Danny's Main

  * * * *

  Danny’s Main

  Copyright © 2015 by Lisa N. Paul

  ISBN: 978-0-9892465-8-2

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To you, the Believers,

  Happily Ever After does exist when you find the person you are meant to love and are willing to fight for every single day.

  To you, the Achievers,

  It is through your example that I have seen how brilliant love can be when the newness wears off and the beauty beneath shines through. Thank you for showing me that while Ever After may not always mean days filled with happiness, they will always be days filled with love.

  L

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One – Customer Service

  Chapter Two – Lysol and Vagisil

  Chapter Three – I Wasn’t The One Who Needed Help

  Chapter Four – Are You Crazy?

  Chapter Five – Thank God For That

  Chapter Six – Now You’ve Got Her

  Chapter Seven – Took Tommy Jones

  Chapter Eight – Ended Up Being Your Ladder

  Chapter Nine – Wanderlusty

  Chapter Ten – Hint Number Three

  Chapter Eleven – Always You

  Chapter Twelve – That’s Gonna Leave A Bruise

  Chapter Thirteen – I’m Not Done Yet

  Chapter Fourteen – My Cousin Vinny

  Chapter Fifteen – Your Mere Existence

  Chapter Sixteen – The Empty Contest

  Chapter Seventeen – He Was Ours

  Chapter Eighteen – Then I Got A Friend

  Chapter Nineteen – Moving Not Dying

  Chapter Twenty – Danny’s On Main

  Chapter Twenty-One – We Can’t Just Take Her On – We’ve Gotta Take Her In

  Chapter Twenty-Two – This IS Home

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Ashley and Ryan

  Chapter Twenty-Four – A Sunday Dinner

  Chapter Twenty-Five – First Time For Everything

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Silver Lining

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Welcome Home

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Woman Still Blushes

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Perfect Day For A Party

  Chapter Thirty – Remove The Space

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Customer Service

  Twenty-Eight Years Ago

  SWEAT TRICKLED DOWN his spine faster than his army dress uniform could absorb it, but that didn’t stop him from trudging into the small bar. He couldn’t wait to peel off his uniform and stand beneath the punishing spray of the shower, but first he needed a drink. In fact, first, second, and third on his list were drinks, followed by a wash down and bed.

  The anniversary of his brother’s death always left Danny Marcus gutted, but over the past couple of years, numbness had crept in. It gripped him like a fist squeezing his soul, and no matter what he did to get it to release its hold, to instead feel the burning angst that used to whisper that vengeance was the only way to keep Jeff’s memory from fading, the numbness continued to spread.

  When Danny had enlisted and left for basic training just after graduating high school, he relished in the glory of retribution. Payback, he assured his grieving father on the day of Danny’s mother’s funeral. She had committed suicide two years after losing her oldest son, leaving her husband and two younger boys to grieve further.

  “Payback won’t bring Jeffrey back, son. It’ll only take you further away.”

  His father’s words had fallen on deaf, teenaged ears, but now, Danny was beginning to see the wisdom in his old man’s advice. Being part of the 82ndAirborne Division certainly had helped to fuel Danny’s adrenaline rush, but even the jumps were losing their spark. A restless soldier wasn’t one needed in the air or on the ground patrolling the jungles of Korea—not that his performance was anything less than stellar—so when the opportunity had arisen for a transfer to Fort Meade in the third year of his four-year enlistment, Danny gladly took it.

  He’d soon need to decide whether to re-up his commitment to the United States Army or move on to his original path, firefighting. However, that decision wouldn’t be made that evening. Not when the emptiness threatened to consume him. Not when numbness spread through him from his fingers to his toes. Not when his brother’s voice still whispered in his ear.

  “Hey there, I’d offer you a beer, but it looks like you may need something a bit stronger.”

  “Huh?” That sweet sound certainly wasn’t Jeff.

  “I said you look like you could use a drink, Sergeant. What can I get for you?” The honeyed voice could have lulled him to much-needed sleep if not for the alarming beauty of the woman it came from.

  “Shot of whiskey,” he croaked, uncertain if he’d left his voice in his memories or at work. Either way, it escaped him the moment he saw the woman’s crystal gray eyes. “A double, please.”

  The legs of his barstool scratched the scarred wooden floor as he planted himself on the seat and watched the young strawberry-blonde barkeep pour amber liquid into two small glasses.

  “Here you go, Sergeant.”

  Hearing his rank still caught him off guard. Just like returning stateside, his promotion to sergeant was brand-new.

  “Umm, Sergeant Marcus?”

  “Sorry, you say something?” Christ, could he act like a bigger fucking tool? This chick couldn’t be twenty if she was a day, and he was acting like a bumbling idiot. Even though her smile was warm and inviting, innocence personified, her eyes told stories of survival and heartache. Fuck, what could she know of heartache? He needed drinks, not conversation.

