Rock Chick Regret

by Ashley, Kristen

“Sadie, stay low,” Duke repeated.

  Even though I really didn’t want to, I stayed low and tried to deep breathe.

  This was hard.

  My eyes locked on Jet’s. She nodded reassuringly to me, put her arm around the trembling customer and pulled her close. I nodded back and pulled in more breath but no matter how deep they were, I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen in my lungs.

  We waited what seemed like four days.

  Four long days.

  Finally, I heard Bobby say from the front of the store, “Tex, Duke, Shirleen, we’re movin’ Sadie out.”

  Before I could react to Bobby being back, Duke hauled me up and hustled me out from behind the book counter.

  I saw Bobby, alive, no bullet holes or blood visible, seemingly fit as a fiddle standing at the door, gun in his hand. The black Nightingale Explorer was pulled up on the sidewalk right outside the front door.

  “Hector?” I asked Bobby.

  “He’s fine,” Bobby answered.

  I pulled in more breath and finally felt oxygen hit my lungs.

  Then, as if she couldn’t hear Bobby, I shouted toward the book counter, “Jet, he’s fine!”

  “I heard! Get gone!” Jet’s voice shouted back.

  “Indy?” I yelled.

  “I’m fine, go!” I heard Indy yell back from behind the espresso counter.

  “Tod, Stevie?” I called.

  “Girlie, go!” Tod called back from somewhere in the bookshelves. “We’re fine.”

  Before I could do any more, Shirleen, Tex and Duke got close and hurried me out while Bobby kept his gun up and his eyes peeled. In seconds flat, I was out the door, in the back of the Explorer and the door was closed. Shirleen climbed into the passenger side, Bobby behind the wheel and we took off.

  “Where’s Hector?” I asked, buckling up.

  “With Ricky,” Bobby replied.

  It felt like a ten ton weight hit my chest and I stopped breathing entirely.

  Luckily, Shirleen spoke for me. “What’d you say?”

  “It was Ricky Balducci shootin’ at him. I drew his fire, Hector rounded the building, climbed the fire escape and got him,” Bobby answered.

  Visions of Hector choking the life out of Ricky (or worse) filled my head. I started breathing again (more like hyperventilating) and yelled, “Go back! You can’t leave Hector with Ricky, he’s going to –”

  “He had him disarmed, cuffed to a door and he’s got a gun on him,” Bobby interrupted me. “The cops were approachin’ when I left. Ricky’s facin’ rape, arson and now attempted murder. Hector assaults him, he fucks it up. Hector’s a wild man but ain’t no way he’s gonna fuck this up, no matter how much he wants to kick Balducci’s ass.”

  This made sense and it made me stop hyperventilating.

  Then another thought occurred to me.

  “Why did you move me out?”

  “Hector wants you at the offices,” Bobby answered.

  “Why?” I pressed.

  “I didn’t ask, I don’t care. He wants you there, I take you there. I follow orders and I don’t question them. Ever,” Bobby returned.

  I decided (since Bobby had just been in a gunfight), that maybe now was not the time to be asking any more questions.

  He took us to the offices and parked in the underground garage. I didn’t have time to have an emotional drama that I was back in the garage for the first time since I’d careened in there after being raped. Shirleen and Bobby hustled me out of the car, up the stairs and into the offices before I could blink.

  Shirleen stayed in the reception area but Bobby took me straight through the door to the back rooms and into the surveillance room which was filled with a couple of desks, monitors, equipment and the big, muscular bulk that was Jack.

  Jack turned to us, his eyes did a professional full body scan of me then they moved to Bobby.

  “Got the call,” he told Bobby.

  “Code One?” Bobby asked.

  “Yup,” Jack replied.

  I looked between them wondering who would explain.

  “I’m off,” Bobby said then he was.

  The door closed behind him. This I took as Bobby not being the one to explain.

  Therefore, I turned and asked Jack, “What’s Code One?”

  “Sit. Watch the monitors,” Jack responded.

