“I guess I’m too excited to sit at home,” Tommy said. “I want to be able to take it all in before it gets too crazy. Hey, that same driver will pick me up later. Can you make sure he’ll be able to get through?”
The guard went over to TQ and Tommy entered the building. He took in the fully assembled stage from the concourse, stopping to pull his event instruction sheet from the tiller bag and pick out approximately where he would be located. He took note of the entrance that led from their holding room to the stage as well.
He went back down the elevator to the ground floor, passing the growing number of workers scuttling about making last-minute preparations. He found his way to the box office area and wheeled himself outside. After some time, he discovered the cordoned-off areas where the protesters and supporters outside would be located.
He spent time rolling around among the workers and security people, chatting them up, making himself known to them. He cruised along the concrete jersey barriers, looking for one with just the kind of defect he needed to place his small package.
As he was making his way back toward the building, a gruff supervisor called him out. “What are you doing out here?”
“Easy, pal. I used to be in construction. Just checking out how everything works. Killing time until I have to be inside. I got to piss, headed there now.”
The man continued to stare until Tommy entered the building.
He made his way to the backstage hallway that led to the holding room and green room. People were starting to come in waves now, as the hour of the event grew nearer. The hallways were becoming clogged with people going in each direction, their badges flapping around on the lanyards around their necks.
His breathing became more labored, and his chest tightened as he pushed himself toward his goal—the green room just ahead. I just have to get the gun out of that toilet and back in my bag, and I’m all set.
As he made his final approach, he saw Gloria exit the green room, locking it on the way out. Shit.
“Hey, Gloria,” he called to her cheerfully. “Remember me? Listen, I gotta go again, and this one’s a lot easier to use with the wheelchair and all...”
She cut him off. “Yes, of course, I remember you. You look fantastic! You look ready to step right back on the battlefield. I’m so happy our vets are coming for the event this evening.”
“Thanks, thanks. Yeah, I’m still kind of sick, do you think...”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry, sir. The room is sealed off now until the security teams come through to search it before Mr. Brand arrives. Nobody goes in until they do that, and then after that nobody goes in except Mr. Brand, his family, and closest advisers.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“Let me help you to the holding room bathroom, though. Let’s hurry, we don’t want a mess,” Gloria said musically, positioning herself behind him.
She pushed Tommy into the holding room. Several other vets were already there, sitting together and having loud, animated conversations. She pushed him past them and directly to the men’s room.
“I’m gonna leave you off here, sir. Do you need help? I can ask one of the other fellows out there.”
“No, this is fine, thanks,” Tommy said.
He went into the handicapped stall and considered his situation. Something will break. Don’t panic. I’ll figure out a way to get in there. He rolled out of the stall and looked at himself in the mirror. I look like I’m a hundred years old. I feel even older. But I’m wearing this uniform, and I have a job to do for my country. I’ve had karma with me all along. I’m meant to do this.
He hit on the inhaler and injected his last shot of the steroids, then rolled back into the holding room. The others there greeted him, and he joined them for their stories and recollections. They were all old, like him. He was growing more fatigued, and nausea was creeping in as time passed.
As the start time drew nearer, he heard a commotion in the hallway, and the door burst open. Security people came through, pushing someone who was hunched down in the middle of them. They closed the door behind them. The man in the middle stood up, clearly shaken. Brand.
One of the officers addressed them. “Sorry for the commotion. We discovered a security breach next door. The room is being cleared, and the venue is being scanned again. It’s going to take a while, so we can’t allow anyone to enter or leave this room during that time. The good news is that Mr. Brand will be able to spend extra time with you before you all go out on stage.”
Tommy realized they had found the gun, and more panic set in. His heart raced. There goes my plan B.
His mind no longer quickly found solutions to problems, but he pushed it relentlessly. His backup plan had been flawed, and he cursed himself for not having a more solid one. I should have had a solid plan B and a plan C. Some fucking cop I am. Stupid.
He had noticed a few of Brand’s people had entered at the back of the pack that had come through the door, including the woman he’d met at the campaign offices. Brenda, I think it was.
Another woman, whom he assumed was the publicist, was taking advantage of the opportunity to photograph Brand with some of the vets. A pool reporter and cameraman were shooting footage of it all. The reporter was excitedly telling her audience about the dramatic events. Brand had recovered and was now happily soaking up the attention.
He caught Brenda’s eye and motioned to her.
“Mr. Domingo, happy to see you here,” she greeted him.
“Hi, I hope everything is okay. This is all a bit intimidating. What happened?”
“They found a gun next door. No idea how long it’s been there, but we have to assume it has something to do with the event. You’re safe though. That’s why we do these searches. The security team is quite thorough.”
“Geez. What the hell is wrong with people these days?” Tommy said. “I’d like to meet Mr. Brand, but I can’t get in the middle of all that chaos over there. I have PTSD and some kind of crowd phobia.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle that for you, Mr. Domingo. Just give me a little time to let him get through the rest of the group, and I’ll set it up.”
He waited, watching the candidate with hatred. Now that he was in the same room, he despised the man even more. Brand’s every gesture was pretentious, and he reeked of narcissism and entitlement.
