A/N: Again, make sure you're caught up on FFN since it can't bother to send out emails. It's a long chapter. I considered splitting it up, but decided to go for it and give it to you all at once.
June 6, 2014
The clock had never moved so slowly as it did on my last workday in the Army in my second life. I'd been tied to a computer all day finishing up the necessary steps to leave. I had countless forms to read and electronically sign, reminding me of what the various clearance levels meant and what violating them entailed. I had been through the process three times already, but since I had no interest in a prison sentence or six-figure fine, I clicked the boxes that said I understood (again) and typed my name over and over. When the clock finally hit five, I logged out of the system for the last time and grabbed my bag. I said goodbye to a few of the administrative people in the office as I left and headed toward the barracks one last time for a final inspection. Nothing short of a court-martial in the next three weeks was going to bring me back on post ever again.
I arrived home at the same time as Mike. He still looked odd in his khakis and blue polo embroidered with CCG. He had stayed in the Street Maintenance department but had been able to get a job at city hall as a department supervisor six months ago. He still went out to the job sites but wasn't there doing the physical work so his days of dirty jeans and work boots were behind him. He helped make budgets, schedule projects, and coordinate with other departments for jobs on the south side of the city.
"Hey, how was the last day?" he asked as we headed toward the building.
"Long," I said. "I'm glad it's over."
"I bet. Jenny got our reservations for the fourteenth at seven. Does that work for you guys?"
"Absolutely."
Despite my intentions of not getting too attached to people because we hadn't intended to be in Georgia long, I'd grown to like Jenny and Mike a lot. We were at one another's apartments once a week, either having dinner or watching sports. They had insisted on taking us to dinner at an upscale restaurant in Atlanta called Noir to celebrate the end of my Army career.
Julio was stretched out on the couch reading when I walked into the apartment. He was shirtless and wearing my PT shorts, a clear indication of the intended evening activities.
"How does freedom feel?" he asked over the top of his book.
"Even better than the first time."
I carried my boots and coat into the bedroom and put them in a corner of the closet along with the rest of the Army uniforms that I intended to destroy. I pulled my shirt off over my head and turned around to find Julio had followed me into the bedroom and was leaning against the doorframe.
"There are two things on the menu tonight: burgers and me. Which do you want first?" he asked.
I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face as I walked over to him. "I'm thinking you, then the burger, then you again," I said, kissing his neck with every third word. "And, if we have the energy, you again."
I laid awake that night after Julio had fallen asleep reflecting on my time in the Army. With the exception of the helicopter, this time around had been more successful. I'd managed to save several lives, captured people who had eluded us, avoided Vtalko, and made sure Orin didn't end up in Afghanistan. There were several missions I hadn't been able to change, and those had stayed with me. I had done my best. I couldn't have done anything else in many of those situations without making it worse or getting myself into trouble. I would have to live with that and do my best not to carry it around like I had in my last life. If I had learned anything in this second chance, it was that not everything can or should be changed, no matter how much I might want it to be. Grandma had been right that no matter what the universe wanted some things to happen the same way. I couldn't make everything perfect, nor should I try. We learned from the pain in life.
I was still in bed the next morning when my phone dinged with a text from Vicente. I'd decided to call him at the end of May and take him up on the offer to refer me to another bond agent. I considered it the least he could do for being a shitty cousin. I gave him my parameters and he said he would make some calls and get back to me. In the meantime, I had secured a job with a private security company that would start in July.
I got a few names. Can I email them to you?
I replied with my email address and his list came through a few minutes later.
"Who's texting so early?" Julio asked sleepily, looking over my shoulder as I perused the list.
"Vicente. He sent me some names. I'm going to check them out. Hopefully one of the Columbus offices works out. The closest one after that is in Auburn, Alabama. The other offices are over in Macon, Warner Robins, Albany, or Atlanta."
I had invested in a background check program earlier in the year to be prepared for my civilian future and to keep tabs on Orin once he was out of the Army. I ran the two Columbus offices and their owners through the system while I made and ate breakfast.
RiverCity Bail Bonds was owned by a woman named Elliott Armstrong. She was fifty years old, though her driver's license photo showed a woman who looked fifteen years older thanks to decades of worshipping at the altars of Marlboro Reds and tanning beds. She'd been married three times. She was currently unmarried. Two people named John Freemont and Clara Freemont worked at the office. I suspected they were her children given their ages and the last name they shared with her second husband. There were two other contractors listed as doing bond enforcement, though both looked to be supplementing incomes from other jobs and didn't do much work.
Muscogee County Bail Bonds was owned by a man named Paul Heath who lived in Augusta, but was run by two men who served as the bail agents, Matthew Barnes and Damion Pike. Both Barnes and Pike did bond enforcement themselves along with two other contractors. It didn't look promising to get much work with such a crowded field, so I decided to wait on contacting them.
I called the number Vicente had provided for Armstrong and waited while it rang.
"This is Elliott Armstrong," a deep, gravelly voice said when the call was answered.
