Rich Soldier (The Dirty Thirty Pledge 2)

I take a sip of my beer and look down the bar towards my friends with a little stab of jealousy. It’s really not fair that they’re so happy. Even though I am happy for them. But it’s a reminder of the things I don’t have, and the things I want. Unfortunately, they are things money can’t buy.

Frankie is sitting on a stool and Annabelle is standing between his legs. They’re entwined as much as two people on a bar stool can be, and it would be cute if it weren’t so over the top. Glenn slams down two drinks in front of them. “Would you two get a room?”

“Are you saying that this isn’t a room, Glenn?” Annabelle asks, raising an eyebrow. Her rings glitter on her fingers, and Glenn rolls his eyes. It’s barely been a month since the wedding at the courthouse and it seems like the two of them have been in non-stop honeymoon mode. Glenn is annoyed by it. I’m jealous of it. Especially thinking of earlier today and Tia’s reaction to me.

I take another sip of my beer and smirk at Glenn. “If they actually got a room, you’d be complaining that they abandoned you and me here at the bar,” I say.

“Both can be true.”

I laugh softly, but it’s not real. I’m faking it.

Glenn has always been an interesting person. I thought I was going to have to let him go after that whole thing with him and Frankie, but he’s got his head back on straight. Mostly. I say mostly because I know the next thing that’s about to come out of his mouth.

“I’m just glad I’ve still got you,” he says. “Two more months till your pledge, my friend.”

Taking a sip of my beer, I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I don’t really want to take part in this pledge any more than Frankie did. I’m not entirely opposed either, but that depends on how the next couple of months go. I might want to drown my sorrows in an over-the top way.

I consider for a second actually going through with it. Trying to sleep with a different woman every day for a month…and I can’t. Shit. There’s no way that I’d be able to do that. Especially if I strike out with Tia. It’s just going to make me feel worse, and way too many people know us in this town for either of us to go on that kind of tear. Plus, something whispers in the back of my mind. Even if Tia doesn’t forgive me, if she finds out about that, there will never be another chance. No fucking way I’m doing this. “Right,” I say to Glenn. “You gonna sue me if I don’t do it?”

Glenn has the decency to look embarrassed. “No, I’m not gonna sue you, asshole. But as far as I can see you have no reason not to do it. You don’t have a girl, you don’t have…”

He trails off, and I’m glad he does, because I don’t want to hear the rest. I know what he’s going to say. I don’t have a girl, I don’t have a job. Basically, I don’t have a life. I’d like a life, but I can’t seem to make myself function. Hard to function when you can barely sleep, and the lack of routine just makes that harder.

The nightmares are as bad as they were when I came home, and the lack of sleep makes me jumpy. I’ve lost more than one job because I can’t seem to show up on time from over-sleeping. Not that I need a job. I’ve got enough money that I never have to work another day in my life if I don’t want to. But I’ve never been an idle person, and not having anything to do seems to make everything worse.

I could work on the house, but that means that I would have to settle on a final design, which I also can’t seem to be able to do for some fucking reason. Maybe the fact that I didn’t think that I’d be designing it by myself. I thought I’d be designing a house for two, combining what we both wanted into a perfect blend that fit us both. But that hasn’t happened. Yet. I’m gonna shoot my shot and see if I can make it. One more time.

But now that I’ve got the job at Connor’s Contracting, maybe I’ll be able to get myself settled. That and woo Tia from afar. I can do it. I know I can. But there’s no way that I’m going to let Glenn fuck this up for me the way he almost did for Frankie. “I don’t know why you think either of us will be able to do that,” I say. “I don’t know if it’s a great look for the owners of First Shot to hit on and fuck the patrons.”