Finally, as Brand had made his rounds, Tommy saw Brenda take him by the arm and say something to him. He glanced Tommy’s way, and they both started over. It was a surreal moment for Tommy. I wish I had the damn gun right now, to get this over with.
“Mr. Brand, this is Mr. Domingo. He’s got a Bronze Star and Purple Heart, as you can see.”
Brand squinted at the medals on Tommy’s chest.
He’s too vain to wear the glasses he needs in public.
Brand took Tommy’s outstretched hand in a weak, limp shake and mumbled something about his service to the country. Tommy noticed that up close, without all of the makeup, the blood vessels in his face and nose were burst. His skin was clammy, he was sweating, and appeared to be shaking slightly. Damn, he is a drunk. He’s got it bad. He needs a drink, just as I hoped.
Brand turned back to Brenda excitedly. “Hey, this one’s in a wheelchair. Let’s make sure he’s up front on the stage, and right next to me. Go tell Stinson to rearrange the seating chart, hurry.”
She moved off, and Tommy took advantage of the opportunity. He pulled on Brand’s sleeve and motioned for him to lean down.
“Listen,” Tommy whispered. “I hate to admit it, but I’m a bit of a drunk, and I need a drink to be able to get out there in front of all those people. And, I brought you some excellent bourbon, but your staff wouldn’t take it—something about regulations. Do you think we could sneak over to your private room next door? It’s got to be secure by now. There’s nobody in there.”
Brand took the bait. He motioned to a member of the security detail, who came over immediately. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said excitedly to Tom
my.
“Have you guys finished clearing this bathroom?” Brand asked the guard. “You fuck-wads almost got me killed by not being thorough next door.”
“It’s clear, sir. It’s been checked twice. We’ve escorted everyone who needed to go down the hall to the public restroom. We’re holding the one in here just for you, and you alone.”
“Good,” Brand said. He noticed the news crew filming them and raised his voice, making it deeper. “This man needs to go to the restroom, and I won’t have him sent out into the hall to the public bathroom. I’m going to take care of him myself.”
He went behind Tommy and pushed him toward the men’s room. The security lead and camera crew followed.
Brand pushed the door open and ordered the guard and news team to stay outside as the camera rolled. “Let this veteran have his dignity.”
When they were inside with the door closed Brand quickly turned to him. “What’ve you got?”
Tommy separated his legs and rummaged in the tiller bag behind them. He pulled out a silver flask, and then a paper bag with a bottle inside. He unscrewed the cap of his flask and pretended to take a swallow, placing his tongue against the opening. “I drink the cheap stuff.”
He raised it to Brand, who grimaced. “Christ, I can’t drink from that after you just did,” Brand said. “What else you got?” He motioned at the bag.
“Mr. Brand, I’m a huge supporter. I spent my whole disability check on this when I heard it was available, as thanks for what you’re doing for our country.”
Brand grabbed the bag and slid the bottle out. “Sweet Jesus, Martin Mills. I’ve heard about this stuff.”
Without so much as a thank you, he opened it hastily and took a long drink. “We gotta get out of here before they come in to check on me,” he said. He hit it again, then replaced the cap, put the bottle back in the bag, and went to the door. “Come in here,” he said to the guard.
The man entered, and Brand pushed the bag into his hand. “Don’t let anyone see this, but keep it handy.”
Brand went to the sink and scooped up handfuls of water to rinse out his breath, then pulled a tin of mints from his jacket pocket, shook a few out, and placed them in his mouth. “Bring this guy out after he has a chance to take a piss,” he told the guard as he went through the door.
TOMMY SUFFERED THROUGH the event, and thankfully it went quickly. His breathing became more labored each hour, the inhaler providing less benefit each time it was employed. As soon as it was over and they were back in the holding room, he saw Brand pull the guard back into the men’s room. He discretely called TQ and began to let himself out when he ran into Brenda.
“Mr. Domingo, let me bring you to the reception. Mr. Brand will be sitting at a table with all of you vets. I hear the food will be delicious.”
“No thanks,” Tommy wheezed. “I’m not feeling well, and I’m overstimulated from all this. I’ve had a wonderful day, and I’d like to be on my way. I need to get home to my meds and my dog.”
“I’m going to have one of the security people escort you out. There’s complete mayhem outside the building, and it’s becoming dangerous. Do you have a ride?”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “I have one of those handicapped vans. I set it up with security; he’ll be waiting for me.”
After TQ had loaded him, they passed by the mayhem going on outside the building. Tommy could hear the groups yelling at each other, chanting, screaming. He saw the banners of the Brand Brigade, and the pennants of the protesters raised high. The police were trying to disperse them and send everyone on their way.
“It’s fucking crazy what we’re coming to, isn’t it, TQ?” he asked in a whisper. “Damn scary.”
“Scarier still if you’re a black guy,” TQ responded.
Tommy noticed flickering ambulance and police lights deep into the crowd. “Looks like someone got hurt.”
