Paxton's Peace

by Bailey West

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Paxton, baby! Roland! Paxton is on the phone.”

  “Hello, Son,” my Dad picked up the other phone line in the house.

  I had graduated from calling them Aunt and Uncle to Mom and Dad. They deserved the title, and no one corrected me when I changed their names. They raised me as their own and never made any difference between my brothers and me. Legally, they are my parents. They were awarded full custody of me after the shooting.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “We usually hear from you on Sundays. Is everything okay?” My Dad asked.

  “Yeah, everything is great. So great in fact, that I am graduating school early. They are moving me to my permanent duty station.”

  “Moving you? When? Where?”

  “They are moving me later on today. I am going to Nevada.”

  “It’s nice and warm there,” my mother commented.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I will call you when I get settled. They said it may take about a week or so for me to get back to the phone to call you. I will have a lot of in-processing to do.”

  “Okay, baby. We love you.”

  “Paxton, you know that both Grace and I are proud of you. Make good choices. We miss you.”

  “Yes, Dad. I will. I miss you too.”

  “Love you, Son.”

  “I love you both.”

  I hung up the phone and looked at Colonel Bowman. I had a million and one questions floating through my head. I wasn’t afraid or anxious. I was, however, very curious. I was hoping that all of my questions would be answered soon.

  “You ready to roll, Soldier?”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  I grabbed my rucksack and followed Colonel Bowman out of the building.

  2

  “Aye! Gear up! We are almost at our location.”

  We all started to move with a purpose as we organized our gear in preparation for our mission.

  I was a part of an elite task force. On the books, we did not exist. Off the books, we called ourselves the A-Team, like the old eighties television show. We took care of things that required a bit more finesse than any regular military or law enforcement unit had.

  “DT.”

  “What’s up?”

  I answered to the nickname DT, defensive tackle, that I had been given by my squad. The team started calling me DT once they found out that I passed up division one college football scholarships to join the Army.

  I am proficient in hand to hand combat as well as a skilled sniper. I trained for months before I was allowed to be an active part of a mission. Before I was allowed out in the field, I watched and listened at headquarters, preparing myself for my opportunity to be an active part of the team. Once they finally let me participate in the missions, I worked hard to never lose a fight or miss a target. I’m undefeated and all of my targets have gone down.

  “Let’s handle this business right quick and get the hell outta here. I met a nice double-jointed young lady in town,” Hawk winked as he was securing his body armor.

  “How do you know she is double-jointed?” I double checked my weapon waiting for his response.

  “She grabbed her ankle, and put it behind her neck.”

  “While she was standing?”

  “No, she was sitting. While she was standing, she rested one of her legs on my shoulder while still standing on the other one. I asked her how long she could hold that position. She said as long as I needed. Nigga…I fell in love!”

  I laughed at his shenanigans. Hawk was always chasing a woman or being chased by them. He was the ladies’ man of the group. He reminded me of Ezekiel. He had that same carefree personality, but when it was time for business, all the playing stopped.

  “Hopefully this one won’t turn out like the last time,” Ace responded.

  Ace was the highest ranking among all of us and our leader. After leaving AIT with Colonel Bowman four years ago, he took me to Ace. Ace showed me the ropes and introduced me to the rest of the team. Ace is the pilot and one of our interrogators. Ace could fly something as small as a crop duster or as large as a C-5M. The A-Team was his team. We moved when he moved and followed his instructions. We trusted him with our lives, and he trusted us with his.

  “How was I supposed to know she was married and on vacation with her husband? She was the one flirting with me!” Hawk explained.

  “Maybe the huge wedding ring on her finger?” Angus commented.

  Angus is the only female on the team. She is proficient with anything with a blade. She is almost six feet tall, dark chocolate skin and pure muscle. She can bench press more than most men I know. She’s beautiful but lethal, so most men stay out of her way.

  “Her tongue was too far in my ear for me to notice a ring on her finger. Her husband outweighed DT by at least a hundred pounds! Good thing he had weak knees. He went down like a tree when I kicked one of them. I ran like Forest Gump trying to get out of there,” Hawk laughed.

  “AYE! Shut the hell up and focus. This should be a quick turnaround but don’t get so cocky to assume that things can’t go wrong!” Harlem barked.

  Harlem has a serious, no-nonsense attitude. He is our driver and our most creative interrogator. He can drive anything; motorcycles, tanks, personnel carriers and mopeds. If it has wheels, Harlem can drive it. He has tools that he uses during his interrogations to get people to talk. If he doesn’t have his tools, he is a genius at improvising and turning regular everyday items into interrogation tools. With Ace and Harlem in the room with a suspect, they always get the information they need.

  “Turn on your earpiece and say something,” Gaige said while he looked at a small device that monitors our communications.

  Gaige is my spotter. His job is to gather information, calculate and feed it to me so that I can acquire my target. He also is the master of electronics. He can hack into any computer system or rewire any gadget to fit his needs. He’s the one with the most energy, so one of us is always telling him to shut up, sit down or be quiet.

  We all said something to make sure our earpieces were working correctly.

