Surrender (36 page)

“Hello? Hello? Monica! Hello, right here…” Captain Gallo was calling to her.

Monica came back to reality real fast.

“Right! One double shot Americano coming up!” Monica made quick work of making a couple shots of coffee, which she then placed in the cup holding the house brew, snapped the lid into place, and handed it over the counter. “Look, I’m sorry about how I went off on you. It’s been a rough morning, just not for any of the reasons you suggested.”

Robert took a sip of his hot coffee. “Thanks for the apology, though you don’t need to worry about it. I can take it as good as I get. By the way, your coffee’s a little weak. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow morning? If not, good luck with the job search.” With that, he quickly walked off to his gate.

Jessica watched Captain Gallo leave, thinking he was a royal jerk and she was better off watching him walk away than watching him move toward her. He’d insulted her, and most likely gotten her fired, and he couldn’t give a simple apology. There was one positive to being fired; she wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore, or any of his arrogant buddies. Just because they could fly didn’t mean they were better than her, or any of the other people wandering the airport.

A small part of her worried though, because she
was
attracted to him. What if there was something wrong with her? How could she feel even the slightest attraction to someone who treated her so badly? She pushed the thought aside and decided to take it one day, or the way her life was going, one hour at a time.

Now that Monica’s resolve was hardened, she’d be ready for her next encounter with Captain Gallo; she still wasn’t ready to see Henry. With hesitation, she dragged her feet into her supervisor's office where he was waiting. He sat behind his small desk, puffing out his chest, attempting to make himself larger.

“What are you trying to do? Get us shut down! Do you realize that without flight crews we wouldn’t have passengers? Without passengers we wouldn’t have a business!” Monica was perplexed at his reasoning. If the coffee shop was dependent on only one person purchasing a four-dollar cup of coffee, they had bigger problems than her smarting off to an arrogant jackass. Henry’s face was beet red as he continued to rake Monica over the coals.

“Look, Monica, Captain Gallo visits us several times a day. You need to be more observant, and take the
time to actually notice the pilots who stop in frequently. Look at their name tags so you’ll remember them easier, and be sure to give them that employee discount! Follow my lead. I go out of my way to take note of every employee name tag I see. Don’t let these thick glasses confuse you for a blind man!” Just as Henry was finishing his statement, he nearly tripped over his own desk.

Monica nearly erupted in laughter, thinking to herself that he was right about one thing, his glasses were certainly thick. He was also wrong about two things. He
was
blind and Captain Gallo only came in once a day – in the early morning. Not wanting to rock the boat, Monica reluctantly agreed with Henry’s statements.

“Is that all, Henry?”

“Yes. Now go man the register. The line is growing and Amy can’t do it by herself.”

Monica turned to walk out of the office. “Monica, remember...” Monica stopped as she knew what he was going to say. “...Republic Coffee is happiness in a cup.”

Completely disgusted with this company droid, Monica left the office to return to work, though she did it with a sinking feeling in her heart.

Upon her return she found herself in a daze as she wiped the tables and straightened up the boxes of tea bags. Her co-worker, Amy, was working behind the counter preparing a passenger’s coffee. Amy had been working for the coffee shop for about a month and she and Monica quickly became friends. Amy finished ringing up the passenger,
then looked over at Monica with a defeated look on her face.

“Why did you let Captain Gallo get to you?” asked Amy.

“I'm actually not quite sure,” Monica answered while playing back all of the interactions they’d had in the last three months. “I guess it’s because he looks so professional and I always seem to get a bit tongue tied around him. I mean, have you looked in his eyes? I just wish something other than sarcasm and insults were coming out of his full lips, Monica said with a wink, attempting to make light of the confrontation.”

“Ha! Surprise, surprise, Captain gorgeous is a full-of-himself womanizer. A Greek god of a man who sounds like a moron when he speaks, ruining all of that other stuff… you know the hot part. If we could just silence him and tie him to a chair, we’d get a lot more female customers and then not have to deal with all the guys who come in here expecting a hot cup of coffee and a quickie on one of the tables.” Amy responded as she began steaming milk for the customer Monica had just served.

