Page 3 of Monk
I give her a small smile. “I’m good.”
She looks at me for a moment as if expecting me to say more, and when I don’t, her smile falters a bit. She clears her throat and turns back to Cosmo, regaining her smile once more.
“I’m guessin’ by the amount of road dust on those kuttes, you’re wantin’ a couple of beers?” she asks.
Cosmo nods. “That’d be great, hon,” he states. “Also, two cheeseburgers, everything on them, and fries.”
“Comin’ right up,” she says.
She gives me another lingering look, then turns and walks away, putting a little more swish to her hips than is probably necessary. Cosmo leans back in his chair and shakes his head at me.
“The only way that girl could be more obvious would be holding up a sign that says she’s into you. When are you gonna grow a pair and ask her out?” he asks.
I shrug. “She’s not my type.”
“Boy, with tits and an ass like that, she’s everybody’s type.”
I laugh and grab a peanut from the bowl, crack the shell, and pop it into my mouth. He looks at me, arching an eyebrow, and all I can do is shrug again.
“I’m not in the market for an old lady,” I tell him.
“Nobody’s sayin’ you’ve got to make her your old lady. But what’s wrong with goin’ out and havin’ a little fun?”
“Nothin’, I suppose.”
Cosmo sighs. “You know, you really live up to your nickname, kid.”
“What do you mean?”
He chuckles. “You don’t talk much. You don’t go out and have fun. Hell, in all the time I’ve known you, I’ve only ever seen you with a handful of women. You do live like a damn monk.”
“I didn’t realize having a vibrant social life was required to ride with the Pharaohs,” I reply.
He smirks at me. “You’re such a smartass.”
Cosmo is the closest thing I’ve had to a best friend in a long time. I met him at a veteran’s support group after I rotated home a few years back. He’s the one who introduced me to the Pharaohs in the first place, sponsored me as a prospect, and spoke for me when they voted on giving me my patch. He’s been a friend and mentor to me.
When I rotated out and got back from Afghanistan, I felt lost. Disconnected from humanity. Totally adrift at sea. I didn’t think it possible, but I came out of the war angrier than when I went in. And back in civilian life, I didn’t know what to do with that. So, I drank. A lot. I got into fights. My life was circling the drain… and then after one particularly vicious bar fight, I got arrested.
I spent about a month in jail, bit given that I nearly beat a man to death, it could have been much worse. The judge, a former veteran herself, was sympathetic and released me on the condition that I enroll in a support group. She believed—or maybe just hoped—that it would help me with some of my anger issues.
Maggie drops off our beers and gives me another smile before she leaves the table, prompting Cosmo to give me the look again. I roll my eyes and hoist my mug, saluting him with it.
He lifts his mug in return. “To great racks and better asses,” he says. “Man, if she looked at me the way she looks at you, I’d be all over that in a heartbeat.”
“Better hope your old lady doesn’t hear you talk like that.”
“If she ever finds out I said it, I’ll know where she heard it from, and then I’ll cut your nuts off.”
“Not going to hear it from me,” I reply. “Besides, I know better. You’d never touch another woman, no matter how great her rack or ass was because you’re in love with her.”
“More like, I’m terrified of her.”
“You’re smarter than I give you credit for.”
“Damn straight.”
I laugh and take a long pull from my mug of beer, relishing the cool liquid as it slides down my throat. As I drink, my mind continues to dredge up pieces of my personal history and how I ended up getting where I am now.
