Bottom Feeder (28 page)

The outline of a plan flashes in my
head like a neon sign. I will fix this and leave. Alone.

First I have to find out what happened
to Jackson because of me. I will make right whatever trouble I have
caused.

No matter what.

My phone rings. Violet.

“
Is Jackson with you?” she
asks after my greeting.

“
No, he’s uh, I don’t know
where he is.” Is she crying? “What’s wrong? Is everything
okay?”

“
I’ve got some bad
news.”

Jackson

The cell phone rings in my
pocket.

“
Mama, I’m busy right now.
Can I call you back?”

“
Lamont’s been in an
accident,” she sniffles.

I pause outside Sergeant Wotley’s
office. “What kind of accident?”

“
A car accident,” she
says. “I let him borrow my car to move Chris into the dorms
yesterday. Chris and Jeremiah were in the Galant, and Lamont was
driving the Civic. Jeremiah is awake. He said Lamont was in front
of them on a stretch of I-16 when, out of nowhere, a dually truck
cut half-way in between the two cars and performed a PIT maneuver
on the Civic. Lamont lost control, hit the median, flipped several
times and landed upside down.”

“
Are you at the
hospital?”

“
Yes, I just stepped out
to call you.”

“
If the truck only hit
Lamont, how did Chris and Jeremiah end up in the hospital,
too?”

“
Chris sped up to get to
Lamont while Jeremiah dialed 911. The driver of the dually did a
U-turn in the median to come back. Only, instead of stopping to
help, he rammed into the driver’s side of the Galant and pushed it
about twenty yards away from Lamont’s accident. They’re both in
critical condition, Jackson. Jeremiah’s leg is broken and he has a
few bruises, but nothing serious.”

Never in my life have I felt the
amount of pain I’m feeling right now. “I’m coming home.”

“
No,” Mama says firmly.
“This was a hit-and-run, but it was no accident. Someone did this
on purpose, and I have a feeling just who is
responsible.”

“
Are you going to tell the
police?”

“
Most of their pockets are
lined with his filth,” she says. “I’ll prove it my own way. Keep
yourself up there. I mean it. I’ll call if anything
changes.”

I step into Sergeant Wotley’s office.
After that, it’s all black.

Pain.
Pain everywhere.

The explosion echoes across the
mountain range. A split second of confusion. Disorder. Adrenaline.
Organized chaos. The sounds of bedlam surround me.

Bodies of men dressed in typical
Afghan payraan tumbaans, pakol hats and shemagh scarves wrapped
around their faces begin dropping out of the sky, landing at my
feet. I run toward the voices of my fellow soldiers.

“
Friendly!” I yell, low
crawling into the barricade. Bullets whistle above my head. A hand
pulls me the rest of the way to safety. I pick myself up and glance
around. The soldiers change into unarmed men with empty eyes and
shemagh scarves covering their faces.

My gun disintegrates into thin air.
The pieces turn to a dust cloud that wraps around my
head.

I want to see the faces of the men who
will kill me. I unwrap the shemagh of the man in front of me, the
man in charge. Oddly enough, he allows this. I pull the material
from his face slowly. Looking back at me is Cordell. With a
methodical, urgent quickness, I repeat this procedure with the
unending bodies inside the barricade.

Each unveiling reveals a soldier on my
team and in my unit who was killed in action. They all crumble to
dust as I move to the next. And the next.

A searing pain burns inside my head. I
remove the last scarf from the statue-like body.

Maddy.

She, like the others, crumbles to
dust. I drop to my knees and try picking up the granules. The sky
opens up and droplets of warm water graze my head. I think of
angels of crying.

Cordell’s breath is on my
neck. “
Keep the things you heard today a
well-guarded secret, as if your life depended on it. And believe
me, son, it does.”

I wake with a jolt.

Fingers are combing through my
hair.

“
Jackson, please,” Maddy
pleads through broken sobs. “I’m so sorry. Please. I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean it.” More warm water drips on my face. Tears. She
quickly wipes them away.

I try sitting up.

“
Not yet.” Maddy tugs
gently on my arm.

I slump back, glancing into her
red-rimmed eyes.

“
Maddy,” I
begin.

“
I’m sorry for hurting
you,” she interrupts. “You have every right to be mad. I’ve caused
so many problems, just . . . I deserve whatever you feel is
necessary. Please know I’m sorry. For everything. I will fix
everything.” She closes her eyes and sucks in a few breaths of air.
“I have to.”

I raise my hand to touch her face. She
winces, bracing herself for me to hit her.

I wipe the tears from her cheek. “I
would never hit you.”

“
I’m sorry,” she
whispers.

“
You don’t have to
apolo—“

She raises her hand to cut me off.
“You didn’t deserve that.”

“
I can’t believe I said
those things. I’m sor—”

“
Don’t,” she interrupts.
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. My life has been filled with
nothing but lies and false apologies.”

I attempt to stand.

“
Let me help.” Maddy
stands, drapes my arm over her shoulder. “You’ll have to help. Move
to the bed first. Ready? One . . . two . . . three.”

I flop across the bed. “You have a
bump.”

“
Bump?” I ask, confused. I
raise my hand to feel the small protrusion. The massive headache
makes it seem much bigger than it is.

“
Do you want to go the
hospital?”

“
No,” I reply. “I’ll just
take some aspirin.”

She pulls out a bottle of water from
the compact refrigerator and retrieves aspirin from the bathroom.
The cold water feels good going down my throat, ending with a
chilly splash at the bottom of my empty stomach.

“
Here, take this,” she
demands, thrusting a makeshift icepack into my hands.