  “We are good,” Gaige said.

  “DT, lead us in prayer,” Harlem barked.

  “Whose Father?” I called out.

  The team responded, “Our Father, which art in Heaven…”

  We always recite the Prayer Jesus taught the Disciples, also known as The Lord’s Prayer before we went out on missions.

  “Remember the mission.” Ace began his speech. “Remember their humanity, even if they don’t remember. Remember your humanity even if you really want to forget. Remember those that came before us. Remember those that have to come after us. I am not greater than you. You are not greater than me. We are a team. Not only a team. We are who?”

  “The A-TEAM!” We all called out.

  We remained silent until the truck stopped at our location.

  “NVGs down people. Let’s get this done,” Harlem said.

  I pulled down my night vision goggles and jumped out of the truck.

  “Everyone in position?” I heard Ace say through my earpiece.

  Everyone on our six-person team responded with an affirmative answer.

  Under the cover of darkness, we stormed into the camp of a radical insurgent group. We successfully took down the entire team in a matter of minutes with minimal bloodshed. We captured seven men including the elusive leader. He was wanted by several different countries for murder, drug trafficking, and various other offenses. Several other agencies tried and failed to capture him. It was nothing to us. It’s what we did, and we did it well.

  3

  “Olivia!”

  I stood in the mirror of my bathroom chewing the inside of my cheeks while listening to his heavy footsteps come closer to my location.

  “Olivia, I know you hear me calling you!”

  I took a deep fortifying breath trying to release the tightening in my chest. My husband, Mason, appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.

  “Did
you not hear me calling your name?”

  “I answered,” I lied. “I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  I turned to face him, looking into his dark, empty eyes. I knew this was going to be bad.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to wear that dress tonight? I told you to put on the one I picked out for you.”

  He had chosen a black gown for me to wear tonight but I couldn’t get it zipped, so I chose a different black dress that I had already.

  “Mason, I did try to put on the one you picked out for me, but it was too small.”

  “Maybe if you would stop eating like a fucking pig, then you would be able to fit in the clothes that I chose for you.”

  “I’ve been dieting but…”

  “Are you trying to tell me that I’m wrong?”

  “No, I was just trying to explain…”

  “I don’t need your explanation. You do as I tell you to do!”

  “Mason…”

  SMACK!

  I immediately tasted the bitter, metallic flavor of blood in my mouth. I held my warm cheek that he’d just slapped.

  “Didn’t I just say that I don’t need your explanation?”

  I backed away still holding my cheek. I nodded.

  “You came up in that event looking like a fat, disgusting whore, and I’m just supposed to be okay with it?”

  I shook my head no.

  WHACK!

  He slapped me again. This time on the side of my face that I wasn’t holding.

  “You fucking respond when I ask you a question!”

  I had backed into a corner and couldn’t escape.

  “Mason, I…”

  “Shut up!” He interrupted me.

  “You.” WHACK

  “Are.” SLAP

  “Going.” SMACK

  “To.” WHACK

  “Learn.” SLAP

  “To.” SMACK

  “Stop.” WHACK

  “Testing.” SLAP

  “Me.” PUNCH

  Eventually, my whole body started to hurt. I didn’t really feel the blows landing on my face, neck, chest, and stomach anymore. I didn’t fight back or protect myself hoping that maybe this time would be the last time. Maybe this time he will kill me. Maybe he will finally put me out of my misery. Maybe one solid blow to my head and I will go into a permanent sleep. I hope for this every time. Please God, let this be that time.

  4

  Twelve Years Earlier…

  “I didn’t think in my wildest dreams that my daughter would ever be a part of the Willow Hill Debutante Ball.”

  My mother and I had just found out that I had been selected from hundreds of other seventeen-year-old applicants, to participate in the Willow Hill Debutante Ball. This was a huge deal in our small town. Girls from all over the Savannah, Georgia area and beyond submitted applications to be one of the thirty girls selected for the prestigious social event.

  “I mean, we’ve always talked about it, but I never thought that it would really happen for us. Only the richest and most influential families and their daughters participate. Olivia, aren’t you excited?”

  I looked up from my homework and plastered on a fake smile. I watched her move around the kitchen excitedly.

  “Yes, Mommy, I’m excited.”

  My mother has talked about me being a part of this Ball since I can remember. She has a whole scrapbook dedicated to it, from hairstyles to designer ball gowns. I’m happy that this will finally happen for her. I don’t care either way. I just want to see her happy. Happiness seems to elude her, so if I can give her a little something to look forward to, it won’t hurt me at all.

  My mother is a domestic for Mr. Velmar Belton and his family. Mr. Belton owns a paper manufacturing company that has been in his family for generations. They are one of the richest families in Willow Hill. My mother’s job is to manage the entire house. She cooks, cleans, organizes parties, and oversees the other staff. She had worked for them since before I was born.

  “I wish your father could be at the Ball to see you,” my mother said breaking our short silent period. I rolled my eyes when she looked away.

  It ain’t like he’s dead. He’s right across town with his wife and his kids. I am my father’s secret child, a product of my mother settling for a man with a bunch of empty promises.