“It's not just what Gallo was spouting. I’m used to him,” she stated as got back to the conversation. “It's just that I also found out this morning that I have to find a new place to live.”

“Don’t you like your apartment?”

“No, I'm being evicted in less than two days,” Monica answered as her green eyes began to well with tears.

“What? How can that be?” Amy gasped, now standing with shock and sympathy in her expression.

“I was in between jobs and fell behind on my rent.”

“Well, that sucks that they wouldn't work with you.”

Monica slowly carried a basket of dirty dishes into the kitchen. “I know, but it is what it is.”

Amy silently shook her head in disbelief. They were busy the rest of the afternoon, thankfully, so Monica didn’t have much time to stress about her living conditions or her crappy job. That meant Amy also didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions for Monica to try and answer. The reality was that she had zero
clue what she was going to do next.

***

Monica’s cab pulled up in front of the apartment building after her never-ending day. She dragged herself from the taxi and walked into the lobby. She normally took the elevator as by the end of the day her feet were trashed from standing for so many hours straight, but since her day had already been as horrible as it could be, the fates had to continue working against her. A large sign was taped to the metal doors that read “out of order.”

Monica proceeded up the stairs with her giant purse in tow. As she was about to reach her floor she began digging for her keys. Good coordination skills weren’t something Monica possessed – add a tired mind, and in true fashion the strap slipped from her shoulder. The entire contents of her purse spilling out onto the stairs.

The sound of keys, makeup, and coins could be heard all the way to the bottom of the stair-well. Monica stopped on the steps, dropped to her knees, and began to sob. She’d had enough, and there was nothing that was going to hold it back, anymore.

“There-there, Dear, things are gonna work out,” Mr. Sherman said compassionately as he seemingly out of nowhere appeared by her side, bent down and began picking up Monica’s items.

“This has to be the worst day of my life,” Monica cried, wiping the tears from her reddened eyes with her dirty apron.

As Mr. Sherman handed Monica her purse and apartment keys, he asked, “How can such a nice young lady have so much turmoil in her life? Don’t just give up and plop down in this dingy stairwell. Tell me what’s wrong and I can almost guarantee you it isn’t all that bad.”

Monica sniffled, then blowing her nose on her apron said, “I’m losing my apartment; my boss thinks I’m a horrible employee, and it seems as if everyone I meet hates me, especially overly attractive pilots.” Mr. Sherman reassuringly patted Monica on the back.

“Dear, sometimes everything has to go wrong before it can turn around and start going right. It will work out for the best sooner than you think. As clichéd as that may sound, it’s true and all you have to do is pick yourself up. You can even use my cane,” Mr. Sherman reassuringly said
in his most gentle voice, reserved only for his dog, Sophie, a Bichon Frise – West Highland Terrier mix.

Monica looked up at her elderly neighbor and realized he was right. He reminded her so much of her own grandpa who’d passed away not too long ago. Still wiping the tears from her flushed face, she thanked him before picking up the last items from her purse. “There’s always tomorrow, I suppose. I’m going to miss you, Mr. Sherman. You have always been so nice to me.”

“Don’t worry about tomorrow darling, things are going to pan out for you, just you wait. Now, go on inside, have a nice cup of hot tea and get some needed rest.”

After hugging Mr. Sherman good-night, Monica walked into her apartment and closed the door, latching the chain behind her.

***

Reassured Monica had made it safely into her apartment; Mr. Sherman smiled while recalling his true-love. He shook his head and slowly walked down the hall to his own apartment. Upon entering the dimly lit space, he made his way through the small living room, carefully taking a seat in his lounge chair, a chair that could’ve been taken straight out of an episode of
I Love Lucy
or
Leave It To Beaver
.

