“So you’re here to plead his case too? You, who won’t even speak to him?”
“Perhaps I’m not here for him,” she says with a smirk. “You’re being a moron, Joanna.”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus.”
“Do you have any idea how lucky you are? You have a wonderful man who loves you. He’s out there. He’s alive. And even with you acting the fool with the town ride, he still wants you. I had a firsthand view of you two falling in love. How deep that love runs. How you brought out the best in one another. I would give my soul to have that back. And you’re throwing it away like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter. And we both know that isn’t the case. It’s the only thing that matters.
“Life is so fleeting, Jo. So goddamn precious. I have so many regrets. I should have told Brendan I loved him more. I should have taken more time off to spend with him. I should have…had our child when he first asked. That’s what I’m left with, Jo. Nights full of regrets. I want to spare you that. He is a good man. If I can forgive him for misleading us, you sure as hell can too. And I have forgiven him. We are speaking and what he’s told me…” She shakes her head. “Whatever pain you’re experiencing, that man feels it ten-fold. If you still love him, and I know you do, then stop being a damn stubborn fool. Or your nights will be as haunted as mine until you draw your last breath.”
Lexie smiles sympathetically at me before sauntering out. Guess some good has come out of this. Jem and Lexie are speaking again. For months I’d been trying to get them to reconcile. All it took was our world explodes. He forgave her for killing his brother, she forgave him for lying about seeing his brother die years before. Maybe they’re just better people than I.
I plaster on a smile before I leave as well. Lexie is chatting with Justin and Lucy when I reach the ballroom again. Of course. They’re all conspiring together. I shake my head, and scan the crowd for the one person truly on my side. Bennett stands near the dance floor speaking to an elderly man.
“There you are,” Bennett says.
“Thought I’d ditched you? Never.”
“Good to know.” He turns back to the man. “Dr. Kurt Martinson, may I present Joanna Fallon, my new partner on The Guardian Society.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of you,” I say to Martinson. “My fia-ex-fiancée spoke of you often.”
“Fondly, I hope,” the man chuckles. “I am surprised he mentioned me. Not the biggest talker, is our Dr. Ambrose. Hated to see him leave the hospital, though. One of the finest researchers and doctors I’ve ever worked with.”
“Our Lady Hospital is lucky to have him,” I say.
“Though I hear you may be losing him as well,” Dr. Martinson says.
My arm drops from Bennett’s waist. “I’m sorry?”
“Dynamic Biotech in Beijing phoned me a few days ago. Dr. Ambrose listed me as a reference. Seems he applied for a positon in their virology department. I recalled he had an interest in that discipline but never dreamed he’d switch focus from neurology.”
“I…”
I have no idea what to say. I don’t know I could physically say it if I did. It’s as if I’ve been punched in the gut with an iron bar. The world morphs into nothing but a pinpoint for a moment. When it refocuses both men stare with concern. I somehow maintained a blank expression, but something must give the shock away. “I…didn’t know.”
“China’s research laws are far laxer than ours,” Dr. Martinson explains. “He’d gain years.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Joanna, I could use some water. You?” Bennett asks, sliding his arm around my waist this time. “Please excuse us, Dr. Martinson. It was good to see you again.” Bennett ushers me away from the messenger before I shoot him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Who’s next on the hit list?”
After getting our drinks, Scotch for him and Ginger Ale for me, we play nice with two more targets or really Bennett does. I become nothing but a decoration, smiling and agreeing with everything the men say. My brain went into autopilot mode and won’t disengage. Not that I want it to. It’s keeping the swirl of emotions at bay like an iced over lake with the drowning pounding to surface. If they’re kept underwater long enough perhaps they’ll just die and sink to the bottom. The pounding’s distracting enough. I can’t even enjoy meeting the President and First Wife, even when she asks for an autograph for her son and he thanks me for taking care of Emperor Cain. Me, little Joanna Fallon from Diablo’s Ward. The girl who barely passed high school, who almost every teacher said I wouldn’t amount to much, who used to collect used needles for pocket change, made the leader of our county proud and I don’t feel a fucking thing.
He’s leaving.
