Two for Flinching
Page 16
“Yes.”
“I can understand that.” He nodded. “Don’t care for it, still pissed about it, but I understand it.”
“That’s a start.”
Jeremiah wiped a hand over his face. “What you gonna do in the way of reparations?”
“Let you live.”
Jeremiah grunted. “Okay. We cool.”
“I don’t think we are,” I said. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“There was this day, couple years ago back in sandland, I was chasing hajji into this valley. About twenty of them, nothing special, we just rolled up on them while they were putting out IED’s on the road. Scruffy, tired, dirty, no idea what they were fighting for, some guy in a turban giving them twenty dollars apiece to mine the road. They had to go, or they would just come back and do it again.”
I remembered that day. Hot, wind blowing sand all over us, the Humvees bouncing on the dirt track, the machine guns spitting out death. The young men falling bloody to the ground.
“This sniper opened up on us from the village behind us. Hit one of my boys in the back, didn’t kill him, but he got a ticket home. Purple heart and all that. You know what I did?”
“What?”
“I called in an airstrike. I knew there were women and children and old people with nothing to do with this, but I called it in anyway. You know why?”
Disdain filled his face. “Because you a bad muthafucka.”
I ignored him. “Because they were a threat. I flattened that entire village, probably thirty people in there, because one asshole was taking potshots at us. I’d do it again, too.” I paused, watching the sweat roll off his face to the floor. “What I have to decide now, Jeremiah, are you going to be a threat?”
He swallowed, licked his dry lips. “No,” he said softly.
“Because if you ever become one,” I looked to Nero, “I’ll call in another airstrike. If I can’t get to you first.”
Nero nodded once.
“We good, Camp.” The voice was on the verge of pleading.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “For now.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“You gonna tell me I’m making a mistake?”
“Wouldn’t do any good.”
It was cold out, one of those days where the temperature plummeted as the day went on. Nero and I were standing on the loading dock. I was freezing, on the verge of shaking. Nero didn’t seem to notice. Ah, to be young again.
“You think he sent Trey?”
Nero shook his head.
“You were pretty sure about it last night.”
“No. I said we had to move fast. Once Jeremiah found out Trey went after you, he would have to go to lockdown. Wouldn’t matter if he sent him or not.”
“I can’t take an innocent life. Not anymore.”
“Jeremiah be far from innocent,” Nero said, “and Jajuan ain’t no altar boy.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“You think it’s over?”
“Maybe. One thing is for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“You didn’t make any friends.”
“You neither.”
Nero grinned.
Jeremiah and Jajuan stumbled out of the factory behind us.
Jeremiah said, “It’s damn cold.”
Jajuan said, “You gonna gimme my piece back?”
I said, “No.”
Jeremiah stood next to Nero, stomping his feet. “You said snatching niggas was half of what you did over there?”
“Yeah.”
“What was the other half?”
Nero looked to Jeremiah, his face unchanging. “Taking out niggas that couldn’t help us.”
***
I was in the office, boots on the desk, lights turned off. I was tired, but not exhausted, not the type of bone tired you might expect after taking part in the killing of three men and the kidnapping of two others. I had once stayed awake for four complete days, ninety-six hours, chasing a particularly nasty Al Qaeda band—and being chased by them. And that had been without coffee.
A tap at the door, no warning footsteps on the metal stairs, and Nero stepped soundlessly into the room. He went to the table in the corner and poured himself a cup of coffee before taking one of the ancient visitor’s chairs across from the desk.
“They glad to be home?”
He said, “Seemed to be.”
“Better than the alternative.”
“For them.”
“I’d rather you not kill them.”
Nero shook his head. “Too late for that now.”
“What do you think they will do?”
Nero shrugged. “Weren’t you the one who told me to plan for what the enemy can do, not what you think they will do?”
“Doesn’t hurt to take it into consideration.”
“I think Jeremiah will act as if it never happened. It would show weakness if word got out. Jajuan won’t want anybody to know he got jacked by a cracker like you.”
I nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“I be keeping an ear open anyway.”
“Also what I was thinking.”
The outside stairs creaked and a moment later, Melvin Jenks came into the office. He stopped when he saw Nero in the chair. “Sorry, Beason, I didn’t know you had an appointment. I’ll come back.”
“It’s okay, Melvin. Melvin, Nero. Nero, Melvin.”
“Morning, Mr. Jenks.”
Melvin was taken back. A little. He stuck out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Nero. Please, call me Melvin.”
Nero stood, shook hands and sat back down.
