by James H Roby
“We close.”
These people got something against the word ‘are’?
“I’m not here for an appointment,” Jordan said, “I -”
“We close!” The little glass slid to the shut position.
He glared through the window as if looks could kill. She ignored him and went on with her business of winding down for the night. He resigned himself to his situation and walked back to the door and leaned against the wall. The fat guard leaned on the opposite side. He laughed, probably figuring Jordan for some sucker who couldn’t tell time and got to the unit too late. The fact Jordan was still in his tuxedo made no difference.
The door flew open with a crash, pinning the hapless guard behind it. Jordan moved for his P7M but froze mid-movement as he saw who had kicked the door open. A tall rail thin man wielding a shotgun exploded into the room. His eyes were unfocused and swam around. That, and the ungodly smell waffling from his tattered clothes and Jordan knew this man was on some drug or suffering from the aftereffects.
“Gimme the drugs!” the gunman shouted. Every occupant in the room seemed to try to out-scream the other. The criminal whirled his weapon to the chest of the guard.
“Don’t do it! I’ll shoot you, man.”
The security guard put his hands over his head. Tears streamed down his face. No longer a threat to him, the gunman moved to the receptionist window.
“Didn’t you hear me, bitch!” he shouted. “Get me some drugs! I know you got ‘em!”
“I – I,” was all the receptionist could muster.
“Oh, you think you safe behind that glass, huh?” the gunman asked. He fired his weapon with a thunderous blast. The screaming went up a notch. The glass spider-webbed.
I’m in ‘Coming to America’…Jordan thought.
“Y’all gots pain killers and shit! Get me some!”
The receptionist disappeared beneath her desk and wasn’t a very good target to threaten. The gunman picked another – a frail woman, who looked ninety, easy. She sat in the first seat just to the right of Jordan. The gunman bodily lifted her.
“I better get what I want or I’m shootin’ this old bitch!” He put the shotgun to the woman’s head. Surprisingly, the woman didn’t make a sound.
Not good. Jordan assessed. Unstable target. Innocent between me and target. It’s bang bang time. I better -
“Put down the gun. There’s no need for violence.”
Jordan’s thoughts were cut off by a woman’s voice. She was a tall, slim woman with coffee skin. Her black hair, just reached her jaw line. Her face was calm as she spoke, as if crisis situations were nothing new to her. Probably given the doctor’s smock she wore, it wasn’t. Jordan, however, was not as calm.
Great, a hero.
The gunman was not impressed either. “You know what I want!”
“I know,” the doctor said, holding her hands out and walking towards the gunman, “but I can’t do that.”
“Bullshit!” the gunman exploded. “Dis lady is dead at the count of three!”
The doctor stopped and dropped her hands to her sides. “Then you might as well kill me now.”
“Your funeral, bitch.” The gunman threw the old woman to the side and leveled his shotgun at the doctor. Jordan leapt forward. He grabbed the gun’s barrel and spun it upward. The weapon discharged and ceiling fragments rained. The gunman turned to Jordan with wide eyes. Jordan reverse the spin on the barrel. The shoulder stock struck the gunman’s chin. The blow knocked the man off his feet and sent the shotgun flying through the air. Jordan caught the flying weapon and brought it to bear on the criminal a second after he hit the floor with a thump.
“Now,” Jordan said, “I think you owe that nice old lady an apology.”
“Apology, my ass!” the nice old lady said. She stomped over to the fallen villain and delivered a swift kick to the crotch. She flashed a smile to Jordan.
“Bless you, son.” The voice was as sweet as if she were exiting church. He was struck dumb and didn’t know if he should focus on the befallen gunman or the kung-fu granny. Something latched onto his arms. Or rather, someone. The doctor spun him to face her.
“What in the world were you thinking?”
Jordan lowered the shotgun. “Just dropped by to say hi, Jack.” He smiled while the doctor’s face twisted into disbelief. Without another word, Dr. Jacqueline Myers embraced Jordan as tightly as she could.
~
The police arrived and took the gunman into custody. Jackie spirited Jordan into one of the examination rooms. He waited as she answered the cops’ questions. The door opened and Jackie came in.
“All clear?” Jordan asked.
Jackie stood with her back to the door. He watched as her full breast sank and rose beneath her white coat. He tightened his lips and realized, from her point of view, the past half hour was fairly dramatic. A minute and a half passed and her breathing returned to normal.
“The police are gone,” she said, “if that’s what you mean.”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean.” He allowed her the bravado. He understood how upsetting people pointing guns at you could be. Still, she tried to appear calm.
Damn doctors. Always got to be in control.
