Take Down (Steel Infidels)

by Dez Burke

  Toby shakes his head. “I work for someone else. My buddies Rocco and Donny own the shop. They’re good guys and easy to work for.”

  Dad is appalled. “Surely you must have plans to start your own shop one day?” he asks with a frown. “Owning your own business is the best way to make it these days, son. There’s no need to work for someone else only to line their pockets. I started out as a young man with nothing.”

  Oh no. Here we go again with Dad’s spiel. Nicole catches my eye and winks at me. We’ve heard it so many times before.

  “I borrowed fifty dollars as a down payment on my first tiny house in a run-down section of Atlanta. Fixed it up, sold it for more. The rest is history. Now I own apartment complexes and office buildings across the city. Never limit yourself by just being an employee. Don’t work for the man, be the man. That’s what I always told myself.”

  Dad is only getting started on his business philosophy. I’ve heard it so many times that I can recite it by heart. Now that he has a new audience to listen to him, he won’t stop all night. I squeeze Toby’s leg to let him know I understand this isn’t fun and I’m right there with him.

  “I can’t abandon my bosses right now,” Toby says firmly. “They gave me a job when nobody else was willing to when I returned from Afghanistan. They depend on me and they treat me right. I’ve got no complaints. I’m not going to leave them to start a competing business. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Especially since we’re in a small town. There’s no room for two body shops in Bardsville.”

  Dad leans back in his chair. I can tell by the resignation on his face that he’s already written Toby off. I doubt he’ll be asking him many more questions tonight. He glances over at me and I can see everything he’s thinking in his eyes.

  That Toby is below us.

  That I deserve someone better.

  For the first time in my life, I’m feeling ashamed by the fakeness of my family. I’ve lived with it so long that I never questioned it before.

  Brad nods as if he understands perfectly what Toby is saying. “I’ve heard about the servicemen having trouble finding jobs when they come back home,” he says. “It’s understandable when you think about it. For one thing, they don’t have any real skills or training. The military should offer them night classes in accounting or coding while they’re stationed over there in the desert. I’m sure they have lots of extra time on their hands. All they do is drive around in convoys hunting for Taliban who aren’t there anymore. I mean, Osama Bin Laden is long gone. What’s the point? It is such a waste of our resources. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Toby picks up his fragile crystal water glass and twirls the stem between his thumb and forefinger. I’m half-expecting him to snap it. “They’re still around,” Toby says calmly. “Along with other enemy insurgents. There’s plenty enough work to keep the troops busy and not a lot of free time.”

  He glances over his shoulder again toward the doorway for the umpteenth time. I can tell it’s making him nervous to sit with his back to the door, and it’s making me anxious to watch him fidget.

  “Nicole, would you and Brad mind switching places with us?” I interrupt. “Toby prefers to sit where he can see the door. Because of the shooting and everything. You understand, don’t you?”

  Nicole’s eyes widen. “Sure,” she says with a tiny smile. “Whatever makes Toby feel more comfortable.” I’m the only one who can pick up the hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  Brad looks confused and points to his glass. “But the wine has already been poured,” he says. He waves a hand at his plate. “And the waiter has taken our orders.”

  Nicole stands up and taps his shoulder. “Grab your glass and let’s switch places with them. Stop arguing. It’s not a big deal. They gave us two choices, chicken or pasta. Surely the waiter can figure it out if we move.” She rolls her eyes at me over his head.

  Toby doesn’t say anything when we play musical chairs and all switch places. When we’re settled into our seats again, I mouth a ‘thank you’ across the table to Nicole. On rare occasions, my big sister has been known to come through for me. This is one of those times.

  Brad makes an exaggerated point of glancing back over his shoulder at the door as Toby was previously doing. “Is there anything back there I should be watching for too?” he jokes. “If men come in with guns blazing, I prefer for Toby to see them first. Since I left my shotgun at the house.” He laughs loudly at his joke that nobody else finds funny.

  I take a deep breath and try to give Toby a reassuring smile. I’m ready for the night to be over and the first course hasn’t even been served. I’m relieved when the Mayor steps up to the podium to give his opening remarks. This isn’t the first award ceremony I’ve attended since covering similar events is part of my job description. I know what to expect, and I’ve briefed Toby so he’ll be prepared.

  The Mayor’s speech is almost word-for-word the same as always except for copying and pasting a few additional details. He thanks Toby for his heroism and reminds the crowd of how heroes are the ones who step up even when it means putting their own lives at risk.

  When he calls Toby’s name and asks him to come up for the award, I hold my breath. All Toby needs to do is accept the award, thank him politely, and walk back to the table. I’ve gone over all this with him before tonight. He doesn’t need to give a speech or even to say a few words. Nothing but a ‘thank you’ and he’ll be done.

  When Toby steps up beside the Mayor in his uniform, a surprising and overwhelming feeling of emotion comes over me, causing unexpected tears to spring into my eyes.

  I’m so proud of him.

  And honored to be with him, to call him mine.

  Toby is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.

  I’m hopelessly, completely in love with him. I have been since the very first day.