"My name is Carlos Manoso. You spoke to my cousin Vicente Cruz recently about needing someone to do bond enforcement."
"Oh yeah, the Ranger," she said. "Yeah, he told me you were lookin' to do some work. Why bond enforcement?" It was like talking to Bea Arthur if she'd spend forty years singing in smoky bars.
"My goal is to open my own security firm one day, and bond enforcement provides good experience."
I heard the faint sound of fake nails on a keyboard. "What's your full name and date of birth?"
"Ricardo Carlos Manoso. August 12, 1985."
More typing sounds. "Are you out of the Army yet?" she asked once she'd stopped typing.
"I'm officially out on the thirtieth, but I'm on my leave and won't be going back."
"Come in on Friday. I'll be here from eight to five-thirty. I should have your background check by then."
I thanked her and disconnected. Julio came out of the bedroom half-asleep, and I waited until he'd finished half a cup of coffee before filling him in on the details.
"Sounds good," he said, still not fully awake. "Then you won't spend half your day driving between cities."
Columbus was an urban island in western Georgia, surrounded by sparsely populated rural counties. The closest cities with a sizeable enough population to warrant bail bonds offices were Macon and Warner Robins, and both cities were a nearly two-hour drive from Columbus. The bonds offices in Columbus served the surrounding counties, which likely meant wandering into small towns. Always a gamble with my skin tone, which made it difficult for some people to know which slur to throw at me. There was often the assumption that I was the criminal especially if I was bringing in a white person. At least there wasn't a rainbow over my head announcing my sexuality, or they'd have an even larger list of words to choose from.
We headed to the gym around noon to get a workout in. Special Forces had specific fitness criteria to meet, and I wanted to maintain that level. Julio was trying to bulk up his thin frame, which was difficult no matter how hard he tried. He made an annoyed sound when he saw the weight I was using on the bench press, and I gave him an unapologetic grin, throwing in a few more reps just to annoy him. Julio had gained weight during his time in the Army thanks to the routine of three meals a day and weight requirements. His tendency to forget to eat until evening meant he had lost most of it within six months of returning to civilian life. Once we moved in together, I made him eat breakfast every morning, even if it only consisted of a protein shake that he drank in the car on the way to work.
"Show off," he muttered as we traded places, and he took forty pounds off the bar.
"You'll get there one day," I reminded him. "It would help if you remembered to eat more."
"I'm getting better," he said. "I actually ate something for lunch yesterday."
"What did you have?"
"A Hershey bar."
I was hit with a moment of déjà vu, remembering a similar conversation with Stephanie where her dinner had been a Kit-Kat. I watched Julio lift and wondered how he and Stephanie would get along once they met. I wanted them to like each other. They were both important to me, though Stephanie would never know the extent of it. She would never understand how much I had once loved her and how significant she had been to me in a different life. Julio knew she was important to me, but I didn't think he understood just how important my life with her had been to my life with him. If I hadn't been with her in my last life, I wouldn't have been with him in this one.
I looked around the gym as I moved between machines. It was surreal being back in a public gym like this. It was just another reminder of my transition back into civilian life. The room was filled with mostly civilians though I spotted a few soldiers. The Special Forces gyms had been the nicest on post, so we never felt the need to go elsewhere. The gyms the regular soldiers had weren't great, and many people chose to pay for a gym membership.
"Grandma just texted. She wants to know what we want to eat while we're there," Julio said as we left the gym two hours later. "I know what I want. You got any special requests?"
I shook my head. "You'll be wanting all the same things I do. But tell her not to overdo it. We aren't coming there for her to cook all the time."
Our high school reunion was on the twenty-first, but we were leaving on the fifteenth to spend the week leading up to it visiting family and would come back the day after the reunion. We had planned our dinner with Jenny and Mike so we could spend the night in Atlanta to catch our flight the next day.
I spent the following week planning my new routine. My new job with Trinity Security Services would start July first at Columbus-Muscogee Regional Hospital as a floater on the security team. I would work from seven p.m. until seven a.m. seven days in a row, then have seven days off. Not the easiest schedule since it meant Julio and I wouldn't see each other a lot those weeks, but we would make up for it on my off weeks. I hoped to be able to switch to a day shift eventually, but as the new guy I had to take what I could get. This schedule would be helpful with bond enforcement, allowing me to be available during the day to find people and take them back to jail. I'd done takedowns at night before, but they weren't ideal. You couldn't see as well, which increased your risk of getting shot or losing the guy.
By Friday morning I had a solid plan in place that I would begin when we got back from Miami. I got dressed that morning to meet with Elliott Armstrong and was pulling my shoes on before I realized what I was wearing. Black t-shirt, black cargo pants, black sneakers. It was odd to realize how easily I'd automatically grabbed black clothing for work. I'd made a point of not being dressed in all black all the time in this life because I wanted to separate myself from the man I'd once been. Ranger was dead, and I wasn't reviving him. I swapped out the black shirt for a gray one and headed out the door at nine-thirty.