After schmoozing target five, “Moon River” begins playing. “I love this song,” Bennett says.
“Me too,” I say quietly.
Bennett leads me to the dance floor. “Almost a full sentence. That’s an improvement of the last hour,” he says with a smile.
For the first time I don’t have the involuntary reaction of reciprocating. “Sorry.”
“They seemed enamored with you regardless. The President included.”
“That’s nice.”
“And I fear the Proctor fellow wants to break my arm every time I touch you. Look.” Bennett spins me around, and there’s Justin at the edge of the dance floor watching us with a scowl. I gaze down. “He’s been shadowing us all night, acting the jealous husband. Another contender for the hand of the fair maiden?”
I scoff. “Hardly.”
“Oh, there he goes,” Bennett says. I glance back at Justin, who now stares at his watch and hustles through the crowd. “Late for something, I guess. Good. Now I can do this.” Bennett draws me in closer against his body. It actually feels nice, the weight and warmth pressed against me. I have the strongest urge to rest my head on his shoulder like I used to with Jem. He loves to dance. I’d be sitting on the couch working and he’d just randomly turn on the radio, present his hand to me, and we’d sashay around the penthouse or hold one another like this. I close my eyes now, hoping it’ll bring the same peace, but no. He doesn’t smell like Jem. He’s not as warm. It’s good. Nice. But not the same.
I open my wary eyes. “Can we please get the hell out of here? I don’t think I can do this anymore. Can we just go? Please?”
With a comforting smile, Bennett nods. “Okay.” His smile grows. “We’ll go. And I know just the place.”
*
I expected to find myself at his penthouse or some loud club, but my new friend continues to surprise me. The limo drives us to the edge of the city with bodegas, boutiques, a tiny movie theater, and apartments above the shops. As close to middle class as a city can get. We pull up to an old fashioned diner, Irma’s Diner, judging from the blue neon sign in the window. My kind of place. Inside is all red and white vinyl and chrome, right down to the stools at the counter and booths. The two middle-aged waitresses wear red polyester dresses and paper hats. We stick out like nails in old floorboards decked out in our formal wear. The wino at the counter nursing coffee and the taxi drivers in a booth all do a double take as we enter, but the waitresses just smile at Bennett, who returns the gesture. “Hey Carla. Hey Lola.”
“Benny!” the Latina one behind the counter says. “Twice in one week!”
“You know I can’t stay away from you, Lola,” he replies with a wink. “Booth for two, please.”
Carla hurries over to us, grabs two menus, and leads us to a back booth. “So, where were you guys tonight? Prom?” Carla asks.
“An intolerably dull fundraiser. My lips are numb from all the butt kissing.”
After hanging our coats on the hooks, we slide into the booth on opposite sides. Carla grins at me as she hands me the menu. “Can I get you something to start with?”
“Coffee. You know how I take it.”
“Same. Black,” I reply.
“And we don’t need menus. Bring us your biggest platter of your greas
iest fries and a hot fudge banana split. Extra whip. That okay with you, gorgeous?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Coming right up,” Carla says before walking away.
Bennett undoes his bow tie and the top two buttons. “Oh, that’s better.”
“Looks it, Benny.”
He chuckles. “Don’t you start. Only Carla, my mother, and my sister were allowed to call me that. You have not earned the right yet, Ms. Fallon.”
“So how come the waitress does?”
“Because I’ve known her all my life. Three generations of Stones have frequented these hallowed booths. My grandparents actually met here. She, the socialite who came in to escape the rain. He, the busboy with a heart of gold. Dad even escorted Mom here on their second date, and then they brought Molly and me here for celebrations. A treat.”
“Let me guess. Fries and banana split?”
He nods. “I still come when I’m stressed or just need to disappear. They have the best fries I’ve ever tasted, and I am a French fry connoisseur. You know what they say: starve a cold, feed heartbreak.”
Carla returns with our coffee before departing with a smile. “That obvious, huh?” I ask as I sip my coffee.
“When Martinson mentioned China you turned white as snow. I didn’t want to say anything until we were out of there.” He adds more sugar. “I thought you two were over.”
