Chapter 1

I'm a new man. I'm in a new place, a new town, new people, new bars, new babes, haven't seen any yet but everything is new. I'm a new man.

Yesterday, Uncle Sam let me go. Yesterday, the base hospital that I had lived in for a year, stressed in for a year, and rehabilitated in for a year, said goodbye, you're on your own, you're a new man.

Yesterday morning, I took a cab to a house where a guy met me and took me to his garage. In it was a very used 1992 Harley FLHS with the only real option being some big leather saddlebags. Later, they would dress up this model and call it a Fat Boy, but when this was made it was still an FLHS. The price was right, so I exchanged seventy-five hundred for the title, tied my meager belongings onto the bike, put on the helmet the guy gave me and followed directions to the county tax collector's office.

An hour later, I had a tag screwed on the bike, and with the aid of a crutch, walked next door to the driver's license bureau. When I came up to the desk, the officer looked at me and asked, "Just get out?"

I nodded and flashed him my discharge and pointed with my finger to today's date.

He nodded and said, "Stand there if you can and I'll get you right in." A bunch of people around me began bitching and he said, "Shut up if you want in. This guy just got done losing a leg so you can live your lives. He goes first."

He turned back to me and quietly said, "Semper Fi."

Smiling, I gave an equally quiet, "Ooorah."

I looked at the crowd, but didn't smile or give any facial evidence that I knew they existed.

The clerk took my information, as well as my military motorcycle safety course certificate and military driver's license, typed up everything, and issued me a Florida state commercial chauffeur's license authorized to drive just about anything on wheels. The address I used was that of the base and I probably wasn't going to use it permanently, but it was good to have and I could change it later.

There was an insurance office conveniently placed next to the tag office, so I went in to get a quote on the bike. That's all I got, as the quote was enough to choke you.

I took out a note that I had and read the directions to my next place to visit.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into an old apartment complex. Actually, it was probably an old motel converted into small apartments. I rang the doorbell under the "Manager" sign and a very tall, big, fat, hairy guy with a cigar stub sticking out of his mouth, wearing a wife beater undershirt came to the door and just stared at me.

I figured that one of us had to break the barrier so I said, "Chuck Johnson, I called about the furnished apartment you have for rent."

He grunted, reached next to the door, and came out with a clipboard and a set of keys. Without saying anything, he walked across the parking area and I followed in my limping gait, without the crutch. When he got to a door that had metal numbers telling the world it was number twenty-two, he turned and looked me up and down, fitted the key in the dead bolt lock, and opened the door.

He turned and looked at me again, but this time he stepped back and motioned me inside.

There was a small living room area and a small kitchen, with a bar separating them. On the back wall were three doors. The door on the right was obviously a small bathroom, as I could see one of those metal shower stalls. The door to the left was the bedroom, as I could see a bed. The middle door was down a small hallway and appeared to lead outside.

I looked into the bedroom and it was what I would expect. I looked into the bathroom and it wasn't bad. A sink, commode, and shower. I looked back at the living room and it had a chair, a small couch, and an ancient TV. The guy walked to the back of the apartment and opened the door that led outside. I looked out to see a covered patio that ran the length of the building. Under it was kids' trikes, a couple of bicycles, and I noticed some motorcycles there too.

The man said, "You can park your bike back here. You get in over there between the buildings, but don't be revving up your bike at night. People have to sleep. It's safe back here. You might want to chain it up, but nobody will bother you. That last building on the right is the laundry building. You can use coins or get a card with credits for the washer and dryer. If you want someone to do your laundry for you, there's a bulletin board in there."

I walked back to the living room and he held out the clipboard. "Fill this out and give me the first month plus two hundred security. If you don't pay the next month's rent by the last day of the month, you're out of here. Your stuff will be outside in a box. No drugs, no whores working out of the apartment, and no fucking shooting. I hate fucking guns, I had enough of them when I was on the force. First time the cops come, I warn you, next time your shit's in a box. You got the five fifty?"

