by Diane Capri
A very unamused Amy crossed her arms and leaned against the side of her SUV, signaling for Jordan to come closer. “That guy, that speedboat driver?” Amy whispered. “He’s a jerk. He’s the assistant soccer coach but he acts like he’s entitled to every facility at the school. That speedboat isn’t even his. It belongs to the crew team.”
Jordan spied a security phone nearby and took a step toward it. “I’m gonna call campus security.”
“You sure?” Amy’s voice shook slightly. “There’s way more muscle power here than you and I have.”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. They’re not going to move otherwise and I really need to get home.” Jordan got out her cell phone and called the number written on the panel above the security phone.
A shadow crossed the streetlight. Jordan turned. A couple of guys with broad shoulders and Plant University baseball caps approached the tailgating soccer players. Behind the leaders, more of the same—a posse of guys built like bulky baseball players.
“Tell me we’re not going to have a frat boy brawl here.” Jordan called the security number. She heard the call ring through. She’d turn on the video camera on her phone once she completed the call, just in case a story developed.
The baseball leader spoke up first. “Hey, soccer boys. Listen up. Move your party to your goal boy’s backyard and let these ladies out, would ya?”
Two of the soccer players smirked. Another spat out his beer, spraying it in the face of an approaching baseball player.
The call kept ringing. Jordan tapped her foot. Come on. Answer the phone. The testosterone factor was getting totally out of control.
“We’ve got this guy bringing us beers from the river. And two hot women here.” The soccer player lounging in the truck bed gestured toward the guy still tying up the speedboat at the dock and toward Jordan with the other hand. “Explain to me, why exactly would we want to leave?”
“Because I’m not gonna ask again,” the lead baseball dude said.
Jordan and Amy needed to get out of there. Jordan looked around for an escape route, but found none. The security call kept ringing. She ignored the insults hurled back and forth until one loud shout felt openly hostile instead of just the usual guy stuff.
A baseball player stood toe-to-toe and face-to-face with a soccer player not more than five feet in front of Jordan.
“Give me your keys so I can move your truck and let the ladies out,” the baseball player demanded half a second before he raised his fist and swung a hard punch that connected with empty air and knocked him off balance.
Jordan jumped sideways to avoid being in the line of momentum as he fell. She disconnected the call. She’d dial 911 as soon as she could.
Instead of falling, he threw a second punch that would have hit home. But the soccer player ducked and ran away, as if this was a funny game of chase.
The baseball player steadied his feet, picked up a full beer bottle and tossed it, hitting the soccer player in the back.
The soccer player turned around. “Was that your best pitch? No wonder you guys are in last place.”
“That wasn’t a pitch, homeboy. Just getting your attention.”
The guy at the dock looked on from the speedboat. He’d cracked open a beer. “Get him back, Brandon. Get him good.”
“Yeah? Well here’s some attention.” The soccer player grabbed a beer bottle and hurled it, hitting the baseball player right between the eyes and slicing his skin open.
He screamed while his face gushed blood.
The speedboat driver laughed hysterically. “Get him again!” he yelled as he tossed the empty beer can into the river and popped the top on another.
The flashing yellow lights of the security truck approached. Finally.
Everybody scattered.
Suddenly, the scene was clear and Jordan and Amy could finally head home. Jordan looked at her watch. Eleven-fifteen p.m. She saw her window of opportunity closing. She could wake Richard from a sound sleep, but that probably wasn’t the best idea.
Once they safely closed the doors and drove off, Amy exhaled heavily. “I’m glad we got out of there alive.”
“Just college boys being college boys.” Jordan said to reassure Amy and because she hoped that was true.
“Not even close. Listen to me. I’m five years older than you, and at least five years wiser. We could have really been hurt, Jordan.” Amy’s arms shook even as she hung onto the steering wheel with both hands. “I’ll bet at least half of those guys were taking that Super Adderall. It causes aggressive behavior, right? We certainly saw plenty of that.”
