by Nathan Roden
Jack laughed.
“That’s Jordan, all right. He wasn’t always like that, though. When I met him he was shy, and backward, and a nervous wreck. It was damned strange. The guy looks like a movie star but he had absolutely no confidence. You know in the Superman movies, when you first meet Clark Kent? That’s what Jordan reminded me of. When there were girls around you could hear their hormones humming, and you could hear Jordan sweating.“
“So, are you still tied up with…that…you know?” Babe asked.
Jack deflated.
“I’m afraid so. It’s getting ready to break open.”
“Good morning Millie. How was your weekend?” Babe asked.
“A little foggy. One of my neighbors comes over to use my washer and dryer sometimes. She used to use the laundromat at the complex until some guys started treating it like a pick-up bar. She said she actually ran away from there one night and by the time she went back; all of her clothes had been stolen. She always buys dinner, so I don’t mind. Saturday night she brought over a friend. Have you met General Smirnoff?”
Babe laughed.
“Uh, yeah. We’ve met. He hangs out at Momma’s, too. I believe he and a few of his closest friends swim around in a Boston Harbor Iced Tea from time to time.”
“So, I woke up Sunday morning, sweating like a pig…” Millie started.
“That’s a misconception. Pigs don’t sweat,” Babe said.
“Goddammit Babe, this is my story, so shut the fuck up, will you? I woke up Sunday morning sweating like a pig that sweats. I took, like, six baths, and I’m still sweating. I checked a couple of times to make sure I hadn’t grown a penis. What the fuck is in that stuff?”
“You know, Millie, that’s why a lot of Russians hit the sauna the morning after a vodka bender. You might think about putting one in if this is going to be your new hobby.”
“I would so kick your ass right now, except then I would be sitting here soaking wet in a puddle of my own sweat, which, I don’t know, might be bad for business? And speaking of sweating,” Millie said, “We had a new applicant Friday afternoon for preliminaries. I wanted to take this one home. Gabriel. Hubba, hubba.”
“A cutie, huh?” Babe asked.
“Nope. Nothing cute about him. Puppies are cute. More like major hunk-a-licious. MG said you were ready for him so he’ll be your ten o'clock on Wednesday.”
“So he’s Gabriel, huh? Not Mister…?”
“No one asks about Fabio’s last name. And besides, dummy,” Millie said as she passed Babe a folder. “Gabriel is an angel.”
Twenty-One
The ringing phone jolted Babe awake from a deep sleep. He chased the sound in the dark and saw the LED glow of ‘12:13’ from his clock radio. He found the phone on the third ring.
MG. What the hell?
“Hello? M—”
“Babe? I need you with me. Get up. I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes or less. I need you shaved, dressed, and ready to move. Start the coffee. I can’t explain now. Just do it.”
She ended the call.
What the fuck was this? Babe thought, but he knew better than to ignore MG’s instructions. He rubbed his eyes, started the coffee maker, and directed Mr. Pendleton to the back yard. He shaved and quickly showered. He dressed and stood waiting at the front door.
When he spotted the Batmobile roar into the driveway he opened the front door and walked toward MG’s car.
In the time it took him to reach the bottom of the porch and start toward the driveway, MG had exited the drivers’ side and sprinted around to the passenger door and opened it; only then did she slow as she guided a hooded figure from the passenger seat. MG pulled a right arm around her shoulder.
The person was wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a black slipper on the left foot. The right foot was bare, swollen, and discolored. MG held up the right arm at the elbow. There was something wrong with the hand. Fresh blood glistened in the glow of the streetlights on the chin that could be seen underneath the hood. The hooded sweatshirt was a deep red with a large scripted ‘A’…
“Oh, Jesus! Millie?”
“What? How—?”
“Stop it, Babe. Get on her other side. Is the front door open?”
“Yes.”
They helped Millie inside the house without another word.
”Which way?” MG asked.
