Chapter 26 #2
“Absolutely not!” Joel insists, flapping the papers in my direction.
Ignoring the challenge, I hand him his coffee and return to my seat. I cross my legs at the ankles and dredge up the memory from a meticulously filled mental logbook. “Remember the time I was laid up in bed with rheumatic fever?”
“Ah, c’mon, Justin, not now.”
“Remember how bad I was?” When he remains silent, I help him to remember my joints swollen to twice their size, bones aching so unbearably you wanted to break them, a body that had caved in on itself, penicillin the only thing keeping it alive.
“Remember who nursed me in those weeks? Certainly not you, nor my folks, because it seemed the chimps in Angola needed you more than I did.”
“The one time I failed you,” Joel says slowly, “and you’ve never let me forget it.”
“I was eight years old and you left me alone in a hospital.”
Joel’s normally placid brown eyes light up defensively. “We had people checking up on you.”
“Yeah, faceless fanatics who thought slaughterhouse stories would take my mind off the pain.”
“So now you’re cashing in?” he asks. “You honestly think me agreeing to this foolhardy mission will even out matters?”
“It’ll help.”
Joel grips his knees. After a while, his face set in stern lines, he says, “I don’t want to ever hear you say again I wasn’t there for you. Because you seem to forget it was me who threw you into rehab.”
No, I haven’t forgotten. I’m simply playing dirty to get what I want.
Who can forget my slowly spiraling descent?
At seventeen, my rebellion needed a physical outlet and drugs proved ideal.
I started with thinners and weed, then graduated to acid.
I tried coke only once before Joel hauled me out of the haze.
A severe tongue-lashing and a nightmare stint in rehab straightened me out.
“All right,” I agree evenly. “The card’s been played. I won’t deal it again.”
Joel nods. “What about your folks? You ready to talk to them yet?”
“More sacrificing for the cause?” I mock.
“C’mon, kid, I love you all. When are you gonna let it go?”
By it, I assume Joel means the past, with all its bits of wreckage marooned in dark waters.
Wreckage stamped with missed birthdays, lonely TV suppers, parentless parents’ days at school.
I tried everything to win their attention—top student, top athlete, dutiful son—but nothing I attempted made an impression.
Then one day I strolled into the clothing section of a top department store and poured butyric acid into the pockets of all the fur coats there.
The praise from my folks was effusive. And I learned that if I want to be a part of their life I have to adopt their cause as my own.
“If you’re still in this only to grab your folks’ attention,” Joel says, “you’ll land us both behind bars.”
“Relax, genetics stopped being a factor a while ago. I’m in this for the animals.” Not entirely true but lying comes as easily as breathing.
“So it has to be done tomorrow night.”
“Yep.”
“We’re disregarding all the rules of a raid.
” Joel ticks off the list on his fingers.
“We’re not familiar with our target, we have no info regarding security on site, we’ve done zero surveillance work so we have no idea of shift changes, and we haven’t organized host families who can take in the dogs. ”
“Don’t forget our greatest disadvantage,” I point out calmly. “An arthritic old man with more caution than risk running in his blood.” Joel stiffens and I grin. “A perfect foil for a nineteen-year-old hooligan with more impulse than sense.”
He shakes his head, a reluctant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Darn it, kid, but you make me feel alive again, and that’s probably gonna get me killed.”
“You saw the sacrifice order. They’re going to kill those dogs on Friday. If we want to save them, it has to be done tomorrow night.”
“Doesn’t leave us much time.”
“Too near the grave to pull an all-nighter, old man?”
Joel snorts. “If I remember rightly, you were the one snoring in the back seat the night we raided those puppy mills.”
After sufficiently insulting one another, we brew another round of coffees and throw ourselves into the prep work. We download maps of the area surrounding the university, organize possible escape routes, and call as many of our contacts as we can to cash in favors.
“There’s one condition,” Joel says suddenly, looking up from his laptop. “You’re not driving.”
“You don’t trust me?” I ask lazily.
“Not behind a wheel, no.”
“Dad still sore about the van?”
“You don’t want to know how much.”
“Hmm, glad to know I’ve finally got a starring role in his thoughts.”
Joel shoots me a warning look and I hold up my hands. “All right, I’m not driving.”
“Good.” He stands and stretches. “Time for a bathroom break.”
After he leaves, I retrieve my phone. I want to check in on Heather. She looked pretty shell-shocked earlier.
Justin: You coping?
Heather: Yes.
Justin: Liar.
Heather: It’s after midnight.
Justin: Did I wake you?
Heather: No.
Her reply took too long and I shake my head. Probably bawling into her pillow.
Justin: You have to see it as a job. Leave it at work.
Heather: Is that what you would do?
Justin: Yes.
Heather: Liar.
I grin. Well, well, the little saint has a backbone.
Justin: Get some sleep.
Heather doesn’t reply.
Tossing my phone onto the table, I rotate my shoulders to work out the kinks.
Kane blew it when he selected Heather for the job.
Odds are, she’ll quit before the end of the week.
At the thought, I feel strangely disappointed.
What is it with this woman? She occupies way too much space in my brain.
Although she isn’t my type, her innocence intrigues me.
Which isn’t a good thing. I’m not up for a fight with my baser instincts. It’s a fight I always end up losing.