I am of course. I am 38 years old, six feet two inches tall, weigh a buck eighty five. Blond hair, green eyes and a few beauty marks from times when I led with my chin and not my brains. At the moment I’m still single but looking. Why does it seem like I’m posting some kind of profile on a dating website?
I live down in the Keys on Isla Lacra (Scar Island for you that only speak Taco Bell Spanish) in the house I inherited from my uncle Harry when he passed almost five years ago.
I’ve got a bar and restaurant here along with a marina. Nothing fancy mind you but for a retired Navy Seal not too shabby either. I bet my grandfather, and great grandfather are both twisting in their graves, that I got out of the Navy early instead of being lifer’s like they were.
See, I grew up around the water. Graduated from Annapolis and became a Seal; actually was on a fast track up in the service until my uncle died, and willed me his piece of the island. Gave up the glamorous life of a Seal (glamorous thing is bullshit, no one in their right mind should enjoy being shot at), for a laid back life where my attire is usually flip flops, shorts, and a tank top. Got my two best friends from the Navy with me as well, Davy and Paul.
Something happened recently which put my laid back life on hold for a second. I won’t tell you everything because I’m not sure how it’s going to turn out. I’ll check in with you from time to time to let you know; decided to start some kind of diary to keep my friends informed. The title of the first chapter is called “Isla Lacra” of course.
Shit! Duck! That sound was from a sniper’s rifle! I should know being an ex-seal. Now who the hell would want to shoot at us?