by Jillian Kidd
“Well, I’m amazed that she wants to fill two whole nights of her schedule with us when she could roll us into one.”
“Mina. Now, stop being ugly. I’m just the messenger, here.”
That made me feel a little bad. As much as I hated the woman, I still loved her, if that makes any sense. Love and hate are typically labeled as opposites. But actually, the only opposite of love or hate is indifference. The truth was, I still loved my mother enough to care if she hurt me. And who knew? Maybe she was softening in her middle age and wanted to start having a relationship. Maybe. But probably not. Probably just her annual guilt, and for the sake of having stories to tell her friends about what a good mother she was, traveling across the world to see her kids. I stared into my Dad’s eyes, knowing that I needed to go along with it to make him happy.
“That’s fine,” I said with a little shrug. I studied my sneakers. “Just have her call me.”
“I will.”
I was going to say something about the fact that she should be calling me first anyway, but I let that drop. Dad nodded his head, then leaned back, smiling.
“So, you’re now two catches away from going Global?” he asked.
“I know. Doesn’t it make you want to freak out?”
“I remember the first time I went Global. It was like a dream. Suddenly I had freedom to fly all over the world and nab any criminal on Earth, not just limited to the States. It makes for some great adventure, getting to see the world. You’ve done real good, sweetie, being patient. And I have to say that in your time, you may see bounty hunting go Intergalactic. It’s already pretty much Interplanetary with our Moon Colony and the growing Mars Colony. My little darlin’ might be going after the Fish in space, like Star Wars.”
I laughed, but I knew it was an actual possibility. Both the Moon Colony and the Mars Colony were doing well and growing fast. More and more water was being found on the Moon all the time. I’d been to visit once, as a gift for graduating college. It was amazing, all the brightly lit interconnected cities in domes. The only thing I missed while there was being able to go outside and feel the sun without a barrier.
“Speaking of Global,” Dad said, the smile slightly fading from his face, “your brother called and said you two were talking about Damon last night.”
“Oh, lord! You, too? Who’s next, the Pope?”
“Who else is bringing him up?”
“Well, Colt, you, and”—I pointed to the glass wall—“Jenny.”
“Hmm.”
He stood up and walked over to the wall monitor and pressed a button on the touchpad to flip through several video clips, until he came to one of me as a little girl. I was swinging in a swing set that he’d made in the backyard of our two-story house. Colt was hanging from his legs on the monkey bars, his smile checkered from the absence of baby teeth he’d lost. Mom was sitting to the side in a wide-brimmed straw hat, swiping her hand in the air at bugs, and trying to read a paperback romance novel.
“That’s my little girl,” Dad said, beaming at the video.
I stood and joined him, feeling a pang of nostalgia as I watched the younger me, smiling with abandon, giggling at Colt, so innocent then.
“Dad?” I asked. “How does this relate to Damon? What’s the point?”
He turned to me and looked down into my eyes. “Point is it’s been a long time since you’ve been happy like that.”
Ouch. That hurt. But didn’t everyone change when they reached their teens and adulthood? Especially someone in my profession? Children always seemed happy because they didn’t know the dark side of life yet. Then, as if Dad could read my mind, he said:
“Even after your mother and I split, you still had this fire about you. High spirits, like an unbridled filly. Carried on through high school, college. I know you didn’t date much. But the boys you did go out with were nice, and you seemed to have a good time. Fun. But despite them, you had a crush on Damon since you were 18 and joined the team. He was older, more mysterious, and quite the rebel. I’ll never understand why you women go for men like that.” I remained quiet, though a flood of contradicting emotions began to flow through me. “So when you started dating him, it was like the be-all, end-all. But, sweetie, and I’m going to be very frank with you, he wasn’t good enough for you.”
I tucked a wavy piece of hair behind my ear. “I don’t need a prince, Dad. I don’t need someone to open doors or spoon-feed me my supper. It’s 2053. I can take care of myself. Besides, chivalry is a thing of the past.”
