Collection

by Rector, John

  Sergeant Nash came by every couple weeks to see how I was doing. Eventually I didn’t mind. He was a friend.

  When I got out, all I wanted to do was cook. I’d spent most of my time in the home working in the kitchen, and there was something I loved about the organization and the creation and the pace of it.

  For the first time, I knew what I wanted to out of my life.

  By the time I got out and was on my own, my mother was in the ground and my father was in jail for putting her there. It wasn’t hard to see it coming, but apparently no one did but me.

  There’d been an insurance policy, nothing big, and I decided to put it toward school. I applied to the Culinary Institute, and I was accepted. Apparently they reserve a couple spaces each year for people with unusual backgrounds, and I fit right in.

  After graduation, I kept in touch with Sergeant Nash. I still considered him a friend, and now, as I walked up the steps to his office, I hoped he felt the same. As it turned out, I didn’t have anything to worry about.

  “It’s damn nice to see you, Jack,” he said. “When I heard about your father, I wondered how you were taking it.”

  “I’m not taking it anyway, I guess.”

  He nodded as if I’d actually made sense. “Well, I know he never made things easy on you.”

  “You move on,” I said. “Truth is, I don’t think about any of that stuff anymore.”

  “That’s good. That’s good.”

  Eventually we got around to the diner and the fire. He’d heard about the case, but it wasn’t his.

  “Does that mean you can’t work it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I might have an idea who set the fire.”

  “Who?”

  “A guy named Max Stover. He works at a strip club called the Body Shop.”

  Nash leaned back in his chair. “I know Stover,” he said. “What makes you think he’s responsible?”

  “All roads point to him. I was going to try and get something out of him tonight to where I can be sure, but things have changed.”

  “Damn good thing, too,” Nash said. “The last person you need to fool with is Stover. That guy would tear you up, Jack. What the hell are you thinking?”

  Right then, I felt like I was fifteen again. It wasn’t a terrible feeling, but it wasn’t something I wanted to get used to, either. “I’m thinking about helping my friend who owned the place, that’s all.”

  “You won’t help him much by playing games with Stover.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. I have to let it drop. Ava found out and she’s not happy. Besides, I landed a job cooking at the Settler’s Club.”

  “That’s great.”

  Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I said, “I came here to see if you could pick up the case.”

  He shook his head. “Afraid not. I can keep an eye on it, and I’ll pass along what you told me to the detective assigned, but I can tell you not much will get done on it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not a priority case. That’s just the way it works.”

  “Not a priority?” I didn’t know what to say. “I’m giving you a name. All you have to do is follow up.”

  “And I’ll pass it on, but all we had was a case of vandalism and arson.”

  “There was a bomb.” My voice was loud, and Nash leaned forward.

  “I know you’re mad, Jack, but you can’t come in here and yell. Do you understand?”

  “Jesus Christ,” I said. “How am I supposed to react? You tell me there’s nothing you can do about this, and it’s not a high priority and my friend lost everything.”

  I got up and walked out of his office. Nash said something as I was leaving but I didn’t hear him. I didn’t care, and I didn’t stop walking until I was home.

  ~

  Jacob sat on a blanket in the middle of the living room beating a stuffed rabbit up and down on the floor. I watched him from the couch. I’d planned on taking a short nap, but all I could think about was Marcus. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day after the fire. I still had his car, and I told Ava I was bringing it back to him tonight.

  She’d asked about my talk with Sergeant Nash, and I told her it went fine. I’d be starting my new job on Monday. When I finished speaking, she’d leaned in close to me and whispered, “Thank you.”

  It was a sweet sound that I felt deep inside. I knew if things didn’t work out and I wound up losing her, that whisper would stay with me for the rest of my life.

  Some things are like that, whether you want them to be or not.

  ~

  The parking lot across from the Belmont Hotel sat in the shade of several willow trees. The streetlights shone through the trees, creating pools of light and dark.

  I waited in the dark with Marcus’s .44.

  When I gave Max Stover the address for the hotel, I told him to meet me in the lobby at eleven.

  It was five till.

  I started to worry. What if he’d parked somewhere else? What if he didn’t come alone. I knew a guy like Max Stover didn’t need a body guard, but it was something I hadn’t considered.

  At exactly eleven o’clock, a gray Mercedes pulled into the parking lot and parked in the far corner. Max got out, alone. He looked smaller than when I saw him at the Body Shop. He’d been sitting down that time, but I’d still expected him to be bigger.