I gave him the three fifty rent and two bills for security. He counted the money and handed me back a hundred fifty saying, "I'll cut you some slack and only charge you half a month since it's already the twelfth. Remember to get your money in by the last day of the month. Fill out that paper and bring it over before you move your bike."

The big man gave me a crooked grin and walked out, heading back toward his apartment.

After filling out the required information on the form, I walked back to the Manager's apartment and rang the bell. I handed him the clipboard and he handed me some keys. He asked, "You a vet?"

I nodded.

"Hurt in Iraq?"

I nodded.

He looked at me and said, "Thanks for what you did, enjoy here, and I hope you don't have to live here forever." He gave me the crooked grin again and closed the door.

I started the bike, rode it to in front of my apartment and took my duffel bag in and unpacked it. I took out my little notebook and made a list of what I would need. I might have to make more than one trip. First, I needed to eat, buy some food, and get some civilian clothes.

Instead of the crutch, I took my fancy aluminum cane and slid it into a saddle bag on the bike and headed down the street to where I had seen a grocery store. With the use of a cart, I picked up the necessary items I needed, including some more toothpaste and soap. I remembered some soap for the dishes too. Since this was my first shot at the grocery store, I picked up some canned chili, canned stew, a couple of frozen dinners, a half gallon of milk, salt, pepper, loaf of bread, and breakfast stuff, including eggs. To make me happy, I pulled a bag of chips and a six pack of beer. I figured that I could get all this back to the apartment.

Outside, I filled the two saddlebags with my purchases with the flaps very loose as the bags were stuffed. Before I started the bike, I opened the fuel tank and looked inside. I saw metal. Damn. I looked at the fuel switch and it was already on the reserve setting. At the far end of the parking lot was a gas station, so I pushed the bike around so it was heading that way and pushed the button.

Thankfully, it ran all the way to the gas station. I filled it up with almost the whole five gallons before I took my groceries to the apartment, parking in the back next to my back door this time. I mentally almost called it home, but this wasn't home yet.

The fridge and freezer were cold, so I put the stuff away and locked back up to head out for some lunch, then to find some clothes. The first place I found was a Hooter's and across the street and down a ways was a Goodwill store.

I had a taste for some spicy wings and beer, so I treated myself. Good stuff, plus the waitresses weren't too bad to look at either. Most of them filled out their Hooter's tank tops very nicely.

Next stop was the Goodwill store. These places are always in shambles. People pick through stuff and never put it back. Lots of clothes are sort of marked with the size, but you usually had better try it on. It took a half-hour to find four pairs of jeans in my size, and another half-hour to find a pair of dress slacks. Shirts were easier as they all had the factory sizes marked in the collar. Two hours after going in there, I had the clothes I thought I would need. I even found a pair of engineer boots and a pair of loafers in my size. My left foot had to fit right, but the right one could be too tight or too loose as that was where the prosthetic leg was.

The girl at the register smiled sweetly at me and noted that I was using a cane. She looked at me and asked, "You lose a leg?"

When I nodded, she said, "My old man did too. He does pretty good just like you."

She rang me up, stuffed everything in a bag, then smiled and said, "That will be seven thirty-five."

I looked at her questioningly and she smiled again, "We give discounts to vets." When she rolled her eyes, I knew she was giving me a personal discount.

I paid, said "Thank you," and left.

Outside, I stuffed my clothes into the saddlebags, rode back to the apartment, and parked behind my place. I took my stuff inside before I walked to the laundry room. There were three notes about doing laundry, so I picked the one that said apartment twenty-five. I would have chosen that anyway as the handwriting was neat.

I walked back over to the back door to twenty-five and knocked on the door. A lady, probably in her thirties, came to the door. She really looked beat, but smiled and asked, "You have laundry you need done, Honey?"

I nodded.

"Bring it over so I can see what you have. I don't charge much but it still costs for the machines. Go get it, okay?"

I nodded and went to my place, got the stuff together, and went back to where she had come out of her apartment and was sitting in a lawn chair by her back door.

"She looked at the stuff and said, "Brand new from Goodwill, huh?"