  The Mayor says a few words and hands him the plaque. Toby shakes his hand, thanks him in his husky, deep voice, and walks back to his seat. I stand up to greet him. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my hair. Closing my eyes, I melt into his warm chest. I don’t care who sees us or what they think.

  This man is mine for keeps.

  42

  Toby

  When will this fucking nightmare of a dinner be over?

  I wish I had never agreed to do this. What was I possibly thinking?

  The main course has just been served, and the dinner has dragged on for hours already.

  Or so it seems.

  I’ve lost count of how many times the waiter has leaned over the table to refill the wine glasses. In the last hour, Maggie’s mom has turned into a silly, giggly mess, and Nicole isn’t in much better shape.

  Maggie never mentioned her mom having an alcohol problem. Maybe she doesn’t and is only trying to make it through the night any way she can. The same way I am. If I wasn’t wearing my Marine uniform, I’d be sucking down the wine too. Anything to make it stop.

  To make things worse, the pathetic excuse for a man sitting across from me will not shut the fuck up.

  Brad.

  Why do all pricks have names like Brad or Chad? Do their parents know they’re going to grow up to be assholes the day they’re born?

  He’s enjoying needling me. Constantly digging at me with little comments about everything from my shiny shoes to my truck. Has no one ever warned him about the dangers of poking a wild animal?

  I’m sure he was a bully in school. Picking on kids much younger than him and always hiding behind his Daddy’s money if he got called out on it.

  Someone needs to teach this asshole a lesson.

  As much as I’d enjoy it, it won’t be me. Not tonight anyway.

  Seeing the way Maggie looked at me when I was standing beside the Mayor made the whole night worthwhile. Her eyes were glowing with pride.

  In me.

  I’ve never had that feeling ever before in my entire life.

  Even Brad can’t take that away from me. As difficult as it is, I’ll kee
p ignoring him the best I can until we can get out of here.

  “How soon can we leave?” I whisper to Maggie.

  She gives me an understanding smile and squeezes my hand underneath the table. “Not yet. After this they’ll serve dessert, coffee, and after dinner drinks. It will be over soon, I promise.”

  Great.

  That’s all we need to make this shit fest better. More alcohol.

  “Toby, you never did explain exactly why you didn’t want to sit with your back to the door? Why is that?” Brad asks, his voice starting to slur. He’s carefully cutting his steak, holding the knife and fork in what I assume would be the perfect position. I sure as hell wouldn’t know. Half the time I use my pocketknife to cut my steak if it’s handy.

  “I need to see who is coming into a room,” I explain. “Basic common sense if you ask me. To always be aware of your surroundings.”

  Brad nods and pops the bite of steak into his mouth. He chews and looks at me thoughtfully until he swallows.

  “Isn’t that one of the classic symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder? Always thinking you’re about to be bombed or attacked? I guess in your case PTSD was a handy disorder to have the day of the mall shooting and the car bomb.”

  I sincerely hope he chokes on his steak.

  With my luck, there would be ten doctors in the room who would jump up and run over to do the Heimlich on him if he did.

  “One of the symptoms,” I reply.

  Anyone with any brains would get the hint this is not something I’m comfortable talking about. My blood pressure is starting to rise.

  “That’s one of the things I don’t get,” Brad says. He holds his fork in the air as if he’s directing a symphony. “These guys graduate from high school without a clue what they’re going to do with their life, so they enlist in the military. Okay, fair enough. They’re only in the service a few years and when they come back, they expect the government to pay for everything. College tuition, health care. It’s ridiculous.”

  He’s seriously treading on dangerous territory now. Maggie knows it too. She’s gripping my knee so tight, I’m surprised there is still circulation left in it.

  “Why should the government pay for all that?” he continues. “They claim their time in the Middle East is stressful and they deserve it. My job is extremely stressful too. You want to know stressful? Try being a tax accountant between the end of January and April 15th. You don’t know stressful until you try that. And yet the government is not offering to pay anything for me.” He shakes his head slowly and holds up his fingers to tick them off one by one. “Not my college. Not my medical bills. Certainly no housing allowance. Or retirement benefits. Why should they be special? I don’t get it.”

  “Maybe because they’re risking their lives for this country?” I argue. “Bad things happen over there. The men aren’t the same when they come back. It changes them. They’re not asking for handouts. They need the help. Especially healthcare.”

  I’m wasting my breath. Why am I trying to explain anything to this guy?

  Brad waves a disgusted hand in the air. “I think that’s all just a big excuse for them to get hooked on painkillers or drugs,” he says. “Most of the ones I’ve met are nothing but a bunch of burned-out drug addicts. They would be losers no matter what they did in life.”

  “Brad!” Maggie’s dad reprimands him sharply.

  Too late.

  I’ve heard enough.

  I’m already stretching my big frame across the table and grab Brad by the necktie. I lift him up and jerk him toward me, dragging his expensive tie through mashed potatoes and brown gravy. My arms knock over both of our wineglasses, spilling the Napa Valley wine with the smoky finish onto the white linen tablecloth and into Maggie’s mom’s half-finished plate of food.

  Brad’s eyes are wide with shock and something else.

