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The paperwork sat in his hand like a twenty-ton weight. It took less time than he’d imagined for the transfer from the London field office to Louisville, Kentucky to come through. Ten years he’d spent working in the muck, getting dirtier than he’d desired, dealing with the filthiest in human nature. He was sick of it all. The idea of a nine to five sitting behind a desk would be a welcome change. He was uncertain how his lady love would take the news of him moving so close to her could play out, but he didn’t care. It was time for a change and he was ready for what was coming next, even if she hadn’t called to officially tell him the life-changing news. In his soul, he already knew. In preparation, he instructed his brother Gabriel, who was also his silent partner, to find a new home for him in Louisville to suit his needs. Whether he’d gotten the job or not, he was still planning to move.
He opened the envelope, looking at the papers charting the new course for his life. There were three positions available in Louisville. One was in the warehouse, counting containers and taking inventory of confiscated weapons, drugs, and moonshine. The second was in Industry Operations as the assistant director ensuring that all firearms and explosives were handled and stored in a safe manner. The third job put him on the road at least twelve days out of the month. That one he didn’t want.
Opening the manila envelope, he sighed as he saw the words “Congratulations Assistant Director.”
Good. A desk job. Management. Pay increase. Solid hours. A regular life. He would need that with what was coming down the pike.
“Suit up,” Stoli Manchester called out. “We got a lead on the Faulks.”
“What is the intel?” Isiah Neary asked the Special Agent in Charge, John Ramos. The very last thing he wanted to contend with before departing the London offices was a week in the mud watching pickup trucks go in and out of barns in the woods. The chiggers, ticks, and mosquitos alone were the neighborhood welcoming committee and he was done with all of it.
“The Faulks are moving a shipment of AR15s, C4, meth, and some pretty nasty shit in the next week. We have to get boots on the ground, surveillance in place, and a course of action to stop that truck and bring these dogs to heal,” Ramos said.
“When do we leave?” Isiah asked.
“In 30,” Ramos said. “Grab the essentials, be in the truck and ready to move.”
Isiah knew the drill. His rucksack was always packed with fresh clothing, his favorite coffee, and a snuggly blanket for the extremely cold nights which were inevitable. He also carried a small bottle of his favorite Bourbon to take a sip of when the mission had ended and everyone on his team was packed up and ready to come home. They always came home. This trip would be no different. I am coming home. He looked down at the manila envelope.
The paper felt heavy. The equipment felt heavy and even the phone in his pocket seemed to weigh him down. Before each mission, he made a habit of calling his father, telling his mother he loved her and touching base with his brothers. Today was no exception.
He held the device in his hand, looking at the screen, wanting in his heart to make one other call, but fear held him steady. To his surprise, the person he wanted to call was calling him. Inhaling deeply, he slid a thick, callused finger across the screen, starting the call.
“Go,” he said into the line, trying not to draw any attention to himself.
“Isiah?” DeShondra Leman said into the phone.
“Yeap, I hear you. Go,” he said again.
“I assume by your brusque tone that you are in a room and unable to speak to me,” she said.
“Affirmative,” he said, his heart thudding in his chest at the sound of her voice.
“I was hoping we could get together and talk,” she said softly.
“I am headed out for a week and won’t be back for seven to ten days at a minimum. It is a risky mission, so speak while I can hear you,” he told her.
DeShondra needed to speak with him face to face. She didn’t wish to discuss such delicate matters with him over the phone. Her hesitation wasn’t something he had time for at the moment, but she needed a bit of comfort so he did what he could surrounded by nosey ears.
“Baby, tell me what you need to me know. I’m out of time here and have to roll out,” Isiah said in hushed tones, trying to add a hint of affection to the call so he didn’t sound like the designated asshole.
“I don’t want to discuss this over the phone,” she said.
“Speak. I have to leave in less than seven minutes,” he firmly stated.
Inhaling deeply, she wanted to phrase it just right, but she’d never been one to beat a dead squirrel after she’d poisoned it in the backyard.
“The rabbit died,” she blurted out.
“Okay,” he replied.
“You do know what that means correct?”
“Yep, but ain’t nothing I can do about it right now,” he said, watching Ramos circle his hand overhead for the team to rally around him. “I’ll be back in a week. We can talk then.”