  As he got closer to where I stood, I felt a rush of confidence. I waited until he walked past me toward the hotel’s backdoor, then I stepped out and pressed the gun into his back. “Don’t make any sudden—”

  Max spun around –fast, grabbing my hand that held the gun. I felt his other hand press up under my chin and one leg come in behind both of mine and sweep them out from under me. There was a sick feeling of detachment as I fell backward, then my head struck the pavement and flowers bloomed electric behind my eyes.

  My ears were ringing and I couldn’t focus. I pushed myself up onto my knees and saw Max standing over me. He had the gun. He pulled the clip with the grace of a man used to handling guns and shook his head. “What the fuck were you planning?”

  I lost my wind when I hit the pavement, and I struggled to breathe. When I did, I said, “You tried to blow up the diner.”

  “Is that what this is about?” He kicked me and I felt the toe of his boot connect with my ribs. Something popped inside, and the pain screamed across my chest. “That shit-hole restaurant?”

  He grabbed my hair and forced the barrel of the gun into my mouth, snapping off a piece of a tooth. I felt it slide between my tongue and my cheek and into the back of my throat. I swallowed.

  “You pull a gun on me?” He was shouting. “Over some fucking diner?”

  My eyes crossed, and I couldn’t see. My ears were ringing and I felt my bladder let go. When Max noticed he took the gun out of my mouth and stepped back.

  “You’re a pathetic piece of shit.” He spit and I felt in land in my hair. “If I see you again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  He turned back toward the grey Mercedes, and that was when I found my voice. “Why?”

  Max turned and swung the gun, hitting me in the face. I felt my nose go, and the world exploded in light. I fell forward and blood pooled under me.

  Max grabbed my hair and leaned in close, shouting. The noise in my head was too loud, and his words were lost in the roar. Blood ran down the back of my throat and I coughed. Max pulled away –fast, letting me fall.

  And this time, in darkness, there was no ground to catch me.

  ~

  “Jack?”

  The voice seemed too far off to be aimed at me. I was lost somewhere else, adrift in the haze.

  “Jack, can you hear me?”

  The voices moved closer. I tried to open my eyes, and the light dug into my brain. The pain seemed to come from everywhere at once. I pushed myself up. “Wh—”

  Someone put a hand on my chest. “Easy, you’re in the hospital.”

  I waited, letting m
y eyes get used to the light. When I opened them again, the pain was still there but it was further away, muted by whatever painkillers I was on.

  Ava was standing over the bed. Sergeant Nash was behind her, smiling. He reached forward and touched my leg. “Good to have you back.”

  Ava handed me a plastic cup of water. I drank, and the pain in my throat cooled. “What happened?”

  “Someone beat you up pretty bad,” she said. “You were brought here in an ambulance.”

  “How long?”

  “Two days ago. You’ve been in and out ever since.”

  “Jesus.” I tried to sit up, and I felt my ribs shift inside my chest. The pain was incredible, and I eased back against the mattress. There were bandages wrapped around my chest and head. I had a feeling they were the only thing keeping me in one piece.

  “Do you know who did this to you?” Ava asked. “Did you get a look at them?”

  I looked over her shoulder at Nash. He frowned and looked away. I turned back to Ava. “Yeah,” I said. “I have a pretty good idea.”

  I told her what had happened. When I was done she nodded slowly and pulled the blanket up. “I’m going to find the nurse.”

  I watched her walk out. For a while I just sat there, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Nash to start in on how stupid I was and how I was lucky to be alive. Of course, I saw that for myself.

  “She’s going to leave me,” I said. “Do you know that?”

  “Wouldn’t be a bad move.”

  Right then, lying in that bed, I almost agreed with him.

  Neither of us spoke for a while, then Nash came up next to the bed. “I have some bad news. I wanted to tell you personally.”

  “So tell me.”

  “Marcus was shot last night. He’s dead.”

  I tried to sit up, and the pain made my eyes water. “It was Stover,” I said. “I told him I knew he tried to blow up the diner. Now you can go after him. You can—”

  “No.” Nash put a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back. “It wasn’t Stover.”

  I eased back in the bed. “Who?”

  “It was his son, Phil. We arrested him this morning. Apparently, Marcus went by his apartment and there was a fight.” He paused. “Phil owed some money to some people, and instead of going after him, they thought they’d prove a point and go after his family. Marcus knew it, and I guess it got to be too much to keep inside. He confronted the kid about it, and Phil shot him.”

  When he finished, I didn’t speak for a long time. When I did, I said, “Will you get me a mirror?”