“It was on the radio just before you came out. They don’t know what the hell happened, but witnesses said some dude in that Brand Brigade was talking on his phone and the damn thing blew up. Took his head and arm right off.”
“Jesus,” Tommy said, smiling. “I’m sure glad it was on that side and not the protesters.” He tried to suppress a laugh, and it launched him into a fit of coughs and hacks. He worked desperately between them to pull in air. His body felt stuffed as if a full meal were through every part of it. I’m loaded up good with it now, this fucking disease.
“You ain’t sounding so well, Tommy. You want to head to the ER?”
“No, to the hotel,” Tommy answered carefully, trying not to kick off another fit. “I need to pick up my stuff, then I have some other places I’d like you to take me to. You busy tonight?”
“Same as always—not so much. Handicapped folks are all sleeping by now.”
“Good, take yourself off the clock if you can. I’ll make it worth your while.”
They pulled up to the motel. Tommy had TQ help him retrieve his already-packed sea bag from against the wall and put it in the van. He went to use the bathroom, and as he entered and closed the door, he noticed the two empty black vials floating in the toilet. Jesus, they didn’t flush.
He pulled them out and filled them with water from the sink, then finished his business and flushed them again, this time making sure they didn’t return to the surface.
On the way out of the room, he paused to look in one last time. I wonder if they’ll make a museum out of it, like that school book depository in Dallas.
“Alright, TQ, swing by that Army/Navy store if you can. I left something in there. Hopefully it’s still open.”
As they took the exit and started down the boulevard that the shop was on, Tommy discreetly pulled out his cell phone. He held it low so that TQ wouldn’t see the glow of the lights.
“Looks like they’re closed,” TQ said as they drove by.
“Damn. Alright, get back on the highway and head south then.” As they crested a hill on the on-ramp, Tommy entered 666 on the phone keypad and pressed the ‘Send’ button. He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of the store and saw a satisfying burst of orange-and-red light.
A muffled pop followed it. The sound reminded him of the last kernel of popcorn bursting as he stood vigilantly at the microwave before watching a movie with Bobby.
“Where to?” TQ said, his attention on the highway ahead.
“Islamorada,” Tommy responded.
“Huh? Did you say Islamorada?”
“Damn right. Here’s five hundred bucks. Keep it quiet as long as you can, TQ. They’ll come around, eventually. Just tell them you took some crazy old guy to Islamorada and you were well paid. That’s all you know.”
“What the hell did you do, Tommy?”
“I made the world a better place tonight. And that’s all I want to say about it. I’m gonna try to sleep a bit now, TQ. Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
27 TV News
Tara lay back on her bed after a long, exhausting day. The market had been busy, and it had helped the day pass quickly. She still eagerly waited for some sign that Tommy was coming back. Whitey leaped up to join her, nuzzling her arm until she began petting him.
She thought back to the blissful days they had spent on the private key and wished every day could be like that. In paradise, with someone I love. Life had never worked out that way for her. I never found someone right, until him. He was my last shot to not die alone.
She realized she was hoping for something that was highly unlikely—that he would somehow beat the disease and they might live happily ever after. “Such is my lot in life, Whitey.”
Unable to sleep, she picked up the remote and switched on the TV. A reality show featuring people in the wilderness was playing, and she watched as they schemed and stabbed each other in the back. Is this what we’ve come to as a society? Smarter savages?
She fell asleep until Whitey became restless, waking her. After she went to use the bathroom and got back into bed, she notice
d the dog observing the screen. The news was on, and they were showing candidate Brand with some veterans at an event in Miami.
Then she saw him, barely recognizable, sitting in a wheelchair while Brand talked to him and then began wheeling him somewhere. “Oh my God, Whitey. What the hell is he up to?” I think I know.
Everything changed at that moment. Tara thought back to Tommy’s words, what she knew he’d done before, and what little time he had left.
She began to worry about him, and then for herself. She fought with her conscience, which was telling her to make a call, to perhaps save a life. And then she thought about the lives that could be lost in many ways if that horrible man were to be elected, the many people who’d suffer, and what it would mean for the country, if not the world. For my daughter, and her kids, and theirs.
IT WAS VERY LATE, AND Brenda wanted badly to go home. She tried to make sense of what Brand was saying to her. His voice was thick and slurred, and he leaned back into the plush leather chair in frustration. She looked over at Carenton.
“What the hell have you guys been doing?” she asked. “He handles his booze pretty well. I’ve seen him knock down a bottle of bourbon before and it hardly fazed him.”
Carenton shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe because we made him wait all day? He’s used to a steady stream of the stuff. Maybe he guzzled it, and it hit him too hard.”
“Doesn’t sound plausible,” Brenda said. “What was he drinking?”
“Some rare stuff,” Carenton responded. “He would only give me a shot—said he had to cherish it—then he polished the whole damn bottle off over the course of the night.”
“Rare stuff...where did he get it?”
“He said one of the vets gave it to him as a gift. The guy in the wheelchair, with the white beard.”
She looked over at Brand, who was now slumped over, asleep on the couch. The pieces clicked in her mind. “Jesus. Where’s the bottle?”
“Over there, in the trash.”
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