by Linda Palmer
"Do I need to turn this off?" Zander asked.
Only then did I realize how tense I was. I deliberately relaxed. "No. I need to see the happy ending."
Just as the credits rolled, we heard a car pull into the drive. Zander jumped up and peered between the slats of the mini-blinds. "It's a friend of mine."
"Crap! Do I look okay?" I finger combed my hair and pulled down the oversized tee I wore over black leggings.
"You look amazing."
That startled me speechless.
Zander opened the door. A man, woman, and two little girls stood there. After a quick glance at me, he whispered something to the adults that I couldn't hear before motioning for them to come inside. The girls, who looked to be around four and six, clung shyly to their daddy's leg, making him hobble his way to the couch. Zander did the introduction thing: Dom Perez and his wife Ella, plus Mandy and Holly. The four of them sat on the couch, which was so small that each parent held a kid. I motioned for Zander to take the recliner and sat on the arm of it without even thinking to ask if I'd be getting in his space.
Ella's dimples popped into view, though she didn't actually smile, and she broke a silence that had quickly become weighted. "This is so much better than that stinky trailer, Zander."
"Isn't it?"
Another weird silence. I was the one to break it this time. "Would you guys like something to drink? Or I have ice cream. Mandy? Holly? Do you like ice cream? I have sprinkles."
Both girls quickly nodded.
"Extra sprinkles on mine." Dom's words made his precious daughters giggle.
"Ella? Zander?"
"No thanks."
"None for me."
I motioned for the girls to follow me into the kitchen. To my surprise, Ella came, too. I was struck by her Nordic beauty--pale blond hair that hadn't been created in a salon, ice blue eyes, long sexy legs. Her daughters had gotten their Hispanic father's skin tone and dark eyes, but their mother's hair. I knew they'd be heartbreakers one day.
As I scooped vanilla into bowls, Ella checked out the kitchen. "I'm so glad Zander is here. We really hated that he was so far from family. How'd you two meet?"
"He saved me from some muggers on Halloween." I told her the tale, careful to keep it G-rated because of the girls.
"I'll bet you were terrified."
"I was, yeah. But not anymore. I'm so thankful Zander agreed to be my housemate-slash-protector."
Ella surprised me with a hard hug. "Sorry we busted in on you two like this. But when Dom told me that Zander had moved in with a girl, I just had to meet you. We're very protective of him, and not just because he saved Dom's life."
"He saved Dom's life?" I handed the girls their treats.
"Because of Zander's quick thinking, Dom survived a deadly blast." She glanced pointedly at her daughters. "I'll tell you about it sometime since I know he won't." She softly sighed. "Dom says Zander is the poster boy for needless guilt, ranging from regret for defying his parents to shame for surviving a blast that killed a soldier with a wife and kids." She filled in the blanks between those two things.
I couldn't believe my ears. "That's completely illogical."
"Yeah, well, try and convince Zander of that."
* * * *
Later that night, tucked in my queen-sized bed, I gave Ella's comments a lot of thought. Was there something I could do to convince Zander he deserved to be happy? I knew so little of his story.
Jason the zombie popped into my head next. Why had he attacked me, of all people? There were definitely prettier girls at the mall if rape was his goal. And if it wasn't, what was? Kidnapping me for ransom just didn't make sense either, although I apparently had some money.
Frustrated and a little spooked, I sat up and turned on my bedside lamp. I got my literature book and began reading required chapters. The house lay in silence. Outside the wind still blew. I heard a noise. Muffled, but real, and coming from indoors. Setting aside my book, I listened.
Was Zander talking to someone? If so, he sounded pissed. Crawling out of bed, I ran lightly down the hall to listen at his closed door. I heard mumbling, but couldn't make out words for several seconds.
Suddenly, he came through loud and clear. "You're a goddamn liar!" He sucked in a sharp breath. "How'd you get in here? Shit! Marty, Dom, the kid! Joey, down!"