“Isiah, I don’t know how to handle the news let alone your reaction to it. I am full of hormones and emotions, and quite honestly, a little scared,” she told him.
“Understandable, but at the time we were making our decision to take the risk, do you remember my words to you,” Isiah asked her.
“Yes. You said that if this day came, you would be here for us both,” she replied.
“My words have not changed,” he said. “I’m out of time. We will talk when I return.”
“Sure,” she said, her voice laced with disappointment at his reaction to the news. What did I expect, him to start passing cigars out in the office? I don’t know what to expect myself.
“Do you know what it is yet?”
“No, it’s too soon,” she said.
“I want a boy, but if it’s not, I guess I will learn to sit through tea parties and how to do hair. Chin up, we’ll talk soon,” he said, clicking off the line.
His heart was thumping in his chest like he’d taken a fresh hit of cocaine. His vision was shadowy, and he felt his way down the hall he’d come in and out of for ten years. He dreaded the same run into the hills to a dirty cabin filled with men with bad aim who left lemonade all over the toilet seat. The week would be full of crappy food, poor conversations on improper ways to handle a vagina, and of course, right-wing mini militias who purchased millions of dollars of weapons and contraband. He’d been on this Ferris wheel one time too many and he was ready to throw up.
While he loaded his gear into the back of the Suburban, the papers were left on Ramos’ desk. He’d give his notice when they got back and pack his few items and prepare to head to Louisville to start a new life. An uncharacteristic smile covered his bearded face. “I’m going to be somebody’s Daddy!”
He needed to call the Arch Angel before he rolled out. He had measures in place in case anything was to ever happen to him, but this was a new entry into his journal of life. His heart was still thudding as fear gripped him. Isiah Neary needed a moment.
“Ramos, I need two minutes,” he said, opening the back door.
“Make it fast, Neary,” Ramos called back.
He punched in the number, calling his brother, who answered immediately. There was a great deal to tell him but he only had the two minutes. Gabriel needed to know about the changes coming up in his life.
“Hey,” Gabriel said.
“Hey back,” Isiah paused. “A couple of things. The paperwork came through and so did that phone call we discussed in Vegas.”
“Oh really? What’s the plan?”
“I am headed out for seven to ten days on an op, and I don’t have all my ducks in a row, you know, with the house in Louisville and small matters. I just wanted to make sure that you had my Power of Attorney in case, you know, the shit goes South,” Isiah said.
“Everything is in order,” Gabe replied.
“If...you make sure they are taken care of all the way through,” Isiah said. “Also, get me addresses and basic info. I know you found three farmhouses, I need at least four bedrooms.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, Bleu,” he told him. “Stop being so full of gloom and doom. We have work to do. I put in an offer on the big white house in Louisville. I should hear back in a day or so.”
“Gabe, I have to think differently now. I’m going to be somebody’s Daddy,” Isiah said.
“Congrats! Call me when you get back,” Gabe said.
“Neary, we are rolling now!” Ramos called out.
“Moving!” Isiah said, climbing back in the vehicle. He disconnected the call to his brother, covering his mouth with his hand. The smile he had to hide. A promotion. A new baby. A good woman that talked way too much, and a new chapter all in one day.
Yeah, a little farm just outside of town with a fish pond, loads of Kentucky bluegrass, and a room for my Bourbon collection. No toys in Daddy’s Bourbon room, though. A different kind of adrenalin pumped through him, but right now, his head needed to be in the game and not on DeShondra Leman.
Hmmm. DeShondra Neary. He liked the sound of it.
- Fin –
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Coming August 2018
#onenearyatatime
Coming Spring of 2019 – A Modern Mail Order Bride
CALEB ODENSON WAS TOLD the apple didn’t fall far from Ma Oakley’s tree, but in order to keep the family farm, he had to get married. The plan, based on his Uncle Enis’ calculations, were to marry him off to the horse-faced girl at the Oakley Apple Farm. Other bees buzzed about him, but Caleb had a different plan to collect the honey made on his busy little apple farm.
He placed an ad for a mail-order bride.
Problem solved, or so he thought. Bethany Richardson was everything he wanted in a woman, but more importantly, she turned out to be everything the apple picker needed.
