Hustle Read online

  “But you’re a Navy SEAL. You’re the best of the best, right?”

  I smile at that. “When I joined up I just wanted the cushiest job they had going. I guess my competitive spirit got the better of me.”

  “So you’re competitive?”

  “You won’t find a SEAL who’s not. It requires a certain degree of ruthlessness, of,” it takes me a second to think how best to phrase it, “dedication to will.”

  “How did she handle it, your mother?”

  “Well enough. I’m making her out to be some kind of superhuman robot, but the truth is she struggled with depression when we were growing up. We didn’t know until we were teenagers, of course, but I could always sense when something wasn’t quite right. She worried about us.”

  “I don’t imagine being flung to a conflict country helped?”

  My head bobs to the side. “No. It did not, but if she was worried, she never let on. I don’t think she wanted me worrying about it either, which is kind of funny when you think about it. I never thought I’d spend the last years I had with her overseas. Now I’m just trying to make her as comfortable and happy as possible before she passes, and, hard as it is, passing is the best thing. She’s weathered this disease long enough, fought hard, but she deserves peace. And this thing? With us? It’s the least I can do.”

  I can see Shannon considering it, taking in my words and sorting them out.

  “I’m getting sentimental,” I apologize. “I don’t mean to lay this all on you.”

  “No, it’s fine, really. I like it, that you’re so open. Most guys don’t talk about these kinds of things. I thought, given you’re a big bad Navy SEAL and all that you’d be even more closed off, but you’re full of surprises.”

  You have no idea.

  I stop walking and turn to face her. “I’m not trying to put any kind of pressure on you. Just be yourself.”

  Two cyclists go whipping around us, the sound of live music beating away back in the restaurant district.

  Shannon takes a step forward and touches my cheek, so light her fingers could be feathers. “I get it, Gabe. I do.” She lets her hand fall away. “You can go back to being that big bad SEAL if you want. I won’t hold it against you.”

  But it’s her I want to hold, as much as my head’s trying to warn me off it.

  I want to kiss her. The moment is perfect.

  But I can’t.

  Triss.

  I’m trying. I’m fucking trying, but I can’t get her out of my head—the last words she spoke to me, the helplessness of it all. Where was I when she needed me? I abandoned her. It’s not right, none of it is. I am not right. I don’t think I ever will be, not for a girl like Shannon, a gentle, pure soul who’s never experienced war, who’s never taken a life or seen his friends torn to pieces.

  Compartmentalize, they say, the head doctors with their fucking mind voodoo, but I don’t have enough compartments for the kind of shit I’ve seen. There aren’t enough boxes in the world for that.

  But god I want to. Every fiber of my body wants to lean forward and feel her lips again, crush my mouth against hers, the softness I’ve been craving for so long.

  I turn and start to walk instead, cursing myself but at the same time satisfied.

  I was impulsive once. I thought I was untouchable.

  I’m never going to make that mistake again.

  Shannon is quiet. Disappointed perhaps? I can’t tell. You think a Navy SEAL would be a master of reading people, but Shannon’s as much of a mystery to me as daytime TV.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m fucking lost.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHANNON

  I wake up with a sugar glider glued to my arm. It’s like something out of Alien. I gently peel Angel off. “Wakey, wakey, little buddy.” Buffy is scampering up by my side. I don’t know why I’m telling them to wake up. They’re nocturnal, probably destroying the house again while I slobbered all over pillow.

  I sit up and stretch, can already hear the others hollering for breakfast down the back. “I’m coming,” I shout.

  I claw sleep dust from my eyes and check the clock.

  One hour to go.

  I’m nervous, and it’s not just because I’m meeting Gabe’s mother today. He coached me pretty good on what to say at lunch yesterday. No, I’m nervous because I’m going to be seeing Gabe again. It’s been less than fifteen hours since saw him.

  And you’re counting every minute, admit it.

  So what if I am? I can crush on him if I want to. Nothing’s going to happen, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

  Yeah, dream about the A-grade American weaponry in his pants…

  God, I have become a pervert. What next? Selling used underwear on eBay?