“Nero here gonna help you out with those two clowns?”
Nero looked to me. “What clowns?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“That fat fellow may be nothing, but if I was you, I’d keep an eye on the little one. He’s dangerous.”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Melvin was in chinos and a polo. “Today is Friday.”
“Oh,” I said. “My bad.”
“Fridays are for golf and it’s too cold to golf.”
“I never knew being a bank president was such a tough job.”
Melvin paused, reached back with an imaginary club and swung it through. I don’t know much about golf, but it looked like a pretty good swing. “Part of the job,” Melvin said. “Being a member of the country club, making contacts and building relationships, that’s what golf is all about.”
“I thought it was all about chasing that little white ball.”
“Not even close. Nero, do you play?”
“Occasionally.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Maybe you would like to join me on the links one day.”
“Sure. You gonna invite Beason?”
“Beason doesn’t play golf.”
Melvin Jenks was smarter than I had given him credit for. First noticing Providence was the true threat and then divining that I had never picked up a club that wasn’t on carpet. “What do you need, Melvin?”
He took another practice swing before answering. “Cynthia is letting me take the kids out tonight.”
“Well, they are your kids, too.”
“I think it was more of a symbolic gesture,” he said. “She’s softening her attitude towards me.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah,” he said. “What do you think we should do?”
“I don’t know, Melvin. They’re not my kids.”
“Seems like we are always going to some practice or another for a game or performance.” He frowned. “To be honest, though, the children have drifted away. Or rather, I’ve drifted away while they were growing up. Too busy with my rise to the top, earning civic awards and such. A father shouldn’t let that happen.”
“No.”
“So what should we do?”
“Movies are always g
ood.”
Melvin snapped his fingers. “That’s a great idea, Beason. I knew you could help.”
“Glad to be of service.”
Melvin darkened, going wistful. “You know, Cynthia and I’s first date was to the movies.”
How was I supposed to know that?
“King Ralph. I don’t remember much about it. Had that guy that was Roseanne’s husband. You remember that show?”
“Vaguely.”
“I bought the DVD a couple of years ago, found it on Amazon. Cynthia and I were going to watch it—for nostalgia—but we never got around to it.”
“Maybe you could watch it with her tomorrow.”
Another snap, followed by a point. “Damn, Beason. You’re the best, you know that?”
“Actually, I do.”
“Gotta run.” He stuck his hand again to Nero. “Nice to meet you. Soon as it warms up, call the bank and we’ll hit the course.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll call you, Beason,” Melvin promised, “let you know how it all goes.”
“Thanks.”
Alone, Nero said, “What was that all about?”
“Don’t ask.” I swung my legs from the desk. “Lock up when you’re done. I’m calling it a day.”
“It ain’t even noon.”
“Didn’t you hear the man? It’s Friday.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Daddy?” Her eyes were wide with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pick you up, baby.”
“We haven’t had nap time.”
“I thought we could take a nap at home,” I said. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since I had seen her, Sarah’s simple beauty struck me. Long hair carefully brushed (if inexpertly) tiny white teeth, dark eyes that would someday drive the boys crazy. Someday in the far, far, future. “I can come back.”
“I’ll get my stuff.” She went to her cubby, dragged out her jacket—and a stack of papers and a popsicle stick project. I knelt, picking it up as she struggled into her pink jacket and then the Dora the Explorer backpack. Her teacher, Miss Gladys, a middle aged woman who made me cringe whenever she walked to the Jeep, gave me a kindly smile. Fear crept in. “How has she done this week?”
“She’s an angel.”
“Right.”
“Mr. Camp?”
“Ma’am?”
“We haven’t received her tuition this month. We sent home a letter…”
“Sorry. I’ll put a check in her bag Monday.”
“If there is a problem, I’m sure we could work something out.”
“No, no. I just overlooked it. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
“Ready!” She took my hand, beaming in the envious stares of her fellow preschoolers, imprisoned for the remainder of the day. We walked outside, the wind whipping at us, and I strapped her in her seat. As we pulled out of the lot, Sarah said, “Daddy?”
I checked her in the little mirror. “Yes, dear?”
“About this nap.”
“What about it?”
“I’m not that tired.”
“No? I am.”
“You are?”
“Yep.”
Her face twisted in concentration. “Well, if you’re tired, you should definitely take a nap. Before you get cranky.”
“Excellent idea. Maybe you should take one with me. Before you get cranky.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“We’ll see.”
