Page 37 of Ripped & Shipped
I’m meeting Duke for coffee again today, even though we’ve got a guy’s night planned at Aiden’s farm in two days. Duke’s in vacation mode, so he asks me to meet him for coffee most mornings. I oblige him a few times a week. I know it’s good for me to get out and spend time with him. He balances me. We’re usually good for one another—an anchor and a sail on the same watercraft.
After I hit the shower, I walk into town. It’s still that time of year where it’s comfortable outdoors before lunchtime. As I pass through the neighborhoods on my way to the coffee shop, I walk down Ella Mae’s block. I’m not trying to see her. It’s just one of the ways to get from my house to Main Street. I glance at the two-story she rents with Meg. No sign of life.
Probably for the best.
Being a civilian has obviously caused me to drop my guard. I’m trained to use situational awareness, and constantly hone my mental acuity.Think ahead of what you see.Double check your perception.Consider all possible outcomes. Never allow yourself to be caught off guard.
As I walk, I run myself through some all-too-familiar practice drills for my mind. The brain is a muscle. If it’s weak, it merely needs consistent exercise to become strong again. When I pass a few people, I size them up, reminding myself what I know about each one, and pushing myself to imagine what each mannerism or facial expression could be hiding. Before I’ve even made it downtown, I’m already feeling more control over my thoughts and feelings.
Townspeople wave and shout out greetings. I’m not outgoing by nature, but I’d be a fool to ignore someone when they say, “Heya, Chris,” or “Beautiful day!” or “How are ya?” Talk about an instant way to drag the town spotlight right over my head and turn the beam on high. The last thing you want to be known for around here is being the one person who doesn’t respond to a greeting.
So, I wave, say things like, “Hey, Joe,” and “Mornin’,” and make my way to the coffee shop, free of all thoughts of Ella Mae and the unexpected night we shared.
Except that thought.
But I push it down.
There. Free. I’m free now.
“Chris!” Duke shouts from his spot in line.
I saunter over to him slowly, drawing out his anticipation because it’s fun to toy with him. He’s way too easy. Like a cat with a laser beam.
“Hey, Duke.”
“Hey! What a day. Am I right? This day. It’s so beautiful it makes you want to sing or something.”
“Yeah. Or something.”
Madeline calls Duke’s name. He steps up to the counter and flashes her a smile.
“Hey, Maddy-waddy. What’s going on today? How’s vacation treating you?”
He asks the question like he’s her personal purveyor of sunshine. Madison giggles as if Pico Alexander just walked in and asked her on a date.
“It’s good. I mean. We’re in Bordeaux, so it’s basically work, hanging out at the Res … and yeah. Not much else. But it’s actually good to be home.”
“Nothin’ wrong with Bordeaux, Maddy. And you know about that chip, don’t ya?”
“What chip?” Madeline asks.
Her face is innocent and wide-eyed.
I cross my arms. Ready for the line to move forward so I can get my coffee and find a seat. Apparently, I’m the only one with a clock or watch around here.
“The chip they put in you at birth,” Duke teases. “It’s got a magnet that always pulls you back to this town. You might go to UCLA, but mark my words, you’ll be back to Bordeaux.”
“That’s just creepy,” I murmur while Madeline giggles.
“What can I get you, Duke?” she finally says, glancing at the short line of people behind us and smiling.
“The usual, Mads. And I’ll get this guy’s coffee too.”
Duke smiles over at me.
“Just a house coffee, black. Thanks,” I say.
Duke pays and shoves a five dollar bill in the tip jar.