  “Shannon Bailey,” I tell myself, staring at my medusa-like hair in the wardrobe mirror opposite, Buffy perched on my shoulder like a cuter version of Barbosa’s parrot. “You. Are. A. Pervert.”

  Angel gives a squeak of affirmation from below.

  I drag myself out of bed and begin the whole ‘What am I going to wear?’ process again. Forget the clothes. Deciding what to wear all the time is wearing me out. A week ago I would have slung on a sweater and the nearest pair of jeans, but here I am um-ing and ah-ing in front of my clothes like some sort of high-brow fashionista.

  He’s changing you.

  More like I am changing for him. That’s no crime, is it?

  I settle on casual, going with my best jeans — read: the ones that aren’t walking out the door by themselves — and a lightweight, billowy chiffon blouse that says ‘flirty but fun’ without falling into hired help territory. I don’t want Gabe’s Mom thinking he’s dating a hussy.

  Who even uses that word?

  I take a deep breath and push my chest out, droop—try to find a pose that’s right.

  You’re meeting his mother, not auditioning for Next Top Model.

  A knock on the front door makes me jump.

  I rush to it, taking a second to “breatheeeeeee, Shannon,” before opening it wide and putting on my best look of composure.

  Gabe takes in my outfit. “Perfect,” he says. “Teal’s Mom’s favorite color. Did I tell you that?” he asks quizzically.

  “No,” I reply. “Maybe I’m a mind reader?”

  He leans against the doorframe, looks every inch the ideal man. The leather jacket he’s wearing is straight out of Top Gun. “Is that so?” He licks his lips. “So I suppose you know what I’m thinking about right now then?”

  My heart quickens, a wet, flickering heat gathering at my crotch.

  I can imagine, but I reply, “Well, it’s not the weather. I can you tell you that much.”

  His smile widens. “My, my. That’s very impressive, but it’s going to take more than that to fool my mother. You sure you’re up for this?”

  ‘Fool’ chips away at my confidence, but I build it back up, telling myself I’m doing this purely for altruistic reasons. I reach for his arm. “Lead the way, fiancé.”

  *

  I haven’t been in a hospital since Dad passed away. I’ve suppressed that day as much as possible, but the ugly alabaster walls and pervading smell of bleach bring it right back.

  Gabe stops outside a door. “One more time, are you sure you’re good with this?”

  I nod, breathing out. “Let’s do it.”

  He smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  But the moment I follow him into that room my confidence slips away faster than a babysitter’s boyfriend when her parents’ car pulls up.

  What are you doing, Shannon?

  Shut up. Shut up.

  Gabe’s mother is lying down, a sheet drawn up to her neck, her spindly arms on top of it.

  Gabe prepared me for her condition, but it’s still a shock seeing what somebody, a once perfectly healthy human being, can be reduced to.

  She’s wearing a bright, floral headscarf, her entire face lighting up when she sees me enter. She lifts head up. �
�Oh, my. You must be Shannon.”

  I stand beside Gabe in front of her. “Yes, Mrs. Reed. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Julie. Call me Julie.”

  I smile back. “Julie then.”

  She’s shaking her head, her wet eyes in contrast to her dry lips. “Gabe told me you were beautiful, but…”

  I blush slightly.

  Gabe takes hold of my hand. “Don’t embarrass her, Mom.”

  “Oh, Gabriel,” Julie quips, “let me be. Can’t I compliment my future daughter-in-law?”

  Gabriel? It sounds strange hearing his full name, but future daughter-in-law? It really starts to sink in at those words.

  Julie’s not done, continuing to look me over. “You should have seen the girls Gabe used to bring home, Shannon. My, they were like something out of Miss America, and I do mean that in the worst possible way, what with their plastic faces and fake boobs…” Her eyes drop to my chest. “I can tell those are all natural—nothing but God-given beauty.”

  Gabe’s face-palming, mortally embarrassed. “Mom!”