I threw open the door. Although the room lay in darkness, I could still make out Zander restlessly sleeping, his face to the opposite wall. I ran to the bed and touched his shoulder. He flipped onto his back and caught my wrist, his fingers an excruciating vice.
"Ow! Zander, it's me. It's Riley." I tried to loosen his grip.
It took him several seconds to come back from wherever. He let me go and abruptly sat up, chest heaving. A flash of lightning revealed a sheen of sweat on his face and neck. I sat on the edge of the mattress. "You were interrogating someone, I think."
"Farzad Sadati."
I smiled. "You and your sheiks. Me and my zombies. Aren't we a pair?"
Zander actually smiled back, but it was fleeting. He peered at his watch.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Zero-three hundred."
"Is there room in this bed for me?" It was full-sized, but he was taking his half in the middle.
"Why? Is something wrong with yours?"
"No, I hate being alone." He hesitated just long enough for me to wish I'd kept my mouth shut. "Forget it. I don't know what I was thinking." I stood.
He grabbed my wrist again, but gently this time. "There's something I need to show you first."
"O-kaaaay." I reached for the bedside lamp.
"No. Leave it off."
I sat back and waited.
Zander
I stared at her through the dark, battling with myself until I gave in to the inevitable. With a sigh, I threw back the covers. The next flash of lightning revealed what I'd been hiding from her--a left leg that had been severed a couple of inches below the knee.
She gasped and pressed her hand to her heart. Tears sprang to her eyes. Pity. Exactly what I'd expected and the very reason I'd been keeping my secret. "Still want to share my bed?"
Her gaze clashed with mine. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I know that Kyle's missing leg grossed you out."
Her jaw dropped as if I'd surprised her. "I can't believe you said that."
"It's true. That look on your face when you saw it...? We could both tell you were totally freaked."
For several moments she just sat there. Afraid to trust my voice, I didn't speak either.
Riley slowly inhaled as if storing up. "How could you think for even a second that this injury would make any difference to me? Do I seem that superficial?"
"It's not that. I just--"
She reached over my navy boxer briefs so that her hand hovered just above my thigh. "May I?"
I nodded warily. She ran her fingers over what was left of my leg, gently tracing the scars there. I sucked in a sharp breath.
"Am I hurting you?"
I laughed. If she only knew.
"How'd it happen?"
"Landmine."
"Is this the only injury?"
I pulled up my T-shirt. With the aid of the lightning, which was pretty constant by then, she could plainly see the scars on my torso. I turned, showing her similar scars on my back. "I lost a kidney and some of my gut. My left hip has been replaced. It's a miracle I didn't lose this entire leg."
"No wonder you're in rehab. Geez, Zander." She glanced around and spotted my prosthesis, propped in a corner of the room. "Is that comfortable to wear?"
"Not so much, but I'm assured it'll get better."
"What's it made of?"
"Titanium mostly. Some plastic. I have a gel sleeve that protects my skin and helps with the suction that keeps it on."
"Titanium. Wow." She laughed, but not with humor, I thought. "It's time to talk, and there'll never be a more perfect lead in. It wasn't Kyle's leg that upset me, Zander. It was your
book."
I drew a blank. "What book?"
"Titanium." Riley crawled over me and sat campfire style by my injured leg, her hand still on my thigh.
"You hate comics?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Do you know anything about Titanium's creator?"
I snorted. "Who doesn't? Steve McConnell is an American ico--" I stopped, distracted by the glimmer of a thought that took form and quickly snowballed to an astonishing conclusion. "McConnell."
"Yes."
"Mc-Con-nell."
"Yes."
"Holy freakin' shit."
"Zander Bennett, meet dear old dad."
"Steve McConnell, the greatest graphic novelist and illustrator of all time, is the deadbeat dad who deserted you?"
She told me the whole sad tale--distracted father, sick mom, ill-timed affair, untimely death. Plus there was the money thing. Lots of it, apparently, safely invested in secret by a well-meaning aunt and uncle.