“We are. I just…it was a shock. It’s all been a fucking shock. And I haven’t exactly processed everything well. Or at all. One minute you’re planning your wedding, the next he’s not the man you knew. The man you knew is gone. That wonderful life you had planned is gone. Your head knows it, but your idiot heart, the one that got you into trouble in the first place, just won’t catch on. It won’t…let go. And everyone keeps making it worse. They keep telling me I’m making a huge mistake. That I’m hurting us both out of spite.” I fall back in my seat. “Hell, maybe they’re right. Maybe I am just a cold, vindictive, hateful, heartless bitch.” I scoff. “Not like I don’t have just cause after everything.”
Bennett leans forward across the table, folding his arms on the linoleum. “Look, I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I call absolute, utter bullshit on that. You do have just cause. Anyone in your shoes would have gone nuts. But you haven’t. You saw a problem in your life and dealt with it the way you saw fit. You took care of yourself for once. That’s not cold or heartless, that’s survival. If a few people don’t like it or got hurt in the process, then that’s their problem. Sometimes you have to be cold and heartless in this life. That doesn’t make you bad. It makes you human. And maybe it’ll be easier if he’s across the world,” Bennett suggests. “Unless you don’t want to let him go. You wouldn’t be the first woman to take back a cheating man. He made a mistake. No one’s perfect.”
“You’re on his side too?”
“Hell no,” he scoffs. “Fuck him. You can do better. I just don’t want to see you in pain.”
“I—”
Police sirens stop my words. Three squad cars zoom down the street. “Just another night in the big city,” Bennett quips. “The things we human beings do to one another, no?”
“It’s The Nothing Man,” Carla says, sundae in hand. “Heard it on the radio. White Knight’s after him now.”
“Just in case you were homesick,” Bennett says with a wink. “I’m shocked we made it through the gala unmolested.”
I pick up a spoon. “Come on. A party’s not a party without a supervillain crashing it.” I spoon out some ice cream. “And here I thought you were a thrill seeker.”
He scoops some ice cream too. “Thrill seeker, yes. Death wish, no.” He eats his food. “God, that’s good.”
“Very good. You were right. I needed this.”
“Nothing junk food can’t cure. Besides high cholesterol.” I chuckle for the first time in hours. “See? It even brought a smile to your sour face. Hell, you might even be up for some…fun after the fries come.”
“You don’t give up, do you? Surely there’s easier prey out there for you than—”
“A woman going through an identity crisis who’s still in love with her ex-fiancée?” he finishes for me. “Maybe I think you’re worth it.”
“Or maybe you’re chasing me because I keep running, and you just can’t help yourself,” I suggest.
“Or maybe…I know how rare it is to find a kindred spirit in this fucked-up, God forsaken planet. To find a person who sees the world the way I do. Believes in the same tenants and principals.” He scoops in more ice cream. “And who can fuck like a stallion.”
I chuckle. “You are good for my ego, Mr. Stone, that is for damn sure.”
“Hope that’s not all I’m good for, Ms. Fallon. We—”
Tires squeal outside, drawing our attention outside. Through the window we watch as a car veers onto the sidewalk across the street, narrowly missing a strolling couple before crashing into a building. “Jesus!” I gasp before rising and taking a step.
Bennett leaps up to block me. “Wait!”
“Wh—”
“Everyone get away from the windows!” Bennett orders.
“What?” Carla asks.
“The Nothing Man,” Bennett says, nodding outside.
I don’t see anyone at first, not until a second car quickly jerks toward us. A figure all in black stands in the middle of the road, trench coat flapping in the wind. “What the hell is he waiting—”
A flash of white zooms down the street like a charging bull, connecting with the villain. A tackle worthy of a football star. The black clad man falls to the asphalt with the white blur on top of him, leaving a crater in the road. The man in white rises first. My stomach knots when my brain puts it all together. White Knight. Justin. Shit. I—
The Nothing Man vanishes. I blink and he’s no longer on the ground. Teleporter. Justin’s barely upright when The Man appears behind the hero. I move to bang on the glass, but don’t get my arm up before The Nothing Man shoves something into Justin’s back. The hero wails in agony but at the same time whacks the back of his head against his assailant’s face. It must stun the villain because he staggers a pace back, knife still dripping blood, before teleporting away again. I’m moving toward the door before I realize I’m doing it. “Jo!” Bennett calls behind me. But just as I make it past the second booth, Justin speeds away again. I keep running too.
