Liam's List (7 page)

And with those final parting words, Chelsea
grabbed her bag and stalked off without so much as a backward
glance.

Game. Set. Match.
Chelsea had just served Tommy his ass on a
platter.

It had been a long night.
A very, very long night. And after that
Tommy slash Elena-gate
scandal back
at the club, I was starving. Sometimes a girl just needs to stuff
her face with fries. Even if it was three in the
morning.

As I swerved into the drive-thru and rolled
to a stop, Chelsea leaned across my lap and shouted into the
intercom. “I’ll have a vodka on the rocks with olives, please.”

“
Miss,” said the attendant
in a dry voice, “this is McDonald’s.”

“
In that case,” Chelsea
amended, “I’ll have a McVodka, please, kind sir.”

“
I’m so sorry,” I
apologized profusely. “Please just ignore my friend. I’ll have five
orders of large fries. And a McCafe latte.”

From the back seat, Katie yelled her order
over my shoulder. “And I’ll have a quarter pounder with cheese, a
Filet-o-Fish, a Buffalo Ranch McChicken, and a Diet Coke.”

Chelsea barked, “And don’t forget my
McVodka!”

“
Chels!” Katie hissed.
“You need to calm your tits.”

Chelsea shot back, “And you need to undo the
calamity in your mammaries.”

“
Mammaries is not even a
word,” I said. “It’s mammary glands.”

Katie cocked her head to one side. “I think
she’s right.”

I leveled a cool gaze at
her. “I’m
know
I’m right.”

“
You always have to be
right, don’t you, Viv?”

“
Well, who doesn’t?” I
countered. “Why would anyone enter an argument just so they could
be proven wrong?”

“
See!” Chelsea gave me a
long, pointed look. “See what I’m saying? You’re gonna make a
kickass lawyer someday. And I’m gonna be so proud of
you.”

“
Hey, I’m the one who’s
proud of you!” I placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a quick
squeeze. “You were right to tell Tommy to fuck off. If Elena wants
to steal your man, there’s no better revenge than letting her keep
him.”

Chelsea nodded and the humor slowly slipped
from her expression. “I think it’s best that I ended things with
him. We never really had any sort of a cerebral connection.”

“
I know,” Katie stated
matter-of-factly. “
Himbo
is dumber than algae.”

Chelsea stared ahead with
a sort of faraway look on her face. “Whenever I tried to have a
conversation with him, like a
real
conversation, we never ever got anywhere. All he
wanted to do was make out and fuck.” She wrung her hands in her
lap. “And he kept complaining about how I wasn’t
cutesy
enough.” Saying
the word aloud actually made her gag. “Ugh. I can’t stand it when
women put on this fake-ass baby voice when they talk to men. I
mean, what’s the point of speaking in a voice that cannot feasibly
belong to a woman my age?”

“
None,” I said.

Chelsea let out a heavy sigh. “You know, I
always felt this pressure to dumb myself down ’cause that’s what
Tommy liked. Of course, I never succumbed to that pressure, but it
was always there.”

Turning to her, I said, “Chels, if Tommy
liked a dumber version of you, then you should have dumped his ass
a long time ago and found yourself a smarter version of him.”

“
You have a point.” She
drew a deep breath. “I think I handled myself pretty well just now.
Don’t you think I deserve a medal for not punching Tommy and Elena
in the face?”

I pulled to a stop at the pick-up window and
handed my Visa to the attendant. “You deserve two.”

“
Well, you deserve a
medal, too.” Chelsea cast me a meaningful look. “For ditching
that
d-bag
Brody.”

Hearing his name brought
all the suppressed memories back to the forefront. Brody, my ex, he
made love
hurt
.
He played mind games, belittled me, and put me down. He disguised
his need for control under sarcasm, jokes, and puns. He could go
from subtle digs to outright insults. And then there was the
emotional blackmail, the rage, and the jealousy that inevitably
escalated into heated arguments.

I guess at the time it seemed like all the
red flags for emotional abuse were obvious. But I refused to see it
or even accept it. I think the fact that Brody wasn’t always
hurtful made leaving him harder for me than the abuse itself.

I was attached, and I had seen a person in
him that was capable of being a wonderful man. In some ways, you
could say I was suffering the fallout of a fairytale beginning.
Brody had swept me off my feet and things were great at first.

But not for long.

Even so, I stayed in a
relationship with him for three years even though he was eroding my
self-esteem, eroding
me
. I began to fix things that might prompt an outburst from
him and act in ways I knew would made happy. Brody always made me
believe I was the one causing all the problems in our relationship.
More often than not, he ended his verbal assaults by accusing me of
provoking his abuse and telling me I deserved it. Brody was like
that, always venting his anger at me with complete
impunity.

I was living in a world of
hurt, yet I couldn’t let go of the Brody who was clearly
gone.
That was until Liam walked into my
life.

Liam, who showed me that
love does not equal control. Liam, who helped me reclaim my voice,
reclaim my
self
.
Liam, who helped me be
me
again. No one had ever made me feel as accepted
as Liam did.

And I’d since learned that before any girl
diagnosed herself with depression or low self-esteem, she should
first make sure she wasn’t dating an asshole. Or surrounding
herself with assholes, for that matter.

I learned the hard way, and it appeared
Chelsea was learning the hard way, too.

Minutes later, we were coasting down the
freeway, and I was munching on some golden fries as I sang along to
Beyoncé, punctuating my tone with big bends and tiny dips.

“
So…” Chelsea began, in
obvious deference to my diva-like crooning. “What does it feel like
to belong to Liam Sykes—one of the sexiest men alive?”

Bringing out my inner
Sasha Fierce, my inner
Queen
Bey
, I said in my
sassiest voice, “
Girrrrrl
, I do not belong to anyone.
I belong to
me
.”