I could barely speak. "I know you're telling me the truth, but I still can't grasp it. McConnell seemed so rational when the press was grilling him about casting Cory Walls to play Erick Deckard."
"Who?"
"You mean you don't know the story?" I asked.
Riley shook her head.
"Okay. I'll try to keep it short. Eric Deckard aka Titanium is a sensitive loner, misunderstood, disliked, and even feared by his classmates. He has clear psychological issues that his parents steadfastly deny. His father, a well-known plastic surgeon, and his socialite mom dote on their other two children, who are well- adjusted, outgoing overachievers. Eric despises what his dad does. In his eyes, it's all very superficial, vain, and a waste of money that could be used for good. He especially hates it when his mother has work done on her face or body. Er, too much detail?"
She shook her head. "Uh-uh. Go on."
"Okay. Eric runs away a couple of times, which is embarrassing for his parents. They tell him they will pay him to stay in school until graduation, when he can do whatever he wants while they tell everyone he's away at college. He can live in the apartment over the garage until that time. Eric agrees. He wants to help some friends who are living on the street.
"One night when the parents are away, the family mansion has a gas leak that causes an explosion. Eric rescues his siblings, but is critically burned. While he's drugged, he relives being molested by an uncle. His parents overhear him and remember his telling them this when he was little. They refused to believe it at the time since that was something that didn't happen in nice families." I paused, giving her a chance to end the narrative.
"Don't stop now."
"Realizing the experience could be at the root of all Eric's mental issues, they still keep the secret. Eric slips into a coma. A nurse aide overhears them trying to decide whether to pull the plug or not since Eric's death would instantly eliminate all the problems. The nurse rescues Eric and takes him to her brother, a physician who is part of a top secret military project. He saves Eric by mutating his skin into metal, via Titanium and alloy injections that make him virtually indestructible.
"Eric gets the money he's hidden and sets up a headquarters in an abandoned house. He hacks into the lives of politicians, gangsters, corrupt CEOs, anyone who preys, sometimes diverting cash from their secret accounts, sometimes going after them in person. Using the money, he helps the underdog, the homeless, the runaways, the hookers--anyone at the bottom of society being abused by someone at the top of it."
Riley sat in silence for a moment, clearly letting everything sink in. "I'm so amazed."
"And you can see why your dad's followers are almost cult- like in their devotion to the mythology?"
"Flawed hero who helps the lowly masses. Yeah. I totally get it. The Robin Hood of the twenty-first century. What's not to love?"
"I saw your dad in person once. He was great with the fans." I shook my head in amazement that the guy could come off as a genius yet be a total jerk. "Man does he ever have the world fooled." Experiencing a sudden burst of insight, I slapped my palm to my head. "Shit! That email was from him."
"What email?"
"The one I couldn't log you out of."
"You read my emails?"
I winced. "Just the one. Have you answered him?" I knew she had, of course.
"I told him I'd think about it."
"He says he's changed."
"Yeah, but people never really do."
"They do if they have to. Um, Riley?"
"Yeah?"
I glanced pointedly at her hand, still stroking my thigh.
With a gasp, she jerked it back, her eyes wide. "Sorry. Was that a turn on? I'm not that experienced with guys."
She would tell me that. I grabbed the spare pillow and plopped it in my lap to keep from embarrassing myself. "Could've fooled me. So my leg really doesn't bother you?"
"Of course not, and I'm pissed you thought it would. There's more to this girl than meets the eye, Zander."
"And less of this boy." At least before she touched me. "So are you going to finish what you started?" My hopeful gaze dropped to the pillow hiding my hot-blooded reaction to her caress.
"I might. But not tonight." With a laugh, she ruthlessly stole the pillow, trounced me over the head with it, and crawled under the sheets nearby, close enough to radiate warmth, but without actually touching me...damn it.
In seconds I heard the even breaths of a sleeping beauty.
