by J. F. Smith
Travis asked with the face of a three year old eager for an ice cream, “Can we go out, Matt?”
“You mean, like on a date? Sure. I was kind of hoping you’d spend the weekend with me if you can.” Matt loved how his morning was turning out even better than the night before.
“No. Wait, I mean, yes, I’d be crazy not to spend the weekend with you. But no, not like a date. I mean, I’m asking if you’d… you know… date me. Jesus, that sounds corny.”
Before Matt could answer, Travis’ face clouded and he said, “Maybe I shouldn’t do this. It won’t be fair to you.”
Now it was Matt’s turn to feel like the three year old, this time one that had just had his ice cream stolen from him. “Wait… what? Travis, don’t you fucking offer me that and then turn around and try to take it away. Why do you say that?”
“It’s too much to ask, Matt,” said Travis, the sparkle in his eyes dwindling. “It’s too much to expect of anyone. I’ll be gone for stretches of time. Some of those times I won’t be able to tell you where I’ll be. Sometimes I won’t even know when I’ll get back. It’s too much waiting and worrying to put you through. It’ll be hard on you, Matt. It’d be hard on anyone. It’ll be hard on me knowing what I’m doing to you.”
Matt said, “And so it’s better to give me the best night of my life with the promise of more of this, and then take it away? Knowing I’d be worried sick about you anyway? Uh uh. Hell no. I want you more than I’ve wanted anything else in this world, and we’ll work the rest out.”
Travis smiled again, feeling better and the sparkle started to return to his dark eyes, but he was still a little leery of what he was asking of Matt.
He said, “There is one other thing, though.”
Matt waited for whatever other shoe was about to drop.
“No boyfriend of mine is going to be afraid of the water, Matt. I practically live in the water, and you’re going to have to get used to it.”
Matt felt like he had swallowed a bucket of ice cubes at one time. He cringed and asked, pleading, “Awww, shit. You wouldn’t really make me do that, would you?”
“I surf. I swim. I ski. I scuba. You’re going to have to get used to some of this. But I promise you, I’ll be there and take it one step at a time with you, and we’ll go at your pace. Are you willing to try?” asked Travis.
“Fine. When I wind up drowning, and I will, it’ll be all your fault,” said Matt, teasing him, but secretly apprehensive. But if he couldn’t trust Travis, who in the world could he trust?
Travis’ eyes peered intently at Matt, seeing past Matt’s teasing and superficial bravery. He put his hand behind Matt’s neck as they lay face to face. “There’s no way I’ll ever let anything happen to you. You know this.”
“I know,” said Matt. “I just like hearing you say it.”
Travis asked, “And speaking of this kind of stuff, how do you feel about jumping out of airplanes?” The corner of his mouth almost imperceptibly twisted up into a smile.
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
~~~~~
Bret said, “Ok, I get it! You dog, you! You let Brian hang himself so you could ditch him knowing you had this Navy hottie waiting in the wings. Matt! I didn’t think you were capable of this kind of stuff! I’m so proud of you!” He pretended to sniff and wipe away an imaginary tear from his eye.
Matt turned a little red and said, “Chili, that’s not the way it happened at all. I knew Travis was gay. He trusted me with that when I met him on the ship, but nothing happened until last night.”
Bret looked over at Jim, pretending to not buy it, “Shit, he’s become a good liar! Jimmy Bob, our little boy is all grown up now!”
Jim laughed, and Travis did, too.
Matt and Travis had met Bret and Jim in Byrd Park for the softball game scheduled that afternoon. They were almost seriously late for it, because as soon as Matt had put his softball uniform on, Travis had gotten totally turned on by how he looked in it and they wound up getting undressed again and having sex before they could get their clothes back on and leave for the game.
Matt had introduced Travis as one of the sailors he had met on the Iwo Jima and become friendly with, but left it at that. Bret and Jim could tell how happy Matt was, which made them very happy for him. They had been worried about Matt from the night before when he hadn’t answered his phone, so Matt explained to them how he ran into several of the other guys from the ship, and then found Travis waiting on him at his apartment.
