A lot had changed since then.
After breakfast he’d looked in his phone and found a number for Marcus Armstead. Apparently he’d had some selective blindness over the years, always glancing past that entry in his meager phonebook. With nothing to lose, he’d called the number and caught his old friend on the way out the door, heading for a run at the park. After the immediate invite was passed along, Brendan had raced through his stuff searching for running shoes and some shorts. Shortly after, he was here sitting on the bench, waiting for Marcus.
Brendan liked to be early for things. He preferred to sit and observe and to gather any extra intel he could before a scheduled event. Typically he didn’t care if other people were late; that was the status quo these days. But in this case, Marcus had invited him out here, saying he was already on the way.
So where was he?
While he sat and soaked in the sights, two thirty-something women arrived and took to the track at a pretty slow pace. Normally Brendan would judge people who ran so slowly, but from the looks of things, the relaxed pace was doing wonders for these ladies. He smiled and nodded to the pair as they passed him, and they returned the favor, albeit a bit hesitantly. A lone guy sitting on a bench watching the park probably didn’t look so innocent.
Damn it, where was Marcus?
“Hey, Brendan!”
Brendan turned to find Marcus jogging up on him from behind.
“You could’ve told me you were running here, man,” Brendan said as he approached to shake his friend’s hand.
Marcus took his hand, but quickly turned it into a brief brotherly hug.
“Wife’s car wouldn’t start, and she had to get to the store real quick, so she borrowed my truck.”
The two men walked onto the track before upping the speed to a fast jog.
“Wife, huh?” Brendan asked, spotting the pair of ladies rounding the next curve of the track.
“Yeah.”
“When did that happen?”
“When I got her pregnant,” Marcus replied with a big smile.
Brendan processed this while his legs passed through the initial stages of loosening up. Shortly they’d settle into a zone where the effort to propel himself at this pace was almost none.
“Was that recently?”
“Nah. My boy, Jeremiah, is five now.”
“Awesome.” They swiftly bypassed the only other two occupants of the track. It was cool that such old buds could get back together and chat without things being all weird. “Do I know the lucky lady?”
“Maybe,” Marcus said easily, not showing the worse for wear considering he’d already run some distance to get to the park. “You remember Trudy Reid? Kind of petite, dark hair.”
“Yeah, I do. She was a looker in high school.”
“Still is, thankfully. Could be worse.”
“But could be better?” The question even took him by surprise. He hadn’t had a conversation like this in years. Normally talking to anyone about personal crap was awkward and uncomfortable.
“Eh, you know how it goes,” Marcus said. After a pause, he added, “Getting pregnant wasn’t exactly part of the plan for either of us, but we got a great kid out of it, so we’ll be fine.”
“Sure, sure.”
Their strides had subconsciously synchronized, Brendan noticed as they ran on in silence. The rhythm of his breathing melded with that of his feet to create a mind-clearing atmosphere in his head.
“Did you end up going to college?” Brendan asked.
“Nah, man. I tore up my ACL on a training day and the scouts never looked my way again.”
“Oh, that sucks. I figured you’d make it as a wide-out.”
“I did, too, but that’s not what life had for me,” Marcus said, sounding very confident in the explanation. “When I got my legs back under me, I signed up with the Army. Did my four years and got out.”
By the way Marcus glanced expectantly over at him, Brendan knew his friend had heard he’d served in the Marines. The guy was probably waiting for some derogatory comments about how Army pukes Ain’t Ready to be Marines Yet, or some equally immature insult. Brendan hated disappointing people.
“I guess that’s all you could be.”
Marcus shot him a sideways glance before cracking up.
“How can you tell when a leatherneck had alphabet soup for dinner?” Marcus asked.
Brendan rolled his eyes. “Because his lips are still moving.”
The jokes went back and forth, keeping to the lighter side of the potential insults. When they ran out of ammo, they continued on in silence, passing the two ladies on the track a few more times.
“What did you do in the Army?” Brendan asked Marcus as they cruised past the starting line for the umpteenth time.
“2nd Battalion, 14th Infantry Regiment,” Marcus replied proudly. “That’s ‘light infantry’ to you bullet-catchers,” he added. “What about you?”
“Force Reconnaissance Company, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion.”
“Force Recon? That’s some heavy shit, man,” Marcus said. “Heard you boys did a lot of good out in Sandland.”
“Everyone does their part.”
“Yeah, sure, but some do more than others.”
“What do you do for work now?” Brendan asked, changing the subject.
“I’m a deputy sheriff.”
“Dale Troy still the sheriff around here?”
“You know it.” Apparently Marcus didn’t think too highly of his boss. “You looking for work?”
“Nah, I’m good for now. Thanks, though.”
“We got an opening.”
The way Marcus said the words implied the previous holder of that position didn’t leave voluntarily.
“Someone die?”
“Yeah, some methed-out losers shot old Charlie Davies when he found the trailer they were cooking in. We got one of them since he used a gun with his name engraved along the barrel. Those guys ain’t usually bright. He was a stubborn ass, though. Didn’t give up anyone else, and I know for damn sure he wasn’t working alone. Not an idiot like that.”
“Lot of drug problems around here now?” Brendan asked.
“Yeah, but mostly that’s the DEA’s problem. We’re not supposed to intervene.”
Brendan suddenly increased the pace and Marcus kept up, so Brendan pushed harder again, testing his friend. Marcus pulled ahead on the curve, so Brendan pumped his legs as hard as humanly possible, barely keeping up now. They tore down the straight, blowing right past to the two women who’d stopped to stretch. Brendan didn’t even have time for much more than a passing glance at their butts as they flew by.
The finish line loomed ahead, but Brendan couldn’t even bribe his legs to go any faster as his friend stayed a few steps ahead. The line shot under his feet and the two men slowed to a casual jog.
“Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children just can’t keep up, huh?” Marcus joked, sweat pouring down his face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Brendan muttered, putting his hands on his knees. “Guess I owe you a beer.”
“Sounds good, man.” Marcus peeked at his watch. “Oh crap, I’m going to be late for my shift.” He edged onto the grass and called back, “Call me about that drink, bro. It’s good to have you back.”
Brendan nodded and waved his friend off. He turned back to the track and found himself all alone. He’d only taken a few strides before someone zipped up behind him.
“Mind if I join you?”
He couldn’t know if his expression betrayed the homicidal self-defense instincts battling for use, but the pretty lady’s smile didn’t falter, so he guessed not. He recognized her as one of the pair that had shared the track with them before.
“Sure. What happened to your friend?”