I tilted my head forward and struggled with the two sides as they competed for dominance over my actions. For the moment, I had myself nailed down, and I was fairly certain I could stay that way for a bit. The problem was, I didn’t know exactly how long that bit would be.
“Okay, so what’s the damage?” Ben asked.
“Seventeen-thirty-two,” Carl replied.
He handed him the money while adding, “Jeezus. You tryin’ ta’ retire early?”
“Yeah, I wish. Lemme get yer change.”
“Keep it,” Storm told him and then quipped, “Buy yourself somethin’ nice.”
“Yeah, funny. Thanks.”
“Not a problem. Catch ya’ later.”
“Not if I’m careful.”
“Uh-huh. Who’s funny now?” Ben chuckled, reaching out and grabbing the bag of sandwiches. “Later.”
“Yeah, later.”
I immediately shifted in my seat, trying to remain inconspicuous but not actually look like I was hiding. The stool directly next to me on my right was currently empty, which would give him a clear view of me when he turned this way to leave. The seat on my left, however, was filled with a uniform clad patron, and I was concerned that too much fidgeting would just attract unwanted attention from him. If that happened then I definitely wouldn’t have a chance of going unnoticed.
Of course, it didn’t help at all that my anger was steadily rising, effectively nudging the pragmatic approach to the situation off into the wings. If Ben didn’t get out of here soon, I wasn’t going to be hiding; I was going to be up in his face.
I shut my eyes and kept them squeezed tight as I endeavored to slowly breathe my way through this, grounding and centering my energy in order to keep calm. Surprisingly, the bid to maintain control actually seemed to be working, and I could feel my shoulders start to relax as I continued the practiced breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth, all the while visualizing a solid connection with the earth.
Hopefully, I only needed to keep this up for another minute or so and it would all be moot. Once he was gone I was certain the surge of negative emotions would subside. I waited, focusing on my breathing as I listened for the door. The rattle of the bell finally hit my ears just as I was letting a slow stream of air out between my lips. I was actually beginning to think I might make it through this without incident. Of course, it was at right about that moment when I was blindsided.
I really should have felt him standing behind me. Any other time I’m sure I would have, but I suppose I was too busy concentrating on not flying off the stool and attempting to actually land the punch he’d avoided earlier in the day.
Either way, I knew my luck was depleted the moment I heard his voice coming at me from just over my right shoulder.
“What’re ya’ doin’ down here, white man?” Ben asked, a jumbled mix of concern, remorse, and even trepidation wrapped tightly about the words.
“Waiting,” I returned without looking up. I held my voice even, but there was no mistaking the disdain in my tone.
“Mind if I sit here for a minute?”
“Free country.” I took a sip of my coffee and struggled to contain myself as I felt my face flush with heated anger.
There was a thick tension between us as he placed the sack onto the counter then dropped his frame onto the stool and leaned forward on crossed arms. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the growing thump reverberated in my ears amidst the rush of blood. I actually started counting the beats as we sat there, making it almost to fifty before he elected to speak again.
“You really shoulda stayed at home, Row,” he offered.
While my brain was debating whether or not to reply, my mouth disassociated itself from the process and ran off on its own. “Your guys didn’t exactly leave me much of a place to stay.”
“Yeah…” he grunted then paused a moment. “I heard a rumor. Sorry. They don’t usually do that.”
“Yeah, I know. Been there, got a t-shirt. Remember?”
“Yeah.”
“So I guess I just get to be the lucky one then, huh?”
“I have a feelin’ it was a request from on high.”
“I pretty much figured that out too. Perfect opportunity to screw with the Witch, huh?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Seems like a pretty popular pastime for you cops today.”
He purposely avoided replying to the jibe, asking instead, “You need a hand cleanin’ up?”
“If you’re the one offering, then no.”
“Actually, I can’t…But, maybe I could get…”
I interrupted him. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Seems you can’t do much of anything these days.”
He sighed. “I’m not happy ‘bout this, Row.”
“Funny. Doesn’t seem to have affected your appetite.”
“Stop bein’ such an asshole, Rowan,” he returned. “It just so happens the Rueben’s for Firehair, an’ the chicken salad’s for your mouthpiece. And they ain’t on the department’s dime either.”
“Am I supposed to say thank you or something?” I made a show of reaching for my wallet. “Or do you just want the cash?”
“No. An’ put your fuckin’ wallet away…I just thought ya’ should know I’m tryin’ ta’ take care of Firehair best I can.”
“Like when you cuffed her?”
“I can’t have this conversation with ya’ right now.”
“Big surprise.”
He huffed out a heavy sigh and then paused for a moment before shifting in the seat and picking up the bag. “I better get these back over there before they get cold.”
“You do that,” I chided, and as usual I couldn’t leave well enough alone, so I quickly added, “When you placed the order, I sure hope you remembered to ask for plenty of arsenic. You wouldn’t want to miss a chance to poison her too.”
“All right! Fuckit!” Ben spat, dropping the sandwiches and slamming his fist down hard on the counter.
Pushing back, he stood up quickly. I looked over out of reflex and saw him reach to his belt. With a tug he pulled his gold shield from it and then slapped it onto the counter next to the sack of food. In another quick motion, he shoved his hand beneath the folds of his jacket. I heard a quick snap, and a moment later he laid his Beretta alongside the badge and sandwiches.
He was attracting attention from plenty of others, and I started mutely chastising myself for allowing my mouth to countermand my brain.
Ben shot a quick glance to the side and shoved the items toward another cop as he barked, “Watch these for me, willya, Anderson?”
“There a problem?” the uniformed officer asked, starting up from his seat, as were several of the others who were within earshot.
“No,” Ben snapped loudly enough for all to hear as he grabbed me by the collar and yanked me backwards from the stool, causing me to spill coffee across the counter. “I just gotta go finish somethin’.”
“Hey!” I yelped. “What the hell are…”
“Shut up!” he ordered, whipping me around like I was nothing then shoving me toward the door.
“Yo, Storm, don’t kill ‘im,” one of the cops shouted across the diner, punctuating the comment with a laugh. “Way too much paperwork.”
“Hey,” another added. “At least the meat house is right across the street. Won’t have far to go to drop ‘im off.”
I knew from personal experience, the “meat house” he was referring to was the medical examiner’s office that sat immediately next door to police headquarters.
“You want me to call the paramedics for him?” yet another officer quipped.
“Everybody just stay put,” he ordered again. “This’s personal.”
“Goddammit, Ben!” I was growling as I continued my futile attempt to twist out of his grasp.
“I said shut up!” he shot back, shoving me through the now open door and out onto the sidewalk.
With a rough yank he guided me around the side of the building, pushing me along as we went.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I demanded, but my words seemed to fall on purposely-deaf ears.