“
I’m fine.”

“
Humor me,” she insists. I
sigh and shove the icepack to my head—a little too hard—and keel
over in pain.

“
Carefully!” she asserts,
pulling the pack out of my hand and taking over.

She motions for me to rest my head on
her lap. She presses the ice to my head and begins humming a slow
melody that almost drifts me to sleep.

“
I owe you an
apology.”

“
You don’t owe me
anything,” she snaps.

“
Dammit, you are so
stubborn. Please, just let me .”

“
You don’t owe me a
thing,” she interrupts, her voice softer. “Granted, your delivery
was terrible. But everything you said would have kept me in the
dark. It seems strange, I guess, but now—” She pauses to toss the
melted icepack in the garbage. “Now my life makes sense in areas
that never seemed to make any sense.”

She begins to hum again, but stops
abruptly. “I’m not going to tell him.”

“
What?”

“
My fath—Cordell. I’m not
telling him.”

“
What do you mean?” I
shift my head so she doesn’t see the relief on my face. The swift
move makes me feel dizzy. I slowly turn on my side, my cheek rests
on the bare skin of her upper thigh. The sweet scent of her fills
my nose. When she runs her soft fingers across the bump on my head
again, I feel helpless. Vulnerable. And oddly turned on.

“
You were talking while
you were out, saying
‘He’ll kill me. He’ll
kill me.’
I know Cordell doesn’t make fair
business deals.”

“
Oh.”

“
Don’t worry,” she sighs.
“You will get your car. I’m not saying anything to him or anyone
else. I’ll do what it takes to make this right for Lamont,
Jeremiah, Chris
and
you. How much trouble are you in?”

“
Extra duty and a cut in
pay.” I think. I don’t really remember. Wotley also talked about
reducing my rank back to Private.

“
Are they always so
unforgiving?”

“
No. They are only
this
harsh if the person
in the room is underage. I was stupid to bring you here. I wasn’t
thinking.” Well, I
was
thinking. Just not about getting caught.

“
I’m not
underage.”

“
Seventeen is underage,
Maddy.”

“
Yesterday was my
birthday.” Oh. Yeah. “As soon as you’re better, I’m leaving,” she
continues.

“
If you drive the first
part, I can handle the second part of the trip.”

“
Alone, Jackson.” She
releases a hard, angry breath. “You don’t have to babysit
anymore.”

“
Maddy, please.” I manage
to sit upright. “God, I just don’t know what’s happening to me, but
I don’t want you to go alone. To leave. There’s something that I
feel for you that I can’t explain.”

She snorts. “I’d like to forget about
the last fourteen days and begin picking up the pieces.”

I wince. “You want to forget about
me?”

She looks at me, deadpan. "Yes. Yes, I
would." Before I have time to process this, she continues, "I'm
will fix this. You'll have your money back, with interest. Then you
will never hear from me again. I promise." She scoots off the bed.
“Do you have anything I can change into temporarily? My things are
still in Dom’s room.”

I give Maddy a white undershirt and a
pair of my roommate’s basketball shorts. I want to tell her I’m an
idiot, that I’m sorry for messing up. I don’t. Pride and stupidity
weigh me down.

“
Maybe you should shower
in Beraz’s room. Mine is . . .”

“
I cleaned it,” she says
through the closed door.

I plop down on the bed and drift to
sleep.

“
How are you feeling?”
Maddy asks some time later. Her face is full of concern, but her
beautiful sapphire eyes are distant.

“
Healthy as a horse,” I
answer with a low groan.

A smile twitches on her lips. “You may
smell like a horse—one that’s been in a brewery instead of a
stable—but you certainly aren’t as healthy as one.”

Maybe that’s why Sergeant Wotley kept
backing away every time I tried to speak. “I’m taking a
shower.”

“
Stay where you are for
now. I’m going to get my things from Dom’s room and you can shower
when I come back.” My memory floats to last night, how Beraz kissed
her. Then I hear Dominguez echo,
‘I walked
in just as Beraz was about to get it.’

“
You let him, didn’t you?
I saw him kiss you. A lot. I can’t believe you let—”

The look on her face goes from pain to
anger.

“
I’m glad you think so
highly of my character.” Turning on her heel, Maddy walks to the
door.

“
You know,” she says
without turning around. “What I do is not your business. You have
made it
very clear
I am nothing to you or anyone else.” Taking a step into the
hallway, Maddy turns to me. “But to answer your question—or rather,
respond to your allegation—no, I did not ‘let’ him. He didn’t even
try. He was a gentleman who has left me with a night of good
memories and lessons learned. You cannot break me, Jackson. I was
broken long before I met you. I may be weak and I may be hurting,
but I am still—and will always remain—on my feet. Cordell nor Larry
nor
you
can take
that away from me. Remember that.”

Maddy

Televisions and music
blare from several of the rooms. I pass each open door without
looking inside. In the room before Dom’s, they are arguing over a
game of Madden and discussing something about
DUIs, along with several unrepeatable expletives about
Sergeant Wotley.

A sudden, ominous silence ensues when
I pass this room. Any other day I might feel self-conscious. Today
I’m too tired to care.

“
Okay, okay. I’m coming,”
the voice grumbles when I tap on Dom’s door. The stench of stale
alcohol slaps me in the face when Terrance swings open the door,
clad in only a pair of ripped Superman boxers.

“
Um, sorry to bother you,”
I say nervously. “I have to get my things.”

Terrance lifts his head,
shifts his weight against the door and pulls his face together to
what is supposed to be, I think, a smile. “
Mad-day
,” he says.
“
Entre
,
mami
.”