  “I asked if you’d you like me to start a tab for you?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart, keep the tab open and the drinks coming.”

  As if curtains were released from their ties, all of the openness in her expression vanished behind a veneer of a smile.

  “Julie, are you giving that handsome sergeant a problem?” A bottled redhead bopped from one end of the bar to the other, stopping in front of Danny.

  He hadn’t needed his time overseas, in countless pubs, bars, and hotels, to know exactly what the older woman was. He didn’t need her name tag, which read Bunny, to explain what she was looking for. Her tight clothes, Aqua Net-sprayed hair, shellacked face, and overzealous smile told her whole story. She was a MiliSnag—a woman who did whatever she could to snag a military man
. From the looks of her, she’d snagged and bagged more than her fair share of men in uniform. He could practically see the DNA of the soldiers past lingering on the older woman’s overexposed skin.

  “Sorry, honey, she’s still new here, friendly and all, but”—Bunny pushed herself up over the counter, the move accentuating her ample cleavage and wafting cheap perfume up his nose—“she doesn’t know what men like you really need.”

  “Well, Bunny, being as you can clearly read me,” he flirted, knowing her pour would be more generous if he was kind, “I bet you can tell the only things I need tonight are whisky, beer, and my thoughts.” He leveled her with a smoldering glance that made women swoon. “You’ll help me out, won’t you?”

  “Oh, sure. I love to serve a man who serves our country. I’ll keep ‘em coming, handsome, and I’ll also keep an eye on you. Just call if you need me.” Bunny batted her false lashes before pouring him another shot and a mug of beer. Her toothy smile tried for innocence in a way that would make her namesake happy but reminded Danny of a fox in soft rabbit fur instead.

  No matter. He slammed back the warm amber liquid before reaching for the cold beer. Tonight was about remembering and then…once again, letting go.

  ***

  UHHG, EACH SHIFT was the same damn story. Julie watched her manager throw herself at every uniformed male who walked through the door. Julie had only been employed at Chester’s Pub a handful of months, but it was five months of long hours and, often times, back-breaking work. Double shifts tended to be that way—at least they were for Julie. After her first week, when Chester had kept a close eye on her, her boss kept irregular hours, popping in and out during the day. He always returned around closing time to cash out the drawer and close up the joint. Which left Bertha, a.k.a. Bunny, in charge of the staff. The woman could sell drinks almost as well as she sold herself, but a manager she was not.

  Aside from Bunny and Julie, there were two female bartenders and two male bar-backs. Problem was, Bunny spent more time hopping on the bar-backs than helping out with the work. Therefore, aside from the revolting soundtrack of grunts and giggles, Julie was on her own to set up each day. Usually Bunny would assist a patron home—customer service, she called it—before the bar closed, leaving the remaining staff to cleanup. Chester didn’t seem to care if Bunny was around as long as the bar was shut down correctly. A fine woman Ms. Bertha was. Julie swallowed the sour taste that seemed to follow thoughts of her manager.

  Whatever, if she’s what guys want… Julie shrugged, sparing one last look at the beautiful man at the end of the bar. Upon first glance, she wouldn’t have guessed him to be like so many men she’d met before. There was something about him, something different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she was obviously wrong if he was willing to flirt with Bunny. Julie had been wrong before. Hell, in the past year and a half, she’d been wrong more often than she’d been right. Stay in the present, Julie. Work hard, make money, and move on.

  The evening passed in a flurry of pulled beers, poured shots, loud music playing from the jukebox, and the ruckus of men and women out to unwind. While a good portion of the customers were from Fort Meade, Chester’s also brought in a bunch of civilians, both men and women.

  Julie had been tending bar since she turned eighteen, but Chester’s was the first establishment where the clientele were men and women who served the United States. That was one of the reasons she chose to work at the bar even if Bunny came with the position. After everything she’d been through, the thought of being around so much bravery, so much strength and courage, made it easier to get up each morning. She wasn’t looking to “bed” a person in uniform, but if she could absorb some of their fortitude through osmosis… hell, she’d work her fingers to the bone just to be in their presence.

  Around closing time, Bill, the cute new hire, set three cases of beer he’d just brought in from the storage room on the bar so he could restock the fridge. “Hey, Jul, have you seen Bunny? She said she’d give me a ride at the end of the shift...”

  “Didn’t she give you one before your shift started?” Julie deadpanned.

  “Umm…” At least the guy had the decency to look chagrinned. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. He shrugged, chest puffed out with male pride. “She wanted me. Who am I to say no, right?”

  Wrong again, Julie. Wrong. Again.

  “Well, slick, looks like that was the only ride you’ll be getting from Bunny tonight, because she left about ten minutes ago to escort a customer home.” She would have laughed at the baffled look on Bill’s face had it not seemed so genuine. “Don’t feel too bad. You may have had a chance if your shirt had stripes instead of letters.”

  “What?”

