Bottom Feeder (26 page)

“
At least she looks good
doing it,” I say aloud.

The group next to me nods in
agreement.

A crowd assembles near the
stage as the song bores on. A smile stretches across my face
knowing
I
will be
going home with her before picking up Maddy.

I shake off thoughts that begin to
form of her.

Back to Vanessa.

“
Monroe!” a voice yells
from across the room.

“
What’s up, Dominguez?” He
pulls a chair next to mine.

“
I saw your girl tonight!”
he exclaims, leaning with his hands out like he’s about to tell an
interesting story. My girl? “The one that owns the Beemer. Mari . .
. Melis . . . Maddy!”

My mouth drops open.

Dominguez swipes my beer. “She was
with Beraz. He was about to get it when I walked in.”

Beraz
did not
bring Maddy to the barracks.
Who saw her? Why was she in his room?

“
You were hiding her,
huh?”

“
Trying to,” I spit
through clenched teeth. What is Beraz thinking? I didn’t instruct
him to take her back to the barracks. Definitely not back to his
room.

“
I’d keep her for myself,
too,” Dominguez notes, finishing off my beer. “
Mami
is thicker than a cold bowl of
oatmeal.” He shakes his head in admiration. “I don’t know what
Beraz thinks he’s doing. I could do things . . .”

Rage suddenly boils deep
inside me. My imagination runs wild with thoughts of Maddy and
Beraz
together
.

The waitress places another bottle in
front of me. I tap her wrist before she walks away. “Something
stronger. Jack and Coke.” She dances away happily when I slip her
two more bills.

“
That was two hundred
dollars!” Dominguez shouts. I shrug. The money is courtesy of
Cordell. For the job I am supposed to carry out. Maddy is just a
job.

Vanessa’s version
of
Sweet Home Alabama
ends, followed by a roar of applause and whistles from her
admirers.

She approaches my table
with a few faithful followers trailing behind. Some guys take the
stage and begin a pretty good execution of
ATLiens
. “Did you like
it?”

“
Of course we liked it!”
Dominguez exclaims. “You can sing to me any day.”

Vanessa thanks him and turns to me.
The burning rage inside me is calming into a smoky cinder. She
waves her hand in front of my face before turning to her group of
flunkies.

“
Who wants to buy me a
drink?” she asks and shuffles to the bar.

Dominguez is droning on about Vanessa.
Then back to Maddy. The nonstop chatter continues until a new voice
echoes through the speakers, startling him into silence. The
soulful, almost haunting, sound—a mixture of Etta James and Joss
Stone—sends tingles down my spine.

The tempo picks up and a crowd flocks
to the tiny stage, blocking my view of whomever this breathtaking
voice belongs to. Dominguez stands on a chair to get a better look.
The waitress brings my drink. I slam it back quickly and tell her
to keep them coming.

“
Sexy
and
talented,” Dominguez
says.

I squeeze between the swarm that has
collected around the stage, as if the voice is a siren
call.

The dress hangs seductively on her
frame, highlighting every feature of her body. Her hair swirls in
large waves around her face. She looks so confident, so at ease as
her body moves fluidly, seductively to the song. The flushed pink
in her cheeks gives her away. I do like that.

A tiny sputter merges in my chest. I
chalk it up to drinking too much too quickly.

“
She’s good, right?”
Vanessa snakes her arm around my waist. I nod, keeping my eyes on
Maddy as she dances and works the masses while belting out the last
lines of
Lady Marmalade.
The crowd erupts with deafening
cheers.

Vanessa interlaces her fingers through
mine to remind me she is there.

Private Beraz lifts Maddy off the
stage, smiling like he has the greatest prize in the world. I
flinch when she wraps her arms around his neck while he whispers in
her ear. She nods.

To my surprise and horror, Beraz leans
in to kiss her ear, her cheek. Her lips.

I gasp for air. I look at Vanessa, who
is trying to get my attention. She rolls her eyes, mutters
something about being drunk and walks away.

I toss back another J&C. Dominguez
is talking nonsense about going after Vanessa. I shrug.

If she wants him, I don’t care.
Tonight was a mistake. Being with Vanessa was a mistake.

Beraz, now sitting at the opposite end
of the room, motions for Maddy to sit on his lap. She hesitates,
but complies. Her expression, although smiling, looks as if she is
scolding him. He laughs and kisses her again.

The pain in my chest is
excruciating. I am
never
drinking again.

For the remainder of the night I watch
them. And drink. Any remainder of arrogance dissipates with each
drink that enters my bloodstream. I’m hurting.

I trail discreetly as they walk to the
main dance floor. Maddy moves sinuously with each song while Beraz
is busy brushing off anyone who tries to cut between them. He lifts
Maddy onto a table and stands in front of her. The two are deep in
conversation, as if they are the only people in the
room.

What, exactly, can a gangbanger from
Oklahoma City and a soft spoken Georgia girl find to talk about? Is
he running through lame lines to win her over? Is she rolling her
eyes at his attempts?

He kisses her at every
opportunity.

My head spins. My knees are
Jell-O.

I hear several gasps as my legs
disappear beneath me.

“
Jackson!” a familiar
voice calls. I try to get up, but manage to roll on my stomach
instead. “Help me with him, please?”

I am lifted from the floor. A set of
arms wrap around me as I stagger to my feet.

“
Monroe, can you walk?”
Beraz’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a funnel.

“
I haffa use a
piss.”

“
What does that even
mean?” Maddy asks.

“
He has to pee,” Beraz
answers. “Come on, Monroe. There’s a bathroom right
here.”

The next thing I know I’m on the floor
in front of a bathroom stall with Beraz struggling to lift me
up.