“
Bow down,” she said
dramatically, mimicking the sun salutation yoga pose.
“
Queen Bey
is
back.”

I laughed. “I don’t know about that.”

“
Sooo,” Chelsea said,
drawing out the word. “Did you and
your
man
ever end up sexting?”

“
Um…” I hedged, keeping my
eyes on the road. “We did a little more than just sext.”

“
Wait!” Katie lightly
tapped my shoulder. “Did you fly to Iraq and get straight up in the
bone zone?”

“
No, Katie.” I glanced at
the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze briefly. “I did not fly to
Iraq. We had a Skype session.” I smiled and was further amused to
catch Chelsea smiling as well. “What?” I asked her. “You’ve never
done it before?”

“
If you’re asking me if
I’ve ever finger-blasted myself in front of my laptop while Tommy
watched me get off, then the answer is yes.” Chelsea put a hand
over her mouth, laughing into it until tears streaked her face.
“And when we did it, Tommy wasn’t even out of state or out of the
country. He was just down the block in his apartment!”

My own smile faltered as I fell back into
thought. Liam wasn’t just down the block. He was thousands of miles
away in Iraq, out on patrol in a war-torn country.

I reminded myself to
remain strong for him, to keep myself firmly planted in the
present, and not let myself be consumed with uncertainties
and
what ifs.

Chelsea’s laughter petered out and the look
on her face softened, as if she somehow sensed what I was feeling.
“When will you see Liam again?” she asked.

“
December,” I answered.
“All US troops will be pulled out of Iraq by the end of the
year.”

She waited. After a long pause, she spoke
again. “That’s only six months away. It’s not so bad, is it?”

My heart cinched into a tight knot. “Six
months isn’t that bad. I just wish I could see him sooner.”

“
You will.” Katie pressed
a warm hand on my shoulder. “December will be here before you know
it.”

“
Listen up, sistas!”
Chelsea whipped out her signature diva snap. “Here’s what we’ll do.
Tonight! My place! We’ll all hold hands and have a prayer circle so
Liam can come home soon!”

“
Chels!” I shook my head,
and it was all I could do to keep from cracking up with laughter.
“In the condition you’re in right now, the only prayer circle we’re
gonna have is around the toilet bowl.”

“
Hey.” A frown replaced
her earlier smile. “I’m fine now. I’m not gonna puke my guts
out.”

“
Yes, you are!” Katie and
I said in unison. “And you’re gonna want us to hold your hair
back
and
braid
it, too.”

“
Really?” Chelsea’s face
was a picture.

“
Really.” My voice went
serious.

Chelsea blinked at me, her expression
cautiously hopeful. “But we can still have a prayer circle, can’t
we? So Liam can come home soon?”

“
Sure.” I smiled slightly,
even though I knew it was just the alcohol talking. Chelsea
couldn’t say a prayer to save her life. I drew a deep breath before
adding, “So Liam can come home
safe.
”

Chapter Seven

Liam

Karmah
was located on the northeast of Fallujah in the Al Anbar
province, and it was one of the most violent cities in Iraq. With
the absence of a wall around the city, anti-American insurgents
were able to move freely in and out of the area. And on top of
that, Karmah’s rugged landscape was like the land of Cain and
Abel—Sunni and Shia divided, Muslim brothers killing Muslim
brothers.

Attacks on coalition forces were a daily
occurrence in this city; both aerial mortar attacks as well as
small arms attacks were mounted on coalition patrols, convoys, and
the Forward Operating Base.

Just last week, four marines, fifteen Iraqi
sheiks, and the mayor of Karmah had been killed when a suicide
bomber dressed as an Iraqi policeman detonated an explosive vest at
a meeting of tribal sheiks. Now Sunni and Shia conflicts were on
the rise. Casualties were mounting, direct confrontation was
escalating, the city was rapidly falling into chaos, and we didn’t
have the troops we needed to succeed there.

Karmah had essentially disintegrated into the
Wild West.

Or as the military put it—Karmah was
destabilized.

So when my commanding officer informed me
that my platoon would be sent in to Karmah in two days to conduct a
mission, it certainly gave me pause.

I was the second lieutenant platoon leader of
Bravo Company, and my unit was tasked to support the First Marine
Expeditionary Force, mostly acting as ‘Force Multiplier.’

Our mission was straightforward: conduct an
aggressive assault against a known al-Qaida target house in Lahib,
a farming village on the edge of Karmah.

The mission had to be executed carefully and
precisely. The house itself was a dangerous target, and taking it
would involve storming into a building that was a known threat. I
feared tripwires that would set off an explosive as soon as we
entered.

Jim Shelby, my platoon sergeant, looked at me
across the room. An unspoken message passed between us. The same
concerns that plagued me were etched on his face. But neither he
nor I were in any position to question the order.

When the briefing ended, Shelby and I went
over the mission in greater detail, combing carefully through the
plan, double and triple-checking everything.

He and I had grown increasingly reliant on
each other for honest assessments of our decisions and strategies
for our platoon.

Later, as we headed back to our quarters,
Shelby turned to me and said, “Write your letters.”

I nodded once. I didn’t have to ask him what
he meant.

A final note in the event that I was
killed.

A
just in case
letter, so to
speak.

When I walked into my CHU, I found Merrick
hunkered down on his bed with a pen and notepad on his lap.

I knew he, like everyone else in my unit, was
clear on the significance of the mission and the dangers of it.

“
You all right?” I asked
him.

“
Yeah.” I heard him sigh.
“I’m all right. Got one letter done. One more to go.”

Writing a letter might seem like a
melodramatic thing to do, but just in case shit happened and I
didn’t make it out alive, I wanted to offer Vivian and my mom some
comfort and express my love one last time.