RiverCity Bail Bonds was located in a small gray house a block away from the police department and across the street from the Muscogee County Jail in downtown Columbus. The area had once been residential, but small businesses had started moving into the houses near the municipal buildings and only a few houses looked like they were still family homes.
The office lobby had once been someone's living room and still had original hardwood floors and faded floral wallpaper. A wooden door with a golden plaque saying Employees Only was directly across from the entrance. A large reception desk stood to the left of the door with a row of file cabinets lining the wall behind it. The opposite wall was lined with commercial-grade plastic chairs, and a small coffee bar and water cooler sat in one corner. Signs were posted around the room in large, block letters with accompanying photos to clearly inform customers of the office rules.
NO WEAPONS ALLOWED (INCLUDES GUNS, KNIVES, DEFENSE SPRAY, TASERS/STUN GUNS).
NO SMOKING OR DRUG USE.
NO CELL PHONE USE IN LOBBY. ALL CALLS NEED TO BE MADE OUTSIDE.
RESTROOMS FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY
NO MORE THAN TWO PEOPLE PER DEFENDANT MAY ATTEND MEETINGS.
ALL COLLATERAL MUST BE SURRENDERED BEFORE BOND WILL BE POSTED. NO EXCEPTIONS!
There were presently three people in the office. An elderly African-American woman was filling out paperwork on a clipboard, a scrawny white guy in baggy clothes and too many chains slouched in a chair, and a young brunette in jeans and a blue t-shirt emblazoned with RiverCity Bail Bonds sat behind the reception desk.
"Welcome to RiverCity Bail Bonds," she said. "How can I help you?"
"I'm Carlos Manoso. Elliott had asked me to stop by today to talk about doing bond enforcement."
The woman's eyes lit up and a broad smile crossed her face. "Of course. I'm Clara, her daughter and the office manager. Let me check with her." She picked up the phone and hit a button. "Mom? Carlos Manoso's here. Mm-hmm. Okay, I'll send him back." She replaced the receiver and stood. "Follow me."
I followed her through the Employees Only door and found a long hall stretching the length of the house. Four doors on either side of the hall were clearly labeled and the third door on the left read Elliott Armstrong, Bail Bonds Agent. The door was open, and Clara knocked on the door frame.
"Come in," Elliott said, not looking up from her computer screen. I stepped into the room and Clara closed the door. "Have a seat. Give me a minute to finish this."
I sat down in one of two brown leather chairs and took in the office. No personal effects in sight. Business licenses and certifications framed on the wall behind her. A four-drawer file cabinet stood in one corner and a closed door likely leading to a private bathroom was on the opposite wall. A couple dozen file folders were stacked on the end of the desk. Three large frames on one wall held posters outlining the Eighth Amendment prohibition on excessive bail, Georgia's statues regarding bail, and the ethical standards for Georgia bail bonds agents.
"Your background check came through without any problems," Elliott said, turning her attention away from her computer. "Not that I expected any given your time in Special Forces. What do you know about bond enforcement?"
"I've been reading up on the laws in Georgia. I have extensive experience finding people. I understand the process and feel confident I can do the job."
Elliott nodded. "Agreed. Are you planning to do this full-time, or do you have another job?"
"I'll be starting a job with Trinity Security on the first. I'll be doing overnights seven-on, seven-off. My plan is to do this as much as possible on my weeks off, but I'll also have time during the days I do work to go after people."
Elliott nodded her approval. "I have a couple of other guys who do this a few times a month. My son John is our other agent, and he does most of the skips right now. He just got married and his wife doesn't want him out as much, so you would pick up a lot of slack from him."
"Shouldn't be a problem. I'll be out of town next week, but I can start after I get back."
"Welcome to the shitshow, Carlos. Have Clara give you a W-9 form to fill out before you leave. You'll need to check in with us every day to see if we have anything for you. We operate on a first-come, first-serve basis, so if you call first, you get the choice before any of the other guys. You can always pass if it isn't worth your time."
We spent a few minutes discussing the protocol and Elliott said she or John would help me turn in my first skip to show me the process. She had to copy my driver's license and send my information to the Sherriff's departments of all the counties RiverCity served so they knew I was legitimate and not just a random vigilante. John Freemont was out of the office, so I would meet him when I got back from Miami. I stopped by Clara's desk and was given the tax form to complete before leaving.
"You're going to love the place," Jenny said as we drove through Atlanta on Saturday evening. "I love the aesthetic, and the food is worth the price. It's four courses and you'll have a few options for each one."
Julio and I were staying at a hotel on the south side near the airport, so Jenny and Mike had picked us up from the hotel to ride into downtown Atlanta. Julio talked about the menu he'd read online, and I made mental notes of what sounded good, but was more distracted by the city outside. I hadn't come into downtown Atlanta so far in this life. My Rangeman office had been located in the Fairlie-Poplar district and I had been there at least once a month for client meetings. I hadn't planned to build my business in Atlanta this time, intending to stick to south Florida and New Jersey, but now that my plans had changed, I wasn't sure what I would do. Should I try to start up my business in Georgia? It was something to consider.