“You think so?” Jordan had been so preoccupied with getting to Richard tonight, she hadn’t been worried about violence from those boys. She should have been.
“You saw who the real instigator there was, right?” Amy said. She glanced at Jordan. “That speedboat driver. Can you believe he’s the assistant soccer coach?”
“That’s crazy, for sure.”
“I have no clue how he got the job or how he keeps it. He’s the reason I quit working with teenagers.”
Something like a silent alarm sent chills up and down Jordan’s entire body. “You don’t mean that exact guy. You mean someone like him.”
“That specific guy,” Amy turned onto the last straight stretch of road that would lead them to Jordan’s home. “He’s dangerous, Jordan. Don’t make the mistake I made and assume he’s not.”
“What do you mean?” Could Jordan have missed malevolence on that level? She’d believed her radar was finely tuned to dangerous people and situations. She’d learned those lessons from the school of hard experience when her mother died and in all the years since. But if that guy was as dangerous as Amy believed, and Jordan had totally missed it? Now, Jordan was worried.
“I can’t tell you anything specific about his treatment. But it’s no secret he’s a lost cause.” She lowered her voice as if anyone else could hear. “I was convinced that guy was going to murder someone before he hit age twenty.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“He’s past that age now. But I can’t say for sure I was wrong.” Amy looked at Jordan for a long moment. “Can you?”
Jordan knew nothing about the assistant soccer coach. But she would make it her business to find out.
“What’s the guy’s name?” Jordan asked.
Amy replied, “Stay away from him. I mean it. He’s not someone to mess with, whether he’s on drugs or not.”
CHAPTER 13
It was 11:25 p.m. when Amy pulled into the driveway and Jordan dashed inside. She flipped on the TV to see the weather segment of the news just ending. Sports would be next. She knew Richard was still awake. Was it unprofessional to call him this late, or did it show initiative?
She hoped the answer was the latter. During the drive home, she’d come up with a couple points about what she would say. Maybe the adrenaline pumping through her system would help make her pitch enthusiastic enough to convince him. She was in her dad’s office just off the front porch. She had pen and paper, just in case notes were required.
She dialed his number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Richard Grady.”
“It’s Jordan Fox. I’m so sorry to call you at home this late.”
She paused for a brief moment, expecting a response. Something along the lines of, “No problem,” would have been reassuring. Instead, total silence.
Jordan cleared her throat. “Patricia texted me. Did you know she wants me to go to Instant Pop Star early? Tomorrow?”
“I asked her to tell you. The first audition event is tomorrow, not Friday like we thought.”
“About that,” Jordan swallowed a lump in her throat. “I ran into a friend tonight. Dr. Chelsey Ross. You’ve probably heard of her. She’s a well-known doctor in Tampa and a part-time missionary. She’s going to Haiti tomorrow for five days. To a village called Sabatier. One of her mission teammates just dropped out, and she wants me to replace her.”
“For…tomorrow?” Jordan could almost see Richard wrinkling his nose in skepticism. “We got an early interview set up for you for tomorrow. You’ve got dozens of contestants to consider. You’ll need every minute for that project.”
“Well, I was thinking, maybe our sister station in Jacksonville could cover it for us? I’m sure they’ll be there anyway, right? Because the thing about the Haiti trip is, they want a photographer to come along.” She realized her approach was too tentative. She cleared her throat again and stood on her feet to feel more powerful, ready to set him straight if Richard brought up what had happened to the first camera he’d given her.
“What does this trip have to do with us? Haiti isn’t exactly in our viewing area.”
Fight now, Jordan. Or pack for Jacksonville. What’s it gonna be? “This Haiti opportunity is at least as local as Instant Pop Star. Local missionaries are going. One of the group is a doctor at Plant University’s Health Clinic. So, this is the angle I was thinking of. You know how Tampa Southern Hospital has started putting 3D printers on every floor?”