Mr. Pendleton ran in from the sun room, sniffed once, and ran back to the French doors that lead to the sun room. He whimpered softly and ran into the sun room and sat down.
MG and Babe led Millie to a stuffed chair and helped her down. When they stood, Babe looked at MG and mouthed silently, Bradley?
MG nodded.
Babe knelt down in front of Millie.
“Don’t worry, Millie we’re going to get you all the help you need, right now.
“I— MG tell him…” Millie croaked.
“Babe I need you to focus. Listen to me. We are not here because I can’t drive to the emergency room. We are here because…” MG exhaled.
“We are here because you know some doctors. She— we, don’t want to involve the police. She isn’t afraid of Bradley. She’s afraid of losing her job. And I’m afraid that may be a possibility. She may have something broken in her foot and it looks like she has one or two broken fingers. She’s going to have black eyes. The blood is just a cut from his fingernail.”
“What? What the fuck happened, MG?”
Mr. Pendleton had taken the opportunity to sneak over to sit in front of Millie.
“He’s adorable,” Millie said quietly.
Mr. Pendleton stood and gently licked Millie’s bare toe once. Babe started to scoop him up.
“Come on. Mr. Pendleton. Let’s take you to the bedroom.”
“Can he…can he stay?” Millie asked.
“Of course, Millie, if you want,” Babe said. Millie nodded.
MG jerked on Babe’s shirt.
“Millie, Babe and I have a few calls to make. We’ll be right in the next room.
“Okay.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Babe asked.
“Do you know anyone on an ER staff?” MG asked.
“Or any doctors that have friends on an ER staff?”
Babe squeezed his eyes shut in order to focus.
“I know an ER doctor from my dorm floor… I used to see him on the night shift when—I used to spend a lot of time at hospitals. I can try him first. I have several other cell phone numbers but I don’t know how that will help. What are we going to do? Aren’t doctors and hospitals required to report this stuff to the police? Are we looking for partners in crime here?”
“No, we’re not trying to make criminals out of doctors. But there can be a certain amount of leeway afforded members of the Bureau,” MG said.
“Are you sure?” Babe asked.
“No. But that’s what we’re going to tell them. And if we’re lucky, they’ll buy it.”
Babe scrolled through his numbers. He dialed and waited.
“Yes, ma'am. ER, please.” Pause. “Yes, is Dr. Gates on staff this evening? Thank you.”
Babe gave MG the thumbs up sign.
“Dr. Gates? Marshall? Josh Babelton. I’m fine, but I have a situation here.”
MG went to check on Millie. When Babe finished the call he waved at MG and she returned to the living room.
“Dr. Marshall Gates. He said we should meet him outside the ER as soon as we can get there. We’re not going in. I’m supposed to call him when we get close. He kept telling me to ‘be cool’ and keep my mouth shut. He says that he’s handled this kind of thing before. What do you think?”
“I think we need to go right now.”
“Bradley may be sitting at home waiting to be arrested,” Babe said, “unless he’s hiding. What do we do about him?”
“I’m not worried about that right now but I have Millie’s phone in case he tries to call,” MG said.
“Let me have it,” Babe said.
/> They returned to the sun room. Babe knelt in front of Millie who was leaning forward and petting Mr. Pendleton.
“We’re going to the ER, Millie. I talked to a doctor that I went to school with. He understands what we need to do. Millie, what happened?”
“I was going to surprise him and show up at one of his club meetings, but the meeting had been canceled—except for one lucky twenty year old. I walked right in on them in his classroom. Jesus, like he’s a naughty, pimple faced high school sophomore or something. And this girl gets in my face like we’re going to fight over him. Yeah, right.
“I had been home maybe an hour when he showed up. I forgot that he had a key. He let himself in—he smelled like a brewery and he was whining and crying. I told him that he disgusted me and I never wanted to lay eyes on him again. He got in my face and he called…he called me...I can’t fucking believe it—Hillbilly Barbie. Yeah! No shit. So I hit him right in his god-damned mouth; he spun around and back-handed me in the face.”
