Page 43 of Nightcrawler
“Raven, I’m not sure,” I said, feeling butterflies in my stomach. “I hate taking charity from people. It’s just not in my DNA.”
He said nothing for a couple of beats, and I know I must have said something wrong. “Is the offer of friendship not in your DNA, Miguel?”
“I just don’t—”
“It’s not charity! It’s helping out a friend. I think you’d do it for me if our roles were reversed, right?”
I would. In a hot second. “Yes, of course. It’s just that you hardly know me.” I smiled, letting some humor creep into my voice. “What if I turned out to be a serial killer or something.”
He snorted and then laughed outright. “Areyou a serial killer, Miguel?”
“No.” I grinned, feeling like a million pounds had been lifted from my shoulders. “Okay, but it’s in no way a permanent thing. I hate imposing but I have—” I took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before continuing. “I have no money for a motel, and Vonne’s girl is allergic to animals, and my other brothers are living far away or out on missions at the moment and—”
“Bring your stuff,” he said, interrupting. “I have room for everything, but I might need help clearing a space large enough.”
I sighed. “Vonne’s coming after he gets off at seven. I only have my clothes and my footlocker. I’m dumping the mattress because—”
“Because it looks like a serial killer owns it?” The smile in his voice was evident.
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah. Anyway, I only care about my footlocker and my clothes. You won’t even have to clear a space.”
“What about your furniture?”
“There’s nothing I care about, and the rest of it can be dumped by the landlord or the sheriffs. It’s all thrift store crap. When I get paid for this next job, I’ll have more than enough money to pick up some for a new apartment somewhere.” I paused before adding. “I promise, I won’t overstay my welcome. I swear it.”
“Let’s cross that bridge if and when we come to it, Miguel,” he said. I hadn’t finished processing that as he went on. “So, Vonne will be at your place after work?”
“Yeah, he gets off at seven, so we’ll probably be there by eight-thirty. I know I’m probably spoiling the nice dinner you have planned.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m really sorry I fucked that up, Raven.”
“You didn’t fuck anything up. I’m making pasta and salad, and I can just start that later. It’s no big deal. Vonne should stay for dinner too.”
If we were in the same room, I would have hugged the man. Raven Mathis was honestly one of the nicest people I’d ever met.I’d totally misjudged him from the start. “That’s real nice of you. I don’t know what to say except thanks, Raven.”
“Like I said, we’re friends and you can always count on me. I hope that’ll be clear after this.”
“I…yeah, thank you, Raven. Stanley and I will be there a little bit later. Now, I gotta go pack up.”
“See you soon, Miguel.” He didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up. I sat there for a few seconds before standing up.
I headed downstairs and grabbed some boxes from the alley out back beside the dumpster. Until Amazon daily deliveries, I’d had to go out of my way to retrieve boxes from the grocery store, but since everyone and their brother ordered from the huge retailer, it was easy to find them in all shapes and sizes. Pickings were kind of thin today, but I managed to scrounge up several smaller ones I could fit my underwear and smaller bathroom items in. The rest of it would fit in the cab of my old truck. I thanked God for Raven. Had it not been for him, I wouldn’t have any way of getting my truck back or even having a roof over my head tonight. The very idea of Stanley out on the street where he could wander away if I fell asleep outside, was something I was too raw to contemplate.
I hauled the boxes back upstairs. After I’d packed a few dishes and a nice pot I really liked into them, along with the few settings of my mother’s silverware I still owned, I headed off to the main room. I took all my clothes out of the bureau and then the closet, putting them into boxes to be hauled out and probably ironed later since they’d end up being a mess after they’d had time to wrinkle. After that, I packed the two pairs of boots I had along with a pair of dress shoes and some sneakers which I’d gotten from the thrift store but loved because they fit my big feet and were almost new. The twenty bucks I’d paid for them felt like alot at the time, but they worked well for me when having to take off after a fugitive.
After I’d boxed up my bathroom things, I headed for my footlocker, taking several worn paperbacks off it, and setting them on the bed. Squatting, I unlocked it and lifted the lid. On top was a triangular, folded flag set inside a frame under glass. Up close, it didn’t look like much, but it held great significance to me because it was all that was left of a man I’d fallen in love with many years ago. I stared at it for a few seconds and then set it aside, before looking at the other things inside.
It contained my fatigues—all except for the dress blues—which I kept immaculately pressed and zipped up in a garment bag in the closet, and a few souvenirs from my many missions across the globe. There were pictures of the guys in my unit, including those of John, which were the most precious of all.
I pulled those out and set them aside along with the clothes, reaching deeper for my most valuable possessions of all. I pulled out a faded pink scrapbook which had been my mother’s. She’d kept mementos of my childhood inside, from the baby bracelet which had been around my newborn wrist, to pictures of my father holding me hours after my birth. There were other pictures too…those of my older brother, Tomas, who’d been born five years before me, and died when he was six months old from spinal meningitis. I’d never known him but as I turned the yellowing pages of the album my mother had so meticulously kept up to date until the day she’d died, the story of his brief life was also there on display.
He’d fallen ill two days after Christmas, meaning that every one of my mother’s family—who’d been visiting from Mexico for the holidays—had been given a course of antibiotics after his diagnosis. He’d succumbed from his illness three days after diagnosis, and it had taken my mother another four years beforetrying again after swearing they’d never try to conceive. They’d both told me that deciding to have me had been the most difficult decision of their lives but after making it, they’d counted every day of my life a blessing. They’d never made me feel like a replacement for Tomas. I’d known they’d loved me until the day they died. I felt the tears threatening again, so I shut the album, and replaced everything.
While I waited for Vonne to arrive, I grabbed my tablet and sat down, going to my favorite site. I didn’t know when Nightcrawler had time to read or how he found all these ridiculous titles but wasn’t sure if I wanted to shake his hand or buy him a beer.
Book title: The Thunder Games
Author: Stephanie Wise
Publisher: Self-published