“No. No, it isn’t. I like to think I treat women right. And I treated your mother right. It was her greed that made her leave. She was more into material things than the heart.”
I didn’t want to say what I was about to say, so I said it gently:
“Damon’s not like Mom, though. Mom left you for another man. She left us.”
Dad turned off the video, and the wall faded into a silver metallic mural.
“Damon left you,” he said, “when he went on that foolish mission to wherever he went, if that’s even where he went. I’m not so sure.”
“But why would he lie?”
“Even if he is telling the truth, he still left the country, and he left you.”
I stood there a long time, looking at his cluttered desk. My eyes followed the jagged lines of strewn pens, papers, and pictures.
“And I never said anything when you were together because I hoped it would’ve ended up all right, and plus, you were a grown woman, so I figured you wouldn’t want my advice. But as a man, looking at another man, I know he didn’t treat you right. He’d go off somewhere for days, weeks at a time, and not tell you where he was. Not answer his phone.”
“I wasn’t a babysitter,” I said quietly. “I didn’t need to know where he was.”
“It would’ve been polite for him to tell you, and you would’ve told him where you were. It’s common courtesy. Didn’t he even stand you up a few times? I can’t count the angry phone calls I got from you, the hours I spent calming you down. Don’t you remember?”
Fire. That’s what it felt like. Fiery Irish temper, running through my veins. Though I’m not sure if I was angrier at my dad or at Damon.
“He always had an explanation,” I said, trying to save face.
“They all do,” he said. “And that spark I was telling you about, the one you’d had all your life, it started to go away, and it was replaced by a look of pain and confusion. It’s better now, but I want to see it completely gone. I think the only way to do that is to completely remove him from your life.”
We stood there, with me staring at his desk, with him staring at me. He’d said a mouthful. I didn’t want to think about it. I needed to focus on that jerk Jared Doyle. I needed to focus on what my plan was for guarding Leigh’s tonight. I—I just needed to go.
“Do you know if Colt’s home?” I asked, giving Dad a hug. “I think I’m going to get out of here and run some errands. I want to stop by his place.”
Colt had a punching bag, and I really needed to beat that thing up to release some of this emotion. I didn’t have a punching bag at my house because I wanted home to be a peaceful, relaxing place. I didn’t want to associate it with my aggressions. Plus, it probably would’ve freaked Rogue out to see me going Bruce Lee on a hanging bag of sand.
“Actually, I just talked to him on the phone,” Dad said, hugging me back. “He said he was going to work on his car this afternoon.”
“Okay, well, if you wouldn’t mind, could you call him and let him know I’m on my way over?”
“Will do.”
I pulled away from his safe embrace, trying not to think of the things he’d said about me, about Damon, about chivalry and treating people right and being happy. But my mind was swirling with it.
* * *
Every punch and kick had my complete concentration. I homed in on the punching bag, sensing nothing in the room but it, as my gloved fist landed with a muted slam. I focused on my leg and imagi
ned it striking with the force of a ram, and the roundhouse kick jarred the bag to the left. With mind and body connected, I channeled my frustration into energy and released it. Again. And again. And again. My brow began to sweat. It was great.
Physical activity is the perfect thing to do when you’re upset. A lot of people tend to get drunk or zonk themselves out on drugs. I did enjoy a good drink, but I’d seen overindulgence backfire time and time again. It started to own you. A fabulous example was my dear mother. She couldn’t start her day without a cocktail and a few pills.
Slam! A good left hook sent the bag in the other direction.
The large window of the second-story workout room had a good view of the gated front yard. Colt was down there, painting intricate star designs on his Charger. I’d brought Rogue over to play. His collar said, “Hello” as he sniffed Colt’s leg.
Then, I sensed it: There was someone else in the room.
I continued hitting the punching bag and opened my intuition to who might be behind me.
Then I turned, just as a man with a bleach-blond Mohawk leapt at me, originally aiming to jump on my back. He ended up hugging the punching bag. Ripping off my gloves, I wiped my brow with the back of my arm and waited.