“I should hire you to come in here every night at closing and attack someone,” she said. “Twenty minutes ago, crying children and yelling adults filled the room. Now it’s empty. I may actually get home at a decent time.”
“You’re welcome.”
She walked toward him with a grin. She clumsily tried to hide it with a lip lick – still trying to regain control. She had on a black skirt that hit her right at the knee. It showed enough of her legs to engage his imagination. It was her legs that first attracted him to her.
“Thank you,” she said as she reached him. Her face suddenly grew serious. She cocked her head to one side and studied his face. Jordan recognized the look.
“Hey, I’m fine. I’m -”
“Sit down,” Jackie said as if she wasn’t listening. “I want to look at your head.”
Jordan sputtered a protest, but Jackie was having none of that. She gestured towards the examination table. Defeated, Jordan hopped on. Jackie moved close. She began inspecting a cut he gotten. He didn’t know it existed until she started poking around at it.
“When did this happen?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Was it while you were fighting that gunman?”
“Which one?”
Jackie stepped back at his words. She looked at him for a long time without expression. It, as it always had, made him uncomfortable.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“What?”
She ran his lapel between her fingers. A second later, she was back looking at his cut. He smiled. He had forgotten he was still in his tux.
“I was at a fashion show. Black tie.”
“And you didn’t invite me?” She did something to the cut to produce an ‘ouch’ from Jordan.
“You wouldn’t have liked it anyway,” Jordan said after he recovered. “Besides, I crashed.”
“Ah. A case for the UrbanKnights?” She smiled. The overly romantic name made it easy to poke fun. She stepped away, the doctor’s look still on her face.
“Well, am I going to live, Jack?” He was the only one who called her that.
She didn’t speak as she turned to a medicine cabinet. A second later, she was facing Jordan again – this time with cotton balls and alcohol. She set the items down on the bed then went to the sink. She washed her hands, no doubt an automatic response and called over her shoulder. “So, what do I owe the honor of this surprise visit?”
“You mean, besides keeping some nut case from decorating your waiting room with your insides?”
Jackie finished at the sink and was dabbing the alcohol onto a cotton ball. “Yeah, besides that. Sting coming.” She applied the alcohol to Jordan’s head.
/> “I need your- Yeow!”
Jackie applied pressure. “Big baby. It isn’t that bad.”
Jordan began pulling his head away. “Why do all doctors say that when they’re killing you.”
Jackie ignored Jordan’s quip. She replaced the cotton ball with another one, without alcohol. She took Jordan’s left hand and guided to his cut.
“Hold.”
Jordan did as he was instructed as Jackie put away her torture devices. “You need my what?”
“What?”
“You said you need my…then you started screaming like I was killing you.” Jackie didn’t even bother hiding this smile.
Jordan didn’t respond to the obvious joy at his pain. “Your help. I need your help.” He reached into his jacket pocket and gave her the test tube. Jackie took it and gave it a passing glance.
“Crack. You know, Jordan, if you’re having some trouble, I have counseling Mondays and Thursdays. You don’t have to turn to this.”
“That’s the last thing I want is to be on your couch.”
A moment, almost undetectable, of silence passed as the pair absorbed the suggestive nature of the last statement. Something about her that always put him off his game. Maybe it was the attempt he made at a relationship years ago. Maybe it was she was one of the few civilians who knew the depth of his service in the DIA.
“Er, anyway,” he said, “it’s not crack. Look at it again.”
She held the tiny bottle close to her face, turning it around.
“It’s yellowish.”
Jordan got off the table and pitched the cotton ball into a nearby trashcan. He stepped closer to Jackie.
“That’s right, doctor,” Jordan said, “it’s crush.”
“Crush?”
Jordan sighed. “It’s a long story.”
Jackie stepped back and lowered herself into a chair. She folded her arms as she sat down. “Well?” She did a little head motion black women have perfected over the years. Jordan sighed again, hopped back on the examination table and began the story.
“Did I ever tell you about Cody Random?”
She looked at the ceiling as she accessed the recesses of her memory. While he was still a government operative, she had become his confidant. Sworn to secrecy, Jackie used her Master’s in Psychology to help Jordan come to terms with the blood he spilt.
“He was a drug dealer or something,” she said. “I remember him because it was a kind of police action. Not the usual terrorist villainy you faced.” She smiled with all her teeth showing. She always used humor to defuse the tension of Jordan’s adventures. Maybe it was a coping technique. Maybe she was just making fun of him. Didn’t matter. Her voice was smoky like a black Loren Bacall in a remake of ‘The Big Sleep’. He could listen to her talk all night.
“He’s back,” Jordan said. He brought her up to date with everything from the CIA agents appearing in his office to the events at the Cobo Center. After he finished his tale, Jackie didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“And?”
