21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (13 page)

“I’ll be right back.” James gave her knee a quick squeeze and slid out, pulling his Mike’s Place ID out of his wallet.

“Sorry, Doc.” Damon abandoned the police officer to meet him with a hard handshake. “We just came out for a couple of burgers and beers. It was going fine and then it just wasn’t.”

“What happened, exactly?”

“You’re the doctor?” The officer followed a pace behind Damon, the nameplate pinned to his blue uniform reading Atkins.

“Psychologist.” James held out his credentials. “Mr. McCall is one of my patients. What is he being charged with?”

“At the moment, nothing. It’s his own car that he damaged and no one is hurt. He settled down some when we got here, but we weren’t comfortable letting him drive.” The officer looked over the identification briefly before handing it back. He palmed a standard issue flashlight and shone it at the car.

“A brawl started inside, he wasn’t a part of it, but apparently they plowed into him. He put both men down, but they’re fine outside of some bruises. The bartender and several patrons described the incident and it’s a case of self-defense. He could have done a hell of a lot more damage, but he didn’t.” Respect tinged the officer’s words. “Then he came out here and trashed his car. We were already responding to the incident inside when we found him.”

James nodded once, flicking a brief look to Damon. “And you don’t know why he came out here?”

“No. Like Officer Atkins said, these two guys were arguing, started fighting and they bumped a waitress before they slammed into Matt. I had to hit the latrine or I’d have been right there. As it was, he had one guy down in a chokehold and the other cold cocked on the pool table when I came out. The bartender rounded them up, and the manager rousted them when Matt just walked out of the bar. By the time I got out here, he was kicking the shit out of it.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Not a word. Creepiest damn thing I’d ever seen, Doc. It was all surgical strikes, headlights, windshield, side mirrors, tail lights, and then he just beat his fists bloody on the hood. I tried to talk to him when the cops got here. They ordered him to stand down and he did. He’s been sitting on that curb ever since….” Damon’s words trailed off as he pointed and James followed his gaze.

Lauren was out of the SUV and sitting on the dirty cement curb in her filmy, silk dress, hands clasped in her lap, legs extended with one glittery ankle crossed over the other. Her head tilted toward Matt. Matt looked as poleaxed as James felt when he’d first seen her sitting in the restaurant.

“Thanks, Damon.” Worry choked his gut and he headed over. If Matt was unstable, Lauren sat right next to a live powder keg.

Despite his easy manner, James’ palpable tension filled the vehicle all the way to Plano. A professional demeanor, focused concern, and watchful wariness replaced his charming smile and flirty honesty. The desire quivering in her insides sobered in the Fillmore Pub’s empty parking lot under the harsh reality of red and blue strobes. He spoke to an officer and a second man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, presumably the man who’d called him at the club.

She glanced over the others, settling on the young man sitting on the curb. His wide shoulders were framed by a too tight T-shirt that did little to disguise the muscled physique beneath, jeans and scuffed tennis shoes. The close shave haircut coupled with the empty expression on his face and the way he stared sightlessly at the damaged car to his right told her that was who they had been called to help.

Her chest constricted at the loneliness shimmering in the air around him. Dropping her purse on the floorboard, she opened the passenger door and slipped out. The pavement tilted unevenly, littered with cement cracks and blacktop repairs, but she crossed the open space to the young man before she’d fully thought through the decision.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The night air was warm, cooler than the day, but still comfortable. She wrapped her shawl around her more for comfort than heat, holding it firm with the fold of her arms.

The man glanced up, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “No ma’am, but I don’t really think a dirty curb is going to be kind to your dress.”

She chuckled, teetering down carefully to sit and stretch her legs. “That’s why I use dry cleaners, they’re miracle workers.”

The young man continued to stare at her, his confusion giving way to an open bewilderment. “I’m sorry, ma’am, do I know you?”

“Probably not, you’re way too young and male to be in my demographic.” She extended hand her right hand. “I’m Lauren.”