Jim was the one that pressed Travis a little bit, wanting to know what he did in the Navy, and was it the Iwo Jima he was assigned to. The questions had made Matt a little nervous because he had not thought about people asking these kinds of questions. But Travis had good, generic answers for exactly these questions. He explained to Jim that his platoon was stationed in Little Creek and didn’t have a specific ship they were assigned to. They filled in gaps as needed on different ships at different times. Travis explained how happy he was to find out he wasn’t really that far from Matt, because he planned on seeing a lot of him.
Travis had been watching Bret study him through the conversation, and finally decided he had to give him a little bit of a hard time. He said to Bret, “You know, Bret, my eyes are up here.”
Bret shot back, “Hey! I didn’t make you wear the tight t-shirt!”
“It’s just a t-shirt.”
“It’s a tight t-shirt. In all kinds of right ways. And don’t dangle a catnip toy in front of a cat and not expect it to become fascinated and start pawing at it.”
Travis grinned and looked over at Matt, who gave him a whatya-gonna-do shrug.
Even Jim scratched at the back of his head, blushed a little and said, “I kinda have to go with Chili on this one.”
Blake, the coach of the team, called Matt over for a moment before the game started. As Matt walked over, he looked back and could see both Bret and Jim leaning in on Travis and talking to him rather intently. Matt suddenly worried about leaving Travis alone with those two, even for a few minutes. He answered Blake’s question as quickly as possible, and ran back over to them, but Bret and Jim seemed to already be done with whatever third degree grilling they were giving Travis. Travis didn’t seem too concerned, though.
A few other team members, including Lane, Tommy and Sal, all wanted to meet Matt’s new friend, so he introduced him around some. Tommy and Sal wound up chatting with Bret and Jim, distracting them, so Matt leaned over to Travis and asked him what they had talked about when he had stepped away.
Travis smiled and said, “Nothing, really.”
“It didn’t look like nothing," said Matt, "and I know those two pretty well. And don’t try that ‘I can’t talk about it’ bullshit you love hiding behind.”
Travis said, “They’re looking out for you, Matt. It’s obvious how much they care about you. But they said you had been treated pretty rotten by your last boyfriend. Bret said I’d better not hurt you or he’d cut my nuts off.”
Matt turned white. “Sorry, Travis. I guess they’re a little over-protective.”
Travis leaned back a little and said, “It’s fine. I told Bret that if I ever hurt you, I’d give him the knife to do it with.”
He added, “Speaking of protective, I got a text from Petey a little while ago.” He held out his phone for Matt to see it. It said:
Met Matt’s ex-BF last night. Guys a tool. If I see him again, I’ll probably kill him.
Matt chuckled and said, “Petey’s too much sometimes. He cracks me up!”
“Mmmmm,” murmured Travis doubtfully, “I don’t think he’s completely kidding. You probably really ought to make sure he and Brian don’t run into each other again. You know how Petey feels about you now. He talked about you constantly during our training last week.”
Travis slapped Matt on his knee and said, “I’ve gotta run to the bathroom. Back in a minute.”
He headed off and Bret and Jim pounced o
n Matt.
Bret said, “Are you sure he’s in the Navy? I’ve seen Navy guys and he doesn’t look like Navy. He looks more like one of the guys out of Soldier Of Fortune magazine. And I know what those guys look like because I spend thirty minutes a week at the grocery store flipping through it and ogling the pictures.”
Matt rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, Bret. He’s really in the Navy.”
“He’s hot. If you get tired of him, I’ll take him off your hands,” offered Bret.
“If you like him like this, wait till you see some of the photos I got of him and the other guys from the ship. You’ll really get a kick out of those,” teased Matt.
Jim said, “I like him, Matt. I can tell he’s really crazy about you. And he is good looking. Really masculine. He’s probably got the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.”
Bret got pissed at Matt and spat at him, “And what the fuck is with you anyway? That you can go to Syria, get fucking kidnapped, and wind up on a Navy ship where you happen to meet a fucking hot, butch, gay Navy guy that’s now all over you? Huh? What the fuck is that? I hate you.”