  They have been together for at least seventeen years. For seventeen years, she has been a secret. He has told her more than once that he is going to leave his wife, but he hasn’t. He has two other children with his wife that are younger than me.

  My mother believes him, or I think she forces herself to accept his stories. They have this weird on again, off again relationship. He tells his family he is going away on business so he can spend a few days with my mother. They never leave the house because if they do, someone will find out their secret. He gives my mom money to help take care of me, but I’ve never been out in public with him either. I’ve seen my siblings around town, but I was instructed not to speak to them. My sister who is almost a year younger than me, we are eleven months apart, looks exactly like me except her skin is darker. My brother is tall and slim like my father. My father used to tell me that he was going to let me meet my siblings because he wanted us to have a relationship but that has never happened, along with a thousand other promises that he’s made me. At seventeen, I have enough broken promises to last me a lifetime. I’ve learned not to believe anything that he says.

  “This Ball is going to put you out front, baby. All the nice rich young men will see you. You will marry you a rich man for sure!”

  Marrying rich was my mother’s goal for me. She didn’t want me to be a doctor or a lawyer. She wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer’s wife. She wanted me to be a part of high society. She dreamed of me having tea parties and being a proper southern lady. All I’ve ever wanted, for as long as I can remember, is to teach. I want to inspire young minds. I want to help mold future leaders. I want to be that teacher that people never forget because I inspired them to be better. Hopefully, I can make my mother happy while being happy myself.

  “We are going to go dress shopping this weekend. We have to get a jump on all of the other families shopping for their daughter’s dresses.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Olivia, come on out, Baby. You are going to be late for the Bachelor’s Brunch!”

  The Bachelor’s Brunch was an event held a week before the Ball. At the brunch, the debutantes selected our escorts for the event. The suitors that were invited to participate were selected from Military Academies and Ivy League Universities. I wasn’t really looking forward to this part. At first, I thought that working with my debutante coach was the hardest part of this process. He taught me how to walk, curtsey, dining skills, table manners, and ballroom dancing, but the thought of walking up to a complete stranger and telling them that I wanted them to be my escort to at the Ball made me sick to my stomach. When the potential escorts question my pedigree, what am I supposed to say? My dad has a family across town, but his family doesn’t know about me. My mom is the maid over at the Belton’s? Not that I was ashamed of my mother, but we don’t fit into this whole debutante world.

  “I’m coming, Mommy.”

  I took another glance at myself in the mirror before meeting my mother at the front door. My mother picked out my dress. She’d chosen a black, short-sleeved, a line dress that stopped right above my knees. I wore a single strand, imitation pearl necklace, and matching post earrings. My hair was up in a French roll with a curly ringlet on each side of my face by my temples. I wore black patent leather pumps with a one-inch heel.

  “Oh, my heavens! Olivia, you are beautiful!” my mother beamed as I approached her.

  “You sure are,” Mrs. Belton agreed.

  “Thank you,” I smiled.

  “Alright, let’s go and find you an escort!”

  Since Mr. and Mrs. Belton were my sponsors for the ball, Mrs. Belton accompanied me to the Bachelor’s Brunch. Mrs. Belton looped her arm in mi
ne and led me out the door.

  “Olivia, I know that I’ve already said this, but you really do look darling.” Mrs. Belton said as we pulled up to the restaurant where the brunch was being held.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Belton. Thank you again for sponsoring me.”

  “Oh please! You are smart and beautiful. I couldn’t make it day to day without your mother. It’s the least we could do. Come, sweetheart, let’s find you an escort.”

  Mrs. Belton has always been very nice to me. Even though my mother is her hired help, she doesn’t look down on me or treat me like I’m second class. Both she and her husband are good people.

  She led me around the room introducing me to the families that I’d only heard of on the evening news or read about in the newspaper. Mrs. Belton simply introduced me by my name, Olivia Callahan. She didn’t say, “my maid’s daughter,” or “the poor girl we are sponsoring.” She made me feel comfortable.

  “Oliver Renou!” I heard Mrs. Belton exclaim.

  I froze hearing that name. Mrs. Belton took my hand and led me to the man and his family.

  “Oliver, this is a good friend of my family. Olivia Callahan, meet Mr. Oliver Renou. His wife, Armelle, and his daughter, Octavia. Octavia is one of the debutantes this year also.”

  “Nice to meet you Olivia, what a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Mr. Renou extended his hand. I shook his hand to play along with this charade.

  I wanted to say, “You named me, daddy.” But instead, I said, “Thank you, Mr. Renou. Nice to meet you Mrs. Renou. Octavia, you are beautiful. Congratulations on being one of the selected debutantes.”

  I smiled through my entire speech. This was the first time I’d ever spoken to my sister. The first time I’d ever been this close to her. I wanted to grab her and give her a tight hug and introduce myself as her sister, but I knew I couldn’t. I wondered if she noticed that we have the same eyes? Can she feel that I love her even though she doesn’t know me?

  “Congratulations to you too,” Octavia smiled. “You are very pretty. Good luck on your escort selection.”