While she looked through the clothes, I checked her out a little better. She was probably closer five-five than thirty-five, and maybe a hundred ten. Thin, but not bony, She was wearing an old loose unbelted shirtwaist dress that didn't reveal her shape, but you could tell she had some up top and a decent back side. I'm a typical guy so it took a while to get to her face. She had a lot of lines, so I may be underestimating the age a bit, probably closer to forty. Her hair was a mousy blonde that didn't look dyed. There was some gray mixed in, so the lady was no spring chicken.

She smiled and nodded as she looked through each piece. "They have all the buttons and the zippers work, so you made out. You did a good job selecting stuff. Is this all?"

I nodded.

She looked at me with her version of a crooked smile and asked, "You talk?"

"Yes ma'am, when I need to."

"Ah, a quiet one huh? Okay, I'll wash and iron all these for you and starch these good pants and shirts for ten bucks. Is that all right?"

I nodded.

"I'll have them for you this evening, okay?"

I smiled and said, "Thank you."

She asked, "That your bike?" pointing at my Harley.

I nodded.

"You're safe back here, but you need to chain it up with a good lock."

When I frowned she said, "I'll let you use my old man's. He left last month and hasn't been around, so I'm guessin' you can use it till you get one of your own. He's usually gone two months before he misses me." She went inside and came out carrying a heavy chain and a big padlock with a key stuck in it.

"Thanks," I said, as she handed me her chain and lock.

I chained and locked the bike to the metal pole under the overhead cover and went inside to relax. This was the most activity I'd had outside in a year and I was tired. I flipped the TV on and was rewarded with a good picture. There was a small remote, so I began flipping through channels. Amazing, the place had cable, so I found a decent old movie and settled down to watch it.

There was banging on the back door. I had been sleeping so this startled me.

I got up and hobbled to the door to find the lady from next door holding my clothes. I opened the door and took the clothes from her one hand, but she still had some clothes on hangers that she was holding up. I motioned for her to come in, set the clothes down that I had taken from her, then took the hanging pair of pants and shirts. After putting my stuff in the bedroom, I came back into the living room area to find her sitting on one of the two bar stools at the counter.

"You wash the sheets on that bed yet?" She asked.

I shook my head.

"You better let me run them through real quick before you use them. You never know. Let me wash the spread and blanket as well. The manager has a good cleanup crew, but you never know."

I nodded and went into the bedroom to strip the bed. There were two sheets, two pillowcases, a bedspread, and a blanket. I brought them back into the living room and put them on the couch. She went over and smelled the sheets. "Musty, they been around for a while without being washed. Give me a five and I'll get them washed right away."

I pulled out a five saying, "I'll carry them over for you if you want?"

"That's okay, I'll do it. I need to wash some other stuff at the same time. I'll just put it all in a basket and carry it over. If you want to know, I get my stuff washed while I do for others. It's kind of cheating, but it's how I get by. If you want me to clean your place, I can do that too. If you need a companion, a bed warmer at night, I can do that when my old man isn't in town. I do what I have to do."

I nodded, thinking she wasn't bad looking and she might be worth an evening. I'd bet she was the kind that wouldn't freak out over no right leg below the knee when she saw the stub.

She left and I looked at my watch. It was already six so I had slept for a couple of hours. I took out a TV dinner and a beer. I didn't have a microwave, so I had to warm up the oven. While that was going on, I checked to find dishes, flatware, and some pots and pans. There wasn't a lot, but enough to get by.

While I was waiting for the stove to warm, I noticed the lady carrying her basket to the laundry room. She would take a while to do everything and my five would barely cover the machines and soap. I figured on tipping her five when she brought my stuff back.

I ate while watching the local and national news on the local cable channel. It was spring, part of Florida's dry season. It was pretty nice out, so it was nice to be able to have the front and back doors open to let a breeze go through.

Funny, for most of this last year, I had made all my plans on what I was going to do when I was on my feet, or is that foot, and out of that damned hospital. Now that I was out, I was a little scared, uncertain, not sure of myself like I usually was. Well, I bought a bike, rented a place, bought some clothes, and I'd fed myself. Now I have to find a job. I have a list of places to check but from what the news is saying over and over again, is that there aren't any jobs.

