Cadillac doesn't make a minivan."
KATE paused for a minute. "Touche."
"Since when does she speak French?" asked Brittany. "You know what? I don't care. What did she say last time? When was this last time?"
I was thinking of a way to dodge this bullet. If I admit that I had kissed another girl after telling Brittany that I wasn't interested in dating, it would screw up our whole relationship... and my vacation.
"Last time, she said that her lips were sealed and I told her that was impossible because she doesn't have lips," I explained.
Brittany walked up to me and grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer so our noses were inches apart. Those clear blue eyes were wide with anticipation. She was thoroughly pissed and she didn't even know why. "Jon Luke? What are you not telling me?"
"Promise you'll keep an open mind and remember that you're practically my best friend," I joked trying to lighten the mood of the situation.
"I promise," she said coldly. Still grasping my shirt.
"When I was in Roswell, I got you something," I told her. "KATE, open the door and flip the seat."
KATE has shaved doorhandles so she needs to open her doors for you. I squeezed in the backseat and felt under the bench for a plastic bag. My hand grazed the noisy material and I grabbed it. I climbed out of the backseat and held the bag open. I pulled a T-shirt out of the bag and handed it to Brittany. She unfolded the black tee and read the front.
"The truth is out there?" she asked.
"Do you know what happened in Roswell, New Mexico that was significant?"
"Yeah, didn't Zeus get pissed and knock a weather balloon out of the sky or something?" she suggested.
"Yeah, that's a quote from the X Files TV show," I said. "I got your brother something else that I think he's really gonna like."
"Well, thank you," she said with a smile as she walked towards the trunk of the car.
KATE popped the deck lid and Brittany put the T-shirt in her suitcase. I had to help her close the deck lid so we could go to breakfast.
After breakfast, we headed over to Brittany's dad's house to pick up Mathew. I knew I was already in the hot seat with their dad but I still parked my hot-rod in front of their house. I could tell her dad was there because his old, sky-blue pickup was out front. We walked up to the door and Brittany knocked. The door opened and the big man standing there was Brittany's dad.
Mr. Hughes was the only mortal guy that I had ever met that was bigger than me. He was six-six with big brawny shoulders. He had the same blond hair as Mathew and Brittany but he kept it real short. I didn't know what he did for a living, but it kept him in shape and helped him afford a nice house.
Did I mention that the house was huge? We were out in the hills outside of Billings on a huge ranch. It was two stories tall and had several rooms. Much of the outside was glass so you could see inside. He had many trophies around the house, I saw several elk heads, several deer, and a eight-foot tall brown bear standing up in the living room. The taxidermy was so well done that it looked as if it was still snarling at whoever stepped into the room.
Brittany's dad was not short on guns either. In every room of the house there was some kind of weapon, whether is was the Remington 870 shotgun by the door or the Glock in the end table drawer in the living room. Brittany had even told me about the derringer in the cookie jar. I was surprised that they never went shooting or hunting. I had one rifle when I was kid and I used it all the time.
"Daddy!" squealed Brittany as she wrapped her dad in a bear hug.
"How you doing, Pumpkin?" he asked in a deep voice. "That guy you were staying with not treating you right?"
"You were right," she admitted. "I should have come home a long time ago."
"He didn't hit you, did he?" asked her dad, holding her by the shoulders so he could look into her eyes.
Brittany just nodded and leaned into him again.
"I'm going over there."
Before he left he noticed me for the first time. He took a look at my scratched knuckles and tried to process the information.
"Did you hit my daughter?" he asked me.
"No way, sir. Never would dream of it, sir," I replied.
"If you ever decide to break that promise, I'll break your neck," he threatened.
"You got a deal, sir," I replied.
"And I told you before not to call me Sir," he told me.
"Sorry, Mr. Hughes. Old habit."
"Daddy, be nice. Jon Luke is nothing but good to me," Brittany told her father.
"And it better stay that way," he said not taking his eyes off me. "Why don't you guys come inside. Mathew will be happy to see you."
I stepped inside the doorway after Brittany and followed her and her dad down the hallway. Mr. Hughes motioned for us to sit down in the living room then stepped away. I walked in but just stood at ease with my hands behind my back. Brittany had other plans as she pushed me onto the couch with a little grin on her face.
"Don't give him anymore reasons to hate you," she told me, taking a seat on the couch next to me. "Believe it or not, you're his favorite out of all the guys I brought home to meet him."
I raised an eyebrow. "He sure shows it well," I said sarcastically.
"He let you in his house. I'd seen him point that shotgun by the door at a guy who came within twenty yards of his front step," she explained. "It took ten minutes to get him to put it down."
We heard Mathew run down the stairs and Brittany stood up to meet him.
"Brittany!" he exclaimed and tackled his sister in a big hug.
Mathew had grown a few inches and was now around five-three. He buzzed his blonde hair and started wearing brighter Nike shoes. It looked like he was getting to that tween stage in his life. He walked up to me and I extended my fist. He returned the gesture by bumping it with his.
