“A number, miss?”
“A number of signups?”
“My personal goal is just one more before I head home for the evening,” I tell her honestly.
“Well then, let me help you get home a little faster tonight,” she says.
“Thank you, I do appreciate it. Of course, I hope you’ll consider a future career with us too. We have some great opportunities to travel and see the world. It’s not a bad life at all.” I move around behind my booth and open the binder to retrieve a simple form for her to jot down her name and phone number.
“Sounds interesting,” she says. I’m shocked that she’s filling the form out. I didn’t think I’d keep her attention for more than a second. She takes the pen from the countertop and scribbles her information down.
“I appreciate you taking the time to fill this out. If it’s okay, I may follow up with you to see if you’d like to hear more about some of the other benefits we offer.”
“Sure, definitely,” she says with an abundance of excitement. I think she’s pulling my chain, but I’ve been wrong before. “Yeah. Give me a call, and we’ll set something up.” She winks at me and points her finger in my direction. I can immediately see that the agitation has returned, but at least I have her name and number. “Later, soldier.”
Funny.
I look down at the information she jotted down. Maybe it’s her real name, but I’m pretty sure no one has the last four digits of 8008 in their number. BOOB. That’s what she left me with. Her boob’s number and a little note that says, “Maybe another time. Thanks for the chat.” She thinks I’m a boob.
This is the fucking fabulous life of Denver Rossdale, folks!
Chapter One
Denver
Apiece of paper with words I don’t need to re-read at the moment is placed into my hand, ending a long chapter of my life. For every day throughout the last eight years of hard-core physical labor throughout the last eight years, it’s hard to comprehend how simple this ending is—this last day.
I debated whether I should re-enlist with the consideration of retiring someday, but Aya needs more than this life can offer her, so this is it: my last day serving on active duty with the Marine Corps.
“Good luck to you, Staff Sergeant Rossdale. Semper Fi.”
“Thank you,” I say with a quick salute.
It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about this day for the last eight months, but I feel like I’m kind of free-falling without any gear attached. I don’t remember much about life as a civilian because too much has happened since then, but this will be good. Everything is going to be great. I just have to figure out who the fuck I am. Denver. Not just Rossdale. I have a first name, and I'll use it now.
I grab the handle of the glass door, staring through the eagle, globe, and anchor emblem as I pull open the door and walk out into the blinding sun. That’s it. It’s over. O-V-E-R.
Walking away now. “Bye, everyone.” Oh, wait ... no one is here. No one cares that it’s my last day.
At some point, I thought there’d be people shouting me on like I was finishing some marathon, but now I realize that isn’t how this all works, especially when you’re a recruiter. It’s a lonely work life. Everyone has their first day, all the days in between, and their last day.
With a quick glance down at my watch, I see it’s a little later than I wanted it to be. There were still a few papers left for me to go through, and it took a bit longer than I expected. All I know is, it’s time to get the hell off this island.
I slide into my pickup, throw the hunk of metal into reverse, and pull out onto the main road. I’d do about anything to press my foot down to the ground and meet that feeling of freedom—or just the wind in my face, but it’s best if I follow the speed limit during my first ten minutes as a civilian again.
Thankfully, Molli only lives a few minutes away so I should still be able to make it to the airport on-time. Molli’s house is in the center of a development full of fifties-styled houses. She likes “the old feel” she’s told me, but for a woman in her twenties, I’m not sure I’d agree with her choice of style. Plus, she pays out of the ass to live there, and it’s not even near the damn shore. Whatever floats her boat, though. It’s not my money.
I pull into the driveway, finding Molli and Aya waiting with smiles, waving me toward them. I drop the gear into park and hop out to meet them.
Balloons fly up behind the two of them as they both shout, “Congratulations!”
“You remembered,” I joke with them. “You guyssss.”
“Denver, don’t be so coy,” Molli says. “This is a big deal and a big day for you. I wish you’d stick around long enough so we could celebrate tonight.” I can’t stick around. I have to get away from this island.
“I know, I know. I move fast, but I’m restarting my life, and I don’t want to be sitting in purgatory while I do that.”
“Purgatory?” she questions with an arched brow. “This is hardly purgatory, Denver. Please.”
