Risk

by Raquel Belle

  A tall muscular redhead in cargos and a tank top comes out. She’s got a weird haircut—shaved on the sides and back and parted over to the left falling to her ear—it’s not real red, it’s dyed—bright red.

  She walks straight towards Jack. He puts his hands up in surrender. She doesn’t break her stride, she keeps walking and then reels back and decks him with everything she’s got. He takes it on the chin and hits the ground.

  “HEY!” I scream and lunge at her intent on tearing this bitch a new asshole.

  “Deanna! It’s okay, I deserved that,” Jack puts his hand out to stop me.

  I pause and Jack gets hold of my pant leg and pulls me back.

  “I said it’s okay!”

  Red puts her hand out to Jack and helps him to his feet.

  “What the fuck?” I look at both of them.

  “It’s for the guys,” Jack says, and rubs me on the shoulder. “for losing people under my command.”

  “Deanna, huh?” Red says. She looks me over like she knows me. “You two together or did you bring me a present, Jack?”

  “What do you mean?” Jack asks.

  She looks at me, it feels like a year goes by. I give her a dead stare. She looks familiar as well…I can’t place it though. I’m certain we’ve never met.

  “I guess we’ll get to it later, come on inside,” she says.

  She leads, Jack follows and I trail behind him. Steps, porch, then into the shitty excuse for a house.

  “Want a beer?” she asks as we walk to the kitchen. There’s sort of a breakfast bar so Jack and I sit down. It’s worse than I remember. No one has maintained this place.

  “I’d love to, Charlotte, but I’m kind of here on business. I need your help on something. Catch up later? I’d like to take the plane up while there’s still daylight, if that’s okay with you?”

  “One beer going to ruin your reflexes, Jack?”

  What a condescending bitch.

  “Well, it’s been a while,” Jack half smiles.

  “I tried to reach out, you know?” She softens when she looks at him.

  It has the desired effect on Jack. “I’m sorry. I should have come around sooner…or called. I didn’t know what to say. I’m still trying to figure things out,” he pauses, they look at each other for a long moment. “I don’t know what happened,” he shrugs, “I don’t, but I’m trying to make things right, Charlotte.”

  She nods, “I heard about the inquest from the General.” She opens the fridge and pokes her head in, “Can I get you anything? PB and J? Painkillers? Coffee? A new perspective on things?” Then she looks at me and says, “You going to tell him, or am I?”

  This bitch.

  “I don’t know you,” I say. She’s fishing. “Why don’t you just say what the fuck it is you want to say and get it over with.”

  Charlotte smiles at me, cracks a beer open and turns to Jack, “Look at the balls on her.”

  She walks to the living room, then comes back with a small picture frame. She plants it on the table in front of us. It’s me, Melissa, Judd, Ben and Luke. It feels like a lifetime ago.

  “I’ve been looking at that picture for the last three years, ever since I came back home, and the only person unaccounted for in that shot is you. Go on,” she pushes the frame closer, “you tell me that’s not you…tell me it’s not you and I’ll rip your fucking heart out where you sit.” She pulls a gun from the holster on her belt and points it at me, then looks at Jack, “Do you know who she is? What do you know about her.”

  I don’t even flinch. Fuck this deluded bitch.

  “I know who she is, stand down,” Jack says, calmly.

  Then it clicks, why she looks familiar. “You’re Ben’s sister?” I ask.

  She looks back at me, “Yeah, I’m Ben’s sister.”

  “Yeah, well your brother was an asshole who wanted to blow up a police station with seven cops in it and raid an evidence locker for drugs, I think he got what he deserved.”

  She looks at me for a while then shoots her brow, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, he is an asshole.”

  She puts the gun away.

  I don’t know if I’m still angry or relieved. I really want to have a go at her. She’d probably turn me into a smooth paste but, man, is she grinding my gears.

  “We done now?” Jack asks. He looks to both of us.