“Call the police!” I say before stepping out into the freezing night.
I glance left. The car accident survivors are being aided by other bystanders. They’re—
Another bout of skidding tires to my right, the way Justin ran. My gaze whips that direction. Oh, thank Christ. A block down, in front of the old movie theater, the hero and villain stand in the center of the road, oblivious to the oncoming out of control car. The Nothing Man stabs Justin again as a car drives straight into the front of the theater. “Jesus Christ.”
I kick off my heels, pick them up, and bolt toward the madness. But I’m not fast enough. The Nothing Man stabs the hero again. That’s all he can take. Knight doubles over, falling to his knees and hands. Fuck. Fuck! The Man looms over the hero, head tilting to the side, studying his prey. He raises the blade again. No! No, no, no, no…
The blade comes down. It doesn’t connect. Justin’s hand rises to catch the villain’s arm. There’s a crack as bones break before the hero lets out a war cry and grabs the villain’s leg. Then they’re gone. Poof! What…? Up. Movement in the sky. I glance up a moment after the men appear above the movie theater. Falling. I stop to gasp. Falling. They crash through the roof, White first. Jesus.
Bennett passes me on the sidewalk, running toward the demolished theater. I didn’t know he was following me. This time I trail after him, though he’s faster than me. Traumatized people begin filtering out of the theater, most bleeding or crying. The entire front is gone, the glass doors nothing but shards from the car crash. I have to waste seconds putting my heels back on. Bennett simply
charges inside.
Bedlam. That’s what I walk into. Popcorn and glass everywhere from the demolished concession stand. A teenager in an orange vest aiding the driver of the smoking car out of the wrecked vehicle with Bennett’s help. Screams of pain and terror echoing from the theater even as people run through the doors to safety. Most appear intact with only a few cuts on them. Over the screams there’s the screech of twisting metal as lights flicker in the lobby. That can’t be good.
“Get him outside,” Bennett orders the teen.
“Everyone outside,” I shout. “Watch out for the glass! Clear the building!”
No one’s listening. The crowd’s so crazed one man falls in the doorway and people ignore him, even trampling the poor guy. I reach him a second before Bennett does. My friend knocks a person aside as I bend down to help the man to his feet. “You’re okay,” I say to the now bleeding man. He yowls in agony as he rises. Probably broken ribs. He leans on me as I help him hobble outside and deposit him on the curb. “Try not to move. An ambulance is on its way.”
“Thank you,” he sobs.
“Peter!” a woman shrieks. I turn around, and she’s running over to us. He’ll be fine.
I push and shove my way through the maddening crowd back inside to the lobby. The flickering lights have gotten worse, where it’s more dark than not. I scan the crowd but don’t see Bennett. Shit. I slip through the small opening of people into the theater. Oh, fuck me. The hole in the celling gapes open, far bigger than the man who created it and still crumbling. Metal girders hang by cables still swinging like a pendulum in a Poe story. Some have already collapsed, crushing rows of seats I fear with people under them. The white screen’s ripped as well with another hole in the far wall. Justin. Where’s—
“Help!” I hear a familiar man shout.
My attention whips toward the center of the theater directly under the hole. Bennett’s head peaks above the seats, glancing around wildly for aid, as a bloody teenaged girl sobs beside him. I maneuver through the stragglers toward them. The hyperventilating teenager notices me, her face is a mix of blood and what must be dirt or soot. I think she’s attempting to form words but can only tremble. Bennett is too busy with something on the floor to look up, even as more of the roof collapses not ten feet away from him or as I run closer. Oh, fuck me. A girl, or I think it’s a girl judging from the torn yellow tights and silver sneakers now splattered with blood, lies on the ground, one leg pinned by a huge hunk of concrete and a metal girder in her abdomen. “Fuck,” I gasp.
The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes Page 16