  Fear.

  “Don’t you ever say anything like that to me again,” I warn through clenched teeth. “Do you understand me? Those men have gone through things a weak pussy like you would never be able to withstand. You’re not fit to even speak of them. You disgust me. Living in your fancy house, driving your expensive sports car and wearing designer clothes while the real men are out there fighting for your right to do exactly that. Never speak of them again. Not one word. Do you understand me?”

  Brad’s skin has gone three shades paler, and he’s about to puke up his steak right into Nicole’s lap.

  “You’re not nodding,” I say. “Nod if you comprehend what I’m saying.”

  He nods once.

  I tighten my grip and start to smash his nose into the table when I feel Maggie’s hand on my arm. “Toby,” she says quietly.

  I shove him back down in his chair and let go of his tie. He grabs his throat and coughs. The room has gone dead still and quiet. Everyone is staring at me, wide-eyed with their mouths open in shock and confusion.

  The hero turned unhinged psychopath.

  I catch sight of Maggie’s face and wish I hadn’t. Her eyes are filled with hurt and embarrassment. I’ve humiliated her in front of her family and friends.

  Without another word, I walk away from the table and head quickly for the door.

  Fuck!

  I can’t fix this now. Things have gone too far.

  I was a fool to think this could ever work out between us. We’re too different, from entirely opposite worlds. It was only a matter of time before the fairy tale came crashing back down to reality.

  Me and Maggie were never meant to be.

  “Toby! Wait!” Maggie yells after me.

  “Sit down, young lady,” I hear her dad order sternly. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

  I’m almost at the truck before I realize she’s right behind me, running through the country club parking lot to catch up in her high heels and slinky dress.

  “Wait!” she yells again. “Please! I’m coming with you.”

  When I reach the truck and hit the unlock button, she climbs into the passenger seat and tugs on her seatbelt. I start to argue with her and realize this isn’t the place for the conversation we need to have.

  43

  Maggie

  Toby pulls up into a parking space in front of my apartment building marked “Ten Minute Parking Only” and cuts the ignition. He crosses his arms and slumps back in his seat.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. “Why aren’t we driving up to my floor? You can’t park here. The security guard will come out and make us move the truck in a few minutes.”

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he says softly.

  “Do what?”

  “Any of it, Maggie. I can’t pretend I’m a normal person when I’m not. I can’t be in a relationship. It’s never going to work. Not now or ever.”

  I frown at him. We were both silent for the short drive from the country club back to my place. I didn’t know what to say and was waiting for him to speak first. His outburst surprised me, but it wasn’t as if Brad didn’t have it coming.

  “I don’t blame you for being upset,” I say. “Brad is a prick. He always has been. That doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me. It wasn’t my fault what happened tonight. Please don’t make this about us. We’re fine.”

  Toby doesn’t answer. Instead he slips a finger inside the front of his stiff collar and tugs, then makes a frustrated sound when it doesn’t budge. He starts trying to unbutton his uniform. “Dammit!” he says. “This uniform is choking the crap out of me.” His big fingers can’t maneuver the tight button at his neck.

  I unbuckle my seat belt and slide closer. “Let me help you.” Reaching up, I gently try to move his hands away. He grabs my hand firmly in his to stop me then drops it.

  “I’m fine,” he says tersely.

  “Are you sure? Because you don’t seem fine.”

  He nods and blows out a long breath.

  “Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Maybe it was partially my fault tonight. I know what a jerk Brad can be. I never sh
ould have invited him to the dinner. I’m sorry. He’s blunt and obnoxious. The worst part is I doubt he realized what he said was wrong. He’s an idiot. Always has been. I’m sorry he ruined what should have been a special night for you.”

  Toby places both of his muscular arms across the steering wheel and leans his forehead on them. He’s exhausted. I wonder if he’s sleeping or if the nightmares are keeping him awake at night.

  “I’m not blaming you,” he mumbles. “None of this is your fault. It’s mine. I should have never started this up with you. I knew I was a mental mess and I did it anyway.”

  “Where is this coming from?” I ask. “We were having a great evening until Brad opened his big mouth. You seemed fine at the apartment before we left for dinner.”

  An uneasy feeling is forming in the pit of my stomach. Subconsciously, I know what’s coming and don’t want to face it.

  “You have so much going for you,” he says. “A career. A nice place to live.” He waves a hand at the apartment lobby where the security guard is giving us the evil eye through the glass doors. “And a well-to-do family. I can’t offer you anything. All I am is a biker who works on cars in a dirty garage. That’s it.”

  I haven’t heard Toby talk this way before. Alarm bells start ringing in my head.

  “You’re a lot more than that,” I say. “Stop putting yourself down. You’re more of a man than anyone I’ve ever met before.”

  “It’s not that really,” he says flatly. “If it was only a matter of money or a lifestyle, I would fight for you.” He takes my hand and turns it over so he can trace my palm with his finger. “With everything I have in me. I would fight for my queen. I could work harder. Or go back to school. Get an education. Whatever it took to make you mine. I would try my best to get you whatever you wanted or needed. And our kids too if we ever had any.”