We had to walk a block from the public lot to the restaurant, since Mike refused to pay for a valet. Mike opened the door for all of us and I was immediately taken aback by the scene in front of me. If we hadn't already had dinner plans, I would have thought my recent thoughts about my previous life had manifested it.
Noir lived up to its name by being entirely black: walls, floors, light fixtures, chairs, tables, tablecloths, plates, bowls, utensils, napkins. The only color I could discern was from the people sitting at tables and the food on plates. Thankfully I wasn't wearing black or else I'd have disappeared. I was wearing gray dress pants and a dark blue button-up shirt. The only black I was wearing were my shoes. I bit back a laugh as I thought back to my old life. Stephanie would have enjoyed this scene, especially given the irony that I wasn't dressed in all black. A pang of loss for the people and experiences of my previous life hit me as we walked through the restaurant. I had no one to share this with. Julio wouldn't get it, no matter how much I explained and how much he tried to understand. It was the first time in a long time that I'd missed my old life.
"Isn't this place great?" Jenny asked once we were seated and given menus of the course options. "I love the black-on-black-on-black. It really makes the food pop."
"I wonder how bright those bulbs have to be to light up the place?" Mike mused, looking at the ceiling.
"You'd never find your way to the door if the power goes out," Julio said.
Jenny rolled her eyes and waved a hand. "Oh you two. Can't you just say it's nice?"
"It's great," I said to Jenny. "We appreciate this."
"It's our pleasure. You were so kind to take us to dinner when Mike got his promotion, so we wanted to do the same for you. How are you feeling about all of it?"
"It's an adjustment going back to civilian life, but I won't miss the Army."
"Julio said you got the job at Trinity Security. Do you know what you'll be doing?" Mike asked.
"I'll be working overnights at Columbus-Muscogee Regional Hospital. It's a seven-on, seven-off schedule. I'll be a floater, so I'll go where I'm needed. And I'll be doing bond enforcement for RiverCity Bail Bonds. It's a good, quick payout and gives me experience with criminals so I can build my business one day."
"You are so ambitious," Jenny remarked. "I can't imagine wanting to open my own business, let alone something as big as private security. Will it be hard to compete with all these companies?"
"I've been planning this for a long time. I've been researching the industry and learning about business in general. My company will have to stand out with the services it offers, filling in gaps other companies skip over or think aren't worth the investment. Some companies limit themselves to just monitoring or unarmed guards. I want to have a wide-range of services with armed security and top-of-the-line equipment. That way we can offer services as basic as a residential security alarm all the way to large commercial operations and personal protection services."
Mike gave an impressed nod. "That sounds like a lot of work, but if anyone can do it, you can. You gonna work with him someday?" he asked Julio.
"No way," he said with a chuckle. "He can be hard enough to live with somedays. If I had to work for him, we'd probably kill each other."
"I wish he would," I said. "I've told him he'd be working with me to run the business, not for me as a subordinate, but he doesn't seem to think there's much of a difference."
"There isn't a difference because you're a control freak," Julio said. "And I like my job. It's more fun to help a six-year-old learn to balance or catch a ball than listen to someone bitch about whether you answered their alarm call fast enough."
I couldn't argue with that.
The entire meal took over two hours but was worth the time and the $125 per person price tag. Conversation flowed easily from work to family to vacations. Jenny and Mike would be keeping an eye on our apartment while we were gone, and we would be returning the favor in July when they went on a cruise.
"I'm so glad you're going to look after my Henry," Jenny said, referring to their cat. "I always worried about him when we'd be gone and just have extra of everything out for him. Like what if he managed to spill all his water bowls? I can relax now."
"I'm excited," Julio said. "I've been wanting a cat, but Carlos always says no because he hates cats."
"Don't get started on cats again," I said. "We just had this argument last week. If you want a pet, get a dog."
The drive back to the hotel was spent discussing the virtues of cats and dogs. Mike didn't care for animals. Jenny was afraid of dogs and would have ten cats except Mike would divorce her. Julio only liked big dogs but didn't want to have to walk them. I liked most dogs. My grandparents had bred dachshunds when I was a kid, so I'd lived with a bunch of small dogs growing up. But I hated cats. They didn't listen, they looked at humans like the help, they were vengeful, peed on your stuff if they got mad, and they did whatever they wanted. Julio had a better chance of winning the lottery than of getting a cat while he was in a relationship with me.
June 15, 2014
"There are my favorite boys!" Grandma exclaimed when she opened the door to us the next afternoon. "I'm so happy you're here."
"Better not let Eduardo hear you say that. He'll whine about it for a month," Julio said as he hugged her.
"He'll only know if you tell him," she said, giving Julio an affectionate smack on the head.
