Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (12 page)

I tried for
lighthearted.

“Yeah well …
Some of us couldn’t wait til’ graduation for our careers to
start.”

Cathy’s face
turned sympathetic. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I really
don’t.” Pushed the cake plate aside, suddenly full. “In fact I
don’t want to talk at all.”

“Why not?”

I sighed.

“ ‘
Cause
there’s nothing to say, Cathy.” My knuckles cracked as I locked my
fingers together, leaning forward on the table as well. “I get why
you’re here. It’s good to see you. So good that I don’t even mind
you using our college friendship to try and score an exclusive with
the idiot bouncer who got shot by a street gang member.”

“I’m not trying
to …”

“It’s okay, I’m
really not mad. Hell, you did me a solid helping me sneak outta the
hospital. Odds are the media’s having a field day right now trying
to get quotes from hospital officials about how they let a patient
in their care slip away unnoticed.”

Cathy’s dimples
accompanied a wry smile. “I have gotten a few texts from the boss
about that now that you mention it.”

I smiled
ruefully. “Today’s media. Finding a story out of nothing.”

Cathy shrugged.
“Sometimes yes, but not in this case.”

“Yes, in
this case,” I laughed softly. “As soon as hovkey season ends
there’s suddenly room in the news for human interest pieces.” I
cued up my Radio Announcer Voice. “City officials going to raise
school taxes. Does Googling yourself mean that you’re egotistical?
Legal aged girls who can make their own decisions in life go
missing without a word. Police vow to crackdown on street gang
violence after dipshit bouncer tries to eat bullets as a party
trick. All this and more at eleven o’clock, right after
Seinfeld
.”

Cathy scoffed
at me. Really, she did. Just like an old Jewish rabbi.

Or I suppose,
like Seinfeld.

“Joe, you can’t
just sit there and shrug this away. Your story is a big deal.”

My arms moved
outwards of their own volition, palms up to the sky as I stared
back at her. “Why? Why is everyone interested in me? I can’t be the
first mid-thirties failure at life who got shot while working a
menial job, can I?”

“Joe …”

“For real,
Cathy!” I slapped my palms down on the table, louder than I’d
intended but my blood was up. It was just too much for me. I was
frustrated and embarrassed about this entire ordeal and now here in
front of me was a beautiful reminder of everything I’d wanted in my
life before it all went to shit. Yeah, that makes me sounds
pitiful. I know it. But dammit that’s how it felt and I was
determined to avoid letting everyone in town hear about my sob
story and pity me.

I may have been
dealt a shit hand, but many people had it worse. And I wasn’t going
to humiliate myself or my mother any more than I already had with
this bullshit.

So I brought my
hands down to the table. Slapping my palms loudly off the old,
polished wood. A small thrill started in the back of my head,
similar to an adrenaline spike. Like one I would feel staring down
a troublemaker in the club. The feeling raced down my neck and
along my arms, raising gooseflesh the whole way.

The sound
clapped loudly in the sparsely packed diner. Echoing.

Two lightbulbs
burned out.

A third one
exploded.

The jukebox
speaker squawked loudly and then died. Smoke curled out from the
back panel.

No one said a
word.

The waitress
stood over at the till, covering her head with her serving tray to
protect herself from more lightbulb shards. A short scream hid
behind her tightly pressed lips. The cook in the kitchen stared out
into the dining room. So were the other patrons’.

Staring.

At me.

My face went
red, I could feel it in the
oh-so-grade-school-puberty-induced-acne-humiliating way creeping up
my face.

Cathy stared at
me too. Then around the diner. “What the hell?”

My fingers
tingled. I pried my gaze away from the room and stared at my greasy
fingers.

I waggled them
all individually.

They tingled.
Like the after effect of pins and needles.

“Well,” I said
loudly, intentionally breaking the silence. “That was weird, wasn’t
it guys?”

Chapter
10

“So,” I
drawled. “You were saying something?”

Cathy muttered
something unintelligible, still staring at the scene.

The waitress
was busy. Bustling from table to table and apologizing for the
freak power surge, refilling coffees and smiling widely. Her
manager had apparently agreed to complimentary desserts for
everyone’s inconvenience. Using a broom and dustpan, the cook was
out from the kitchen sweeping up glass shards from the combusted
forty watt bulb and complaining loudly about “shoddy wiring” and
“ancient building not being up to code.”

“Cathy.” I
prodded. Her gaze came back to me. I smiled weakly, trying to
ignore the smell of smoked jukebox in the air.

“Hmmm?”

“You were
saying something?”

“I was?”

“Yeah. About
you media types. About my … er … incident?”

Cathy blinked a
few times. Then stopped with her eyes closed, collecting her
thoughts.

“That was
really weird, Joe.”

“I know,
right?” The tingling in my fingers had gone away but I could still
feel the chill at the base of my skull, almost right behind my eyes
as I scanned the diner. I chuckled lamely. “What are the odds,
eh?”

She laughed
softly. “Real long, that’s for sure.” Cathy opened her eyes and
took a deep breath. She reached for her notepad again, flipping
through it while absently adjusting a stray lock of her hair and
tucking it behind one ear. It was a familiar gesture. One that had
been burned in my mind for a dozen years since the first time I’d
seen her do it in journalism class.

Apparently it’s
possible to be turned on and weirded out at the same time.

Who knew?

“Let’s start
with the facts,” Cathy began scanning one finger down the page in
front of her, finding her place.

I gently
removed my palms from the table where they had stayed since that
weird moment where I looked like a complete freak. My fingers were
trembling slightly. I laced them together firmly and rested them
down in my lap.

