Beefcake

Sergeant Corey Jakes had seen a lot of shit overseas and still saw it during the cab ride to her apartment. Still dressed in camouflage fatigues with her raven hair in a bun, she stared blankly out of the shotgun window with visions of war cycling through her head. Every bullet she fired, every mine her squad mates stepped on, every drone bombing marked as “friendly fire”, she couldn’t wait to have this horrible shit erased from her memory.

A long process it may be, she knew she had the support of her green-haired boyfriend “Froggy” McKee. From all the times they Skyped together, his eyelids were baggy and his face was longer than the Nile River, probably just as wet too. Corey hated leaving him for such long periods of time, but the life of a soldier didn’t discriminate when it came to who fought on the frontlines.

She stared into space for so long that the taxi driver had to snap his fingers several times to wake her up. “We’re here, Miss Jakes. That’ll be twenty dollars and sixty cents,” he said as he stopped the meter.

Corey pulled a twenty and ten out of her wallet and languidly said, “Keep the change.” The cab driver thanked her with a shit-eating grin on his face before popping the trunk and allowing his passenger to get her duffle bag.  The marine absentmindedly waved goodbye and the taxi drove away.

She stared at the apartment complex for a while and took several deep breaths before ascending the stairs to room B22. Would Froggy even recognize her after everything she went through? Would she open the door and find him with another woman? Would he even be alive? On one hand, the excitement of seeing her supportive boyfriend again sent chills through her scalp. On the other, her heart raced for reasons other than traumatic visions.

Sergeant Jakes wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and entered the unlocked apartment declaring, “Honey, I’m home!” The next words out of her mouth were anything but loving: “What the fuck?!”

Froggy recognized Corey just fine, but Corey didn’t recognize him in return. One tour of duty later and Froggy’s newly round stomach bulged out of his sweatpants and T-shirt. His chubby cheeks sagged and his spiky green hair was all over the place. In one hand was a big ass brick of cheddar cheese and in the other was a Diet Mountain Dew (as if the so-called zero calories was going to save him now).

His breathing was labored and intense, like he was trying to suck down a whirlwind full of air. BO radiated off of his armpits like a plutonium rod. The state of the apartment wasn’t any better with pizza boxes and chip wrappers scattered about. There was even an ash try on the coffee table when Froggy didn’t even consider smoking before.

Corey scrunched her face into a warrior’s mug when she angrily whispered, “What the hell happened to you, Froggy? I go away for a few months and this is what you do to yourself?! Weren’t you the one who encouraged me to lose weight before I signed up for the marines? Huh?! Does that shit mean nothing to you now?!”

Froggy struggled to get up from the couch and grunted in pain when he made it to his feet, stretching his back in the process. “It’s nice to see you too, Corey. It would have been nice to see you more often, but you know…Murica and all that.”

“So that’s it, huh?” said Corey as she dropped her duffle bag on the ground. “You ate all this disgusting food and gained all this weight because you were lonely? How do you think I felt?! After a while of losing my friends in combat, I got a little lonely too! That’s kind of what happens when terrorists are firing bullets at you!”

“Nobody forced you to go over there, Corey!” shouted Froggy before coughing and wheezing. A few more labored breaths later, he said, “You’re damn right I got depressed without you. You think I’m in bad shape now, imagine what the fuck would have happened if you came home in a casket.”

“So you want to be in a casket too?” snapped Corey. “You want to take away the one person I have to come home to because you’re too lazy to go to a gym? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard in my life! I hope that brick of cheese was tasty! I hope it was damn good! I hope chewing on that lump of fat made you happy! You don’t look so happy now, do you?! You look like a giant sack of protoplasm! You look like three hundred pounds of chewed bubblegum!”

“Cut the drill sergeant shit, that’s not going to work!” shouted Froggy, again coughing after his outburst. “You want to body shame me? You want to make me feel guilty? Fine! Then go back overseas and shoot some more brown people! Apparently, those squad mates of yours are better friends to you than I ever was! Never mind the fact that I paid your bills and bought you groceries when you were down on your luck without ever once raising my voice! Now you’re going to pull rank on me with that macho marine crops BS?! After everything I’ve done for you?! You’re a hypocrite! You’re a fucking hypocrite, Corey!”

The marine marched up to her boyfriend, flipped the coffee table over, and knocked the cheese and soda out of his hand with brute force. “Do I have your attention now?! Huh?!” No answer, only jitters. “You think this is body shaming?! I could have said a lot worse to you right now! Hell, I’ve said worse shit to the guys I trained in boot camp! If they can take it, you can too! Don’t like it?! Tough shit! I’m not going to stand here and watch you waste away just because you went without me for a little bit of time! I fight like a motherfucker for that reason, Froggy! Every bullet I fire on that battlefield is so I can come home to you in one piece and hopefully spend the rest of my life with you! But now…I don’t even recognize you anymore!”

Froggy pulled Corey closer with her shirt firmly death-gripped in his sausage fingers. He gazed angrily into her soul, as if his chubby belly was full of fire and venom instead of cheddar cheese and soda. Corey’s own stoic gaze refused to change at the threat of this newfound aggression. The marine had left one war and came home to another, neither time would she relent or cower. In fact, she coldly said to her boyfriend, “Take your fucking hands off of me right now or you’re a dead son of a bitch.”

