Hidden Threat

by Anthony Tata

  “Okay, I’ll get right on it.” Then he lifted a small digital camera off his desk and pointed it at her. “Hold it right there.”

  Amanda hammed it up by scrunching up her hair in a mock sultry pose. He snapped one photo as Brianna Simpson came walking in the room.

  “This would be better out by your new Alfa,” Amanda quipped. She was referring to Gus’s “other girlfriend,” the Alfa Romeo Spider parked at the curb.

  “Not getting near Spidee,” he said, stowing the camera.

  “Amanda, phone’s ringing,” Brianna said, waving the handset at her. Amanda turned and looked at her. They had been best friends since elementary school. Brianna was her swimming partner in the Spartanburg Swimming Club since either could remember. She was an average swimmer whose mother had ambitions beyond her daughter’s true potential. Amanda easily bested her in their races, making the friendship a challenge at times. Moreover, Brianna had once lived near Amanda but had moved away, as her mother had fallen on hard times when Brianna’s father had left them. Somehow, though, she was able to keep the swimming lessons going.

  “Phone,” Brianna said, shoving her hand at Amanda as they exited the study.

  Amanda’s look was either, how could you hear the phone over this noise? or, there’s a party going on, why do I care?

  Either way, she grabbed the phone and waved at Gus to remind him. “Keg?” she mouthed, then did a pirouette and shuffled toward the hallway.

  “How’s acting class coming along?” Brianna asked. It was the one activity that they did not do together.

  Amanda stopped and placed the back of her wrist against her forehead, as if in distress. “Rhett, Rhett, what am I going to do? Where shall I go?”

  One of the anonymous boys passing by stuck his face in between the two girls, looking a bit like Chris Rock, and said in a squeaky Pee Wee Herman voice, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Then, as he walked away, he muttered, “She’s pretty good.” And she was.

  “Another one down and another one . . .” Amanda continued to sing as she made her way down the hall, shook her hair, and then put the phone to her ear. “Dominos, how may we help you?” Another teenage boy wearing dungarees that defied gravity by not falling below his buttocks smiled at her as she danced a small jig toward the foyer and out onto the front porch. Two white columns framed the entry.

  “Hey, babe, how’s the party going?” Amanda shifted from dancing to swaying slowly as she maneuvered down the steps toward the perfectly manicured Saint Augustine grass lawn. A few guys and girls came and went freely in either direction. If there was one thing in her life that could keep her focused, it was the quarterback of the football team—and longtime boyfriend—Jake Devereaux.

  “Great. When you getting here?”

  “I’m here, pulling up now.”

  Amanda walked down to the driveway, moved an orange cone she had placed behind her metallic silver Mercedes SLK-350 Roadster, and waved Jake’s Ford pickup truck into the circular drive. She ran up to the driver’s side, opened the door and threw her arms around his big neck.

  “Three weeks to graduation, babe. Can you believe it!” Amanda had downed four beers and was a bit tipsy. Jake had secured a scholarship to the University of South Carolina, just down the road in Columbia, where Amanda planned to attend on a swimming scholarship.

  “I know. Coach Rogers told me today that the Einstein who was going to be our graduation speaker cancelled.”

  Amanda was uninterested. “As long as we get our diplomas, who cares?”

  Jake cracked a grin. “Ever the deep one, aren’t we?”

  “Nooo,” she said with a smile. “Take a poll. You know I’m right.”

  “Probably, but you know I’ve always been a sucker for that kind of thing. Stuff has to have meaning, you know?”

  “That’s why we’re the most awesomest couple,” Amanda said cutely. “Besides, we’ll be graduating, genius; that has meaning.”

  She nuzzled her head into Jake’s chest, then pulled up and kissed him softly on the lips. “We have meaning,” she whispered.

  After a moment, Jake’s demeanor changed slightly, taking on a more serious tone. “We need to talk about something.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant,” she said, pulling away in mock horror.