I could get along on my VA benefit and some assistance, and I know I was eligible for food stamps. I was eligible for housing too, but I didn't want to live in a project. I just wouldn't fit. I need to find a job of some kind. Hopefully, I can find a driving job, or fall back to what I learned in trade school before the Marines, welding. Time will tell.

I was at the counter when there was banging on the back door again and a voice called out, "It's Shirl, I've got your bedclothes."

I hopped down and made it to the door. When I tried to take them from her, she pushed past me and went to the bedroom with them. I tried to start helping her and she said, "Go in there and open me one of those beers and let me do this."

Okay, I know when to listen. I went to the fridge and took out two cold ones. There were still two left, that was plenty, or so I thought.

She came in, pushing her hair back from her sweaty face. I handed her an opened can of beer and she handed it back to me and took the one that had not been opened yet. She opened it and took a couple of big gulps from it. She sort of watched me closely until I drank from the beer she had handed back to me. She smiled and took another big swig from the can.

"Ahh, hits the spot, thanks."

I nodded but had to ask, "You said "Shirl" was at the door, is that short for something?"

"Glad you asked. Yes, the name is Shirley McGiver. If you're wonderin', it's my maiden name too. Never married, but have had the same old man for twenty or so years."

I took out my wallet and handed her a five saying, "Thank you, Shirley McGiver, you've been a big help."

"What's this for? If it's for bed warming I think I'm worth more'n that. If it's a tip, I should've been doing this as a welcome service, but thank you very much."

I was smiling and slowly shaking my head at her forwardness.

Shirley stretched a little, "You new here? New in town?"

I looked at her and wondered how much I should tell her. "I just got out of service, but have been out at the base for the last year."

"Then you know Tampa pretty well," Shirley said.

"Don't know it at all. This is the first time I've been off base."

She frowned, "What the hell you been doin' out there that you haven't been in town."

Now was shit or get off the pot time.

My cane was next to me, so I picked it up and banged it on my prosthetic a couple of times and said, "It took a while to get this fitted and to figure out how to walk with it."

She squinted at me, then very matter of factly said, "So you lost a leg, just one or both? How high?"

"Just one, below the knee."

Shirley nodded then said, "Let me see."

I pulled up the leg of my pants all the way to the knee.

"Good job. Looks like whoever made this knew what they were doing. My brother lost a leg and a foot. He gets around pretty good. Doesn't hardly use a crutch or cane. If he's feeling poorly he uses a walker."

Shirley pushed my pant leg down and said, "Since you haven't been out and about for a long, long time, want me to show you the places to go?"

"That would be nice."

"Give me ten, ah, make it fifteen minutes. I gotta take a shower. Get your bike unchained and we'll be gone. If you have a jacket you might need it tonight, it's getting cooler out there."

I thought to myself, "What the fuck. I guess I'm ready for the world. She thinks so. Should I ride her, I haven't ridden in five, six years and should she trust me two up?"

I went in the bedroom and pulled out my old leather jacket. It wouldn't do in real cold weather, but it would do okay without a liner in this weather. I should put that on my list. Come to think of it, there were some decent leathers at the Goodwill store. I'll have to check them out.

I locked up the front and shut off the lights, but left the back porch light on. About the time I had the chain off and the bike turned around with the gas on the main tank and not reserve, Shirley came out of her place locking the door. She didn't have a helmet and I only had mine, so I offered her my helmet. She took it and set it by my door. "We don't need those anymore in Florida. When you go out make a left, I'll tell you after that."

Shirley had on some jeans and a tank top that was low enough to get your attention, with a leather jacket that wasn't zipped up. She looked good with her hair back in a ponytail. The fifteen minutes had taken years off her.

This girl had been riding a long time. She sat on the back and hugged my back leaning with me fluidly without feeling stiff back there. She kept up her chatter telling me to turn left, go straight watch for the bar up on the left. We pulled into a small bar, that had a bunch of bikes parked in the back out of sight from the street.

"You'll be alright in here, no clubbers. I'll introduce you as my new neighbor. Only a neighbor, got it? Most of these folks know my old man. Tonight isn't the best night of the week to be out hunting pussy, but you never know."

