treating me as if I was his own personal “Boot Camp Barbie” because Sam always wanted to play with my hair and paint my nails. Gideon was afraid that if Sam acted too flamboyantly when we relocated to the large barracks, that he might get ridiculed and picked on by the others.
I just scoffed at the comment and reassured Sam that if anyone had a problem with him that they could answer to my fists. I knew the guys assumed I was joking about that last part, but little did they know I was deadly serious about protecting either one of them in any way I saw fit. I wouldn’t tolerate bullying of any kind. I always encouraged Sam to be himself and to never hide his true nature because I was proud of his accomplishments and his personal growth in the short time we had bonded. Although Gideon fully accepted Sam the way he was, somehow he got it in his head that when we made the move to the other building, there would be a strong possibility that Sam would get beaten up for being gay, ergo so would he for trying to protect him.
Shaking my head at the memory, I honestly wondered what Gideon and Sam saw when they looked at themselves in the mirror. They could’ve passed for a couple of linebackers with their muscular physiques, so if anyone looked capable of kicking some serious ass— it was those two. I remembered being flabbergasted the first time Gideon voiced his fear of getting bullied or beaten up. Staring at him now, I had to bite my lip harder to prevent the laughter from escaping because I thought his fear was ridiculous. Someone would have to be completely stupid to start a fight with either one of them.
Perching comfortably on the edge of Sam’s lap, I let him brush my hair for me while Gideon sat watching at the other end of the couch. A glance at the clock showed three minutes to go. Playing with my hair was a pastime that Sam thoroughly enjoyed for some reason. Considering the fact that I love having my hair brushed, I reasoned that it was definitely a win-win situation for the two of us. I suddenly noticed how quiet it was in the room and how the second hand of the clock seemed especially loud as it went tick, tick, tick. Off in the distance, I imagined that I may have heard a heavy metal door slam and it caused a tiny prickle of unease to rise up my back. Instinctively, I slid off of Sam’s lap to wedge myself in between the guys on the couch, pulling my legs up to sit cross-legged as I calmly announced, “He’s here.”
The three of us turned our attention to the doorway as Sergeant Ramsey appeared, followed by Dr. Howard Duffy, (or Doc Duffy as we all called him) and Jamie, the thirty-something year old nurse who assisted the doctor every time he paid us a visit. “What’s up Doc?” I joked in greeting, as I smiled and nodded at Jamie in welcome. The guys copied my lead, offering our visitors a warm welcome. The presence of Dr. Duffy and the nurse were unexpected but definitely comforting as I glanced at the serious expression on the Sergeant’s face.
With satisfaction, I watched Jamie do a double take as she visually appraised Sam and Gideon’s new haircuts. Grinning, she let loose with a loud wolf-whistle of appreciation before turning to me and winking. “Good job Teagan! Very, very nice.” I just laughed off the compliment as I watched Gideon’s cheeks redden in embarrassment at being the center of attention. I laughed harder when I noticed that Sam was practically preening for everyone’s benefit. Dr. Duffy and Sergeant Ramsey both complimented the change.
“I can’t say I’m sad to see both of y’alls hairstyles go,” the sergeant confided. “I almost didn’t recognize you two!” His gaze lingered on Gideon the longest since he had undergone the biggest transformation. “Geez! It’s like magic!” he muttered. His expression showed that he was having a hard time believing it was really Gideon and I thought it was hilarious when he finally tore his focus away from Gideon with an
Learning to Kill: Stories