  Jake smiled a devilish grin briefly and then turned serious. “I got a call from The Citadel today. They’ve had a cancellation. I’m in if I want it.”

  “What!” She pushed away from Jake, an unusual move. Her outstretched fingers reached up and pulled at her hair from either side of her head. Amanda heard the words but was unable to allow them any validity. They’d had this discussion before, and Jake had turned down the academy’s offer. He had never been entirely comfortable with the decision, primarily because he had felt enormous pressure from Amanda not to go, but now it was back on the table. “You can’t be serious!”

  “I haven’t made up my—”

  “That’s not an option!” She was screaming now. A couple standing on the porch stopped talking and looked in her direction. “We talked about this.”

  Jake shook his head and started to close the door to the truck. “Hey, I just wanted you to know.”

  “Wait a minute. You can’t just drive off.”

  “Then settle down, Amanda. You’re making an ass out of yourself.” Jake was characteristically firm. Eminem’s “Eight Mile” was banging through the walls of the dining room. Someone had obviously turned up the bass, if not the volume. Jake looked over his shoulder. “Gettin’ out of control in there?”

  “Quit trying to change the subject, Jake.” She was calmer now, more in control, honestly wanting to discuss the matter. Her resistance to Jake’s going to The Citadel was based on more than well-founded fears of a dreaded long-distance relationship or an ensuing assignment in the Army.

  Amanda could not fathom her boyfriend, and hopefully future fiancé, going to a school that would train him in the same profession as her father.

  “Is this about your dad?” Again, direct and firm.

  Amanda tensed at the mention of the word “dad.”

  “I don’t have a dad,” she muttered under her breath.

  “That may be, Amanda, but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” Jake stood from the driver’s seat of his pickup and stretched. He was six foot three inches tall, weighed 230 pounds, and he had the best arm in the southern United States. If Jake Devereaux were to show up unannounced on The Citadel’s doorstep in a few days, not only would SEC football scratch its collective head, but the Bulldogs alumni would possibly be heard from the beyond sounding off with a thunderous Yesss!

  Amanda stepped toward him, placing her thin hands on his jacket. She slid her arms as far as she could around his chest and laid her head against him.

  “I know, baby. I just want you near me.” She spoke quietly into the soft leatherette of his coat.

  Jake pulled her closer. “You know I love you, Amanda, and I want us to be together forever. You know that.”

  He paused before broaching what he knew was another tough subject.

  “And if we are going to be together forever, you need to sort out this thing with your dad.”

  Again she flinched. “Let’s not talk about that, okay? There are just three weeks to graduation. My dad has only caused problems in my life. It’s like he never existed except when he was missing child support or threatening my mom, or whatever.”

  “Come on. Don’t you think that if those things were really happening, he’d be in jail?”

  “That’s where he belongs.” Amanda’s words were quick and decisive. There was no doubt about her sentiment.

  “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m here for you. And you can count on me to stand by you. My only request is that we talk to somebody about it, you know?”

  Amanda pulled away. “You mean like a shrink?”

  “Something like that,” Jake said, less sure this time.

  “Get out of her
e.” Of course, she didn’t mean for him to leave. Rather, she was calling into question the entire foundation of his last comment.

  “If we’re going to one day get married, like we’ve talked about, I don’t want you having all these man-hating feelings.” Jake had thought his way through this part of the discussion several times, though he had not expected to have it this night. He was operating purely on instinct, and it seemed right to talk about it. He had read that most couples who fail did so because of miscommunication. And he wasn’t going to have any of that.

  The headlights from a white minivan cut across them like a prison searchlight. Jake looked up and saw who it was.

  “I think you probably need to get inside. I’ll check you later.”

  “No, don’t leave,” Amanda said, pulling on his arm lightly. A matronly figure with bleached-blonde hair, not thin, not fat, wearing a matching coral pantsuit with a triple string of pearls around her neck emerged from the minivan that was now hemming Jake’s truck into the driveway. “At least say hi.”

  “Hey there, Jake,” the woman said in a whiny, Southern accent with mock enthusiasm.