  “For now,” Charlotte says.

  “For now,” I say.

  “If you two are going to have a problem—”

  Charlotte cuts off Jack, “There’s no problem. Whatever you need, I’m here to help, always, you know that.”

  “Good,” Jack says.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jack

  We left the discussion at the table. I’m curious, sure, but there’ll be time to get to it later, we’ve only got so much daylight left and there’s work to be done.

  It’s about 4:30pm when we take the plane up. It’s a Twin Otter—fast, versatile, spacious, comfy…the only negative is that it’s heavy on the maintenance. Fortunately, Charlotte has always been a bit of a grease monkey. The rig is tip top, she’s easy to put down and get back up again, so we ought to get a good few jumps in today.

  Deanna grumpily chose to stay on the ground. I offered to teach her, but she said she’d jumped plenty of times and she wasn’t in the mood. I suppose she didn’t want to be around Charlotte. It’s for the best anyway, this isn’t for pleasure—I need the practice.

  I want to get at least three dives in today so I can brush off the cobwebs. I tell Charlie to go to 13,000 feet, it’s safe for the Otter and I need to get my legs under me to feel what this is like again.

  Charlotte is Charlie at work and Charlotte at home. She’s been under my command before, so once we take to the sky, it’s all business. She doesn’t ask anything more about Deanna and I don’t offer up any information…not that I would know what to say.

  It seems like Deanna has more history with Charlotte than she has with me…and they’ve never even met before.

  Gearing up doesn’t take long, everything is exactly where I expect it to be. She runs a tight ship, just like I taught her.

  My thoughts can’t help but stray back to what happened at the house. I’m not the kind of person to believe in coincidences…

  Charlie left my unit three years ago because her brother got into some trouble with the law. She had to come home and take care of things. A year later, the unit was no more. I should have reached out sooner, but so much has happened, and she and I have history, I didn’t want to burden her. She’d have felt beholden to stick with me.

  Now, it’s the first time I’m seeing her in years and I show up at her door with Deanna—who’s obviously involved with the mess her brother got into.

  Maybe it’s true, what they say—everything’s connected. I know Deanna believes that.

  I push it aside and ready myself, we’re nearing the drop zone.

  Charlie gives me the green light.

  Let’s see if this old dog still has it.

  ***

  The first jump was just for fun so I could play with my lines and get the feel back. I opened at 2500 feet—nice and comfortable and lazy.

  The second was to get my movement in order. I used all the freefall I could get.

  Hurtling toward the ground at 120mph is an incredible feeling, you’ll never get tired of it, and it’s over so damn quick.

  All of those muscles that had been dormant in me started to come back to life. Twisting in the air to control your descent and direction when you’re trying to land on a dime takes a level of precision that can only come from years of practice.

  Is it like riding a bike? Not really, but with the amount of time I’ve spent in the sky over the years, the analogy is pretty damn close. I opened at 1200 feet with plenty of time to find and hit my mark.

  We’re on the third jump and this one is for the money. I’m losing the light, the exact conditions I’m expecting on Saturday. I look at Charlie, sh
e gives me a thumbs up and a green light. I take a diving forward roll out of the plane and streamline myself to build as much speed as I can…as fast as I can.

  No gimmicks, no playing around, find the target and hit it without being off so much as an inch. There are very few things that can compare to hitting terminal velocity in freefall. The adrenaline, the kick, the juice that pumps through your veins is something else. I open at 800 feet. It’s a heavy landing but I hit my mark. I don’t stumble, I don’t fall, I land just like I intend and take it in a crouch.

  It’s no HALO jump—High altitude, low opening—but that low opening I did is exactly what I’m preparing for.

  By the time I gather my chute and walk back to our start point, Charlie is just bringing the Otter in. When she jumps out she’s got a huge smile on her face.

  “Moves like Jagger!”