I let him steady himself enough to turn and come for me again, and with a couple quick moves I had him on his back, straddling him, with my left knee on his right arm and my left hand on his throat. My right hand held his left wrist. He had no weapon, other than that disarming grin I’d seen on his face a million times before.
“A.J.,” I said, feeling my own smile creep to my face, “that was terrible.”
“I know,” he said.
“You didn’t even try that hard this time.”
“Well, to be quite honest, you look scrumptious today, all pissed off, and I really just wanted you on top of me.” The grin widened. He added with a dreamy sigh, “And here we are.”
A.J. was one of Colt’s two roommates, and he delighted in trying to pin me down (in more ways than one.) He’d succeeded a couple of times (and not in that way), but most of the time I sensed him coming and thwarted his game. I didn’t mind the challenge. He kept me on my toes.
The tribal tattoos on the side of his head stretched down to his neck, extending underneath his sleeveless shirt. He, like Colt and me, did some bounty hunting, but he was also going to college, majoring in electrical engineering with a minor in robotics. He, Colt, and their other roommate, Bryan, made most of their money fixing computers and cars and pretty much anything mechanical or electrical. They even had business cards. They called themselves “The Fix-It Three.” A.J. also enjoyed inventing odd devices, such as the one he was working on right now.
“How’s the robot project going?” I asked, getting off of him and offering him my hand.
He took it and pulled himself to his feet. “It’s all right, but there’s something wrong with the sleep function.”
The invention was a synthetic gerbil that could crawl into any building and videotape the goings-on. He wanted the gerbil as life-like as possible and was currently working on a way to make it “sleep,” which entailed regenerating in a state that looked like sleep, while receiving energy through some special woodchips.
“I don’t want to just plug it in,” he said. “That seems so cruel.”
“But it’s a robot.”
“I know,” he said, smoothing out his Mohawk. “But he—it, I mean—looks so cute. I feel like I’m violating him by connecting wires to his butt.”
I shook my head and laughed, and Colt appeared in the doorway. His purple hair now had gold streaks in it. It was thrown back in a red bandana. He wore gold contacts. He held onto Rogue, who was licking the side of his face as if it were an ice cream cone and happily wagging his tail.
“Hello!” his collar said. “Hello! Hello!”
“Can he stay the night?” Colt asked. “Since you’re going to be gone?”
“Only if you promise not to keep him up all night,” I said, picking up my gloves and sticking them into my bag by the door. “He needs his sleep.”
“Okay, we’ll get him into bed.”
“I’ll come by in the morning and get him, then.”
“Thanks!” He kissed Rogue’s head. “You’re such a good lil guy!”
“Good luck tonight,” A.J. said.
“Thanks. I think this guy’s getting desperate. That’s when people make mistakes.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “If all goes well, this time tomorrow, I’ll be at number 24.”
“Damn,” A.J. said. “My friend, the Global bounty huntress superstar. Can I take you out to celebrate?” He winked. “I promise not to jump you—at least in a violent way.”
“We’ll see,” I said, cracking a side grin. A.J. had an endless supply of hormones. “Bye, Colt. Bye, Rogue.”
Rogue was too fascinated tasting the side of Colt’s face to notice.
“Bye, Sis,” Colt said. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Jared, I thought, as I headed down the wooden stairs of the old brick home, justice is coming for you tonight.
6
I positioned myself within the thick branches of Mrs. Newton’s large front yard oak. The night sky was perfectly clear, a cool breeze tousling the leaves, enclosing me in nature’s music. I wore all black. I’d braided my hair and wrapped it around my head underneath my ninja mask, which hid all of my face from the nose down. From the tree, I had a clear view of the street and Leigh’s house. It wasn’t my first time propping up in this particular oak. Back when Jared first made the criminal list and I’d decided to go after him, I’d asked Leigh if any of her neighbors might cooperate with me in letting me onto their property to watch the perimeter. Without hesitation, Leigh had confidently said, “Mrs. Newton.”