As soon as we walked into the noisy bar, people were hollering "Shirl, Shirl, where you been, you dumb cunt? This some guy you just picked up. Hey Bud, you getting a half and half for a quarter or what?"

Shirley punched the loudest mouth in the gut as she passed by. "He's my new neighbor, shit for brains. I'm showin' him around."

"I'll bet you're showin' him around. You're probably showin' him what he can get for two bits."

Shirley whirled around, grabbed the bottle from his hand and in an easy arc swung the bottle against a corner of the bar. The bottle shattered except the neck in her hand and the jagged end that she held to the loudmouth's throat. "You watch your fuckin' mouth, you slimy piece of shit. Another word out of you and I'll let you bleed out right here.

A mammoth came up behind Shirley, grabbed her hand with the beer bottle, and at the same time picked the loudmouth up by the belt of his pants. The huge hand on her wrist slid up smoothly taking the jagged bottle from her hand. "Out you go, Jerry, your mouth got the best of you tonight. Come back tomorrow after your mother has washed it out for you. You keep this up and you'll be treated like any kid and be grounded. Now get."

As the mammoth said this, he pushed open the back door and actually pitched the guy out into the parking lot. Funny the loudmouth didn't say a word to the big man.

Shirley looked at me and noticed that I had leaned back against the pool table and had the six ball in my hand. "Put it down, the guys playing pool would miss the ball. Besides that, I don't think you could knock Jonah out with only a pool ball."

The mammoth came back to us and stuck out his giant hand, "I'm Jonah, sorry you had to hear that shit. Let me get you a beer on the house and thanks for not hitting me with that damn pool ball. Those things knock the piss right out of ya."

Shirley laughed and said, "Jonah, this is my new neighbor, Chuck. He just got out of the service and I'm showin' him around."

Jonah looked at me and reached up to touch a patch sewn on my jacket,

"You a Marine?"

I nodded.

"Semper Fi," Jonah said, as he grabbed me in a bear hug.

I choked out a "Ooorah" while trying to get my breath.

"Hell, let's all three get a beer and I'll introduce you around."

Jonah and Shirley introduced me to what seemed like a couple of hundred people, but was probably only thirty or so. Hell the place wasn't all that big. While we were near the front door, a huge, beautiful woman walked in the door. She wasn't wearing biker bitch attire, but a short filmy evening gown that showed enough cleavage to get my motor running. God, she was big. She must have been six-six or seven and weighed probably around three fifty, maybe more. Damn she was big but "golley darn" I'd love to graze around on her.

Shirley saw my look and said, "Down boy, she's taken."

Jonah looked over at me and laughed. "Shoot, for a brother Marine, I'll share the bitch. Hell, it takes a Marine to handle this babe anyway. Hey Millie, come here you luscious slut and meet a guy coming in his pants over you."

The large wet dream came over to Jonah and grabbed his head and pulled it down into her cleavage saying, "Worship them my man, make love to momma's big tits and maybe, just maybe, you'll get lucky later."

Millie had a shit eating grin on her face as Jonah slobbered over her cleavage. She pulled his head up by his hair and said, "So where's this swingin' dick that lusts after me."

As Jonah turned toward Shirley and me, Millie narrowed her eyes and said, "Have you brought me a new boy toy, Shirley. Is he any good, you tried him out yet?"

Before Shirley could speak, Jonah answered for her, "She's showing her new neighbor around town and the sights."

In a real good Mae West imitation, Millie said, "Well I'm definitely a sight to see aren't I, Honey."

Shirley piped in, "Hell, he's probably harder than the fake leg he's got."

When I frowned at her exclamation, Millie reached over and picked up my hundred eighty pounds like it was a salt shaker. She pulled me to her and gave me a kiss that did get my extremities going. "Don't be put off by us, Honey. We just have a good time, all the time."

Jonah said, "Shit I was going to offer that he come by later and we double team you, Millie, but you already have the guy coming in his pants."