I took our suitcases upstairs while Grandma fussed over Julio. She was telling him he'd lost weight and that she would put it back on him before he left. I was thankful for Grandma's love for Julio. He was nervous about being in Miami for the first time since telling his father about us. There was always a chance of running into him, despite our best efforts otherwise. Jaime had been a weekly customer of the bakery for years, but once Grandma and Mariana found out that he'd disowned Julio, they had banned him from the store. There had been an argument and while I'd never been told exactly what he said the fact that Grandma chased Jaime out of the store with a knife gave me a decent idea.
We spent the afternoon at Grandma's house talking about Julio's job and telling her about my new jobs. I told Julio not to say anything about Vicente refusing to give me a job, instead saying it wasn't practical to go to Miami for barely a year and that I'd just asked Vicente to help me find something local. Grandma said she was proud of me for being flexible and considering how things would impact Julio and not just focusing on my own goals. I avoided meeting her eye for the next couple of minutes as I tried to ignore a twinge of guilt. Despite our conversation last year, I knew I still didn't consider Julio's opinion on our future as much as I should. I was trying to do better, but it was difficult given my knowledge of the future and our differing opinions on Stephanie. Julio thought she sounded like a loose cannon, whereas I saw her more like controlled chaos. If it were up to him, I would do something to ensure she never got into bond enforcement and move on with my life, as that would change the entire trajectory and likely prevent her accident in 2023 because she wouldn't be going after a skip that morning. It was tempting at times, but memories of Rachel would stop me. And I didn't say it to Julio, but I wanted to see her. Even if we weren't in a romantic relationship, I still valued her friendship.
We ended up at Eduardo and Louisa's house on Sunday evening for a barbeque. Mariana and Paolo would be there, as would Jasmine and her boyfriend. It was a chance to visit and catch up before the reunion on Saturday.
"Jasmine and Chris are running late. They're stopping to get some stuff at the deli," Mariana said once we had arrived. "They'll be here in about twenty minutes."
"Did you know she's dating Chris Ramirez?" Eduardo asked us. "He was an asshole in high school."
"What?!" Julio exclaimed. "Chris Ramirez? The football player?"
Eduardo nodded. "Yeah, he went on to play for Duke but tore his ACL freshman year and ended up getting cut from the team."
"I fuckin' hate that guy," Julio said in disbelief. "I always thought Jasmine cheated with him that summer between junior and senior years. She always said she didn't, but I didn't believe her. I can't believe she's dating him."
The rest of us exchanged looks. "Yeah, how dare she date someone you think she cheated on you with while you're dating the guy you definitely cheated on her with," Louisa said with a look of feigned disapproval. "What a bitch."
Paolo started laughing and Mariana gave Julio a dirty look. "Don't be a hypocrite," she said. "Besides, we left out that part when we told her about you two. She just thinks you two got together after you broke up with her senior year."
Julio seemed to realize what he had been saying and had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I still don't like the guy."
"Maybe he's changed," Mariana suggested. "We aren't all the same people we were ten years ago."
"Yeah, most of us grew up," Louisa said. "Eduardo didn't, but there's always one."
Eduardo saluted us with his bottle of water.
"Okay, okay," Julio said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll give him a chance to show he's a different guy. But if he isn't, I'm going to say I told you so for the rest of the week."
I thought back on Chris Ramirez in high school. He had been a year ahead of us and I hadn't seen him at all in this life. What I remembered of him from my earlier high school days was like teenaged Joe Morelli. Cocky, attractive, went through girls like tissues, and enjoyed the limelight of being the star quarterback.
Jasmine and Chris arrived fifteen minutes later. Jasmine was carrying a bag from a local deli and Chris was carrying a large case of beer and a brown paper bag undoubtedly from the liquor store.
"Jasmine said she didn't know if you guys had any booze for the barbeque, so I grabbed some," he said.
I saw Mariana wince and glance in Julio's direction. Julio gave a discreet shake of his head, clearly not wanting to bring attention to his sobriety, but Louisa spoke up.
"We aren't having any because one of us is sober and the rest of us like to support that," she said.
Chris looked at Louisa like she had two heads. "What do you mean? One person has a drinking problem so the rest of us aren't allowed to drink?"
"We don't drink when we're together because we choose to be supportive, not because we aren't allowed."
Chris scoffed at the idea and put the case of beer down on the table. "Well, that's not my problem," he said, moving to open the box. Louisa walked over and put a hand over the top of the box.
"This is my house, and I said we aren't having alcohol here tonight. You can either put it in your car and come back to join us or you can take your alcohol back to your car and leave with it," Louisa said firmly.
Chris looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it when no one came to his defense. "Geez. Fine. I'll put it in the car." He picked up the case and carried it back through the gate.
"I'm so sorry," Jasmine said. "I didn't know, or I would have told him not to buy anything."
"It's fine," Mariana said. "I should have told you."
We all hugged Jasmine while we waited for Chris to come back. He returned a few minutes later and sat down in a chair next to her. I suspected he had taken a few swigs from one of his bottles back at the car. "So which one of you is the drunk ruining my evening?" he asked, looking around expectantly.