“Sorry, Chiliburger,” said Matt, pitifully.
Travis came back from the bathroom just as the game was ready to start. Matt stepped out of the stands to go to his position in the outfield, but Travis stopped him before he could take his place on the field.
“So, did I pass muster with Bret and Jim?” asked Travis, a knowing grin on his face.
“You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about. Bret’s pretty furious with me for trading so far up above Brian so quickly.”
Matt glanced back at Bret in the stands. He said, “Trav, if you can’t handle being alone with Bret the whole time, you can come sit with me in a few minutes.”
Travis got a slightly funny look on his face and just stared at Matt.
“You ok?” asked Matt.
Travis’ lips pulled down slightly. He said softly, “Trav… You called me Trav. Chris was the only person to ever call me Trav.”
Matt felt bad about stepping on something that was special between Travis and his older brother, Chris. “I’m sorry, Travis. I didn’t know. I won’t…”
Travis grabbed Matt and hugged him tightly. “No, I like you calling me that. I’ve missed it. God, I’ve missed it.”
He kissed Matt deeply and without regard to the crowd in the stands watching the two of them. The kiss was intense enough that even Matt’s hat got knocked off his head, and both of them forgot all about the game trying to start.
When they stopped, they realized the mostly-gay crowd was cheering and hooting at them. The umpire walked over to them and told them the make-out area was clearly marked behind the stands and to take it back there. Travis bowed for the crowd and smacked Matt on his ass to send him out to start the game.
Chapter 31 – Ironsides
What Ironsides, or The ‘Sides as the locals called it, lacked in cleanliness, polish and general upkeep, it more than made up for in authenticity. Newer places, such as The Eight Bells, were right on the beach, cleaner, better advertised, more popular with tourists, definitely more expensive, and every bit as fake as most of the people in them.
The ‘Sides, though, was as real as it got, and the people that went there routinely did their best to keep the tourists away. It wasn’t too far from the beach proper, but still a little bit off of Pacific Avenue and very poorly marked, which helped the secret stay secret. The Marines, sailors, and other locals often on their way to The ‘Sides might be stopped and asked by tourists where the best bar in Virginia Beach was – you know, the authentic nautical one. Invariably, those poor souls would be given the name of any place other than The ‘Sides. And if the Marine, sailor, or other local was feeling particularly mean-spirited, they’d get directed to the Red Lobster that was nearby.
The bar was dark, often a little too smoky, loud, and usually packed. It was frequented a lot by the Marines and Navy personnel stationed nearby, but also by crews of the local fishing and charter boats. This place had as much maritime history to it as the waterfront towns surrounding it. The beat up tables and booths were made of heavily varnished teak wood, sticky and thick feeling. Around the circumference of the entire bar, up along the ceiling and hanging down, were examples of every imaginable knot known to sailors anywhere in the world. It was a huge honor for any ship crewmember to bring in a knot and have it deemed worthy of hanging up in The ‘Sides. The more obscure and difficult the knot was, the more prominent position it would get on display. Some of them had to be twenty-five years old if they were a day. The bronze ship’s bell occupied a spot on a pitted, split post near the cash register at one end of the bar. It only got rang when somebody passed out drunk in the bar. Which is to say once, maybe twice, a night. More on the weekends.
Given the popularity among the Navy and Marines, and plus the presence of cheap alcohol, it wasn’t unusual for the rivalry between the two branches to manifest itself a little too physically. Most of the rest of the patrons took it in stride and ignored it. Tug, the current owner for the last fifteen years, would usually throw a hot pot of coffee on whatever two might be thumping their chests at each other and tell them to get the fuck out. Tug wasn’t easily intimidated, despite the fact that he was overweight, probably only about five foot seven, and walked with a limp due to a failing hip.
All of this wasn’t to say that there weren’t people from out of town there. On the contrary, if you came to Virginia Beach and knew someone that was local, it was often a point of pride that you were taken to The ‘Sides. Family and friends were welcome, and tourists could go to hell.
