Rafael Martinez

The alert of a new message is what wakes me up.
“Who’s texting at this time in the morning?” I grumble, stretching lazily in bed. That’s why people shouldn’t drink; they forget to do important things like putting their phones on silent, turning them off, or something like that to get some rest.
I grab my phone and see that it’s already past 11 in the morning. Well, it’s the weekend, and a person needs to rest. I open the message and see it’s from Mrs. Dolores Martinez, and immediately, I mentally apologize for complaining.
Mom: Did you see that your brother got into grad school?
Raffi: Of course I saw, didn’t Diego say he got a 5-liter barrel of beer for the first week?
I smile when the message is marked as read and feel my ears warm up. I know it’s just a psychological reaction as I imagine my mom with her hands on her hips scolding me in Spanish.
Mom: My son, I hope you’re joking. It’s not enough that you never come home; now I’m worried you’re corrupting your siblings.
Raffi: Is that your way of saying you miss me?
Mom: Come home and bring those boys with you, Rafael. The last time I saw them, they were so skinny.
Raffi: I’ll try to come next month, mamá. And I’ll bring your “adopted” kids too. How are Marco and Carmen?
My heart aches with longing, but I’ve tried to convince her to move to California. However, she loves the East Coast and would never leave Fort Lauderdale. I sit on the bed, comb my hair with my fingers, and put it up in a bun while she types her response.
Mom: They’re doing well; business seems to be going great, but they still haven’t given me any grandchildren.
Mom: Two years.
Mom: Two years they’ve been married, and I’m still not a grandmother. But if I say anything, your brother says they’re too young. This is your fault, Rafael. At his age, I had already had you and him.
Mom: Look, very young.
I chuckle at her indignation; it’s always the same thing, and of course, it’s all my fault. Because I set a bad example: I’m not married, I have long hair, and tattoos. She only doesn’t nag me more because of my time with the Marines, and the fear she felt back then bought me some relief.
Raffi: Mamá, it’ll happen when it’s meant to be.
I send the usual response she hates, smiling with every letter typed. I grab some shorts from the closet and head downstairs, needing a coffee.
I gather everything I need to make a cappuccino, starting with the espresso while frothing the milk. This was one of my few demands when we bought the house; I wanted a coffee machine where I could enjoy a decent cup of coffee, not just the drip coffee that loses half its flavor.
“Make one for me too,” Kyle asks, walking into the kitchen. I’m so used to seeing him in a suit that when he’s dressed casually, like in today’s sweatpants, I’m confused.

“Sorry, Thorne, but this coffee here”—I point to the metal jug I use to pour the frothy milk—“is exclusively reserved for the lucky ones who have kissed Brooke,” I tease, winking in his direction.
“I hate to be the guy who ruins your happiness...”
“Liar,” I retort.
“But you weren’t the only one,” he says with a sly smile while trying to reach the cup.
“Wait, what?”
“I also kissed Brooke.” He shrugs. “Which means I’m on the list for this coffee.”
“Uh-uh,” I say, shaking my finger. “A kiss from when you were kids doesn’t count.”
“I’m talking about last night. I know it might be a blow to your ego, but it was with the taste of my kiss that she went to sleep.”
“Son of a bitch!” I complain, handing him the cup and starting to prepare another. “How did that happen?”
“After I stopped the jerk at the bar”—I nod, indicating I know who he’s talking about. That bastard keeps trying to drug women at Underworld, hasn’t succeeded yet since both the bouncers and bartenders are warned, but we also don’t have any proof to take to the authorities.—“She accused me of being jealous, and I denied it, saying I was just protecting her and she could be with whoever she wanted. Brooke being Brooke challenged me, and you know what happened next.”
“Let’s get to the point. I know how I kissed her. The question is: how did you manage to?” I finish preparing my coffee and turn to him, eager for the rest of the story.
“Calm down. It’s just that I kept mulling over what she said the rest of the night and realized she was right. The ride home was awkward, and we weren’t talking. I thought it was because she was pissed at me, and rightfully so, but then she apologized, and I told the truth, so it kind of happened.” He shrugs again.
“It kind of happened?” I ask.
“I kissed her and then left,” Kyle responds, looking away at the drink.
“Left her like that?” I scoff. “After kissing that delicious mouth? Nice try.”
“I got hard, okay? And then I left before the little bit of conscience I had went out the window and I crossed a line I wouldn’t be able to come back from.”
I start laughing; he must be kidding.
“What’s so funny?” Seth asks as he arrives and joins us.
“Do you think you can come back from that? After getting off thinking about her?” I ask Kyle and see Seth’s eyes widen, quickly realizing who we’re talking about.
“Shut up, Martinez,” Kyle complains but doesn’t deny it.
“You also kissed Brooke?” Seth asks, moving around the counter to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Kyle doesn’t respond, only hides his face in his hands.
“Holy shit.” He looks between us with an incredulous expression that leaves me confused.