I parked in the garage, shut the door and we stepped into the kitchen. Blondie came running. I opened the back door for her, but instead of bounding out, she eyed me warily. The cold had never bothered her before. I gave her a gentle boot to the butt and she reluctantly went out. Twenty seconds later, she was scratching at the door. She raced past me into the den.
“Honey, let’s take that nap.”
“I thought about it,” she said, “and I’m not sleepy. You go ahead.”
“I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided we both need a nap.”
“Ugh!”
“Your bed or mine.” I tickled her ribs until she giggled.
Big decision. “Yours.”
“It’s a deal.” I carried her up the stairs, Blondie right behind us. The sheets were still a mess from the previous night, but they generally were. I laid her on the single bed, kicked off my boots and joined her, pulling her close. Blondie circled the floor three times and lay down. Sarah’s shampoo mixed with Madison’s perfume.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Your breath smells like coffee.”
***
The three of us were walking along the beach, hand in hand, Sarah between us. Sarah was counting, “One! Two! Three!” and on three we would lift her as high as we could. “One! Two! Three! Whee!” Stella was closest to the ocean, the waves washing over her feet and the tide trying to pull her in. Her blond hair was long, as it was before we were married. She was in a tiny black bikini, her body bronzed by the sun. She had never looked better. The breeze was blowing strong, yet her hair did not waver.
“I wasn’t made for this.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“I thought I was. I always wanted a little girl. To have and hold and raise so she could be normal.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I did the best I could. Or at least I told myself that. My best was not very good and I did not try for very long.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“I never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t about you, it was always about me. It wasn’t about her. Our daughter. My whole life was about me. Even when I had a chance to make it not about me.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“I did, though. Hurt you and hurt you badly. I know it looks as if I did it on purpose, trying to hurt you as much as I possibly could. Taking up with your partner, people who were closest to you.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“I did it on purpose, but it was not my intention. This—us—was not me and before I could be me, I had to destroy us so I could be free.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“Adrian was not special. None of them were. They were not better than you. They saw the me and wanted her. The real me.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“I know why they wanted the me and I did not care. The me wanted to be wanted.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“You did not want the me. Maybe at first, when we were dating, but not when we got married. You wanted something else. Not the me.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“You wanted a wife and a mother for your children. Our children.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
“Not the me.”
“One! Two! Three! Whee!”
“I know.”
***
“Daddy!”
I blinked away the confusion of being suddenly awakened, my daughter’s face two inches from mine. The dream blurred before I could nail it down.
“What is it, baby?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“Me too.” I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. “What was it about?”
“I woke up in a strange place.”
Dream—or memory? “I’m sorry. That must have been scary.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Blondie was there, so that wasn’t what I was afraid of.”
“What was it, baby? That made you afraid?”
“You weren’t there, daddy. That’s why I was afraid. Where were you?”
I pulled her deep into my chest. “It was only a dream, honey.”
“I didn’t
like that.” She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I don’t ever wanna wake up and you be gone.”
“Me either.” I patted her back, kissed the crown of her head. “Me either.”
***
Sarah went quickly back to sleep, still in my arms. It eluded me. What it must have been like for a four year old to wake up alone in a strange place? At least she was convinced it was a dream, but I wasn’t so sure it made it any less terrifying.
I had never lied to my daughter. I had never told her Santa Claus was real or that the Easter Bunny brought candy in the spring or that the tooth fairy snuck in at night. When the questions came up, I always turned it around and asked her what she thought. Maybe it wasn’t completely honest, yet it was not a lie. I wanted to reassure her that daddy would always be there. That she would never wake up alone. I knew that, however, could be a lie. Three armed men had come to kill me. The life I lead, I knew there was a real chance something like that could happen again. The problem was, I didn’t know how to live another life. Lot of that going around.
Blondie’s growl came from deep in her throat, not the usual yelping and burst of energy. Last night seemed to have changed her as well. I leaned up and pulled the blinds apart. The day had come to an early end, streetlights already on, the weak winter sun no match for the heavy cloud cover. Steven Noble was crossing his yard into mine.
I eased myself out from under Sarah and out of the bed. Blondie gave me a disapproving look. I left the door ajar and silently crept down the stairs. Steven was on the verge of knocking when I yanked open the door.
“Camp—“
I put a finger to my lips and stepped onto the porch. My socks did little to keep the cold concrete from my feet. I didn’t pull the door completely closed. “Sarah is asleep.”
Conflict played across his face. I had seen it before, anger set aside at the mention of a young child. When he spoke again, his voice was much lower. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. I saw you washing down your back deck this morning—in the rain.”