  I sat in a swivel chair in front of the bank of monitors, six across, four rows, each with what looked like a DVD recorder under it. I trained my gaze on the screens and repeated, “What’s Code One?”

  “Do as I say, when I say, no matter what you see on the monitors,” Jack answered.

  Though this wasn’t really an answer I didn’t quibble. I didn’t suspect that now was Quibble Time. Quibble Time was after whatever Code One was was over and I was innocently playing Yahtzee with my friends again.

  “Should I be worried about whatever’s happening?” I went on.

  “Nope.”

  “You’re sure?” I pressed.

  “Yup.”

  I didn’t really believe him but, as I mentioned, it was not Quibble Time.

  We watched the monitors.

  Then I asked, “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything.”

  “What kind of anything?”

  “Anything, anything.”

  I was feeling ill-equipped to be Jack’s Monitor Helper but I decided to stop asking questions about my assignment. It was not only not Quibble Time it was probably not Question Time either. Except for things looking like they’d gone back to normal at Fortnum’s and a bunch of people in the pool hall doing pool hall type activities, nothing much was happening.

  I decided on a different subject. “Can I call Hector?”

  “Nope.”

  Blooming heck!

  “Can I call him in, say, fifteen minutes?” I tried.

  “You can shut up. That’d be good.”

  My back went straight but my eyes didn’t leave the screens.

  “Did you just tell me to shut up?”

  “I see you didn’t hear me.”

  “Hector was in a gunfight!” I snapped.

  “Not the first, probably not the last.”

  Oh my.

  That shut me up.

  I decided not to think about that until I was, say, six hundred years old and silently we watched the screens.

  Then I saw something in the pool hall.

  “Oh my God!” I cried.

  Jack went on alert.

  “What?”

  “Look at her outfit!” I pointed at a girl in the pool hall. “Her tank top is skintight and she’s not wearing a bra. And her skirt is shorter than the one I wore to Stella’s gig!”

  Jack was silent but I felt he’d lost his intensity.

  I peered closer, the girl on the screen bent over a pool table and I gasped when I was treated to a partial moon. “Blooming heck! She’s wearing a thong!” I exclaimed then went on, “Now, if you’re going to wear a skirt that short, you really should wear proper underwear.”

  Jack remained silent.

  I looked at him. “Don’t you think?”

  Jack’s eyes remained on the screens. “I think Hector owes me big time is what I think.”

  Hmm.

  Perhaps Jack was not the kind of man who discussed women’s underwear choices, even after dramatic shootouts (or, perhaps, ever).

  I decided that was my cue to stay silent again.

  This lasted less than a minute.

  “Why are we watching a pool hall?”

  “The Balduccis own that pool hall.”

  I felt bile slide up my throat and I swallowed it down.

  I thought that was apropos. The Evil Fitzpatrick clan hung out at a pool hall in Veronica Mars.

  I didn’t share this with Jack.

  “Oh,” was all I said but I watched closer.

  We sat in silence for awhile and then I saw Hector’s Bronco enter the garage.

  “Thank you God,” I breathed, watching him
park.

  He got out, started toward the door to the stairs, I felt my body begin to relax but then I saw Hector stop and look toward the entrance of the garage.

  Jack tensed.

  I tensed.

  Then I saw a BMW careening into the garage.

  Hector pulled his gun out of the back of his jeans again and I automatically went into a squat, not standing, not sitting and not sure what I was going to do.

  “Sit,” Jack ordered, not taking his eyes from the screen.

  I sat.

  I stared.

  The BMW halted and Hector had his head cocked and his gun up, trained on the car.

  I held my breath.

  Marty Balducci got out of the BMW and my body automatically went into my ready to run squat again.

  “Sit!” Jack repeated, louder this time and I didn’t want to, I really didn’t want to but I sat again.

  Marty didn’t look good and I felt the blood drain out of my face. I couldn’t see all that clearly on the small screen but he appeared to be bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds to the chest.