“Surgeons are using them to make models, right?” It was a cool program. “Totally experimental, though.” He sounded slightly interested. Maybe.
“It’s possible to make hearing aids and knee implants with a 3D printer, too. And other medical things. So, just think of the applications a 3D printer could have at a clinic in an impoverished section of the middle of nowhere in Haiti.” She stopped pacing and stood as tall as she could. “This could be life changing for those people. And our docs are doing it here.”
“Do you feel qualified to report on this topic? Have you talked to a doctor about this at all?” He was softening. She could tell. He didn’t sound like he was about to hang up any second, for one thing.
She paced the room. “Not yet. I just found out about this an hour ago. But I can go down there, and look at all the ways a 3D printer would be helpful. And I could talk to the doctors and nurses on the trip with me about it, interview them in the surgery rooms and stuff, and do the story on that. The headline would be something like, Tampa Southern Hospital as a model for advancing medical technology in Haiti.”
Jordan fist-pumped the air. She’d just come up with that on the spot. Genius. “And there’s a possible Instant Pop Star connection, too. One of the local contestants was born in Haiti. I’m not sure if she’s a viable story yet. But extra video could help if she turns out to be one of our choices.”
Richard paused for what seemed like too long. Jordan imagined he was agitated, pacing, maybe thinking things through. Should she say something more? Or keep quiet? Or ask something? Or—
“Here’s the thing.” He blew out a deep stream of air, like he was weary or something. “If you get down there and find that there is no medical application for 3D printers in Haiti, you’re screwed. I can’t authorize this trip for Instant Pop Star. And I can’t have you coming back with no story at all. So you’d have to come up with some other angle really fast. And you won’t have much time. That makes me nervous.”
Makes me nervous, too.
Abruptly, he said, “What about airfare and other expenses?”
At least this was a question she’d thought through. The station was on a very tight budget, which is how she ended up being a very lowly paid intern instead of a multimedia journalist in the first place. He’d never let her go if it required an entirely new set of expenses. “I was hoping we could apply the Jacksonville budget to this trip and, whatever the difference is, Dr. Ross is willing to cover.”
Richard sighed. He sounded tired, weaker. He might be giving in. “Tell you what. Five full days?”
“Almost. I’d be back in time for work Sunday afternoon.” Yes! She jumped up and down and pumped her fist again. Silently.
“Okay. Go to Haiti. Grab a still camera from the photographer lockers, and take that in addition to a video camera. Take tons of notes. On everything.” Richard’s tone changed to hard and unyielding. “Don’t screw this up, Jordan. We’ll want a series of good pieces for the internet using still pictures. And at least three 2-minute packages for TV.”
Outstanding! Jordan closed her eyes and inhaled bliss, afraid to say anything lest he changed his mind. Take that, Drew Hodges!
Richard kept talking, almost a stream of consciousness to organize everything required to make the trip happen. Jordan wrote furiously. She wouldn’t forget anything. “Text Patricia. Tell her we’re taking you off the Jacksonville assignment. But you still have to put that story together. When you get back, we need Haiti for web, Haiti for TV, and Instant Pop Star for TV. And we’ll need Instant Pop Star done in time for air Monday night. Not even one minute late, Jordan. Do you hear me?”
“I can do that,” Jordan said, knowing full well she should negotiate the workload because nobody could get all of that done on the timetable he laid out. But she was walking a line here and she figured she could adjust the schedule later, once she collected the material. He wasn’t going to reject the story just because it might be a little bit late.
“And Jordan,” he added. “Make everything from Haiti hard news. No fluff. Not even a little bit. If the 3D story doesn’t work out, you’ll need a different hard angle. No religious missionary stuff. No fluffy slice-of-life-in-poverty stuff, either. You follow a hard news angle, okay?”
“You got it.” She heard the conviction in her voice. Good.