“What happened to your foot?” Babe asked.
Millie answered without looking up.
“Pelvic bone.”
Twenty-Two
Thurgood Marshall Gates walked through the ER entrance and looked in each direction twice. This could have been a safety precaution caused by the presence of speeding ambulances, but Babe didn’t think so. Marshall discretely motioned for MG to pull farther away from the entrance. She stopped when Marshall made another signal. MG lowered the driver’s side window.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Marshall said. “Hi, Babe. Go to this address.”
He passed a sheet of paper containing an address and a hand-drawn map.
“I’ll be there in about thirty minutes and I’ll have about an hour. You’ll be looking for Chad Jenson. This is his office. Don’t freak out on me. He’s a dentist. We had some classes together. I gotta run—see you in a bit.” Marshall looked both ways again and walked back through the doors.
“Did he say we’re going to a dentist office?” MG asked.
“Yes, he did. On the phone he referred to a ‘goodwill alumni association’. He said he would tell me the whole story later. I’ll bet it’s a damned good one. Either the service or the story or both, costs five hundred dollars. Cash.”
“There has to be an ATM on the way. Let’s roll,” MG said.
“Got it covered,” Babe said, patting his jacket pocket.
MG followed the last of Babe’s directions and pulled into a strip center. They spotted the dental clinic at the end of the row of buildings. A flashlight flashed three times and they followed it into the alley next to a loading dock. They parked behind a row of garbage bins beside a four door Lexus.
“Introductions inside, please,” Chad Jensen whispered. “Do you need help?”
“We have her, thanks.” Babe said.
“Jesus Christ,” MG hissed as she stepped down from her SUV.
Two cats had been scavenging from the dumpster they were parked next to and MG stepped on a tail, triggering a series of cat expletives.
“Smooth, Nancy Drew,” Babe whispered as he opened his door.
Chad lit their path with his flashlight. They climbed the service area stairs. Babe saw Chad look both ways twice before entering the building. This team had a recurring theme.
They paused while Chad Jenson unlocked the dentist office and led them to an examination room. Chad spoke to MG.
“The patient’s name? Don’t worry, I just want to be able to communicate with her; last name is not necessary.”
“Millicent Vandermeer, Millie,” Babe said.
MG punched him in the side.
“He was asking me and he said last name not necessary, boob.”
“MG, why don’t you go and stomp on some more cats while you’re playing Secret Agent Ninja? It’s okay, Dr. Jenson, I’m a friend of Marshall’s. We roomed on the same floor at UMass,” Babe said.
To MG he said, “Lighten up a little, Madeline.”
MG’s eyes went wide at having her name mentioned. She was still working on her alias and her imagination ran wild with the repercussions of whatever this was that they were doing.
“MG, we don’t need her stripped, but we need to lose the sweatshirt,” Jensen said, “The sweat pants are fine. There are some scissors in that desk drawer if you want to shorten them up. I can scare up a t-shirt if we need one. Could you help her please? Good, we’ll be right outside. Come with me, sir.”
“Your name, sir?” Jensen asked after the reached the reception area.
“Josh Babelton. Everybody calls me Babe,” he said, extending a hand.
Just as quickly he withdrew it.
“Sorry, I forgot: Surgeons, dentists, guitar players. Protect the hands.”
Jenson smiled and extended his hand.
“I get the concept; I just never could join the club. Seems like tempting fate to me. I used to make up headlines—‘Man Rejects Handshake, Steps Into Parade Route And Is Run Over By Tank’ or ‘After Fleeing Menacing Handshake, Dentist Falls Into Manhole, Plunges To Death’.
“Help me out a little here, Doc. What are we doing—in a dentist’s office?”
“X-rays, for right now. Don’t worry. Marshall is the doctor. We’re not going to bleed any chickens and we’re all out of leeches.”