Mrs. Newton was a retired old battle-axe of a high school teacher. She was also divorced and had no children. When Leigh had introduced me to her, the woman nodded her head, her smile a thin line across her square face.
“Honey, you just use any bit of my property you want to put that son of a bitch away,” she’d said in a voice deep and husky from too many years of smoking. “If only my ex-husband had a bounty on him. I’d have you go find his ass, too.”
She was a short woman who always wore pant suits, and she kept her violet auburn hair in a tall bouffant that added height to her squat, bulldog stature. I didn’t even have to ask if she’d been tough on her students. Just by looking at her, I knew she was the stuff class clowns’ nightmares are made of. And that’s a good thing. Even considering bounty hunting, I can’t think of a tougher job than teaching high school students. The woman surely had nerves of steel to survive all those years among thousands of rebellious adolescents with raging hormones.
That night, Mrs. Newton had told me to come inside anytime I wanted. She said there were freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen and to help myself. She also said there was milk. Tempting. But I declined. I’d eat myself sick on those things. Chocolate can be so deliciously distracting.
Wearing my night-vision glasses, I surveyed the street and used the zoom feature to closely look at any vehicles and their drivers that drove past Leigh’s house. I checked my watch. So far, I’d been there for about two hours. It was nearing 1 a.m.
My plan for if I spotted Jared was this: If he remained in his car, I’d slink from the tree and get into my car, which was parked in Mrs. Newton’s driveway. Then I’d proceed to follow him to wherever he went, and as soon as he got out of the vehicle, I was going to point my gun at him and encourage him to come with me without a fight. If he wanted to struggle, then we’d struggle. I had three guns on me tonight, two laser shooters, one mid-sized and my Pixie, and one bullet-firing weapon. I also had a knife strapped to my leg and brass knuckles in my pocket. I was ready for him to struggle. I really hoped he would, so I could justify breaking his nose.
Just thinking about little Sammy being thrown into such a horrible situation stirred a deep-seate
d rage inside of me. When I was 12 and my mother first got remarried, her husband, Alec the CEO, tried feeling me up one summer morning when I was still asleep. And to think I’d tried to make my peace and forgive her for leaving Dad. (Actually, it was Dad’s idea for me to go, the peacemaker.) The California home was a huge Spanish-style abode, and I’d taken a room on the third floor. Mom was passed out on the first floor couch from one too many cocktails she’d drunk the night before. So she had no idea that Alec had stolen into my room and thought he was going to get lucky with me. What a rude way to wake up.
I was old enough and feisty enough to knee him in the balls and get out of there. Mother still thinks it was just a “cry for attention.” Either way, she and Alec only lasted 6 months. But that feeling of violation never really left me. No, it wasn’t full-on rape, but it was enough.
I never told Dad. I think he’d be in jail for murder if I had.
But think of a little girl, sweet and helpless, and clueless as to what’s going on, a girl whose little soft body was never meant for any sort of touches except for loving hugs and kisses from her mother. Think of her having to endure the cruel molestation of a pathetic and sick excuse for a man. It was more than enough motivation to get me to spend the night propped up in a tree.
A van traveled down the road, and I used the zoom lens to see who was inside. A couple of large men, munching on chips and sipping soda. The traffic was sparse at this time of night, as it should have been.
Vehicles crossed by at an average of every 20 minutes.
One or two dogs barked at an average of every 5 minutes.
I thought of Damon at an average of every 2 minutes.
Anytime he entered my brain, I forced myself to refocus. On the moon. On a darkened leaf on the tree. On the shadows of the rooftops. Thinking of him had become a bad habit. My mind was trying to go over every conversation we’d ever had, every encounter, in order to find some hint, some solution to the problem I faced. But maybe there wasn’t a problem. Maybe it really was over, and the truth was looking me in the face. Maybe everyone was right. Everyone couldn’t be wrong, could they? It was always so easy to see things as an outsider. Not so easy when your heart was involved. I shook free of the memory of his face and tried to think about the future.