  I’m starting to enjoy this until Julie comes out with the one question I was dreading. “Tell me how it happened, Shannon. How did you two fall in love?”

  You’ve rehearsed this. “Well,” I begin, looking to Gabe, but he said I had to go this one alone, that he’d only intervene if completely necessary, “it was online, actually.”

  Julie’s curiosity is piqued. “A dating site?”

  I blush deeper.

  “Like Tinder?” she asks, eyes probing.

  Oh, god. “No, no. I work for a film production company. I was doing research on—”

  But Julie’s confused. “Like porno films? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone’s got to make a living. As long as you’re not one of the actual—”

  “Mom!” Gabe cries again, shaking his head and face-palming harder still.

  “What?” she asks, genuinely curious. “I have a right to know what kind of girl my Gabe-Gabe’s going to marry, don’t I?”

  Gabe-Gabe—that almost does me in.

  This isn’t going at all how I imagined.

  Get it together, girl.

  “No, it’s not a porno company, Mrs. Reed.”

  “Julie.”

  “Julie,” I correct, by now lobster red. “We do regular, mainstream motion pictures.”

  She’s trying to piece it together. “And how does Gabriel come into it?”

  The full name throws me again. I have a sense he was no angel in his formative years.

  I’m no good at lying, never have been, but I’ve got no choice here. “The company’s looking to produce a film featuring Navy SEALs. They wanted me to contact an active member, do some research into what their life was like and so on.”

  Julie nods. It’s working. “Ah, I see. So, face-to-face, on the computer, like Skype or something?”

  I look to Gabe. His smile says ‘Keep going.’ “That’s right. Just like Skype.”

  Julie’s smile grows. “And you slowly just fell for each other, chatting away like that.”

  She’s doing the hard work for me. I smile back at Gabe. “We did, though he didn’t tell me about his sweet tooth until we met for the first time.”

  I’m improvising. Julie’s excitement is growing. “He does have a sweet tooth, doesn’t he? Of course, it must have been hard, not being able to see each other like that, in the flesh.”

  “It was,” I reply, nodding down to the linoleum floor. I actually hold our clasped hands up and squeeze. Gabe’s is hot. “But we made do.”

  “And where did go, on your first real date?” asks Julie.

  This is a question we didn’t prepare for.

  Gabe sees the concern on my face and goes to intervene, but I squeeze his hand once more. “This wonderful Lebanese restaurant in town, El Phoenician. Do you know it?”

  “No,” says Julie, “but it does sound very exotic.”

  “There was a belly dancer, music…”

  Julie nods slowly. “How delightful. He really went all out.”

  The lie comes easier with an element of truth thrown in. “It was, though I was completely stuffed by the end of it. They almost had to roll us out the door.”

  Julie laughs, coughing halfway through and asking for water.

  Gabe lets go of my hand, holding a glass of water before us as a nurse enters, seeing us and smiling before turning her attention to Julie. “Hello, Julie. How are you feeling?”

  “Wonderful,” she replies, “this is Shannon, my Gabe’s fiancée.”

  The nurse smiles at me again as she replaces Julie’s IV. “Julie’s been so looking forward to meeting you.”

  The guilt starts to eat away at me, but I hold it together. “I hope I’m not a disappointment.”

  “No,” says Julie firmly. “Not at all. You’re not what I expected, but that’s the best part.”

  The nurse taps the line. “Okay, Julie. Your new meds are ready.” She turns to me. “Nice to meet you, Shannon.”

  “And you,” I reply, my thigh pressed against Gabe’s.

  “Gabe,” instructs Julie, “get the poor girl a chair. I’ve got so much to tell her.”

  She’s not kidding. An hour goes by where she details everything from Gabe’s birth to his first car (“a run-down jalopy that was out of order more than it was on the road”), first girlfriend (“a local floozy all the boys called ‘Candy’”), even his first words (“’Bang, bang’—which explains a lot, don’t you think?”).

  A sly expression curls over of her lips. “Tell me, Shannon. Does Gabe satisfy you—sexually, I mean?”