  “Bunny prefers them in uniform, Bill. You haven’t noticed?”

  The young guy’s glare conveyed more than words would have.

  “Ahh, you did know, but you thought you’d be different.” A pang of sympathy washed over her as she chose her words delicately. “I’ve only been here for a few of months, so feel free to disregard what I’m about to say, but some people are looking to fill glasses that are cracked. Doesn’t matter how much they pour, theirs will always be half empty because they choose to keep a damaged cup instead of taking a chance with a brand-new one.”

  “Are you talking about Bunny?” he asked quietly, his brow lifted.

  Julie stared at the guy, young just like her but obviously open to hearing what she was offering. “I don’t know, Bill. Am I?”

  Leaving him to stock the beer, Julie walked to the other end of the bar. Last call had been announced before Bunny’s departure, so Julie was just squaring away tabs, calling cabs, and serving water to those in need. The sexy sergeant had remained planted on his stool for hours, leaving only to use the restroom. She’d watched him as he walked, telling herself it was to make certain he was tolerating his alcohol, but that was a lie. The truth was, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him no matter how hard she tried—not that she’d tried very hard.

  He hadn’t even noticed her prying eyes. In fact, he’d barely seemed to notice any of the many women vying for his attention. They would send him drinks, and he’d send them a crooked grin of gratitude. But each and every time a woman took the next step and approached him, Julie noticed the interaction swiftly ended with the woman nodding, smiling agreeably, and retreating to her friends. In the nearly two years that she’d been working in bars—first waitressing, then bartending—Julie had never seen such charming rejection.

  “For a man who’s been drinking most of the night, your tab is pretty light.” Julie slid his bill across the bar with a smile.

  “Thanks.” The man accepted the slip of paper and raised his eyes to hers. Even though his hazel eyes were rimmed in red, his gaze was no less powerful, no less haunted.

  She should have felt ashamed of the sexual awareness that spiked through her body at the sight of the clearly tortured man. Should have. But when he stood from the stool and dug his hand into his uniform pants and pulled out folded bills, Julie knew it was time to speak or forever hold her peace.

  “How about if I pour you a glass of water and you sit here for a bit?” She wanted to kick herself for her overeager tone.

  “You’re a beautiful woman”—his eyes traveled her face yet, she could swear he didn’t see her at all—“but I’m not looking for anything tonight. Truly sorry.” His rough voice sent tingles up her spine, quickening her pulse and turning her insides to liquid.

  She inhaled slowly, allowing her core temperature to cool. “So that’s how you did it? I’ve been wondering.” Julie swallowed, trying her best to keep the embarrassing smile from spreading over her lips. “Some real talent you’ve got there, ace.” She wasn’t sure what shocked her more: when he wrapped his large hand around her wrist to stay her movement or the way her body reacted to such a small touch. “Yes?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His narrowed eyes penetrated hers as if begging for answers to more questions than the o
ne he’d just asked.

  Nibbling her top lip, she stared at the place where their skin connected. Heat climbed her neck and kissed her cheeks. Cotton Candy. That was what her father used to say, that she blushed pink like cotton candy and was just as sweet. The memory that hadn’t crossed her mind in a long while was both a loving stroke and a sucker punch. Withdrawing her hand from the uniformed stranger’s, she stepped back and swallowed again.

  “What it meant, Sergeant, was as many women as I saw approach you this evening is as many as I saw you turn down. Yet they all left smiling, as if they hadn’t been rejected. Now I understand why.”

  The man tilted his head, confusion warring with the sullenness he’d worn for hours.

  “You make them feel regarded before letting them down easy.” His brows pinched together as if he didn’t quite grasp her meaning, so she tried to clarify. “It’s hard on a woman’s ego to be rejected. But the way you do it, well… you’re good. Not a thing to hate about that. A regarded rejection almost feels like a stroke instead of a brush off.” Walk away, Jul, before you embarrass yourself further.

  “That how you feel? Rejected?”

  Warmth once again raised the length of her neck. “Nope,” she lied. “The only thing I was offering was a glass of water and a place to sit.” Julie licked her dry lips and collected money from the customers looking to settle up.

  Chester had shown up around last call and was likely holed up in his office, doing whatever it was he did back there, while Bill flirted with the woman who’d most likely be taking him home at closing time. A sprinkle of giggles fell from the mouth of Bill’s new friend as she squeezed his flexed biceps. Oh yes, she’d be giving him a ride for sure.

  “It’s Julie, right?” the sexy sergeant asked, drawing her attention away from her coworker.

  She nodded, sauntering back to him.

  “One more shot of whisky…please?”

  Most female bartenders would have probably given the guy anything he wanted, and by the hint of confidence in his request, he damn well knew it. But she wasn’t most bartenders. Julie Bell was a rule follower, and she always had been. She’d watched him carefully during the evening, and while most wouldn’t notice, his fine motor skills had definitely become impaired and his speech slightly slurred.