  Jake shuffled, looked at the ground, and then looked up at Mrs. Gabrielle Hastings—Hastings being the surname of her fourth husband. “Hi, Miss Gabrielle, nice to see you.”

  “You can call me Nina, Jake. How many times have I told you that? Anyway, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were lying to me.” The expression she painted on looked curiously like a smile, but for the emptiness in her eyes. “Are you taking care of this pretty girl here?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she continued. “Of course not. Nobody can take care of my Manda Wanda like her Nina.” With that she hugged Amanda, pulling her away from Jake. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Hey, Nina.” Amanda’s persona changed measurably, assuming the role of a child, becoming sheepish, cowing. Nina was the nickname that Amanda had known for her since she was born. Her grandmother had told her that she could never utter the words “grandma,” and it always came out “Nina.” Though she had no recollection of that, she presumed it was true.

  “Where’s your momma?”

  “Be home in a few minutes. Went to get more ice or something.”

  “With a party like this going on? What are you, crazy?”

  “They’re being good in there, Nina. Don’t worry.”

  “Let’s just go see about that.” Nina Hastings pulled Amanda away by the arm toward the porch.

  “Wait, Nina, I’m talking to Jake about something. The Citadel’s accepted him.”

  The grandmother stopped walking and turned slowly toward Jake, who was sitting in the driver’s seat of his truck with one foot on the cobblestone driveway, elbow leaning on the steering wheel. Nina’s face contorted into an evil mask, the light from the porch casting across half of her face then slowly shining across the entire tortured countenance.

  She locked eyes with Jake, who held her stare. He had never liked the woman. He thought she was bad for Amanda and her mother, quite frankly. He saw her as selfish and controlling, using Amanda to fill her own egotistical needs. They held their locked gaze for a moment. Nina narrowed her eyes.

  Jake smiled. “I think I just made up my mind.”

  Nina snatched Amanda’s arm again and dragged her toward the house.

  Amanda’s eyes widened. “No!” she screamed as Nina hauled her to the porch and into the house.

  Jake listened as someone had stopped the music and there was a collective moan from the party crowd. Then, he heard Nina’s voice say, “Come on y’all, let’s have a party.” The music suddenly cranked back up and thumped at the walls.

  Jake slid behind the wheel of his truck, closed the door and muttered, “Citadel, here I come,” under his breath. He pulled forward into the grass and then back onto the circular driveway.

  ***

  A leathery hand pulled apart two of the dining room window blinds, allowing Nina Hastings’ hawkish eye to watch Jake Devereaux drive away.

  CHAPTER 6

  Spartanburg, SOUTH CAROLINA

  Sunday Morning

  Amanda Garrett rolled in her bed, the bright morning sun cutting like a knife through the razor-thin slits in the miniblinds. She looked at the clock and moaned. Why am I awake at eight a.m.? Her head pounded from the vestiges of last night’s beer, and she pressed her hands into her temples.

  There was a noise from downstairs. She thought she heard two people arguing. One of the voices was her mother’s, she knew that much. Even in her groggy condition she recognized the smooth Southern drawl. When had she come home? Had Nina spent the night? She couldn’t remember. And Jake?

  Oh, Jake. The Citadel. No way, she thought to herself. Her stomach got weak at the thought.

  “Amanda.” It was her mother’s voice.

  “Not now, Mom. I’m sleeping.” She half screamed through her closed door.

  She could hear feet coming up the oak hardwood steps.

  “Now, Amanda, this is important.”

  “Nothing important happens Sunday morning at eight, Mom.”

  The door cracked open, and her mother peered in. She was still mildly attractive as she neared forty. A face-lift and continuous dye job on the hair seemed to keep her looking somewhat younger.

  “No, this is important, Amanda. Now put on some decent clothes and come down.”

  Amanda took about ten minutes, tolerated another visit from her mother, and then came downstairs wearing jeans and a USC sweatshirt with the silk-screened image of a rooster on the front. As she bounced down the steps, she slowed her pace as she saw two uniformed men standing in the foyer.