"Chris!" Jasmine scolded, looking mortified.
"That's private," Paolo said evenly.
"Ah, did Mommy have too much grown-up juice?" he asked with a laugh, nodding in Mariana's direction.
Jasmine turned red and put her head in her hands. I had a feeling Chris was showing off because we'd gone to high school together. He probably behaved himself better around their other friends.
"How's your football career?" I asked. That wiped the smile off his face.
"I didn't have one. Tore my ACL freshman year and got cut," he said sourly. "Some asshole tripped me during training." He looked around, clearly expecting sympathy.
An awkward silence lingered after that until Eduardo said he was going to fire up the grill. Paolo jumped up to help him.
"Jasmine said you're an Army Ranger," Chris said to me after a minute of looking annoyed. "What's that like?"
"Busy."
"Mariana said you were leaving the Army. Are you done yet?" Jasmine asked, recovered from her boyfriend's behavior.
"My last workday was the sixth. I'm on leave until the end of the month, then I'll be out."
"What's the plan for civilian life?" Chris asked, emphasizing the word like it wasn't real.
"Private security. I'm planning to open my own company eventually."
"Wow!" Jasmine said. "Are you coming back to Miami?"
I shook my head. "We're staying in Georgia for a while. Might go back to New Jersey someday."
Chris snorted. "New Jersey," he said under his breath. Jasmine closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. I felt bad for her.
I saw Julio's grip on the arm of his chair tighten. I put an arm on the back of his chair and rubbed a small circle at the base of his neck with my index finger.
Louisa took that moment to go inside and check on the kids while Mariana started asking about people's drink preferences. I took the opportunity to lean over and whisper to Julio.
"Relax. He's the same dick he always was, and he'd love nothing more than to see you get pissed off," I said. "Don't give him the satisfaction."
Julio huffed but visibly relaxed.
The next few minutes were spent talking about how people wanted their steaks cooked, accepting our drinks, and Louisa assuring us that the kids were happy and occupied with a movie and snacks.
"What are you doing these days?" Chris asked Julio, who he had completely ignored since arriving.
"I'm a physical therapy assistant."
Chris raised his eyebrows. "Just the assistant?"
"I like it better. More patient care and less paperwork," Julio answered tersely.
"I hear that," Eduardo said from the grill. "That's why I like to work for someone instead of having my own company. Less paperwork equals less headache."
A smug expression crossed Chris's face. "Yeah, well, ambition isn't for everyone."
"Not everyone is a workaholic," Jasmine said, giving him a look. "That's why I'm planning to leave the airline. I can't keep travelling like this. I never have time for anything."
"Well, we haven't fully discussed that yet," Chris said, giving her hand a patronizing pat.
Mariana looked like she was on the verge of a stroke. "I didn't realize you two were married, she said through gritted teeth.
"We aren't," Jasmine said at the same time as Chris said, "Not yet."
"And it's my choice whether to find a different job," Jasmine added, glaring at Chris.
"Just make sure you're bringing in the same salary or more. I've gotten accustomed to a certain lifestyle," Chris said with a laugh.
It was a good thing I didn't have a gun on me. Otherwise, I would have shot Chris, and we would have spent the evening hiding the evidence instead of eating dinner.
Jasmine quickly moved the conversation to the reunion and the people we might see. We discussed who we would like to see, who we hoped wouldn't be there, and were brought up to speed on the lives of former classmates. Mariana and Jasmine were Facebook friends with a lot of people from our class and told us over dinner about who got married, divorced, had kids, had affairs, and lost or gained a bunch of weight. I couldn't have cared less. There were maybe two people from high school that weren't in the group that I might like to see again, but that was it. And there was one person in front of me that I hoped to never see again.
Chris had tried to jump in on conversation with snide comments, but everyone had started to ignore him and kept talking. He grew visibly more annoyed as the evening progressed and excused himself a couple of times to go to the bathroom which I figured was really a trip to the car for a swig of whatever was in the brown bag. Jasmine relaxed as time passed and Chris's involvement in conversation decreased. She clearly wasn't happy with this guy. I hoped she would get away from him soon. I thought back to my previous life and whether Julio and Jasmine ever mentioned her relationship with him but couldn't find anything. I had no idea how long the relationship would last.
"I feel bad for Jasmine," Julio whispered in my ear once we'd gone back to the seating area after dinner. "Maybe that's why I ended up with her in your last life. I was saving her from this dickhead."
"You feeling the urge to do that now?" I asked.
Julio laughed. "No way. You aren't getting rid of me that easily."
"You know, I couldn't believe it when Jasmine told me you two were a couple," Chris said loudly as he sat down across from us. "I never suspected you two were gay in high school."
"It surprised us too," I said.
"You two were practically the same person in high school, but I guess I can see it now," Chris said. "At least these days you know who's the man and who's the woman in the relationship."