Froggy would release his grip, but only because his hands found a new place: his chest. He coughed and wheezed some more, but this time he plopped backwards onto the couch and had glassy eyes. “Froggy, are you okay?!” asked Corey with genuine concern instead of macho marine BS as her boyfriend called it earlier. He wouldn’t answer her question, only cough violently again. And again. And again, until he had slipped into unconsciousness and fell off the couch with a thud. Corey went back into war mode and scrambled to find her cell phone to call 9-1-1.

Corey Jakes’s recollection of the ambulance ride to the hospital was as blurry as the taxi ride home. The visions of war tormented her even further, now with visions of her aggression towards Froggy piled on top. She kept imagining pulling the trigger at the enemy, but Froggy’s ghost always got in the line of fire and his blood smeared the desert ground. A tear rolled down her stony face as she contemplated why she ever thought it was a good idea to push Froggy over the edge. Why did she push all of her students over the edge as well? Why did she survive when others didn’t? Another tear rolled down, but she wouldn’t acknowledge it, not even to the paramedics pointing it out to her.

The marine sat in the hospital lobby with her head tucked in her hands wondering where the hell it all went wrong. Was she selfish for going overseas? Would it matter where she went in the first place? Could she save everybody with her marine training alone? So many questions swirled through her mind along with images of blood and gore from her tour of duty. Every time she thought she had the answers, a leg would blow apart, a head would burst open, a marine would scream in agony, and Froggy would be left behind all the same.

Corey once again had to be snapped out of her trance to receive the news from the blood-covered surgeon. “I’m sorry, Miss Jakes. Your boyfriend didn’t make it.” Tears flooded her eyes like a river of sorrow no matter how hard she tried to remain stoic and strong. The tears poured even harder when the surgeon gave her a small velvet box and said, “I found this in his pants pocket. I thought you might want to have it.”

The marine’s heart beat like a war drum as she slowly opened the velvet box to find the greatest treasure of them all inside: a diamond ring with a golden band. It sparkled as brightly as stars in the night. Corey clutched the wedding ring in her hand and completely lost any last ounce of stoicism she had left. She plopped back on the bench and allowed her tears to rain down with heavy force.

Froggy had shown her kindness and love in the past and she believed she had repaid him with harshness and evil. Being at war overseas was very different from being at war with a lover. Corey couldn’t separate the two and it killed her deep inside like she had taken the bullets herself. How liberating would a bullet be for her at this point? Maybe the next tour of duty she had would be her last. She had nothing else to fight for and nobody else to fight with. But if she was going down in a suicide mission, she would go down swinging. Once a marine, always a marine. Once a lover, now an empty shell.

How Could You?

Ross Maynard sipped his iced tea and read his newspaper as nonchalantly as he could. Even with a nearly deserted Denny’s like this one, he still had to keep his secret in the public eye. Wouldn’t want a nosy waitress making too much small talk with him. In between reading various stories in the paper, Ross would sneak a quick peek at the front entrance. He knew he had to keep calm at a time like this, but his racing nerves wouldn’t slow down for even a moment.

And then the Mexican bombshell Fatima Ruiz entered the establishment with a frilly red cocktail dress on and a heat-seeking glare. Normally she glided across the room with the grace of an angel. But even in high heels, she pulled off the perfect angry stomp with both fists at her side. Ross took another sip of iced tea to settle himself for the shit sandwich he was about to eat (not because he was dining at Denny’s).

Fatima sat across the booth from Ross and spent the first few seconds staring icicles into her former lover. She tapped on the table with her manicured fingernails and fidgeted with her long black hair, but never once taking that ice cold stare off of Ross. The guilty-looking gentleman took another sip of tea and maintained his silence. This lengthy moment of discomfort melted Ross’s heart like butter on an English muffin. He knew why she was here. He knew he was screwed.

Fatima gazed down at her engagement ring with even more ice cold bitchiness before ripping it off and waving it in front of the smart phone she pulled out of her purse. The sounds of popping and crackling echoed in Ross’s ears while a siren going off in his head told him to get the fuck out of there.

“When were you planning on telling me you were a cop?” asked the stone cold Fatima Ruiz. “Did you think I was stupid? Did you think I would never find out? Do you think this shit is going to end now that my father is in jail? This shit’s not over until I say it is.”

Ross fluffed his jacket and wiped his wet hands on his jeans to buy time. When he had enough of it, he folded his hands across the table and looked seriously into his lover’s eyes. “Your father was the leader of the Ruiz Cartel. He was responsible for too many deaths in this city. He had politicians and policemen alike in his back pocket. Not this time. A lifetime in the hole is where he’s headed. I make no apologies for my detective work, Fatima. It’s my job.”

“No apologies, huh?” asked Fatima rhetorically while nodding. “That’s your job: breaking women’s hearts? I trusted you, Ross. I let you into my home. We made love together. And now you’re telling me that doesn’t mean shit to you?” When Ross refused to show remorse for his actions, Fatima swatted the newspaper off the table and yelled, “What do you have to say for yourself?!”