Millie put me down and reached down and squeezed my crotch. Don't come yet, Honey, there's better places to put that stuff than in your pants." She turned to Shirley, "What's the matter with you, Shirley, you still keeping that thing zipped up for your lost cause of an old man? Shit by the time he gets back again, that pussy of yours will be all shriveled up. This guy could keep it exercised for you. Your old man would probably thank him."

Shirley leaned to me and said, "The rest of Tampa is going to be dull after this place."

We finally did get a beer, but Millie and Jonah had us come back to his office where he pulled out a bottle of Jack and passed around some paper cups with the dark liquid in it. Millie sat down in a big overstuffed chair and spread her legs, raising them and putting them over the arms. She reached down and scratched her hairy spot and played with her clit as she drank her drink with her other hand.

Shirley said, "My God, Millie, you are the most uncouth bitch I've ever seen. This guy hasn't hardly even met you and you're showin' off your nasty pussy."

"Honey, no need in me being bashful. I'm wantin' him to get a good look at what Jonah gets. If your man is good I might let him sample a little. Perhaps a little taste, but I save the bonus stuff for my stud."

Jonah laughed, "Chuck, she's all woman. I think you saw that when she came in the door. There's no one like my Millie."

"Millie," Jonah said, "This guy is a Marine. So if you're going to give up some leg, he should be the candidate."

Millie smiled, "I'll stick to what I know is good and tease the rest. You don't mind me teasin' you a little do you, Chuck?"

I nodded.

"He don't talk much either, does he?" Millie directed that to Shirley.

"So far he ain't a talker."

"Well take him home and enjoy him, he might use that mouth for something better."

We went back out to the bar and enjoyed the crowd for a while. Shirley grabbed my wrist and looked at my watch. "Come on, let's get home. I might get a call between now and one. That's when he calls when he does. I like to be there for him if he does call."

I said goodbye to Jonah and got a bear hug and smooch from Millie. She whispered in my ear. "Jonah said we could get together. Ditch your babe and see Jonah. If he says you're good for it, I'm ready, Honey, just name the time she teased, I think."

Shirley and I left while I was still gawking at the huge luscious Millie.

At home, I chained up the bike while Shirley went next door. I had just gone inside when Shirley came back, carrying a portable phone. "If he calls, I can answer it over here as well as at home. You have any more beer left?"

I opened the last two beers and handed her one. Shirley pointed toward the back of the buildings, "Right between those buildings is a liquor store. They have cold beer too. They're open till two if you want to get some more beer or some booze."

I nodded, then asked, "Do you want some liquor? Something besides beer?"

"Not really, but that Jack tasted pretty good tonight. We shouldn't drink too much of that stuff though. It'll knock you out."

I left walking as fast as I could on my good and bad foot. I picked up a twelve-pack and a fifth of Jack Daniels. When I walked in the door, Shirley was on her phone and held up a finger to her mouth to be quiet.

"Why can't you come home now, Honey, you've been gone over a month. I miss you, Baby, I need you around." A long pause. "Come home, there's probably as much work around here as anywhere." Another pause, "Whatever you say, Honey, just come home soon okay. If you don't come home soon, I'm going to have to hunt up someone to scratch my itch. Now get home before I get desperate and if you can, send me a couple of bucks okay?" Another pause, "You know I'm not working and can barely make ends meet." There was a very long pause, "Okay, Honey, love you."

I could see her now just looking at the phone before pushing the hang up button. A big tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the phone.

Shirley raised her head, sniffing back the rest of the tears. "Good, you bought some booze. I could use a little of that along with another beer."

While I poured the booze and opened a couple of bottles, Shirley was busily pulling curtains closed, pulling down the privacy shades, shutting off lights and opening up the bedroom window. When she had the back door locked she came back to me and picked up the glass. There was at least two shots in the glass, about four fingers. She downed the whole thing and took a long drink of her beer.

"Ahh, hits the spot," Shirley said. "That son-of-a-bitch is in Spokane, Washington. What the fuck is he doing up there. I recognize the area code. He's a fucking sandblaster, and there ain't no fucking big ships in Spokane fucking Washington."

Chapter 2 »