  She looked at her mother. “Is this about the party?” With arms crossed, her mother shook her head. Amanda noticed Nina in the dining room watching the drama unfold.

  “Then what?” Amanda looked at the two men, both in green uniforms that she vaguely recognized as something she had seen her father wear at one point in time. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at them as if to say, “Okay, get on with it.”

  One of the men was a tall, handsome soldier holding a green beret in one hand and some papers in the other. The other man was shorter and stout. He was clearly older, balding some, and Amanda noticed he had a silver cross on his lapel.

  The tall, handsome Green Beret looked her in the eyes and began to speak. “Are you Miss Amanda Rose Garrett?”

  “That’s me, all day long. You know ARG, like a pirate,” she said impatiently, making a play on her initials.

  “Ma’am, I am Major Ross Blair, and I regret to inform you that your father has been killed in action in Afghanistan.”

  Amanda stared at the man, without really seeing him. She was searching for some kind of response inside. There was nothing coming to her mind, no connection between thought and emotion. Simply, there was no emotion.

  She turned to her mother for guidance and saw that she was exchanging a look with Nina. She then looked across the foyer into the dining room at Nina, who remained silent, her thin lips curled upward just a bit. What is that look? Amanda wondered to herself.

  “Miss Garrett, we are notifying you because your parents are divorced, and you are listed as the next of kin. I am the casualty assistance officer and will be able to help guide you through the process as we honor Colonel Garrett and lay his remains to rest. I hope you understand why we had to notify you personally and could not simply tell your mother.”

  Amanda noticed the man spoke without prepared remarks; however, the words seemed well rehearsed. Perhaps he had done this before, she thought.

  “While I know you are understandably upset, Chaplain Jones and I will be outside after you have had a chance to discuss the matter with your mother. Do you have any questions for either of us right now?”

  Amanda looked at Major Blair and then at Chaplain Jones.

  “No,” she responded to the major. She tapped her foot and looked at her fingernails, then turned to her mother. “Can I go back to sleep now?” She spok
e with an irritated edge, as if she had been needlessly awakened.

  The major and chaplain exchanged glances, and then Blair looked at Amanda’s mother. “Ma’am, we’ll be outside if she needs us.”

  “I won’t need you,” Amanda said. “I’m fine.” She turned around and ran up the steps, stopping at the midlevel landing. “Just one question.”

  By now Nina and Amanda’s mother were ushering the two soldiers to the door. They stopped and looked up at her.

  “What was he doing? I mean how was he killed?”

  Blair had one foot in the house and one foot on the porch. Nina stepped in front of him and continued their momentum outside, but he was a large man and didn’t budge. He looked up at Amanda. “Miss Garrett, your father died rescuing another soldier.”

  “That’s enough, major. Can’t you see she’s upset? Let’s just get going here.” Nina’s voice was loud and shrill. Finally, Blair’s good manners overcame his stubborn desire to make sure that Colonel Garrett’s daughter knew he died a hero, and he stepped outside.

  Amanda turned and continued to climb the stairs. She heard the door close and glanced over her shoulder. She saw her mother and Nina leaning against the door as if to keep an intruder at bay. They turned and looked at each other, both smiling just a bit, as Amanda rounded the corner into her room.

  She shut the door and stood motionless in the center of her room, staring at the full-length mirror against the far wall. She saw her image, that of a nearly grown woman, and she continued to wonder why she felt nothing at all. Surely she should be sad, upset, mad, or overcome by some other raging emotion. She didn’t even feel happy, which she had actually thought about before. Did that mean she wanted him dead?

  Regardless, that day had come. Colonel Zachary Garrett would no longer fight with her mother, miss a swim meet or birthday, skip a child support payment, or inconvenience her life with unplanned visits. Well, good, she thought.

  She walked over to her window and looked out at the street where the two soldiers’ car was parked. She saw the chaplain hugging the major, who had his face buried in his shoulder.