“Fact,”
Cathy continued glancing up at me. “Nine nights ago members of the
street gang known as the
Native
Posse
attempted to gain entry into
Cowboy Shotz
nightclub. A confrontation occurred
with nightclub security, during which a staff member was
shot.”

I nodded
fractionally, keeping my poker face intact despite her clinical
assessment of my near death experience.

Cathy turned
back to her notes. We both ignored the line cook as he passed by
with a wide push broom leading the way in front of him. I most
certainly ignored the pointed stare he gave me.

“Fact,” Cathy
continued clinically. “Keimac Cleghorn, twenty-one years old, was
arrested by off duty officers on scene. Charges of public
intimidation, uttering threats, possession of an unlicensed
firearm, violating terms of his probation and finally attempted
murder.”

My fingers
tightened. That cold tingle right at the base of my neck swelled
slightly. I cleared my throat and adjusted in my seat, trying to
calm my breathing down.

“Fact;
five other members of the criminal organization referring to
themselves as the
Native Posse
were also arrested by police. Charges of assault and battery,
violating terms of probation and carrying concealed
weapons.”

That gave me a
shudder I couldn’t hide. What if the others had drawn guns? How
many people could’ve been hurt? Killed? That could have gone very,
very badly.

I kept my
breathing slow and deep, trying to keep my heart from picking up
speed again. That tingle stayed right where it was just out of
sight. A trickle of sweat was beading up in my hairline as I tried
to push it aside.

“Fact;
paramedics arrived on scene at eleven forty seven according to
their logs. Upon arrival off duty police officers Parise and Mackie
were relieved of their duties for providing the victim CPR.”

It was so
bizarre a feeling. Tangible yet erratic. It felt like I should be
able to see something just at the periphery. Right out of sight. I
stared straight ahead at Cathy and tried to appear focused on
her.

I forced a
chuckle. “I feel for those guys. Think I forgot to brush before
work.”

Cathy smiled
politely, though looked a little green as she continued. For the
first time I caught her trying to avoid looking at me, specifically
at where I had been shot. It was a subtle thing and one that she
tried very hard to hide. Until just then I hadn’t considered how
witnesses on the scene might have been traumatized by what they had
seen. Or how upsetting it would be to people who knew me.

Shit.

Tamara.

The tingling
sensation swelled fractionally.

Breathe. Deep
breaths. Keep cool.

“Fact;
paramedics were unable to ascertain a sustainable heartbeat. Blood
loss was excessive. The victim was loaded into the ambulance within
minutes and en route to St. Boniface Hospital.”

My breathing
technique seemed to be working. As we sat there the tingle in the
back of my head faded and eventually disappeared. It left behind a
chill sensation that I could only compare to when your leg falls
asleep.

“Fact;
paramedics activated the portable Automatic Electronic
Defibrillator when CPR was shown to be ineffective.”

“Guess I was in
for a shock,” I muttered sourly.

Cathy stared at
me. Clearly not appreciating my gallows humor.

She was really
upset.

I felt like a
dick.

“Sorry,” I
muttered glancing away as my face flooded with shame. “I’m just
trying … fuck it. I’m sorry.”

Cathy stayed
quiet another moment longer, her dimples reappearing as the lips
pursed again. “Fact; paramedics applied defibrillators. The
equipment suffered a catastrophic malfunction.” I blinked at that,
meeting her gaze once again. “Reports since the incident blamed the
failure on faulty battery and equipment maintenance. The Fire and
Paramedics Union has filed a grievance against the hospital for
slander, providing regular logs of equipment maintenance. When
interviewed the driver of the ambulance described the incident as
the ‘craziest thing he’d ever seen in thirteen years on the job’.
Reporting sparks burst out of panels and the entire ambulance
stalled momentarily, nearly causing a crash.”

I stared at
her. Still with pins and needles. My fingers clenched tighter.

Cathy’s eyes
rarely wavered from my face. She was barely reading from her notes
anymore, trying to glean my expression. Searching for
something.

Images raced
through my mind’s eye. Flashes of faces. Some remembered. Some
unfamiliar. Pain. Light. The tingle behind my eyes wanted to swell
up again. I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth until it went
away.

“Fact; doctors
on scene rushed the victim into the prepared emergency room as one
paramedic re-applied CPR, finding a faint pulse after the
defibrillation attempt.” Cathy put down her notepad and leaned in,
her voice dropping until she was almost whispering. “Doctors
applied defibrillators to the victim. Lights and equipment died
inexplicably. The entire north wing of the hospital lost power for
thirty seconds until backup generators came to life. Manitoba Hydro
reported sporadic brown outs within a two block radius.”

I couldn’t
break her stare. Her pointed, inquisitive stare.

“Holy shit,” I
mumbled.

Cathy leaned
back, breaking the intensity of the moment. It was like a wash of
cold winter air when you first open the door on a February
morning.

“Fact;” Cathy
smiled softly. “Victim responded to doctors ministrations and has
begun the process to a full recovery.”

Silence.

The waitress
came over then, breaking what was left of the tension between us.
She cleared away my half eaten cake, reclaimed my coffee carafe and
asked about the bill. Cathy signaled for it. Which of course earned
me a filthy look from the frazzled young waitress when Cathy turned
away to fish in her purse.

Hey. I’d have
thought I was a freeloading jerk too.

Actually, I
kinda am a freeloading jerk.

Moving on.

“Okay,” I
breathed out heavily as the waitress disappeared with Cathy’s
credit card. I finally unclenched my now white knuckled fingers and
brought them up onto the tabletop again. Gently this time. No
smacking. No weird coincidences. “I guess – objectively speaking –
I can understand there being some media interest in me.”