{"id":574,"date":"2014-01-06T02:55:11","date_gmt":"2014-01-06T02:55:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jenfrederick.com\/?p=574"},"modified":"2014-01-06T02:55:11","modified_gmt":"2014-01-06T02:55:11","slug":"thank-you-for-participating-in-the-cover-reveal-for-unraveled","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/thank-you-for-participating-in-the-cover-reveal-for-unraveled\/","title":{"rendered":"Thank you for participating in the cover reveal for Unraveled"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"JEN-FREDERICK-Thank-you\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Graphic via LM Creations.<\/a>\u00a0 Thank you to everyone who participated in the Unraveled cover reveal tour. I so appreciate you spreading the word about my book. The following is a little excerpt from Unraveled.<\/p>\n

Chapter One<\/span><\/p>\n

Gray<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure I can\u2019t give you a ride, Sgt. Phillips?\u201d the sixty-year-old woman I\u2019d sat next to on the airplane asked for the fifth time.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo ma\u2019am,\u201d I replied promptly. \u201cWhere can I put these for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight here is just fine.\u201d She pointed to a luggage cart.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d be happy to carry them to the car for you.\u201d The cart might be easy for her to maneuver but lifting the heavy luggage into her trunk by herself? Not happening.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy son is picking me up and I promise I won\u2019t lift a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked around skeptically but didn\u2019t see anyone but my own ride. I gave Bo Randolph a chin nod of acknowledgment but held on to the carry-on bag that looked like someone had puked flowers all over it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s up, man?\u201d Bo bumped my fist in greeting and then pulled me in for a hug.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust making sure Mrs. Kremer gets to her car in one piece.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re waiting for my son,\u201d she chirped. \u201cAnd there he is now.\u201d Mrs. Kremer\u2019s son looked to be balding and forty. One glance from Bo and we silently agreed that despite her son being there, we\u2019d be helping them out. Over both their protests, Bo and I picked up the luggage and placed it in the back of the four-door sedan. Mrs. Kremer gave us both a kiss, leaving behind the smell of lilacs and baby powder.<\/p>\n

“Always the good Samaritan,\u201d Bo joked as we walked to his crackerjack box of a car.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou helped.\u201d<\/p>\n

He just shook his head. \u201cOnly because I\u2019d have looked like a fool standing there while you hauled her luggage around.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe looked frail,\u201d I protested. \u201cBesides, you and I\u2019ve both carried far more weight over much longer distances. Enough about the woman, let\u2019s talk about your damn car. Will my pack even fit in there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, princess, it will. How come you didn\u2019t ask Noah to pick you up if you hate my baby so much?\u201d He hit a button and a sorry excuse for trunk space appeared at the rear of the vehicle.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t want to make you cry. You\u2019re an ugly crier,\u201d I said. I threw my seabag and pack into the trunk and wedged myself inside the even tinier interior.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrue that. Seriously, forty-five days? How’d you manage that?”<\/p>\n

“How do you think? I’m a lucky fuck.”<\/p>\n

“So The Honorable Dennis Phillips came through?”<\/p>\n

“Guess so.” My old man was on the House Armed Services Committee and had pulled some strings to get special dispensation for me take forty-five consecutive days of leave at the beginning of summer. Some of it was helped by the fact I’d taken almost zero leave for the past eight years and that I possessed a spotless record, but it was still a big deal. Other Marines would have killed to have even half that many days off in the summer. Literally knifed me in the gut. I shifted in the seat, which seemed too narrow for my six-foot-one, two-hundred-and-five-pound frame. “This car is too fucking small for you.”<\/p>\n

“I like ’em tight.” Bo stroked the leather dash of his sports car.<\/p>\n

“Given your dick is so tiny, it’s no wonder you need ’em small. AnnMarie’s still a virgin then?”<\/p>\n

“What?” He jerked his hand back and glared at me. “No talking about AnnMarie and sex. Besides, I saw you staring at my junk plenty while we were in A-stan.”<\/p>\n

“Because you whipped it out every five seconds.”<\/p>\n

“Can’t help that my dick’s so big my regulation pants couldn’t keep it in.”<\/p>\n

I shook my head but knew I was grinning like a loon. “Missed you, man.”<\/p>\n

“You too,” Bo said, smiling back. “Forty-five days is going to be gone in a blink of an eye.”<\/p>\n

“I know.” My return grin dimmed a little. This wasn’t entirely a vacation. My exact orders from Congressman Phillips were to pull my fucking head out of my ass and sign my reenlistment papers or start applying for college. He wanted me out and my grandfather wanted me to stay in. I felt a little like a sorry bone between two angry pit bulls.<\/p>\n

I had eight years under my belt, a new meritorious promotion to staff sergeant that I wasn\u2019t sure I deserved, and some serious doubt about whether being a career Marine was the right choice for my future. I made the mistake of mentioning during our Christmas dinner that making sure everyone was using knife hands while running during physical training didn\u2019t seem to hold a lot of meaning and Dad pounced.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s plenty of room for you outside the Corps,\u201d he\u2019d said.<\/p>\n

Then Pops had bristled. \u201cCorps was good enough for me and good enough for you. No sense in planting doubt in the boy\u2019s head where there was none before.\u201d<\/p>\n

Match to kindling, the two were off in one of their heated arguments. Having two career Marines scream at each other like they were trying to make the other break first resulted in Mom leaving the table in tears and my two older brothers glaring at me. I wanted to sink under the tablecloth but since I started it, I sat there and took it like the man I was supposed to be.<\/p>\n

Since then I\u2019d told Pops that my commitment was as sound as ever and Dad that I\u2019d think about college. When Bo and Noah, two former Marines in my platoon, invited me to spend my leave at their posh pad with a bevy of college coeds at the ready, I fled before the yelling could start again.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou really in a tizzy about whether to re-enlist?\u201d Bo asked, surprise evident in his voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cMarines don\u2019t get into tizzies,\u201d I scoffed. \u201cWe get angry. Also drunk. Shitfaced. Tired. No tizzies, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich one are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTired. I\u2019m supposed to shit or get off the pot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs shitting staying in or getting out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe all know that re-enlisting is for the motards who can\u2019t stop wearing all their USMC gear off the base, has more than one Marine tattoo, and can recite the Marine Hymn by heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you, essentially.\u201d<\/p>\n

I slunk down in the seat and pressed a thumb to my temple.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich is why I should get out before I become one of those Marines that we all made fun of when we were lance corporals.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the real problem?\u201d<\/p>\n

I pressed harder. \u201cThe real problem? Let\u2019s see. I didn\u2019t sign my re-enlistment papers yet, causing Captain Billings to call my dad, who then decided to gleefully tell Pops he had lost. They yelled. Mom cried. Oh, and my ex is sniffing around again.\u201d And it sucked being responsible for people instead of just equipment, but I didn\u2019t admit that last one out loud.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo whatever it is to make your mom stop crying,\u201d Bo advised. \u201cIf mama isn\u2019t happy, ain\u2019t no one gonna be happy.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Graphic via LM Creations.\u00a0 Thank you to everyone who participated in the Unraveled cover reveal tour. I so appreciate you…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2460,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-574","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-general","general"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/574","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=574"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/574\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2460"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=574"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=574"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jenfrederick.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=574"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}