Page 43 of True Valor
There could be a letter from Julie’s dadbeing held hostage at the damned at the post office—a letterrevealing all the secrets.
He pulled the car into the lot at anotherpancake place.Not the same one as this morning.This one had morethan just pancakes.He could eat a big burger.Cheese, extraonions, no mayo.Double fries.It started to sleet as the waitressbrought his food.
Dipping a fry in ketchup, Nic’s heart gave alurch, thinking of Julie.He just wanted to get back to her.Evenif he couldn’t go see her, at least not without some good excuse,he would at least be close.That was enough reason for him to wolfdown his food and get on the road again.
Nic was past tired, by a long shot, when hepulled up to his motel room.The light was on in his room.Itwasn’t until the door was half open that he realized the maidprobably hadn’t left it on.And it was completely careless to bewalking in like he was.
The TV was on too.
He reached for the 9MM at his back.Damn it.It was still in the car.Another poor decision.He was losingit.
Nic slowed his entrance, throwing the dooropen and backing around the corner.Without a weapon, he could onlypeek around and into the room quickly, hoping the intruder wouldn’tcap him.What kind of intruder would be watching TV while lying inwait?
Applause?Someone was clapping.He took thepeek, still cautious.
“Nicely done, D.”
Cruz.What the hell was he doing here?Therehe sat, though, on the bed, pillows stacked behind him, legsstretched out before him.He stopped clapping, but his electricgrin remained.
“What are you doing here?”
“Watching TV.”
“In my room.”
“It was paid for.I told the manager I wasyour cousin from Hollywood and would have told him the story I’dconcocted but he didn’t give a rat’s ass and handed me the key.Took all the fun out of it.”
“Whyare you here?”
Cruz snorted.“I’m here to see Julie, ofcourse.”
Nic was too bushed to make sense of this.Hewaved off any further conversation.
“Tell me in the morning,” he said beforecrashing on the vacant bed.Fully clothed, he succumbed tosleep.
Light filtered in from mesh-covered slitshigh up where the wall met the ceiling.Julie had survived herthird night in Hotel California.It was Sunday—visiting day.Ohboy.Who would come to visit?
At this point, she found herself almostwishing for another cellmate.The “female pod” as her new home wascalled, consisted of a cinder block room that measured about twentyfeet by fifteen, that is if Julie’s measured steps were a footapiece.One wall was taken up by two sets of metal bunk beds, hersthe only one with a mattress.There was a round concrete table withconcrete chairs attached to the floor.A shower and a smalldoor-less room with a toilet and sink completed theaccommodations.
A television hung from the wall almost atceiling height.If you watched too much TV while sitting on thebed, you got an awful crick in your neck.The best position forwatching TV was lying on the bunk.
The jailers, on the whole, were a friendlybunch.It was about half and half male and female.In conversationwith one of them, Julie learned there were six men in the “malepod.”One of the jailers, a girl named Liz, often pulled up a chairoutside the wire mesh gate and kept Julie company.She made surethat Julie had all the books she wanted, even bringing one of herfavorites from home.
The clock, like everything else in the roomthat wasn’t nailed down, high up on the wall, said it was sevenfifteen.Julie could get up and do nothing or stay in bed and donothing.The only thing on TV on a Sunday would be preachers orcartoons, maybe an infomercial telling you that you, too, can earna bazillion dollars in buying and selling real estate.Someonewould be bringing breakfast about eight.She’d stay in bed tillthen.
When Nic woke up at eight, Cruz was gone.Ifthe other bed hadn’t been slept in, he would have thought he hadhallucinated his friend last night.Not only that, but you couldalmost always tell when Cruz was around because of the obscenelyexpensive cologne he wore, a lifestyle-of-the-rich-and-famousleftover from his youth.There was no sign of Eric at the moment,so Nic threw off the covers, swung his feet to the floor and,peeling off the clothes he’d worn to bed, headed for theshower.
The intercom crackled to life, making Juliejump.“Miss Galloway,” a male voice said, “you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?”Julie replied to the voice, eventhough she wasn’t at the box, pushing the button.She launched offthe cot and did just that.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Whoever it was on the other end was certainlypolite.
“Who is it?”Who, indeed?The only personthat knew she was here was Nic, and he’d put her here.Surely hewouldn’t be visiting now, would he?The idea both infuriated andwarmed her.
“Your fiancé, ma’am.”