"You get in another fight?" he asked as he eyed my knuckles.
"You could say that," I replied. "How you been, little dude?"
"I've been alright."
"Damn, kid. You've grown up a little in the past year," I noticed. "You're not that little kid anymore."
"Yep, I've grown up," he replied.
"Kid, you still have a lot of life ahead of you. Don't get cocky just yet," I told him.
"So, they tell me that they spent a year running away from a bunch of gangsters that wanted them dead?" asked Mr. Hughes who was leaning up against the wall by the stuffed bear.
For the most part, demigods are not supposed to tell their mortal parents about the Olympians. It could potentially drive them crazy. Some of the parents could see through the Mist which is this magic veil that clouds most mortals minds so they cant process the things us demigods can see. Some mortals could handle it but most couldn't.
"That's right, Mr. Hughes," I replied as I stood up from the couch. "I told you last summer that I helped them get away from all that."
I had dropped the Hughes siblings off at this same address last summer. Mathew had come up with the crazy story but it seemed to work.
"What I don't get is why would the gang be after my kids?"
"I think it had something to do with your land, sir." I responded. I had said "Sir" again to help change to subject.
"I told you not to call me sir. You don't listen well, do you?" he asked.
"Daddy, be nice!" exclaimed Brittany.
"Do you always let my daughter fight your battles for you?"
"No, Mr. Hughes, I don't. Just yesterday I gave a guy three broken ribs, a broken nose, a concussion, and I beat his face to a pulp for your daughter. Brittany is one of my best friends and I wouldn't let anything happen to her or Mathew and go unpunished," I replied confidently.
"I would have killed him," replied Mr. Hughes.
"I didn't feel like going to prison," I countered. "Otherwise, I would've."
"So, where are you going now?" asked Mr. Hughes.
"Well, there is this gymnastics camp in New York. I'll be staying with Jon Luke while I'm there and there is a baseball camp that the New York Yankees are putting on," lied Brittany to her father. "Mathew is already signed up."
"And who's paying for this? You?" he asked me. "What do you do for a living?"
"I have a few connections with the Yankees and the academy that is putting on the gymnastics camp," I responded. "I am a martial arts instructor, myself, and I train a lot of the people on the team."
"And who's your connection at the academy?"
"She's an ex-girlfriend," I replied and Brittany shot me a dirty look. I know I was going to hear all about that one on the way back to camp.
"OK, well. You guys have fun," said Mr. Hughes to his kids. "I'll see you guys in September, OK?"
"Yes, Dad," the Hughes siblings said together as they had a group hug with their dad.
I just kind of stood there as the small family had their moment. I stared at the bear. Its paw was outstretched behind him as if he was going to swipe at something. Its mouth was open as it displayed his razor sharp teeth. I was pretty sure that Mr. Hughes had shot the bear but that didn't stop me from wondering if the animal was about to kill him when he did.
"And you," Mr. Hughes looked at me. "You take care of my kids. You hear?"
"They are safe with me," I replied as I extended my hand towards him. "I promise."
"I'll shake your hand when you bring them back," he told me and I put my hand back down.
Brittany and Mathew said goodbye to their father again and we left the almost mansion sized house. We got back in the Charger and Brittany leaned in and kissed me on the cheek in front of her dad who was standing on the front step. Instantly, I blushed and couldn't get the car out of the driveway fast enough.
"What was that for?" I asked Brittany as we sped down the freeway.
"To make you sweat," she said with a smirk. "And for lying to my dad about having an ex-girlfriend at a dance academy."
"Gymnastics academy," I corrected.
"Whatever!" she exclaimed.
"So, how was your guys' night?" asked Mathew from the back seat. "You're a day late."
I slouched in my seat and Brittany stared out the window. Neither of us wanted to answer the question.
"What did you guys do?" he asked. We still stayed silent. "You know I'm a son of Aphrodite. I can sorta figure it out when two people had done something that they are not proud of. You two fit that bill."
"Mathew-"
"My friends call me Matt," he interrupted.
"You have friends?" I joked with the tween.
"Yeah," he said sarcastically.
"OK, Matt, we didn't do anything," I explained as I stared out the windshield so I didn't have to meet his eyes.
"I beg to differ," he replied.
"Mathew, just drop it," ordered Brittany who was rubbing her forehead. Apparently, she was still suffering from the hangover.
I asked KATE to call one of my good friends from my deployment and talked to him about getting a lift back to New York. He agreed to meet us on I90 heading East in about a half an hour. Which he did, right on schedule, the C-130 aircraft soared over our heads and landed on the freeway ahead of us. The ramp dropped and I drove the Charger up it.
We stepped out of the car and I strapped KATE in place by wrapping the tie-downs around her axles and secured them to the floor of the aircraft. I took a seat in one of the jumper's on the side of the fuselage next to Brittany. She rested her head on my shoulder and drifted off to sleep.