“Matt McCall, ma’am.” He took her hand so cautiously she forced herself to stay still lest any motion startle him. His knuckles were black, blue, and red. She’d seen freshly ground hamburger meat that was more attractive.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Matt. Are you from Texas?” She considered commenting on his knuckles, but he withdrew his hand far more quickly than he’d offered it and tucked it back down against his leg, out of sight. He wasn’t quite rocking back and forth, but the tension thickened in the stiff set of his spine and rigid lock of his jaw.

“No.” He gave a quick jerk of his head. “Indiana.”

“Really? I’ve only been to Indiana once.” Biting the inside of her lip, she thought back to what James said at the Sybarite Club. People want to be heard. They want someone to listen. And even the most inane piece of trivia can show someone they’ve been heard. Clasping her hands together, she shifted so her butt wasn’t quite perched on the jagged crack in the cement curb. The lazy heat of the day drifted up from warm pavement, chasing away even a hint of chill.

“We were filming a car chase scene that ended in corn fields and then a secondary chase through the fields.” Crossing one ankle over the other, she pretended an interest in her painted toes. “Longest week of my life. Corn hurts when you run through it. No one told me that.”

“It can be razor sharp, ma’am. I used to hang out in the back of one of those fields with some buddies in high school. We could smoke and talk sh—um—talk stuff about girls and stuff. Anyway, we got to wrestling one day and I got a few good slices.”

“So, it’s not just me? My director told me it was because I was a klutz, but it’s not easy to race through a field, looking over your shoulder and not bang into the plants.”

Matt gave her the most peculiar look. “Why was someone chasing you, ma’am?”

“It was in the script. Between you and I, a terrible script. Who runs through cornfields in four-inch heels? I kept losing a shoe or worse, my heel would sink and then I’d trip. But they wouldn’t let me just strip them off and drop them to run.” The director’s high-handed tone still managed to chafe.

“Probably not the best idea to run through a cornfield in bare feet, ma’am. That’s a good way to get snake bit.”

“Snakes?” A shudder rocked through her and she turned wide eyes on Matt. She didn’t have to stretch far to project shock. She hated snakes. Hated them since the episode she’d had to let a python crawl over her when she played Amy Benning, the beloved daughter of Detective Andy. Nasty things.

“Yes, ma’am.” Matt’s wan smile was still a smile. “Snakes like cornfields, lots of mice to eat.”

“Ewww.”

He chuckled. A rusty sound if she’d ever heard one.

“Well, I guess I should thank my snotty director for the shoe advice.”

“Maybe. But I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.”

“I appreciate that, very much. But enough about me, what’s a good-looking young man like you doing, killing time on a curb?”

“Not sure. I don’t think they’re going to arrest me.” The lines of tension around his mouth tightened. “But maybe they should.”

“Now why would you say that?” A gamble, she probably shouldn’t push. She didn’t know Matt, she didn’t know his situation, but she knew loneliness when she saw it. She’d seen it in the mirror for twenty years. Isolated, having little contact with her peers and while Hollywood had more than a few child stars, scheduling conflicts and demands left little time for girl talk, mall-hopping or confidences. Add competition for jobs and it just became worse.

“I don’t know if I can put it in words, ma’am.”

“You know, I say that all the time, or I say that’s why I memorize scripts and don’t write them. I’ve been spouting other people’s words for years. But if this were a scene in a movie, I’d tell you just to say it plain and let the chips fall. How often do you get a chance to just spit out what’s on your mind, to hell with any consequences?” She crossed her fingers and hoped for the right thing to say.

“If you want it plain, ma’am, I’m twenty-four and I’m finished. Done. No prospects. I’m fit, but not fit for duty. I’m strong, but not strong enough. My country needs me, my men need me, and my mama needs me, and I’m no good to any of them.” The dull note in his voice worried her more than the statement.

“How are you done, Matt?”

“Inner ear. One little bone. It’s cracked. Can’t even see the stupid thing and it messes me up sometimes…messes me up enough that the docs wouldn’t clear me. The Corps discharged me, honorably, but discharged nonetheless. My guys are still in the sandbox and I’m here, sitting in a bar where a couple of dumbasses get into a fistfight over an order of fries. It’s just so damn stupid.”

Twenty-four had been a banner year for her. Three movies filmed back-to-back with a fourth script waiting to be memorized. She’d been nominated for a People’s Choice at that age.