"Who are you calling a woman?" Julio asked hotly.
"Don't get mad. I'm just saying that's clearly the role you play in the relationship," Chris said. "I mean you don't expect me to believe Mr. Army Ranger over there is taking it up the ass—,"
Julio and Eduardo both leapt from their chairs and headed in Chris's direction. I grabbed Julio and pulled him away while Paolo did the same with Eduardo. Mariana and Louisa were on their feet yelling at Chris and Jasmine was crying.
"What is wrong with you?" she cried. "Why are you being such a dick to everyone?"
"What?" Chris asked, attempting to look innocent. "I'm just making observations."
"No, you're being an asshole, and I'm done listening to it," Louisa said. "Jasmine, you're welcome to stay and someone can take you home later, but Chris you need to leave. Now."
Mariana was hugging Jasmine and talking to her softly. Julio, Eduardo and Paolo were glaring at Chris and talking quietly amongst themselves.
Chris gave an annoyed huff. "Fine, fine. I'm leaving. God, Jazz, you didn't tell me your friends were so uptight. Let's go."
"I'm staying," Jasmine said with a sniff. "I'll have someone take me home later."
Chris threw his hands in the air in disbelief. "Really, Jasmine?"
I shoved Chris between the shoulder blades in the direction of the gate. "Move it," I said. He jerked away from me, and I followed a few paces behind until we got to his car. I put a hand on the door to prevent him from opening it.
"If I hear you talk about Julio or our relationship ever again, I'll use every skill Special Forces taught me on you. Understood?"
I saw his Adam's apple bob, clearly not feeling so cocky. He nodded without a word, and I let go of the door. I waited in the driveway and watched until he drove away.
Everyone was seated in the backyard when I returned. Jasmine was holding a box of tissues and wiping at her nose.
"I'm so sorry, Carlos," she said when she saw me. "I've never seen him like this. He can be a little much at times, but never that bad."
"You have nothing to apologize for," I assured her. "He's responsible for his own behavior."
"That's what we've been telling her," Mariana said, rubbing her on the back. "Now that he's gone, we can enjoy ourselves. I brought Cards Against Humanity for us to play."
Two hours of Cards Against Humanity helped cheer Jasmine up considerably and I learned how depraved my friends and family truly were. Once the party broke up, Julio and I drove Jasmine back to her apartment, and I walked her up in case Chris decided to be there looking for a fight. Thankfully he wasn't around, and I heard her lock up before leaving.
"Is that what other people are gonna be saying about us at the reunion?" Julio asked once we were on our way back to Grandma's house.
I shrugged. "Maybe some of them. I don't care what they think."
"Well, yeah, you're not the woman in the relationship," he said with an eyeroll. "Fucker."
"Neither are you," I reminded him. "You were the one in high school who wanted everyone to know about us. You always told me you didn't care what anyone thought."
"I don't. Not really," he mumbled, staring out the window as we passed Jaime's house. "He's such a fucking asshole."
I wasn't sure if he meant Chris or his father. Probably both. This wasn't the first time someone made a shitty remark about our relationship or being gay, but it was the most upset I'd seen Julio get outside of his conversation with Jaime. He was on edge about the possibility of running into his father while we were here, which meant Chris's comment hit a nerve that was more exposed than normal.
The rest of the week was spent visiting Grandma and the relatives who still wanted to see us. We ran into Maria at the bakery one day and she glared at us before storming out. There had been a close call with Jaime one day as we were leaving the grocery store. I saw him before they saw each other and managed to discreetly guide Julio in a different direction.
The reunion was held at a restaurant in Key Biscayne called The Dirty Flamingo. It overlooked Biscayne Bay with the Miami skyline in the background and was frequented by the people who stored their boats in the nearby marina. It was famous for its cocktails and live entertainment. A band consisting of three former classmates was providing the entertainment for the evening as people mingled in clusters. I would have preferred to sit at a table in the corner and countdown the hours until we would leave, but I wanted to be a supportive boyfriend, so I stayed with Julio. He did the talking while I listened politely and contributed when necessary. Most people were surprised to learn of our relationship but were supportive about it. One woman who had been a notorious know-it-all in high school claimed to have always known we were together. I noticed an occasional disapproving look thrown our way, but they were always from people we hadn't known well or had always disliked.
Whenever people learned we had served in the military, we got the thank you for your service line. How many times had I heard that over the years? The first few times I'd heard them, I had wanted to believe people meant it. Eventually I accepted that people said them to make themselves feel better, trying to make up for the abuse Vietnam veterans had faced. I'd found those words as meaningless as the thanks given to the cashier at the grocery store when they handed you change. I had heard those words too often from people who then used their next breath to verbally abuse a server for getting their order wrong or call someone a derogatory name. Those were often the same people who had the audacity to tell me what I had served my country for, especially if I expressed a view they didn't like.
After the fifth thank you for your service, I excused myself and went to the bar for another water. God, I wanted a drink. I could probably get a vodka without Julio being any the wiser, but I would know and feel guilty about it. Not because he would be angry that I drank, but because he wouldn't be.
