by Anna del Mar
“Come on, Miss Lily.” Amman offered me his arm for support. “Let’s take you home.”
“No, not home,” I said. “We’re going for a drive.”
* * *
Thursday night was crowded at the bowling alley in Conway, New Hampshire. The General sat on a podium monitoring the games under his jurisdiction like God watching over his angels.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Amman at the door, praying for courage.
I walked up to The General’s podium. It was a full thirty seconds before he deigned to look up from his tally sheets. At that point, he did a double take.
“Boswell?” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” I sat on the empty chair next to his. “We need to talk.”
“Talk my ass,” the man said. “What are we supposed to talk about?”
“Amman, Riker, Mac, Baez, they’re Josh’s friends. They’re too loyal and I won’t ask them to break Josh’s trust.”
He fixed his eyes on my face. “What makes you think I’ll talk?”
“I might not be the one for your son.” I spoke over the rumble of the bowling balls and the strike of the pins. “But someone has to try and break through or he’ll never have a chance, and I’ve got zero prospects without your help.”
The General stared at his pencil. “Are you sure this is the only way, Boswell?”
“Sure as shit, sir.”
He let out a long breath. “What do you need to know?”
“What happened?” I said.
“The details are classified, you understand, but unofficially, I found out a few things. Word is that during the war, Josh’s team identified, tracked and neutralized more terrorists than any other team in the SEAL’s history.”
“Is that what they were doing when it happened?”
The General nodded. “They were in Afghanistan, Helmand province, where terrorists finance their dirty work with opium trafficking. The mission was almost complete, but one of the fuckers managed to detonate a grenade inside a walled compound loaded with explosives. The hellhole went up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Josh saved most of his guys, including Elton Chavez. Petty Officer Santos and Lieutenant Junior Grade Roberts were killed. And Josh—well—he was hit pretty bad, blown to pieces. He was in a coma for thirty-seven days.”
Holy Mother.
“But he survived,” The General said. “When he came to, he was a doctor’s wet dream. He’d suffered a traumatic brain injury, a bruised heart, a collapsed lung and a shattered kidney. He lost a chunk of his liver in addition to his foot and part of his leg. He spent a month in the intensive care unit and then three months in the hospital. He was unrecognizable. And boy, he was pissed, angry and bitter at having lost two of his men.”
I could only begin to imagine what it must have been like for Josh. His injuries explained a lot, including why he didn’t drink alcohol. “How did he get better?”
“The first few months were hell,” The General said. “He was just too angry to heal, not sure if he wanted to live or not. He was fucked up, Boswell. I won’t lie to you. Seizures, nightmares, flashbacks, I thought the kid’s brain was fried. He couldn’t even take a piss by himself. He was the kind of sight that could kill a parent. It almost did Evelyn in.”
“What did you do?”
“We brought him home, and we dealt with him as best we could. I think the idea of being a cripple terrified him. The medications didn’t help. They made him crazy, or groggy, or both. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.”
“What happened?”
“Gloria Renez quit on him.”
“You mean his fiancée?”
“First she went missing in action, no visits, no calls, nothing. Then she called off the engagement. She found herself another SEAL, a whole one, she told Josh.”
Talk about a bruised heart. She had blown Josh to pieces all over again. The breakup would’ve been another hit to a man who was down, grieving and broken. The anger coursing through me took me by surprise. I had a dark impulse to look up Gloria Renez and give her a piece of my mind.
“Don’t judge her too harshly,” The General said. “She’d signed up for a different kind of life. And Josh was a mess, no doubt about it. Who knows what you would have done in her place?”
“The right thing, I hope.”
“The right thing for whom?” He tapped his pencil on the table. “It’s an awful business when you have to choose between your life and someone else’s.”
“At least she had a choice,” I said. “Josh had none.”
I realized that’s why he’d been so compulsive about knowing my whereabouts. It was also why he got mad at me when I didn’t answer the phone, why he hated when I disappeared from his radar, and why he had been so mad about me trying to run away. Gloria Renez had left him when he needed her most, and beneath the bluster, he was afraid of being abandoned again.
I couldn’t blame him and yet the irony wasn’t lost on me. Gloria had left him when he was sick. In turn, he’d left me. I had to set my anger aside and remind myself it wasn’t nearly the same thing. He’d left after I got better. As to his motives, well, I was still trying to work that out.
“What happened after she left?” I asked.
“He spiraled down, physically and emotionally,” The General said. “Then one day, when he was beyond rock bottom, he disappeared. We were afraid he’d swallowed a bullet. Next I know he calls his mother. He’s down in the Virgin Islands living like a castaway, building a house.”
“The cove?”
“The cove,” The General said. “He healed himself through work, a whole year of hard, physical labor. He wouldn’t let his injuries slow him down. He built Lieutenant Junior Grade Robert’s mother a house too.”
