Page 30 of Curves for the Mountain Man

Chapter

Thirteen

ROSCOE

Three 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.

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