"Carlos?" I grimaced as a voice I'd hoped to never hear again said my name. I had to remind myself that we hadn't dated in this lifetime, and she wouldn't understand any hostility on my part.
"I'm Sarah Peterson, Jasmine's cousin?" she said, extending her hand. "We met a few times in high school."
"I remember," I said. "Were you in our class?"
"Oh, no. I was a year behind you. I'm here with my boyfriend. Do you remember Kyle Tucci? That's my boyfriend."
The bartender stopped by in that moment to take our orders and left again. I hoped she hurried up so I could get back to Julio.
"So what are you doing these days?" she asked politely.
"I spent eight years in the Army, and now I'm getting ready to start a job in private security."
"Really?" she said, her eyes lighting up. "I love a man in uniform."
The fetishization of military members was another problem that had come along with the overcorrection in American attitudes towards service members. I heard the phrase I love a man in uniform almost as much as thank you for your service. The number of women who had thrown themselves at me simply because I was in uniform had been staggering. I'll admit that the first time around I had used this to my advantage and slept my way through quite a few bars and parties as a result. But it had gotten old quickly. Because it was never really about me.
"I burned my uniforms," I told her.
I accepted the water from the bartender, said goodbye to Sarah, and made my way back to Julio. I found him talking to one of our former math teachers, Jim Roble. I hadn't even reached them when I heard another one of those dreaded phrases.
"We don't do enough for our veterans," Jim said. "It's a damned shame too. They gave so much. Did you hear about Cameron Parker? He was in the Army two years and came out a completely different person. Two failed marriages, been arrested a couple of times for domestic violence. It's too bad. He had such a bright future."
I stood next to Julio and drank my water. I'd lost count of the number of people I'd seen get away with beating their wives and children, stealing, cheating, deceiving, or just being an asshole simply because they were a veteran. Too many people seemed to think every veteran had PTSD and no control over themselves, or that we couldn't call them out on their shit because they had served the country.
Jim continued talking about veterans and the candidates he intended to vote for in November, citing their claims of standing up for veterans and making sure we had the support and honor we deserved. I didn't need to have knowledge of the future to know the guy he wanted to vote for was full of shit. That particular Congressman would eventually be indicted on several counts of wire fraud involving fake charities he set up claiming to help veterans.
The sound of Julio saying my name brought me out of my internal bitching and forced me to focus on the conversation, which had thankfully shifted to my new job. I tried to keep the conversation focused on that, but Jim kept coming back to my time in the Army. After another ten minutes, we managed to excuse ourselves and headed out to the patio for some fresh air.
"Are you okay?" Julio asked. "You've been acting weird."
I shook my head and turned to look out over the water at the Miami skyline. "I'm tired of talking about the military. I'm tired of being thanked for my service and hearing people complain that we don't do enough to help veterans. They'll vote for the guy drowning puppies on live television just because he promised to lower their taxes and then cuts funding to Veteran's Affairs to do it. I'm sick of seeing people pity pieces of shit like Cameron Parker who never saw a day of combat in his entire time in the Army but walks around like he personally found Saddam Hussein in a hole in the ground. He takes advantage of the grace we extend to someone who is genuinely traumatized and uses it to excuse being an abusive asshole."
Julio was watching me with a surprised look on his face. "Damn," he said. "I just thought it was because you hate things like this."
"It's partially that too."
He leaned against the railing next to me. "I think you're having a harder time transitioning back to civilian life than you want to admit."
I sighed and glanced around to make sure we couldn't be overheard. "In my last life my identity was so tied up in my military service that everyone called me Ranger. I don't want to be that guy this time. I swore to myself that I wouldn't be."
Julio slid a hand across the railing to squeeze one of mine. "And you won't be. It's probably just all the changes from last time. Different job, different city, being in a relationship, not talking to your parents. You'll be fine."
I squeezed his hand. "I know. At the end of the day, I just want to make you happy. I want to provide the means to have the life we want. I hope I can still do that starting out in Columbus instead of down here."
"My happiness doesn't have anything to do with how much money we have. I'll be happy if you're happy, still in love with me, and banging me like a screen door in a hurricane," he said.
If asked what I was the most grateful for during my second chance, the answer would always be Julio. Despite knowing the important impact my relationship with Stephanie had played in this life, I still wondered how I'd gone through all those years without him by my side.
"It is hurricane season," I said, nodding towards the Atlantic Ocean. "I'll be the hurricane and you can be the town that I'll blow off the map."
Julio snorted. "Don't try to come for my game. You can't do it."
I chuckled and put my arm around his shoulders. "Sorry. I'll leave the dirty jokes to you."
"Good. You don't have the comedic chops for it. But I did have a question for you."
"Yeah?"
"I know you aren't a weatherman, but can I expect a few inches tonight?"
I leaned in to kiss him gently and moved my mouth to his ear.
"Definitely."