“
Monroe, you have to
cooperate or I’m leaving you on this shitty floor.”

I
am
cooperating. I think. I don’t
feel good.

“
You know what? Lay there
a minute.”

I crawl further into the stall and try
to lift myself up.

“
Jackson,” Maddy’s voice
says, “What the deuce are you eating?”

What is she talking about? I’m not
eating anything. She squats beside me and snatches something from
my hand.

“
Where did you get
crackers from in a men’s bathroom?”

I don’t know, but I like
crackers.

“
Monroe,” Beraz says,
“Were those sitting on the back of the toilet?”

“
Fucking delicious
crackers. Crack-crack-
crackerrrrs
.”

“
Let’s take him out. He
can’t drive like this and I’m sure not holding his package while he
pees.” Maddy reaches into my pockets, searching for keys. Beraz
sighs grudgingly.

The cool night blows a breath of air
on my face as I stumble into the parking lot.

“
Follow me back,” Beraz
says to Maddy as he places me in the passenger seat of her car. “We
can hang out if you want.”

I hear the smile in her voice when she
replies, “Sounds good.”

She is silent during the ride back to
Fort Bragg, aside from mumbling something about cleaning
seats.

I wake up to my shoes being tugged off
and a blanket tucked around my chin.

“
What
Dominguez?” Beraz says when his familiar ringtone plays.
“Where’s Morris?
Anybody
else?” He waits for a long moment before a last,
“Fine. Twenty minutes.”

“
You have to leave,” Maddy
says with a note of sadness. I recognize that same note from the
day I left for Laney’s house. Even through my drunkenness, I know
she thinks he is leaving on purpose.

“
They need a DD. One
person gets a DUI, we’re all in trouble.”

“
Jackson, do you need
anything?” Maddy whispers when my door snaps closed.

I groan. My stomach churns. I
stumble-run to the bathroom and dry heave until my stomach aches.
And I still have to piss. I can’t seem to unzip my jeans. I try
shrugging them off, the urge to pee worsening with each
movement.

“
Mad—Maddy,” I slur.
“S’elp, please?”

She steps into the bathroom without
turning the light on. God bless her.

“
Hafsa pee.”

“
So pee.”

“
Canna get my jeans to
work.”

She unbuttons and unzips my jeans. She
lifts my hand and places it on the wall to steady me. “You’re on
your own with the rest.”

I wash my hands and lean against the
sink.

“
Jackson? You okay?” Maddy
calls a few minutes later. She steps into the bathroom again and
leads me to the bed.

“
Don’t roll over until I
can get a trash can beside you.”

I pry my eyes open. Even this makes my
stomach turn out a loud snarl. I close my eyes and wish for the
nausea to go away. Some time later, I am awakened by my own
snoring. Maddy is sitting on the floor, reading through an Army
Guidebook.

“
You feeling
okay?”

I nod. She brushes her hand across my
face and forehead.

“
You’re sweating, but the
alcohol needs to get out of you somehow.” She tucks the blanket
underneath my chin.

I peek over the side of the bed where
there are two small trash cans for me and a pillow on the bare
floor for Maddy.

“
Cold floor.”

“
I’ll manage.” With a
sigh, she glances at my alarm clock and clicks on the dim desk lamp
before switching off the overhead lights.

She bends to my ear. “I’m here, okay?
I’m not going anywhere until you feel better.” Another glance at
the clock. “What is wrong with me?” she whispers to
herself.

“
Absolutely nothing,” I
want to say. Instead, I turn on my side. My stomach sloshes and
growls in disapproval. Maddy quickly has the trash can up with my
head buried in it. She rubs my back while I wretch violently for
the next few minutes.

I lay half-slumped over the side of
the bed. She gingerly removes my soiled shirt and pushes me up
before darting to the bathroom with the trash cans. She emerges
seconds later with damp wash cloths. I feel like a child as she
places one of the cloths on my forehead and uses the other to dab
the corners of my mouth.

“
I do this for Dixon when
he’s sick,” she says, placing her hands on my bare stomach. “Does
this hurt or help?”

“
Feels nice.”

I fall into a dreamless sleep with
Maddy rubbing slow, gentle circles on my aching stomach.

Maddy

Groggy from little sleep, I am
uncertain of the time when the loud banging, trailed by a
high-pitched voice begins echoing in the hallway.

Four loud smacks land against
Jackson’s door, followed by a string of profanities.

“
Monroe, open this damn
door,” the nasally voice commands.

Jackson awakens with a start. Unsure
of what to do while he runs to the door, I quietly
panic.

“
Yes, Sergeant?” Jackson
answers in a deep voice. His military pitch, I guess.

The man, dressed in full uniform,
forces his way inside the room. He is shorter than Jackson, with a
shaved head and skin the color of milk chocolate. His barking
abruptly comes to halt when he spots me sitting on the
floor.

“
Females in the room,
Specialist?” The man shoots his finger toward me. “DUIs!
Unauthorized females in the rooms! What’s next? A meth lab? A
fucking prostitute ring?”

Did he just call me a
prostitute?

“
Sergeant Wotley, allow me
. . .”

“
At ease, Specialist.
Stand at parade rest when addressing me.”

Before I can blink, Jackson stiffens
his body, places his feet shoulder length apart and wraps his arms
behind his back, palms facing out and thumbs
interlocked.

“
Get your ass dressed and
at the Company in exactly ten minutes. Willis and Rodriguez managed
to get DUIs last night so you know what that means for everybody
else. As for this,” he pauses to glare at me, “we’ll deal
with
after
a
briefing from the Commander.”