“Is her name Rosa?”
“That’s her,” The General said. “Josh also takes care of Santos’s wife and children, not an easy feat since he had five.”
“Is one of them called Monique?”
“Monique, yes, I think so.”
I had been jealous of a child.
“Before Helmand province,” The General said, “Josh didn’t give a shit about money. But after he lost his men and got injured, he decided that he needed a lot of money to be able to take care of his people.”
My God. “What did he do?”
“He’d been competitive before, but now he pushed himself even harder. He had to be the fittest, the toughest, the smartest. He re-learned to walk alone on the island. Then he started running, taking on marathon distances, even if it hurt like hell. When the best prostheses in the world didn’t give him the gait, speed and endurance he wanted, he designed and manufactured his own. He started his own company, which today outfits vets with cutting edge mobility technology.”
“Dynamics in Motion.” I remembered the schematics I’d spotted on his computer. “It’s such an inspirational story. Why doesn’t he want anyone else to know?”
The General stared me in the eye. “What do you think?”
Because he was an extraordinary man who’d overcome the odds to live beyond the point where he felt he should have died. Because talking about his losses could destroy him. Because he could suffer war, pain, guilt, regret and everything else, but pity he couldn’t stand.
I finally understood why he’d left me.
“Do you have your answers, Boswell?” The General said. “’Cause I’ve got a tournament to run.”
“One more thing,” I said. “Just a tiny detail. How did he end up heading Phoenix Prime?”
“Oh, that,” he said. “Phoenix Prime was a natural fit for Josh. From the beginning, the company accepted investments from qualified investors only.”
“You mean from rich people?”
&nbs
p; “No, I mean from one kind of people only. Military members and their families.”
Wow.
“They fight hard for our freedom and yet their pay doesn’t even begin to cover their sacrifices. We had a solid base, but when Josh took over, he punched it up a few notches.”
“How so?”
“He saw the opportunity to secure the lives and wealth of his guys and he took it. He studied the market, learned the ins and outs of the investment cycles, and refashioned himself into a world class executive. He reinvented himself and learned everything there was to learn about the rich and the wealthy. He launched a major offensive, dressing in the finest designer suits, driving fast cars, expanding his network, frequenting clubs, parties, restaurants in a strategic bid to position Phoenix Prime at the head of the pack.”
“But it would have taken more than a pretty face and a silk suit to achieve success in such a competitive field,” I pointed out.
“You’re right, Boswell. Josh is a strategic master. He understands money. The kid runs his deals like he used to plan and execute his missions. He has a knack for converting cutting-edge, conceptual technology into moneymaking, practical applications. Above all, he’s a hard worker.”
“He works harder than anyone else I know.”
“Riker, Amman, Baez, Mac, the rest of his team, they were all part of Josh’s original core investors,” The General said. “They were his trial run. Josh made them a lot of money, even before I turned Phoenix Prime over to him. Those guys don’t need to work, but they stick with Josh no matter what.”
My God. “I didn’t know any of that.”
“There’s a lot more to Josh than meets the eye,” The General said. “Look, I’m his father. I know he’s not always easy to live with. But however odd, he always has good reason to do whatever he ends up doing.”
I thought about that. We’d gotten together in the wrong way and under a faulty pretext but for the all the right reasons.
Back to The General. “So you brought Josh into Phoenix Prime after he got better?”
“It was time for me to retire.”
“Good timing, don’t you think? Kind of coincidental?”
He gave me a glance askance. “I suppose some might think so.”
“Well, I don’t really believe in coincidences,” I said. “Thank you, General.”
“For what?”
“For giving Josh his life back, for putting your company in his hands when he needed something to build.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” The General said.
“There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye as well,” I said. “You stepped aside so that Josh could thrive. You weren’t ready to go, but you did, not because you were looking forward to growing roses and running bowling tournaments, but because you loved your son.”
“Bullshit,” The General said. “I could have stayed on if I wanted.”
“Two bulls running the china shop?” I shook my head. “You’re far too smart for that. And you know what? You were right, General. Work is good for a man. It helped Josh.” The General startled when I planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for being such an awesome father.”
I was well on my way toward the door when The General called after me. “Boswell?”
I turned around. “Sir?”
“Maybe I was wrong.”
I frowned. “Wrong about what?”
“Your hips,” he said. “They might not be so narrow after all.”
* * *
Riker jumped out of his seat when I marched into his office with Amman at my heels. “Miss Lily?” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you were working late.”
Riker glared at Amman.
Amman shrugged. “I told her coming here wasn’t such a hot idea, but she insisted.”
“Do you remember when you came to see me at my place?” I said. “You asked me if I had the chance, would I go after Josh.”