  Marty held onto the open car door to keep himself up but I could tell he was struggling. He lifted his gun toward Hector but he couldn’t quite lift it far enough. I could see they were talking (or shouting) at each other. Hector, arms out, gun up, was advancing slowly.

  Jack hit a button on the console and the room filled with the ringing of a phone.

  Then, on another monitor, I watched as an Explorer entered the garage.

  I stared, body tense, as it parked at an angle behind Marty’s BMW and Lee and Luke got out, already armed, guns up and trained on Marty.

  “What’s happening?” I whispered but Jack didn’t answer. He had his hands on the console in front of us, close to both the phones that were pointed in his direction and a number of buttons and knobs.

  “Nine, one, one,” a voice said. “What’s your emergency?”

  “I need an ambulance, there’s a man with multiple gunshot wounds in the garage under Nightingale Investigations…” Jack told the operator, speaking clearly, calmly, giving an address, his name, a telephone number.

  While Jack talked, I saw Lee and Luke advance on Marty, just like Hector, they all seemed to be talking to each other and moving in slow motion.

  Without warning, likely unable to hold himself up anymore, Marty suddenly went down.

  “He’s down,” Jack said to the 911 operator.

  Hector and Lee stopped moving slowly and rushed to Marty. Hector kicked Marty’s gun away, shoved his own into his jeans, got down on his knees and bent over Marty, obscuring our view. Luke ran to the back of the Explorer.

  Something caught in my corner vision and I looked to a monitor two banks up and to the right and, at what I saw, I shouted (and pointed for good measure), “Jack! It’s Donny!”

  Donny Balducci and two men I didn’t know were creeping along the hallway, which hallway I didn’t know.

  “We need cars,” Jack barked at the 911 operator. “Squads. We got three men, all armed, in the building, approaching the Nightingale offices, same address as for the ambulance, we got civilians in here. We’re on the fourth floor. Over and out.”

  Then he hit a button and immediately flipped a switch. “Lockdown. Three armed men approaching,” Jack said but I heard it over a PA which seemed to be all around us.

  I watched Shirleen jump up, open a drawer, pull out a gun and then she ran to the front office door. She locked it, I felt Jack’s movements as he hit another button and the room filled with ringing again.

  “Get out of there Shirleen, get out, get out…” I chanted, watching Donny and his gang approach the office door as Shirleen hustled toward the inner door.

  “Stark.” I heard Luke’s voice fill the room and tore my eyes away from Donny to see Luke standing in the garage, his phone to his ear.

  “Donny’s in the building, two men with him, all armed, in the hallway, outside the front office door. We’re in lockdown. Ambulance is in transit for Marty, I called squads. Over.”

  Jack was talking but Luke was now moving, jogging toward the stairs, Lee breaking away from Hector and coming with Luke. Somewhere along the line someone had given Hector a first aid kit but it was sitting next to him on the concrete unused and Hector was giving Marty CPR.

  Then I saw Shirleen disappear from the reception area.

  “Status. Over,” Luke said.

  “Shirleen’s in the hall, Brody’s in the back office. Sadie and me in the surveillance room. Everyone else out on assignment. Over.”

  “Shirleen goes in with Sadie, you’re in the hall. Over and out.”

  Luke and Lee had disappeared from the screen because they’d hit the stairs. Jack pressed some buttons and the viewpoint changed on some of the monitors and I saw Luke and Lee on the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Jack got up and, when I turned to him, he had a gun.

  “No matter what you see or what you hear, you do not leave this room. Got me?”

  I nodded.

  “Repeat it,” he said.

  “No matter what, I won’t leave this room,” I said quickly.

  He nodded then he was gone, Shirleen passing him on his way out.

  “Jack got the police comin’?” Shirleen asked, her eyes going directly to the monitors and she started scanning them as she took a seat.

  “Police and ambulance,” I replied.

  “Holy shit, what’s happened in the garage?” Her eyes were riveted on Hector giving Marty CPR.

  “Marty drove in, got out of the car, he was filled with bullets. He collapsed. Hector’s working on him. Lee and Luke are headed up here.”

  Shirleen was silent.