Richard drew a deep breath and when he spoke again, his tone was weary. “You screw this up, you’re done. You know that, right? Drew’s ahead of you in every arena as it is. If we give you this chance and you don’t pull through, I won’t be allowed to keep you employed. Understand?”
Her knees were wobbly all of a sudden. She sat down before they gave way. “I think so.”
“Not good enough, Jordan. No excuses. Hard news. Nothing but. For example, the recent kidnappings would work. If you need more ideas, call me.”
Recent kidnappings? She couldn’t hear anything else he said because of the roaring ocean in her ears. What had she gotten herself into?
CHAPTER 14
Every single afternoon when Jordan left for work, she worried about her dad. She hadn’t left him alone for so much as a single twenty-four-hour period since his stroke. This time she was leaving for five days, making her five times as worried. Multiply that by being not only out of the country but in a remote place with very limited connectivity, and Jordan’s worries multiplied way beyond five.
There was a good chance Jordan wouldn’t have cell phone service in Sabatier at all. She couldn’t let herself think about that or she knew she wouldn’t leave.
But Amy was here and Claire was just one phone call away. Nelson loved Amy almost like another daughter. Amy had all the contact numbers and she had Rosemary. Amy would stay in the guest bedroom. She’d make sure Nelson got three meals a day and they’d play chess and nothing even one degree of bad would happen to him.
He would be fine.
He had to be.
No other option was even remotely acceptable.
Jordan dropped her duffle bag by the door and went back to squeeze her dad’s hands and kiss his rough cheek one last time, reluctant to let go. “I’ll be back Sunday.”
“We’ll be great, Freckles. The only problem we might have is if Amy tries to let me win at chess. She tries that and there will be bloodshed.” His words were stern, but he was joking and that made Jordan feel better, too, as he’d known it would.
She gave him one last loving grin, grabbed her duffel bag, blew him a kiss, and closed the door. She said a quick prayer that he was stronger than she believed him to be. Jordan had pretty much given up on prayer after her mom was murdered and her dad’s stroke. But for this trip, she started again. Prayer might not help, but it couldn’t possibly hurt.
Jordan traveled straight to the airport where she met the six members of the medical mission team at the food court, as planned. She wasn’t hungry. And even if she had been, she wouldn’t have been a
ble to eat. She spent the time getting to know the team.
The leader was internist Dr. Chelsey Ross, of course. The other five members were Dr. Eric Lee, Dentist. Lauren Diaz, R.N. Dr. Janet Cline, Optometrist. Yvonne Cherry, Nutritionist. And Jordan’s personal favorite, based on the bios Dr. Ross provided, Bob Vetter, also known as “the Silver Fox,” the recovery room assistant.
They were a friendly bunch. Right away, Jordan felt welcomed, which made her relax a bit.
Jordan’s stomach was full of two things, butterflies and the sandwich she’d shared with her dad at home. The butterflies were probably caused by equal parts excitement and anxiety. She hadn’t flown anywhere, or even traveled overnight since she was seventeen. Today, she’d take three flights to reach her destination.
She’d grab her next meal in Miami. After that, her stomach would be settled down and she’d survive on almonds and whatever the local Haitians were willing to serve.
Jordan stood in line to board the first plane when her phone rang. Claire. Jordan picked up. “What’s up?”
She heard nothing but crying on the other end.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Claire’s voice was small and quiet and hard to hear. “Sal. He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone?”
“Never coming back. Forever.” Claire’s quiet sobs were more heartbreaking than loud wailing, somehow.
Jordan moved slowly through the line into the jet way, and walked toward her seat. “Claire, I’m on my way to Haiti. I’ll be back on Sunday. Will you be okay? Is there anything I can do?”
Jordan found her seat and slid in toward the window.
Claire said, “I’ll be fine. Really. We knew it was coming. We’ve known for a while. That’s why he’s been so edgy.”
“Knew what was coming?” The flight attendant stood in the aisle, staring at Jordan with a look that said hang up the phone. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you on Sunday. I’ll call if I can.”