  I laugh and she gives me a high-five. “Tell you the truth, till today I doubted whether I still had it, but once you’re up there, it’s like you never left.” I dump my pack in the Otter and she throws her arm around me as we head back to the house.

  “What would you do if you couldn’t do this, huh? Become a stock broker?”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Probably going to ride it till the wheels fall off.”

  ***

  Deanna

  Today was the second time I’ve had a gun pointed at me this week. I want to say it gets easier, but it really doesn’t.

  I needed some time to myself and I really didn’t want to be trapped in a metal tube with Charlotte, so I gave Jack an excuse and decided to hang back. He wants to practice diving, so he should do that—focus on the task at hand. I’d only have been a distraction.

  I took a long walk on the property. It’s massive. There are a lot of memories…all of them bad. They’re so bad they taint even the good ones that came before.

  After that I went back to the house and explored—not intrusively. Not much has changed. I suppose Charlotte moved in after everything went down. It doesn’t look like she’s much in to decorating. It’s mostly the same. The linens are probably the same ones.

  It’s a four-bedroom—all with their own bathrooms, two big living rooms, one medium sized kitchen on the ground floor. Everything in here is old. It was old back then…now everything looks really old. It’s not lived-in, it’s a museum.

  If we’re staying here for the night, where are we going to sleep? I step in to my old room, my fluffy storm trooper is still here. It doesn’t matter whether it’s my old room or not, everything about this house gives me the creeps. I’ve been running from this place for three years.

  What happened here is the reason I spiraled out of control by the time I met Lilly in Vegas two years ago.

  Damnit.

  I should get dinner started. It’ll give me something to do. Jack will have an appetite after doing so many jumps.

  I go down to the kitchen, the stairs in this house are creakier than ninety-year-old’s knees.

  The kitchen isn’t messy, it’s tidy but dusty. Maybe it’s because this whole place is dusty or because Charlotte doesn’t clean much, but I didn’t let it get like this when I stayed here.

  I don’t like the way she looked at Jack. I don’t like the way he looked at her either. I wonder if there’s something there?

  Fuck it.

  If he wants to be with her then he can do that. He doesn’t owe me anything after four days.

  Now, let’s see what that red-headed ho has in her cupboards.

  ***

  I hear Charlotte and Jack come inside about two hours later. It’s dark outside. She says something to him and then he heads upstairs. I’m still busy when she comes in to the kitchen.

  “Make yourself at home,” the look she gives me says it all. I’ve always felt that sarcasm is for people who aren’t smart enough to come up with a good insult on their own.

  “Well, I did live here for eight months,” I say. I’m wearing baking gloves. I open the oven, pull the porcelain dish from inside and set it on the counter.

  “About that—” she says.

  “Yeah, we’ll get to that,” I say, “where’s Jack?

  “Taking a shower,” she stares me down for a moment, nods and bites her lip, then says, “well…I guess I’ll go make up some guest rooms then,” she turns to leave.

  “One will be fine, thanks,” I call to her.

  Ooh, she’s not going to like that…

  She turns back with a sneer, “I’ll make two, just in case.”

  I conjure up the evilest fake smile I can and lay it on her.

  ***

  I hear them coming down the stairs about fifteen minutes later. I’ve just finished setting the dinner table for three people. I’m wearing the apron that I’d stashed here years ago. There’s a blue flower on it.

  “Something smells good,” Jack says when he sees me, “what are we having?”

  “It’s your favorite, darling,” I pose like a 60’s housewife—hand on the hip, that kind of thing, “tuna casserole.”

  Jack laughs.

  Charlotte sends me daggers.

  “Sit,” I tell them.

  The table is old, oak and rectangular—rounded at the corners. It can seat eight. Jack takes the head of the table. Charlotte and I are at the seats closest to him on either side. I’ve already got a leafy green salad on all three plates. While I’m spooning out the casserole to them, Charlotte puts her hand on Jack’s arm and says, “Time for that beer now?”