Matt decided he loved this place. They had come there the Saturday night of Matt’s first weekend visiting the guys on their home turf, and they were well on their way to getting drunk. Just one week after the guys all came back from what Matt now referred to as their “boy scout jamboree” and surprised him in Richmond, one week after he and Travis started… whatever it was they had started… Petey had insisted Matt come spend the weekend with him and whoever else in the platoon was around. Most of the guys lived in or very near Virginia Beach, which was convenient to the Little Creek Amphibious Naval Base where they were stationed.
Matt had desperately wanted to stay with Travis, but Petey was a pit bull about how the whole weekend would go. Travis had laughed it off, saying he’d be there with him and Petey the whole weekend, but both knew it would be incredibly frustrating to be that close and not be together.
Matt’s first night in Virginia Beach had been… odd. Petey had gotten several of the guys, including Travis, Wasp, Desantos, Fincher, Dillinger, and Geoff, together and they had gone out to a Mexican restaurant for dinner and too much tequila. That part was fine; he was even able to sit next to Travis and brush his leg up against Travis’ occasionally. But later, when Matt was back at Petey’s, getting ready to crash for the night, Matt had assumed he’d sleep on the couch. But to Matt’s amazement, Petey pointed at the far side of his bed and told Matt that was his side. Definitely not what Matt was expecting from the guy that called him “faggot” and “cocksucker” pretty much every chance he got, even if it was just roughhousing. It was like it never entered Petey’s mind that Matt would sleep anywhere else. That part was only a little odd, but then it got odder. Matt stripped down to his boxers and got in bed, and then watched as Petey stripped down buck naked and crawled in next to him. It caught Matt off guard and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant. Petey, though, just rolled over and promptly fell asleep, so Matt didn’t overanalyze it. It was good, though, to know that Petey really was that utterly comfortable with him, like he had known him all his life. So Matt lay there in Petey’s bed, with a six foot four Navy SEAL naked and conked out next to him, as if it was something that happened all the time. Matt started to agree with the other guys… there was just no explaining Petey most of the time.
Now on his second night in Virginia Beach, close enough to smell Travis but not touch, Matt was handling it by getting lit.
It wasn’t helping that Petey was partial to shots of Southern Comfort, and insisted Matt come along for the ride.
By 11:30 that night, Petey was totally wankered. Matt had stopped doing the shots earlier when Petey was too gone to notice he was doing them alone, so he wasn’t as bad off. Travis had done a shot or two at first with them, then kept it to light beer after that, so he was still mostly in his right mind. Baya and Fincher were there, too, but had wandered off to talk to a few other guys they knew for a little while. They probably had smelled trouble brewing with Petey getting drunk and decided distance was a good thing.
Petey said to Matt, “I don’t like the way that faggot’s looking at me.”
Matt knew who Petey was talking about. There was a Marine nearby that hadn’t looked at Petey a single time that night. But drunk Petey had made up his mind that the guy was scoping him out.
Petey added, “It’s these clothes. That homo’s macking on me because of these clothes.”
Before Matt could even respond, Petey said, “That’s it! He’s going down!”
Petey put his drink down on the table he and Matt were leaning against and started over towards the Marine to cause some trouble. Matt looked at Travis, giving him a what’s-up-his-butt look. Travis calmly put his own drink down and went after Petey. Petey roughly shouldered his way through the crowd, rolling the sleeves up on his new shirt in anticipation of a fight. And in a bar full of men that didn’t mind a scuffle, even they took one look at Petey pushing them out of his way and let it go. Travis caught up to Petey before the hapless Marine had any idea he was in the crosshairs, hooked his fingers in his jeans and stopped him from going any further.
Petey looked back at Travis in a slight fog. Travis didn’t even try to explain that the Marine hadn’t looked at him a single time all night. He said, “Colorado, you know what Tug said about you picking fights in here. You’re gonna get banned if you keep this up. C’mon, Matt’ll buy you another round. He’s been macking on you all night and it doesn’t seem to bother you at all.”