But I didn't fall asleep for a long time. All I could think about was my life--what it was now and what it might've been if I'd met Riley before I enlisted. I had no doubt that I'd have seen her sweet smile, asked her out, and promptly fallen in love. There'd have been no secret enlistment, no basic training, no guns, no war.
I couldn't have left her.
Now I had nothing to offer but half the rent and my body, which she used not for sex, but to keep the bad guys away. Well, that was more than a lot of soldiers got, specifically the ones who came home in a box.
I had no right to feel sorry for myself.
Not while I lived and breathed.
Chapter Ten
Riley
Zander's cell phone blasting "Titanium" woke me on Wednesday. Smiling at the irony, I reached over him to check his watch--zero-seven-hundred. Yeah, he had it set in twenty-four hour mode. With a yelp I leapt off the bed. I could hear him answering the call as I darted into the bathroom, and was brushing my teeth when he knocked on the door. I opened it and saw he was on crutches.
"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" he asked rubbing one of his eyes. He looked so tired.
"Bad first." I spit toothpaste into the sink and washed it away.
"My parents are driving down today."
"And the good news?"
"They're just passing through on their way to Angela's."
I laughed. "I'd love to meet them. I'll even cook, and I don't mean pop something frozen into the oven."
"Thanks. I should warn you that Mom is all about appearances and Dad wants to micromanage my life. Plus, they're trying to make up for their initial negative reactions to the leg injury, which means they tend to overdo. But I know what they really think and always will."
I didn't know how to answer that.
Once I was dressed and ready to go, I dug the newspaper out from under the bushes and handed it to him. I left with high hopes my Wednesday would go better than Tuesday.
But it didn't. I was just as paranoid at school if not more. At one point, I even got prickles on the back of my neck, the being- watched kind. I looked all around and made eye contact with a guy sitting by the fountain. Tall with dirty blond hair worn in a ponytail, he steadily stared at me. Could that be Jason? My heart began to pound in my chest. I quickly moved on, impulsively changing direction before I got to my class and high tailing it to the parking lot. Sergeant Brian had suggested that I change my routine. Today I was going to do it by skipping class.
When I got home, I saw that Zander's truck wasn't in the dr
iveway. Instead of pulling in, I drove to Brook and scoped out the parking lots, looking for it. Sure enough, I found his vehicle parked outside a brick building on the east end of the property. I pulled in beside it and walked to the nearest glass door.
Once inside, I headed toward the sound of voices and cheers. I found myself in the doorway of a gym in which a men's wheelchair basketball game was in progress. On spotting Zander, I climbed the bleachers and sat to watch. He wasn't wearing his prosthesis, so his injured leg was in full view.
I struggled to come to terms with what I saw. How could something so tragic happen to someone so good? Where was the justice? And with the reality of war staring me in the face, could I still support the logic and strategies of our country's military leaders? Well, how could I not, when disrespecting the goals of our military trivialized their sacrifices?
A young red-haired woman sitting a few feet away glanced over and smiled. "Hi. Which one of them belongs to you?"
"Zander."
Her face lit up. "Xman? My husband Tim adores that guy. They were stationed together in Kandahar."
All I could do was nod and smile. I still knew so little about Zander.
He didn't see me until the game ended and I began climbing down the bleachers. A big grin told me it was okay to be there. Feeling as if the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, I acknowledged that I was relying too heavily on his presence to make me feel safe.
I walked over to him.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"That's a lie."
I groaned. "Tell you later."
Zander nodded. "I've got to shower and get my gear." He pointed to the dressing room.
"May I hitchhike to the door?"
His eyebrows shot up but he seemed pleased. "Sure."
Without a second thought, I hopped on his lap and put my arms around his neck. He rolled us to the door, a short ride, but one I wasn't sorry to make. I hopped off. He went into the dressing room, as did many of the others. I noticed several guys getting out of their wheelchairs and walking normally, which was baffling until one of them caught my questioning expression. "Evens up the odds." He winked.