Chapter 3
"...see, the secret is not to show any fear." Scott continues to yap away to no one in particular. Cleaning and making sure our guns and arsenal are all in good working condition is just good practice. Guns jamming, or empty chambers, they can get pretty problematic when you're out there fighting for your and your team's life. We've done this so many times that it's monotonous and quite therapeutic at this point. Kind of like when one of my foster moms would bring me to the laundry mart and I stare at the laundry machine while it goes round and round and round. We're all sitting around the computer lighted table, guns spread out on it, trying to drown out Scott's constant yap.
"Like when I fought this big mother father, Igor," he continues, unaware, or perhaps not caring, that no one pays him any mind. "Remember, Mikey? In Kuala Lumpur? You saw him right. Right?" He insists.
I nod distractedly, "He fuckin' warms up by punching poor tree trunks... With his bare hands!" was the punchline. "Heeeeh….Heeeeh…." he laughs his maniacal laugh and my mind drifts to my dark thoughts once again.
Kerry. My Kerry. Kate. Grant. Porter. Everyone in my life dies. My life is full of blood and darkness and isolation. I have no business thinking of Ava and all the whatifferys. It's not fair for her. Ava. I feel guilty, just thinking of her. Her smiling eyes. Her lips. Her behind, swaying gently as she walks away.
Riiiiiiiiing... My phone's shrill ringing suddenly breaks through my dark thoughts. My phone. My personal phone. Riiiiiii... I stand up so suddenly that my chair falls back with a loud clatter behind me. I grab my phone near Baxter, who looks up at me with wide, surprised eyes. Scott clutches his gun with one hand against his chest, and puts his other hand out just in time to catch another from falling off the table. "What the fu..." he starts, looking at me as if I've lost my mind. Three pairs of startled eyes look up at me as I answer my phone.
"Michael here." A beat.
"Hi." Ava. It's Ava. My lips start to creep up in a smile without my approval, and I brutally squash it down. I have a sinking feeling that I didn't quite hide it when I see Scott wrinkle his eyes, and purse his mouth questioningly at Richmond, who in turn, shrugs her slim shoulders.
"Hello there," I answer, walking briskly towards the back of the lockers. Away from nosy people with nothing better to do than be nosy bodies. Nosy bastards.
"How's the face?" Ava's voice is smiling.
"Hurts." I answer.
"And the nose?"
"Hurts," I can't help it. I smile. I can feel the goofy grin on my face. Damn.
"I'm really sorry about that. My father always tells me my hair matches my temper," she says with obvious affection in her voice. Ah, I'm sorry Ava. I know it hurts. "Anyway!" she shakes herself off of her morose mood and tries for a lightness she obviously doesn't feel with a joke, "Want me to kiss and make it better?"
A sudden and very vivid image of her full lips on my face flashes in my mind's eye. "Er... Um... I would... I would like that. Very much," my throat is suddenly dry, and I swallow convulsively. I brace my back against my locker, and slowly lower myself until I feel the cold cement against my backside. I can hear her breathe on the other line.
She clears her throat. "I... I actually called because I found information about some cash transactions that my father made recently," she sidesteps the bomb that I just opened up with my confession. "I need to fly to the States tomorrow, but I'll be at a fundraiser before my flight. I can give you the USB there. If you... If you have the time." She hurriedly finishes her statement.
"Yes. Yes. I can be there." I stammer. She rattles off an address in a posh side of town. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sergeant Stone... erm... Michael," her voice is low, quiet. The sound of my name on her lips makes my stomach feel strange. Warmth in my belly spreads up to my face.
"See you soon. Ava." I whisper. I hear a click on the other end. I feel myself scratch an imaginary itch on my left face with the fingers of my right hand, trying to cover up my smile. Damn, Scott says that fake scratch is my biggest tell. I snatch my hand away. I hang up as well, then turn my phone over and over in my hand.
"You know I can see you guys, yeah?" I say to my phone. Richmond, Baxter, and Scott, their eyes and the tops of their heads the only things peeking up from around the locker, vertically arranged by height like freakin' cartoon characters, slowly emerge.
"You okay, buddy?" Scott ventures, hesitance showing in his stance.
"I'm fine," I answer.
His eyes show concern, "What's up with your face?" he angles his head, seeks Richmond's eyes, points a finger down at my sitting form, and asks her, "Is he... is he smiling?!" He wonders in awe. "Is Sgt. StoneUpHisAss smiling?"
Julia looks at me with her beautifully lashed eyes, happiness and a touch of melancholy touches her brows. I know she's thinking of Kerry. And Kate. And her tragically stoic friend, Stonebridge. And that she utters a silent thanks to a God she still believes in, for granting this murderous sinner a chance at a smile. My chest tightens. I have really good friends. I'm a lucky son of a bitch.
She turns to Scott and makes her eyes even wider, "I believe that is, indeed, a smile we're being allowed a glimpse of."
Baxter says; "Huh. Would you look at that. Should we be looking at that? Isn't it bad luck, like looking at the sun?"
"That's when you go blind, idiot." says smarty pants Scott.
I give them all the finger. "That was Ava Knox. She has something for us." I finally tell the comedy troupe around me.
Scott does a double take, and says, "Awe shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Mikey is in lust with the lovely Miss Knox." I can practically see the lights go off on top of his head, inside a cloud like in a comic strip. "You think it's because of her hair?" he asks Julia.
"Nah, I think it's her right hook," she joins the fun.
"Maybe it's her mind," Baxter chimes in, ever the optimist. They all start walking back towards the computer light table, still discussing their poor friend. Their poor friend with a smile, stretching and hurting his cheeks with the strangeness of it all.
