One of the great things about being an army brat is you get exposed to a lot of different things kids in the U.S. do not get exposed to. Before going to college I had lived in Germany, Japan, Brazil, and Italy. I am now fluent in four languages (besides English), I can prepare sushi, I know how to make wine, I can kick your ass using either Karate or Capoeira, and most importantly I have been taught how to please a woman romantically, sensually, and sexually. How does a 19 year old acquire those skills, let's just say that when your dad is the lead Military Police (MP) investigator you get exposed to the good and the bad of what a place has to offer.
Being who I was, people were constantly trying to get in good with my dad. One of the more popular ways to try to get in good with my dad was through me. I was shown every indulgence a young man could hope for. I stayed away from the alcohol and drugs - but like any teenage boy I couldn't resist the attention of a beautiful woman. I never put myself in a situation that would compromise my dad, but that doesn't mean I didn't have fun.
My time abroad sadly ended when my father was killed investigating a PFC who thought he could get away with selling grenade launchers to the local bad guys. My dad had him dead to rights, but in a crazed attempt to get away both he and my dad were killed.
There aren't many good things about your dad being killed in the line of duty, but one of them is the fact that my mom will never be wanting financially for the rest of her life. That is what led us here - to this nice little suburb in Silicon Valley. We have our little McMansion in this gated community of Esperanza Heights. Mom is doing better these days - she actually got a job at a tech firm doing HR recruiting. Being fluent in 4 languages, like she is, has it perks when trying to recruit the best talent in the world.
As for me... I helped my mom move in, and to get situated in the neighborhood - and all that fun stuff. Hell, I even got her hooked up with the rest of the mom's in the neighborhood's book club (mom can be a bit of an introvert sometimes). Once a month they get together, pretend to talk about a book, and get shit-faced drunk. But my summer in Esperanza Heights was coming to a close and I am now headed to Santa Carrillo University. My dad's GI Bill is paying for the whole thing - tuition, books, lodging and everything else you could want. Santa Carrillo is a private university in Northern California known as one of the top universities in the country. I guess the admissions department was impressed with my grades and my SAT score - and I am sure that little note in my file about my dad helped as well.
Life at Santa Carrillo was like nothing close to what I have experienced when I lived abroad. The campus was beautiful, the classes were challenging & fun, and somehow every student (young man and young lady alike) looked like Roman gods and goddesses. We were completely isolated in a bubble of privilege.
My first semester was going by pretty uneventfully. The only surprise so far was that my roommate couldn't handle the pressure of Santa Carrillo and had dropped out after 6 weeks and returned home to Phoenix. Having my own dorm room had its positives and negatives. I loved the privacy, but one of the reasons I went to college was the social aspect, and not having a roommate diminished the social part of a school a little. Socially, I was doing just fine. Lots of parties, lots of meeting new people, but having lived overseas for so long I was not your typical Santa Carrillo student.
Being the son of an investigator kept my mind working at a different level than most other students. I would notice the drug users, the drug dealers, the cheaters, and all of the other nefarious things going on in my new little community. I didn't really care - it was sad that young kids that were given every opportunity in life were doing things that were literally rotting their brain, but "to each his own" I always say.
There was one curious thing that was really starting to peak my interest - the pink notebooks that I saw almost every day in my classes. The owners of these books were always women. These notebooks looked like a journal. Their only adornment was a decorative padlock on the front with a piece of lace tied to it. I would see the goddesses taking notes for the class in a regular notebook, but every once in a while they would open the pink notebook and jot something down. I checked the bookstore to see if they sold them - nope!
I was determined to figure it out, but as my dad taught me - 'sometimes the answers come to you, you just have to be patient.' Boy, in this case he sure was right.
I came home for Thanksgiving break and my mom had outdone herself. We had an amazing time. It was great to spend time with her. But hanging around in a neighborhood where I didn't know anybody was a bit of a drag so I went back to school a couple of days early in order to get ready for finals. The campus was like a ghost town so I hit a local pub (of course I had a fake I.D.!) to have some dinner and a few beers. While sitting alone in the back of the bar one of the goddesses from my calculus class (Stacy) came into the pub with a female friend. They were having a couple of appletinis and having a good time. Well, one of the pub's intoxicated male patrons decided it was time to try and pick up on Stacy. Things went poorly for him and were about to get much worse. Stacy was not interested in a drunk, belligerent douchebag.
When Stacy's friend excused herself to go to the restroom, our local douchebag decided to be a little more aggressive. I cannot tell you exactly what happened next, but he put his hands on Stacy in a way that she was not enjoying and then he found himself pinned to the floor, about to have his shoulder separated - by me. Things got really quiet in the pub. I got really close to his face and whispered "you can go home, or you can go to the hospital - your choice". He snarled something and I let him go. He left the pub and Stacy stood there speechless. I stuck out my hand to shake hers and said "Hi, I think you are in my calculus class. I'm Derrick". Not the most creative introduction of all time, but she shook my hand and said "Oh my god, that was amazing. How can I ever thank you?" I smiled and said "Just be careful going home, that will be thanks enough."
I had a bad feeling that we had not seen the last of Mr. Douchebag. The asshole who left did not look like he was going to be content with losing out, so when Stacy left the bar, I counted to 30 and followed her and her friend out. I saw them walking down the street towards campus when I saw the asshole confront them. I heard him screaming "You think that you can be a cocktease and get away with it?" In .2 seconds I was at a dead run. He had his back turned to me so my options were more or less limitless. My first instinct was to sweep his legs out from under him and slam his head into the sidewalk. While this would have ended things quickly, I might have spent the rest of the weekend in county jail. Instead I got behind him, slid my arm around his neck, applied pressure, and cut off the flow of blood to his brain. He was out cold before he knew what had happened.
Stacy had that same look on her face as she did in the bar. As I left the asshole on the ground, Stacy and her friend had her arms around me and were crying. We stood there for a full minute just hugging. I could tell they needed to feel safe and I was their savior. We broke the hug, and I asked if I could walk them home. Stacy replied "I owe you more than I am ever going to be able to repay you." I just smiled and said "Maybe we can study together some time or something." Once again proving that I have absolutely no game tonight. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off and all I could think of was getting these beautiful women home and then getting some sleep.
We walked a couple of blocks to their apartment building. I could see my dorm from their apartment, and the thought of sleep was very intoxicating at that moment. I wished them a good night and started to stroll back to my quiet dorm.