  There’s a pause. Jack gives me the tiniest look. I give him a little smile back. I don’t know why he keeps doing this.

  “What?” Charlotte says, “You need her permission or something?”

  “It’s just that, uh, Deanna’s in recovery,” he pats me on the shoulder.

  “I’m so totally fine with it,” I give them both what I hope is a reassuring smile, “please, you guys go ahead. I’m not an animal, I can control myself.” I laugh for effect.

  Charlotte gives me a raised brow and rolls her eyes like she thinks I’m pathetic. Thanks Jack. She gets up and walks to the kitchen.

  When she’s out of earshot I pinch Jack on his thigh and snarl at him under my breath, “Stop it!”

  “What?” He whispers with a grimace and rubs the spot.

  Charlotte returns to the table with three cans—two beers and one soda. She cracks a beer and sips it.

  “What are we? Savages?” I say. I get up, go to kitchen and return with three glasses. Jack is about to take a sip but I take the can and pour his beer for him. He smiles. I put my hand out to do the same for Charlotte.

  “I’m good,” she says.

  I flick my brow at her, “Suit yourself.”

  “Do you want to say a prayer too? Before we eat?”

  “Only if you want to, Charlotte, we’re in your home after all.”

  She gives me a frustrated smile and shakes her head. Jack nervously digs in to his food and tries to change the subject.

  “You know, this place never changes,” he says. “When was the last time I was here? I’m trying to remember.”

  “Well,” Charlotte plays with her fingers like she’s thinking, “it’s been six years since Dad, so that’s probably the last time the whole gang was here. Before that I can’t remember.”

  “He was a good man,” Jack says.

  “Yeah,” she says, then smiles, “he really liked you, you know? He loved you.”

  “Oh, he was so easy to get along with. Just a couple of army guys shooting guns and drinking beer, what’s not to like?”

  “No, it was more than that,” she says, “I think he felt that you were kindred spirits.”

  Jack doesn’t say anything.

  “How was your practice?” I ask.

  “Great,” Jack says, “it felt so good to be up there again, you should come tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, maybe I will.”

  Charlotte is giving me the eye. Looks like all the small talk is done.

  Ja
ck eats quietly—he’s like that. Charlotte looks at me between every bite. I want to ask if the casserole is okay, but I know it is, it’s Lilly’s recipe. Jack notices and looks at Charlotte looking at me, and then me looking at Charlotte.

  Maybe I’d better just get to it.

  “So,” I say, “I guess you want to know why I’m in that picture, huh?”

  Charlotte clanks down her fork, leans forward and gives me a strained smile, “That would be lovely, yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Deanna

  Welcome to Storytime with Deanna. I’m Deanna Madison and I’ll be your host this evening. Buckle up kids because this one is a doozy.

  “Where to start?”

  “The beginning is usually the best place,” Charlotte says.

  “I was born, I grew up…”

  “Yeah, skip to the important part,” she says, “the one where my brother is in jail and you’re not.”

  Tough crowd.

  Deep breath.

  “Four years ago, I was working at a bar called Teddy’s—”

  “I know it.”

  “I’d been there maybe a month and your brother and his friends would come in there almost every night. Pool tables, darts, all that kind of stuff. You brother kind of had that bad-boy thing going on, I was twenty-three, I didn’t know any better. When he asked me out, I said yes. The silver-tongued bastard was charming as hell. When he talked, everybody listened. He was the leader, and everyone else followed. Back then I thought I was so lucky that a guy like him would take an interest in a tumbleweed like me…”

  “We went to a couple of movies, some dinners and then after a few weeks it was all over the place that I was Ben’s girl. I didn’t know why that was such a big deal at the time but people started to act different around me, they were more polite, they would give me free stuff…they were just different. About a month after we started dating, I moved in here. Ben insisted. He said I was wasting what little I earned as a waitress on rent and that he wanted us to live together. So, I did. I moved in. I was young, stupid and I thought he was the one.”