“Nothing,” said Ross with a frosty tone. His confidence returned and he showed it with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m an FBI agent. It’s what I do. You were an easy target. You were my golden ticket into the Ruiz Compound. That’s how these investigations work, Fatima. I’m sorry you got your heart broken, but it is what it is. None of it was real. It was all business.”

Ross’s stony expression countered Fatima’s criminal rage to where the Latina beauty hung her head and allowed tears to flow softly from her eyes. Agent Maynard slowly reached his hand over to comfort his now ex-lover and she jerked away while shouting, “Don’t touch me!”

The agent allowed the tension between them to simmer down before asking, “So what did you come here for? To let me know that you’re on to me? To deliver some veiled threat? To kill me? Your entire cartel is being rounded up even as we speak. There’s nobody left to help you, Fatima. Your empire is gone. Gone!”

The Latina sobbed some more while gently saying, “I could kill you right now…” When Ross snapped at her to speak up, she snapped back with, “I could kill you right now! I don’t need a gun or a knife. I want to strangle you with my bare hands. I want to rip your balls off. I want to rip out your tongue for all of the lies you’ve told me!”

“If you’re so eager to join your empire behind bars, I’d say go for it. Go ahead. Slap me. Punch me. Do whatever it is you want to do. I don’t give a shit. I’ve got the cuffs in my jacket pocket. You want some new jewelry, be my guest,” said Ross in his increasingly icy tone.

Fatima wiped the tears from her eyes and gingerly picked her head up to meet her ex-lover’s hateful gaze. Her own heartless expression turned into a sadistic smile, but Ross remained undeterred. “Like I said,” she started with. “This isn’t over until I say it is. You think you’ve got the upper hand because you put my family in jail? You think you’re the only one who can play games with people’s emotions? I’m pregnant!”

Ross scoffed, “Bullshit!” and Fatima smiled even harder. She even threw in a few giggles. The detective’s solemn expression grew even darker as he contemplated the potential reality of what his lover just said. “Please tell me you’re bullshitting. This is all a joke, isn’t it?”

“I make no apologies for my detective work, Agent Maynard,” said Fatima. “I’m keeping this baby and I’m going to raise him as my own. You and I are going to have a family together, Ross. Oh wait, you already have a family, don’t you? A wife and daughter of your own. I wonder what they’ll think when they find out daddy impregnated a gangster chick. What will your coworkers think? What will the judge think when I demand child support from you?”

“You don’t know shit about being a mother!” belted Ross.

“And you don’t know shit about being in love. It’s all fake to you, right? I bet your own family doesn’t get to see the side of you that you’ve shown me all this time. All those expensive gifts. All of those happy moments. All of the love we shared. The whole world will know and you can do nothing about it,” grinned Fatima.

“So what are you going to do with that little runt, anyways?” asked Ross hastily. “You’re going to raise him to be a gangster just like every other member of your sick family? You’re going to teach him to murder and steal? You’re not a mother. You’re a damn fool! You’re going to march over to that abortion clinic and…”

“And what? Give you the satisfaction of fucking me over one more time? I don’t think so, honey. We’ve done things your way for the past couple of months. Now we’re going to do them my way. Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to rebuild my empire from the ground up and you’re going to help me. That means getting my peeps out of jail and recruiting new members. I don’t want just some hoods and thugs running around here. I want top brass motherfuckers on my payroll. I want cops, politicians, and other cartel factions. And who knows? Maybe if you do all these lovely things for me, I’ll show you what true love really is. That’s what you seem to be lacking these days,” said Fatima with a red-hot smile and villainous eyes.

“Give me some time to think about it, Fatima,” said Ross.

“Take all the time you need, baby cakes. It’s not like this little guy is going to pop out anytime soon,” said Fatima. She mockingly waved goodbye to her ex-lover and blew him a kiss before turning heel and model-walking out of the restaurant.

Ross tried to keep up his emotionless stature, but he couldn’t help holding his head in his hands and wondering how the hell Fatima Ruiz got the best of him. He thought of his own wife and daughter and all of the happy days at the beach they had. The little lady would run across the sand and bounce in the water like a little froggy. He would hold hands with his wife and shower her in kisses despite the disgust of those around them. He loved his family and he didn’t care what anybody thought.

He cared what his fellow FBI agents thought, however. They were going to tear him limb from limb, rip his badge away along with his heart and soul, and leave him homeless and alone. What kind of life was that for a soon-to-be former detective and his family? They’d have to do illegal, disgusting things just to get by, much like how the Ruiz Cartel got started. Ruiz Cartel…Fatima Ruiz…that bitch!

Ross pulled out a six shooter and fully loaded every chamber. One bullet for her. One bullet for him. Four bullets for anybody who disagreed with his dark logic. He kissed the barrel of his weapon and angrily whispered, “I’ll show you what love is, Fatima, you fucking bitch. I’ll kiss you with a bullet!” He knew he looked insane to the waitresses and waiters, but he didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck. In fact, he loved the bloodlust in his bulging eyes.