Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers
had seen in the past several months.
    “Glad to hear it,” he chuckled as he fist bumped his old friend.
    “Reed, can Jameson and I bum a beer? I’m starved.”
    “You need breakfast, Thomas, not a beer.” Reed continued counting without taking his eyes off the money, his lips forming a thin line. “Maybe lover boy can take you out for something. If you come back in an hour, I’ll have your money.”
    “Ah, just one beer, Reed. Come on.”
    “What are we celebrating?” Reed asked him, stopping to give Thomas attention. “You celebrate gettin’ laid now? Is that how it’s gone for you, son?”
    Jameson could see that cut a little close to the bone for Thomas. “Come on, I’ll buy you some breakfast, and we’ll pick up a six-pack on the way back.”
    “Okay.” Thomas headed toward the door then turned back to Reed. “See you in an hour or less.” After they were in the parking lot, he asked, “So, what are you hankering for?”
    “I not hungry. But I’ll get a cup of coffee with you. Tell me about your sexual exploits.”
    “My lips are sealed, but man, hers? Hers were divine!” Thomas smirked, his eyes wild and twinkling. “Can I ride along?” he asked, pointing to Jameson’s truck.
    “That bad, huh?”
    “Some would call it good, my man.”
    “So did you stop drinking at all last night?” Jameson smelled the alcohol on Thomas’s breath, the clove cigarettes in his clothes.
    “I did several things all night long, Jameson. You’re not the only stud in Nashville.”
    “So Reed says she rides a Harley. Most of those girls have boyfriends who don’t talk much, but love to pound on white boys any chance they can. You thinking straight?” Jameson squinted, shaking his head. They’d arrived at a twenty-four hour coffee shop.
    “Never better.”
    It was probably a boost to Thomas’s ego, plastered and beat down by a long series of rejections from agents and record producers. Jameson knew his old friend had more talent in his little finger than most everyone else in this town. Thomas was also one of the busiest singer-songwriters in Nashville, but only because he was cheap, practically free to hire, and didn’t have a personal life. Hanging out in bars for the odd chance of meeting a biker chick, or making enough to satisfy his bar tab, was the trajectory he was on.
    “Don’t you ever think all this might be ruining your chances of making it big time? You know the A&R guys don’t hang out at some of the places you play.”
    “Well, there were two there last night,” Thomas objected. He sat across from Jameson while their waitress, Dottie, came over and placed a couple of sticky menus in front of them.
    “Just coffee, please, ma’am.”
    “Make that two, and I’d like some eggs and toast.” Thomas growled, frowning into the menu as she snatched it from his hands.
    “Thomas, one guy was there because I invited him. He was there to see me.”
    “Didn’t stay very long.”
    “They never do. I’m feeling good about this one, though.”
    Thomas nodded, lowering the corners of his lips and raising his eyebrows. “You wind up with the little high schooler?”
    “She’s not in high school. She’s twenty-two.”
    “Ah,” Thomas said, and winked. “Well, shit, I’m happy for you.”
    “I don’t do it for the girls, Thomas.”
    “Why the hell not?”
    “Well, I mean, what kind of a life would that be? I’m working hard to get discovered.”
    Thomas gave him a glare straight from hell. Dottie brought his eggs and toast just in time. He softened his look after taking his first bite. “I seriously hope it happens for you, man.”
    Jameson sat back and took stock of his old friend. “You givin’ up on the dream, Thomas? Is that what this is all about?”
    “You know, for such a smart kid, you sure say the dumbest things.” Thomas was pointing his fork at Jameson’s nose. “I fuckin’ work hard at it every day, same as you. I show up. I play the gigs people like you and old

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