Catching his breath and setting his cane aside, Mr. Sherman picked up the receiver of his old olive green rotary phone and began to methodically dial a number. “Hello, Audrey,
it’s Sherm. Yes, everything’s fine. Hey, do you remember that conversation we were having the other day? The one about the boys? I think I found the perfect one for Robby.”

Below the Radar
is available for purchase at all major retailers.

By Kathleen Brooks

Prologue

He wiped his sweaty hands on his mesh shorts and took a deep breath to calm himself. If he got caught, it would end his high school football career, cost him a chance at a college scholarship, and his parents would be pissed. Those factors were outweighed by the fact that he was a full two tenths of a second slower in the 40 than his backup, and that meant if he didn’t pick it up, he’d be riding the bench this season.

The glass doors were looming in front of him as he approached the dealer. His hands left sweaty imprints as he pushed the doors open and tried to casually walk inside. His heart pounded as if it were up to him to make the last-second play to win the big game. He smiled to those he knew, which, thanks to being such a small town, was practically everyone. Did they all know what he was about to do?

The locker room was just ahead of him now. This was it. He put his hand in his pocket and felt for the cash he’d stolen out of his mom’s and dad’s wallets over the last couple of weeks. He’d had to empty his piggy bank and save up his allowances for a month, but if this worked, it would be worth it. He’d be faster, stronger, and maybe even Mr. Football in Kentucky. A scholarship to a Division I school would make everything perfect. Even his parents couldn’t get mad about taking a couple hundred from them if he was going to be on ESPN every Saturday.

“Hey, man.”

“What’s up?”

“You got the five hundred?”

“Yup.”

He pulled out the cash and handed it to him. His eyes darted around the momentarily empty locker room. Someone could walk in at any minute, but his dealer was as calm as could be counting out the cash. Shouldn’t he hurry and give him the stuff before the police barged in?

“Here you go kid. Ten cc’s three times a week.” He caught the small, black duffle bag and nodded his head toward his dealer before he walked as fast as he could out of there.

He managed to get home before his parents got back from work, but his little sister was already home and would be a problem. If only he had a lock on the door. He moved his desk chair over to his door and shoved it under the doorknob. It would have to work. If Cindy knew he was home, she’d come running in, wanting to play or talk about the gossip going on in cheerleading camp. God, little sisters were a trial.

He placed the duffle on his bed and slowly unzipped it. Inside were a handful of diabetic syringes and a small glass bottle with a black rubber stopper. Pulling off the orange cap on the needle, he slowly poked it through the rubber stopper and measured out ten
cc’s. He dropped the bottle back into the bag and pulled down his shorts. He heard the garage door open and knew his parents were home. He had to hurry. Would he feel stronger by tomorrow? Would he be like Spiderman? He envisioned himself as the best football player in the country, shredding defenses and scoring every time the ball was in his hands. He’d be a hero.

He grabbed the skin at his waist between his thumb and middle finger. This was it. The needle met resistance as he pressed it against his skin. It pricked, and he winced as he pushed it through his skin. His thumb pushed the plunger down, and he watched the drug that would change his life enter his body.

“Honey! Dinner!”

“Coming, Mom.”

Chapter One

Annie Blake felt the ocean breeze ruffle her sweat-drenched hair. It was Miami in August. Even being on the beach did nothing to cool her off. She hardly ever went to the beach. Who had time? But, she must admit, the sand did feel good between her toes, and the smell of the salt floating by and the feathered waves of the breeze did relax her.

She looked over the sparkling blue water as far as she could see and took a deep breath. It was going to be a great day. She scanned the beach and saw kids playing, sunbathers in barely- there swimsuits, and a thug by one of the beach bars. He was shorter than she, probably around five six to her five seven. His black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His body was shiny with sweat, which made his tattoos sparkle in the sunlight. His jean shorts started at his thighs and ended at his ankles. She had no idea why thugs liked this style of clothing, but it worked for her. It was hard to run with your pants falling down.