“And, what?” Jordan said. Jackie started into one of her routines. Whenever she wasn’t satisfied with Jordan’s answers, she would give him a ‘once over’. She’d focused on various parts of his body. She wasn’t checking him out. She was looking for ‘tells’ - nervous twitches and such. Anything showing he was lying, or not being entirely truthful. Jordan never really knew what exactly she was looking for, but, somehow, she always knew. It drove him crazy. He, who had been a government agent and was trained to lie, could not keep anything from this woman. She occasionally looked him in the eye. Finally, he had enough.
“OK, OK!”
“Well?” Jackie said, smugness rang in her voice.
“Robin,” Jordan said as a one-word answer. It was enough.
Jackie groaned as she put her head in her hand. She sat up, adjusted her skirt and tried to approach the topic as tactfully as possible. Finally, she breathed a long sigh. “So, what – I mean, how -”
She’s dating this Small guy.” Jordan wanted to get over this part. She knew about his relationship with Robin. It was another weakness he wasn’t so keen reliving. “Well, more than dating him apparently.”
“That’s what adults do.” She studied her hands for a moment then raised her eyes to his – gauging the impact of her words. He twisted his lips.
“I know what adults do, Jack.” His tone was even but the context was there.
“That’s awfully coincidental.”
“Yeah. I’ve considered that.” He got off the table again.
“Jack, I need you to figure out how this stuff was made.” He pointed at the vial in her slender fingers.
Jackie stood up and reexamined the crush. She nodded. “OK. I’ve got lab tomorrow, I’ll break it down – see what makes it tick. No promises.”
Jordan nodded back at her and headed for the door. As he reached for the knob he looked back at his friend. Shouldn’t have done that.
“What?”
It was the ‘doctor look’ again. Wordlessly, she moved close. She took his chin in her hand and twisted his head any way she felt to inspect his wound. She stood very close to him. It was perfectly innocent, but Jordan felt a pang of uncomfortableness with her in his personal space.
“Jack…”
If she heard him, Jackie gave no sign. Her breath was on his cheek - her breasts brushed his chest. Jordan swallowed hard and audibly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked and pulled back enough to look him in the eye. A doctor mindful of her patient’s pains. “Does it hurt?”
“Heh, not there.” She frowned and slapped his chest with the back of her hand. His meaning was clear. It had been clear since junior year in college. She could but wouldn’t cure that pain. He grinned at his own mischievousness.
“Anyway,” she drew the word out, “it’s not too bad. You don’t need stitches. Barely. I know you won’t let me, but you should see to some dressing.” She smiled. “It’s a good thing you got a hard head.” She briefly wrapped her arms around him. “OK, off you go. I’ll call you tomorrow about this stuff.”
Jordan opened the door, “Thanks, Jack. I owe you.”
“You certainly do.”
He was almost to the building’s entrance when she called him. “Jordan, thanks for saving my life.”
“No charge.”
Chapter Fourteen: Alone with His Thoughts
It was what they called a hidden gem. The redbrick apartment building was off the river, east of downtown. Three blocks south of Jefferson, it was almost unknown and undetected by the majority of the city’s residents. Suiting Jordan just fine. As soon as he moved in, he knew he wouldn’t be here long. It was nice enough, but a house was definitely in his future. Besides, they didn’t allow dogs.
The rain assaulted the window rapidly and with surprising power. Like Elvin Jones came back for a one night only show. Once a late summer shower now it was a full-blown storm. Joe Sample came from a laptop’s Bluetooth speakers and played appropriately “Stormy Weather”. It echoed through the lonely, mostly empty rooms. No need for furniture – not going to be here long. The laptop set on the floor next to Jordan’s couch in the living room. A couple of recliners were stationed before a sixty-five-inch curved television. One side of the room was dedicated to a wet bar. Jordan didn’t drink, but his friends did and a good host was always prepared.
He knelt before a safe built into an end table. He would have gotten through the combination quicker, if a black ball of fur and energy wasn’t constantly nipping at his fingers.
Jordan leaned back, towering over the six-month-old schnauzer. The dog stood on his hind legs, his front paws dancing to reach his master.
“This is why I have to move, Galahad. You won’t be still. We’re gonna get caught.”
“Arf!” Galahad said. His paws found Jordan’s knee and he moved in for the attack. Jordan rubbed the dog’s head.
“Pillow.�
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Galahad reared back. Danced in place for a few moments.
“Pillow.” The voice had more authority now. The dog took a few more steps, then with all the clumsiness of a puppy, scampered over to a dog pillow. He whined for a few moments, then put his head down with what could only be described as a sigh. Jordan shook his head. Free from interference, he went back to the safe.