  Then quietly she remarked, “They don’t have vests.”

  “What?”

  She looked at me then back at the monitors and muttered, “Nothin’.”

  It hit me she meant bulletproof vests.

  I felt fear slice through me as I watched, mouth dropping open as Donny gave up trying to force the door open with his foot, took a step back and drilled some rounds in it with his gun. Then he kicked the door open and they all surged in just as Lee and Luke rounded another flight of stairs.

  “Why don’t they wait for the police?” I shouted, coming into a squat again and I wasn’t going to sit down, no way, I didn’t know how to sit anymore.

  Visions, unbidden, forced themselves into my head. Lee and Indy’s wedding picture in the paper. Luke taking Ava in his arms and talking against her mouth. Both of them teasing me.

  It hit me that these were my friends and they were in danger.

  Because of me.

  I straightened out of my squat and stood.

  “Child, settle,” Shirleen said softly.

  All at once, everything happened, on the monitors and in the office.

  I heard more gunshots, these close, coming from Donny who was firing at the inner door. The paramedics were running toward Hector. Uniformed police were running up the stairs, guns drawn. Lee and Luke were in the hall and jogging toward the offices.

  “Stay back!” I shouted, leaning forward now, hands on the console, body trembling, eyes going manically from screen to screen.

  Lee stopped outside the door and flattened himself against the wall and, with quick head jerks, he peered around the door, Luke beside him, as Donny pulled open the inner door.

  “Jack,” I breathed.

  More gunshots, Shirleen and I sucked in breath as Lee then Luke surged around the door and into reception.

  My body jerked as I heard shouts, gunshots, close, very close.

  I saw both Lee and Luke were inside reception, both moving and firing just as I noted, on another screen, Hector running up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

  Without thinking, I turned and bolted to the door.

  Before I got close, Shirleen caught me in two strong arms and pulled me back.

  There were more gunshots and I closed my eyes, put my hands over my ears and I he
ard Jack’s voice, soft and reassuring, coming at me from my memory banks the night of my rape.

  It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.

  The pain of fear for Jack sliced through my gut.

  Then the gunshots and shouting stopped.

  My eyes flew open and I looked to my left at the monitors. Shirleen and I stood, her arms wrapped around me, and we watched. Luke, the police and now Hector were in the reception area. Luke and Hector were advancing, both still armed, guns pointed to something on the ground, the police were moving around talking into the mouthpieces at their shoulders.

  Lee had disappeared.

  “Can we go out now? Can we go?” I asked Shirleen.

  “Hang on, baby. Stay with me,” Shirleen cooed softly.

  “Lee. Jack,” I whispered.

  “Hang on.”

  We lost sight of Hector and Luke and Shirleen and I stood silently watching the monitors. It seemed odd and distressing that everything was normal at Fortnum’s.

  They had no idea.

  No idea.

  It could have been seconds but it felt like hours before the door opened and Hector stood there.

  Shirleen’s arms dropped away and I surged forward, my body slamming into his, his arms closing around me.

  “Please, please, please, please, please,” I breathed into his throat.

  “Jack got clipped, just a nick in the neck, he’s fine. He’d had time to put on a vest,” Hector said and I could feel the vibration of his voice at his throat against my lips.

  “Lee?”

  “Lee’s fine. He’s seein’ to Jack.”

  My body sagged into his, his arms got tighter and I felt rather than saw Shirleen squeeze by us and leave the room.

  I tilted my head back and looked at Hector.

  “Are you okay?”

  He dipped his chin and his black eyes caught mine. “Yeah, mamita. I’m all right.”

  My arms tensed. “I’m so sorry. So, so, sorry.”

  I watched as his eyes flashed and he murmured, “Cállate, mi amor.”

  “It’s my fault,” I went on.

  “Cállate,” he repeated softly.

  I blinked then my brows drew together in confusion. “What’s that mean?”

  “It means shut up.”

  Oh.

  Well then.

  “That sounds nicer than the English shut up,” I told him.

  His lips twitched. “It isn’t.”