Did he really think none of us would fall into temptation? I know it’s different from the other times we’ve shared a woman; it was always a fleeting thing with someone we barely knew. Brooke is different; she’s been in our lives for a long time and holds huge significance. We all care about her a lot, but we’re all adults, and the proximity only helps blur the lines.

“So, the only one who’s still a virgin to Brooke’s kiss is the pretty boy?” I tease, throwing an arm around Seth’s shoulders, who punches me in the ribs. Fair enough. “If I were you, I’d go ask her to fix that right now, say you’re feeling left out, and it’ll ruin the atmosphere of the house.”

“Of course you would,” the youngest gives me another punch as he pulls away from my embrace. If he knew I sometimes still think of him that way in my head, I’d probably get another hit, but he’s a year younger than me and Kyle, so he’s the youngest. A logic he refuses to accept. “Since you lack the concept of tact,” Seth adds.

“Point for the pretty boy,” Kyle comments.

“You don’t have the moral high ground to joke,” Seth replies, shaking his head in disbelief, which makes our friend laugh. “You didn’t last a week, for God’s sake.”

“And what did you expect?” I ask. “Not everyone has your self-control.”

“Not everyone can have,” he corrects, emphasizing the second-to-last word with an arrogant smile. “Thorne, when is Captain Williams’s visit to Hades’ Men?” he changes the subject, shifting the focus off himself.

“In two weeks, I think on Wednesday.”

“Raffi, are you going to cut your hair to look presentable for the captain?” Seth asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No way, I’m an ordinary citizen now, he doesn’t have authority over me anymore.” Kyle chokes on his coffee while Seth laughs heartily.

“Let’s see you convince him of that,” Seth says.

“He doesn’t need to see me,” I retort.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kyle points from me to Seth, who raises an eyebrow. “You two will be at the headquarters that day; you won’t let me face him alone. The captain wants to see the facilities and our lesson plans, and he also wants reports on our most recent cases. While we’re independent and a private company, our biggest source of manpower comes from him.” The blonde intervenes, his tone direct, with no room for jokes. “I’m not taking this on alone; we’re a damn team.”

“Three go in,” Seth says seriously.

“Three come out,” I complete our mantra for every mission.

In the Marines, there’s an unspoken rule not to leave anyone behind, but we adapted it for our group. Before any mission, we would repeat the mantra to center ourselves and prepare for what we were about to do.

The memory of when our trio almost became a duo fills my mind, and my gaze shifts to Seth. The agony of those days is something I hope never to relive; the fear and despair during those three months still haunt my dreams. I close my eyes and remind myself that we brought him back, he’s here.

“Alright,” I clap my hands, drawing the attention of both and dispelling the cloud of negativity my memories have attracted. “It’s Saturday, and you know it’s bad to keep talking about work. What are we going to have for lunch?”

The blonde shrugs while Seth says he has no idea.

“Honestly, what would you guys do without me?”

“Have peace?” Seth suggests.

“Not find empty milk cartons in the fridge?” Kyle adds.

“You couldn’t handle life without me, don’t kid yourselves. But what I wanted to say, before being rudely interrupted, is that it’s been a while since we had a barbecue. The weather is nice, and we can use the pool.”

“Not a bad idea,” the blonde agrees.

“Of course it’s not; I only have great ideas.” “Oh, yeah? And Baghdad?” the youngest teases.

“Baghdad was a success.” I cross my arms.

“You and I remember that mission differently. Kyle has a scar on his shoulder from your brilliant idea.”

“You and your annoying fixation on details completely irrelevant to the current discussion,” I deflect, and he rolls his eyes. “Who’s going to the market to get the stuff, and who’s staying home to manage the grill?”

“The idea was yours; you handle lighting the coals, and we’ll get what’s missing,” Kyle is quick to delegate and avoid the job of handling the barbecue, because the one who lights it is the one who cooks.

“Then get going.”

***