MG opened the door. “Ready,” she said.
“Millie, have you taken anything for pain?” Jenson asked. He glanced at MG, who was shaking her head.
“No,” Millie said. “I had a couple of Tylenol earlier, before…before any of this happened.”
“Which injury is causing you the most pain?” Jenson asked.
“My foot. No…my hand. Shit. My foot is throbbing but if I move my hand any at all, it fucking…sorry. If I move my hand at all it gosh darn hurts like the dickens.”
Jenson sat at the desk and unlocked a drawer. He rifled through the ample contents and spread eight small packets on the top of the desk. “What do we have here? Yeah, that should work.” Jenson looked up at Babe and then at MG.
“There are things I can do and things I cannot. There are drug reps in and out of this clinic all day long.” Jenson made a show of looking up at his diploma on the wall while pushing the packets of pain medicine to the corner of the desk. He stood and said, “I have to pee,” and left the room.
Jenson returned a few minutes later, talking on his cell. He ended the call and told Babe and MG that he was going to let Marshall in.
Dr. Thurgood Marshall Gates was an imposing figure. When he held a tongue depressor it looked as if he might be about to go after a stray stalk of broccoli stuck between a couple of his enormous teeth. The sight of Marshall away from the hospital and out of his lab coat flashed Babe back to his days in John Adams Hall.
Babe and Marshall became friends, even though Marshall spent most of his free time with his friends in the jock dorms. Marshall dwarfed most of the athletes but none of them had a mother waiting patiently for their son to become a doctor before taking his next step on his path to the Supreme Court. Babe thought that Mrs. Gates was probably still disappointed that Marshall had, at least for the time being, stopped at just becoming a doctor.
The residents of floor five nicknamed Marshall, ‘Optimus Prime’, after the leader of the Transformers. When residents assembled in the common area lounge, usually to watch a game on television, Marshall’s approach could be heard and felt. The floor would quake a little, sparking someone to cry out, “Optimus Prime is on the move. Autobots, let’s roll!” Marshall would round the corner to thunderous applause. His casual-time attire usually consisted of flip flops, cut off sweat pants, and one of his 4XL UMass sweatshirts.
Babe and Marshall embraced like old friends. They had spent some time together up until recently on Marshall’s breaks from the ER, during the times when Jill was admitted. Marshall shook hands with MG. Or rather, MG shook a couple of Marshall’s fingers. Marshall would have had nothing to worry about concerning the well-being of his hands should he
have decided to become a dentist, but he would never have been able to get more than one or two fingers inside of anyone’s mouth.
Chad Jenson brought Marshall up to speed on Millie. They looked over the x-rays together. There was nothing broken in her foot, but it was badly bruised. Marshall splinted Millie’s two broken fingers, and put her in a sling. He looked over Millie’s face.
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. Babe knew that Bradley Weyner was lucky to be nowhere near this room. Marshall shook his head and placed a small Band-aid over the cut under Millie’s right eye.
Marshall rolled his chair in front of Millie and took her left hand in his.
“You’re a very lucky girl, Millie. Two broken fingers—those will heal nicely. Take good care of them, please. Your foot is badly bruised, but the swelling makes it look worse than it is. When you can put some weight on it, walk on it a little at a time to help the circulation. Your eye will be fine, in time. Did Dr. Jenson give you anything for pain?”
Millie nodded.
“Let’s have you sit here another fifteen or twenty minutes to make sure there’s no nausea. We may need to try…something different,” Marshall said.
“Thank you so much, Doctor,” Millie said.
“Please tell me there is no chance of this happening again?” Marshall looked from Millie, to MG, to Babe. Millie shook her head, followed by the other two.
“Good. That’s good news.” Marshall stood and motioned Babe and MG out of the room.
Chad Jenson started working on four cups of coffee as Babe, MG, and Marshall took seats in the waiting room. Babe reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. He laid it on the table in front of Marshall.