“It’s hard to be told you’re done. You can’t do what you want to do, what you’re good at because of a little bone or the preconception that you can’t do it anymore, that you aren’t sexy enough or alluring enough to put the butts in the seats. You’re good enough to play mom or teacher or nurse, but not to play the love interest or the lead.”

Matt blinked at her slowly and she blushed. She was supposed to be listening, not bitching about her career.

“I’m sorry. That kind of just poured out.”

“Ma’am, you’re way too sexy to be a teacher or someone’s mom. If you’d been my teacher, I’d have paid a hell of a lot more attention in class.”

“You’re sweet, thank you. But the point I tried to make before I dove off the pier of self-pity is I’ve been judged by preconceptions since I started in this business. I can try to tell myself it was easy all through my twenties and that those lead roles fell in my lap, but they didn’t. First, I had to fight being seen as Amy Benning, and then I had to fight being seen as the quirky romantic comedy lead, and it’s impossible to break out of typecasting in Hollywood. I can blame it on my age because thirty-four is dried and done, or I can prove them wrong and fight for the roles I want to fight for, make my own kind of movies.”

The thought struck a chord. Take the supporting parts, use the money to fund smaller budget productions or even get a clause in the contract that would allow a contribution. She could take the higher paying empty gigs to pay for those with soul and reinvent herself again. Tucking that thought away for examination later, she focused on Matt.

“Comparing an actress to a Marine…I’m assuming you’re a Marine.” At his nod, she smiled and continued. “Comparing being an actress to being a Marine is like comparing soufflé to a porterhouse steak, I get that. But you can’t tell me being a Marine, going through training, and into combat was easy. It shouldn’t be easy adjusting to not serving actively. It’s just a different kind of training.”

His slow, owlish blink emboldened her.

“And you’re a good guy or you wouldn’t be sitting here beating yourself up about being sad. But we need to be sad. Sad helps us appreciate happiness and appreciate what we need and what we want. You know what you want, you just have to find a way to do it.”

“I do?”

“Of course you do, Matt.”

Lauren jumped at James’ quiet voice. He’d crept up on them and she’d been so focused on Matt, she’d failed to notice. Blushing guiltily, she shot him an apologetic look, but he held out his hand, a request and offer rolled into one. She accepted the assistance and he lifted her effortlessly to her feet.

“You want to help your brothers. You want to help your family. You just think you can’t because the medical discharge papers say your ear inhibits your performance. But that just keeps you out of combat.” James’ certain, steady voice offered calmness. He squeezed her hand lightly, holding her close and a thrill zinged through her.

Matt climbed to his feet, brow furrowed. “It sounds easy.”

“So did basic until the first time you had to run ten miles, do a hundred pushups, then run another ten.” Her date’s smile twisted with a hint of wryness. “It got easier, but it wasn’t easy to start with.”

“No, sir. It wasn’t.” Matt scuffed a shoe against the curb, the deep lines around his mouth and eyes easing. He looked at his car and then back to James, as though really seeing the two for the first time. “I’m sorry, Doc. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine, Matt. It’s what I’m here for. But you are getting some homework after this.”

“Yeah?”

“Lauren.” James paused to look at her. “Would you give us a couple of minutes?”

“Absolutely.” Turning to Matt, she smiled. “Lovely to meet you, Matt. Thank you for listening.”

A faintly puzzled look marred the ghost of a smile flirting with his lips, but still a smile. “Nice to meet you, ma’am….” She made it three steps away when he continued. “And ma’am? If you ever want to try out for Mrs. Robinson, I’ll be available.”

She swallowed a laugh and gave him a solemn nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

At the car, she dusted off her skirt before sliding back into the passenger seat. James joined her a few minutes later, his features set in a stern expression.

“You’re not mad, are you?” She shouldn’t have given into the impulse, but he looked so forlorn.

“No.” He wrapped his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m not mad. But that wasn’t the safest option. Matt’s issues can give him a hair-trigger temper. Staying in the car was as much for your safety as it was his. That said….” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “That said, thank you. You listened to him. You heard him. What’s more, you made him hear you. That hasn’t been an easy road and it’s far from over, but he’s back on the path and more than ready to be there.”