  Gabe’s protest comes twice as loud now. “Mom. Jesus Christ. Have you been reading 50 Shades again?” He turns to me blushing almost as hard as I was an hour ago. “You do not have to answer that, Shannon.”

  But Mrs. Reed is on a roll. “Even as a baby he had the biggest pecker in the nursery. The mortification I felt when he used to get a stiffy… Let me tell you.”

  Gabe’s back with his head in his hands, quietly muttering. “Stop, Mom. For the love of everything that is good in the world, stop.”

  As hilarious as this is, I can’t let it go on. “Actually,” I begin, “we haven’t…”

  True surprise follows on Julie’s face. “Oh? Really?”

  Her reaction says a lot about her son.

  “I’m a virgin,” I state, funnily enough not really embarrassed by it at this particular moment. Maybe because it’s true.

  “We’re going to wait until our wedding night,” I finish.

  Gabe lifts his head up, equal amounts of surprise written over his face.

  Julie turns towards Gabe. “This one’s a keeper, son. Don’t you go hurting her now, you hear?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mom,” and the way he says it tells me it’s genuine. “She’s the love of my life.”

  Ah, not so genuine.

  Still, he reaches for my hand again as I sit beside him, our fingers interlocked, and if it I didn’t know otherwise I really would think we’re a couple.

  “You’ve met Matthew?” queries Julie.

  “I have,” I nod. “He’s great.”

  “I know Matthew makes out like he’s some kind of saint, Shannon,” she says, “but the trouble these two used to get up to…”

  “I’d love to hear about it.”

  Gabe squeezes my hand in warning.

  “There was this one time,” Julie begins. “These two redhead girls had moved in next door with their family from Arkansas. Well…” she pauses, looking distant. “I’m sorry. I forgot what I was going to say.”

  “Thank god for that,” Gabe whispers under his breath. “You okay, Mom?” he says a little louder.

  Her eyes start to shutter closed, her head falling back against the pillow. “I’m just so, so tired.”

  “The meds must be kicking in,” Gabe tells me, and just like that Julie’s asleep, her mouth open but barely a whisper passing between her lips.


  Gabe smiles at me. “You were great, by the way.”

  I begin to blush again. “Thank you.”

  Neither of us breaks the handhold.

  Gabe checks his watch. “We should probably get going. She’ll be out for hours, and Matt’s due in later.”

  “Okay.”

  We stand, still holding hands, continuing to hold them as we walk down to my car. They remain like that until I have to find the keys to Herbie, dangling them off my fingers as we stand face-to-face under the flickering florescent lights of the hospital’s underground parking garage.

  Silence.

  So much silence.

  I have to fill it in, can’t stand the way it wells up between us. “I’m sorry about your mother, Gabe.”

  “Thank you,” he says, his face somehow softer.

  “I lost mine when I was young, too young to remember. Dad raised me more or less as a single parent. But I think this is worse. I can’t imagine how hard it is. You think it went okay?”

  “More than okay.” He smiles. “Have you ever considered taking up acting?”

  I look away. “It wasn’t all an act. You know, I’m happy to keep up appearances until this is,” there’s no nice way to put it, “over.”

  His eyes crinkle together in thought. He slides his hands into his jacket pockets. “I apologize for bringing you into this. Honestly, if I had any idea…”

  “No,” I cut in, taking a step closer. “It’s fine. In fact, it’s nice… in a weird way. I never imagined myself with someone like you.” Good one. “Not that I’m with you with you, but you know… Just…” Where are words when you need them? I graduated cum laude at college and here I am barely able to put a sentence together.

  He steps forward and takes my face in his hands, lifting it to look into my eyes. “I know.”

  He kisses me, his lips pressing against mine warm and inviting.

  I’m not ready for it, snapping rigid at first before sinking into the sensation.

  Things happen automatically. My arms lift and wrap around his neck, my head tilting sideways as the kiss deepens. I smell him, the manly, spicy scent of his cologne. I taste him, the sweet pull that draws my tongue out and into his mouth.