  “You might want to wait a while, Jack. I don’t think you want to see it yet.”

  I asked him again. This time he gave in. He found a handheld mirror by the nurse’s station and only hesitated for a moment before handing it to me.

  When I pulled the bandages off, I didn’t recognize my reflection. My nose was gigantic. It spread across my face like an eggplant, and a slow dark fluid leaked from my nostrils, drying into a thick black clump over my upper lip.

  “Oh, Christ,” I said.

  Nash had turned away when I peeled back the first bandage. Now, he was staring out the window, and when he spoke, it was to the glass. “The doctor said it would be better once it healed, but you’ll need plastic surgery to get it to look the way it used to.”

  “No,” I said. “No surgery.”

  He turned toward me. “Don’t make that decision yet. See how it heals, see if you change your mind.”

  I knew he was trying to help, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t getting plastic surgery.

  I wanted to remember, every time I looked in a mirror, what carelessness and stupidity looked like.

  ~

  After the second day in the hospital I declared myself cured. The doctor didn’t agree. He said since I lost consciousness I needed to stay under observation for a couple days. Also, the blow to my face shattered my sinus, and if I didn’t have surgery I could lose my sense of smell completely. He said there would probably be some loss either way, but with luck…

  I told him no.

  He crossed his hands over his lap. “You’re a chef, right? No sense of smell means no sense of taste.”

  I told him I was leaving.

  This time he didn’t argue.

  Ava was set to pick me up that afternoon, and I waited for her in the hospital lobby. When she didn’t show I tried calling her from the payphone outside.

  No answer.

  The next call I made was to yellow cab, and twenty minutes later they dropped me off in front of my apartment building. I paid the driver and got out.

  It took time to pull myself up the stairs to my apartment. I stood outside the door, staring at the scarred wood. When I was ready, I took out my key and slid it in the lock. It went in and so did I.

  I knew what I’d find.

  Ava was gone.

  I sat on the couch for a while, staring at the empty spot where Jacob’s crib had been, then got up and went to the kitchen.

  I pulled some turkey and cheese from the refrigerator. There were spots of mold on the cheese, and I broke them off with my fingers and dropped them in the sink. I found a couple pieces of stale bread in a bag on the counter and used them to put together a sandwich.

  Outside on the fire escape, the wind was strong. I wondered where the homeless were staying tonight, if they had a place to go when the weather turned bad.

  The sandwich was dry, but I ate it anyway.

  I didn’t taste a thing.

  Rivers

  “Where are we going?” Megan is behind me, kicking my seat.

  “To the river,” I say. “A spot I know.”

  “But it’s dark out.”

  “That’s the best time.”

  Megan mumbles something I can’t hear, but Tanya hears it and turns around.

  “I told you we’d take you to Julie’s. You didn’t have to come along.” She takes a penny from the center console and throws it at her. “You could’ve gone and played dollies with your friends.”

  “We don’t play with dolls.”

  Tanya turns back to the front. “Whatever.”

  “Besides, Mom said you had to take me with you.”

  I look at her in the rear view mirror. “Do you do everything your Mom tells you to do?”

  Megan is quiet for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” I look over at Tanya. She smiles at me.

  “You guys just want to be alone so you can do it.”

  Tanya laughs and turns around. “What?”

  “I said you guys want to do it. That’s why you don’t want me here.”

  There’s an awkward silence. I keep my eyes on the road. One of my headlights is out, and I wonder if I’ll get pulled over tonight.

  I can’t look at Tanya.

  “You don’t even know what that means,” Tanya says.

  “I do so.” Megan says. “I heard Mom talking about it. She said if she finds out, she’ll put bars on your windows and tie your knees together until you’re twenty.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Tanya takes a cigarette from her purse.

  “You can’t smoke in here,” I say. “It’s my Dad’s car. He doesn’t smoke.”

  She puts it back, and takes a beer from the brown bag by her feet. She opens the bottle and turns back toward Megan. “You better not say a word.”

  Megan doesn’t answer. She’s leaning against the door, staring out into the darkness.

  Tanya hands me the beer. “I know she’s going to say something. She lives to get me in trouble.”

  “Naw,” I say, raising my voice. “She won’t say anything. She’s too cool for that, right, Megan?”

  They both look at me like I’m an idiot. I decide to keep quiet until we get to the river.

  ~

  When we pull into the parking lot Tanya gets out and lights a cigarette. She walks over to Megan, whispers something in her ear, and they both head toward the path that leads past the grove of cottonwoods to
the river. “I’ll be right back,” Tanya says.