“I remember,” Riker said. “You didn’t seem very sure then.”
“Well, I’m sure now,” I said, “and I need to ask you a favor.”
Riker eyed me suspiciously. “What kind of a favor?”
“I need to enlist your support for a very important mission.”
He frowned. “Whose mission?”
“My mission,” I said. “All I need from you is a phone call.”
Riker scratched his head. “A phone call?”
“A phone call.”
“What’s the purpose of this mission of yours?”
“To rescue Josh from himself.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Lily
The phone call from Riker came two weeks later in the middle of my late afternoon class.
“Wheels down,” he said, curt as always.
“Thank you,” I said, before he hung up.
My heart drummed in my ears. My pulse beat too hard and fast. I apologized to my students and promptly dismissed the class. I was on my way to catch the bus when my phone rang again.
“Lily?” a familiar voice said. “This is Hugo Baez. I just spoke to Riker.”
“Welcome back,” I said.
“Thanks.” He hesitated. “We decided you ought to know.”
“We?”
“The guys and I,” Baez said. “I just thought you should know that he’s exhausted, wiped out, completely and absolutely fatigued. For the last few months, he’s traveled and worked nonstop. He’s hardly slept. Don’t expect much from him.”
Baez was calling to soften the blow that was sure to come my way. They were setting it up so that I couldn’t blame Josh when he sent me to hell. They were trying to shield me too, because they were a bunch of good guys.
“I understand,” I said.
“I don’t think you do,” Baez said. “He’s really struggled here at the end. Maybe you ought to give him a few days to settle down. He’s in no condition to face you.”
“I appreciate your call,” I said. “I’ll remember everything you’ve told me. I promise.”
“All right,” Baez said. “Good luck.”
Baez’s call scared me, but postponing my meeting with Josh only made sense in some alternative universe where we hadn’t been apart for four months, seven days and twelve hours, and in a scenario where I didn’t give a hoot about him and he hadn’t already ejected me from his life. My instincts screamed, urging me to get to Josh before it was too late. He teetered at the brink of darkness and unless I acted decisively, I was going to lose him for good.
My phone rang again.
“Lils?” It was Mac. “Riker asked me to call you. We’ve lost track of Josh. He bailed on Amman at the airport. We don’t know where he is.”
“Did somebody check the house?” I asked.
“He’s not there.”
“Why would he ditch Amman?”
There was a long silence on the other side of the line.
“Mac?”
“Maybe he didn’t want anyone to know where he was going.”
I didn’t like the suggestion in Mac’s voice.
“I tell you what, Lils. Stay put. Riker is looking for our boy and that means he’s going to find him. We’ll give you a call when he does.”
I walked home with my stomach in knots. I sat on the couch, waiting for someone to call. Each minute felt like an hour, every hour felt like a day. Somewhere after eight, my phone rang.
“Riker here. He just placed a call.”
“To whom?” I asked.
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“Tell me.”
Riker hesitated. He was really having a hard time with this.
“Please?”
“Rac
hella Willis.”
Oh, my God. It was her. The woman from Lisa Artiaga’s pictures, the one who looked like me.
“Thanks.” I hung up the phone.
I googled Rachella Willis. She was the complete opposite of a reserved person and her privacy settings were non-existent. She liked to boast about the places she frequented, the parties she attended and the prestigious building where she lived. It took only a little internet sleuthing to learn about her extensive shoe collection and her full address. I grabbed my purse and keys and ran out the door. I flagged a taxi at the corner. It dropped me off across the street from Rachella’s upscale high-rise.
Damn it, Josh, don’t do this.
The night was cold. Nestled in the shadows of a stop, I shivered. After a little while, a woman walked out of the building, wearing a pair of stiletto-heeled boots and a bright red coat. It was her, Rachella Willis. She hailed a cab and jumped in it. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. Then I bolted across the street, defying the cars honking their horns, trying desperately to hail another taxi.
The Friday night traffic was heavy. None of the cabs that sped by me stopped, but within seconds, a sleek silver Audi drove up to the curb. The front window slid down.
“Miss Lily?” Amman said. “Do you need a ride?”
“Do I ever.” I jumped into the front seat. “Did you see her?”
“I got her,” Amman said. “Buckle your seatbelt.”
Amman accelerated through the next set of lights and caught up to the unsuspecting cab. We weaved in and out of traffic, following it. Somewhere in the financial district, we got stuck in traffic while the police dealt with a three-way fender-bender. Rachella got out the cab and started walking down the street.
“I don’t like this,” Amman muttered.
“Do you know where she’s going?”
“I should take you home, Miss Lily.”
He knew where she was going. He just didn’t want to tell me. I remembered something that Josh had said. There are places where the naughty can have a good time, pushing the edge.
“It’s one of those places, isn’t it?”