Page 35 of Jagger's Remorse
How does she know that song?
"Where did you hear that?" My voice comes out rough.
The humming stops.
"Your mother had a beautiful voice. Even at the end. Even when the morphine made everything else fuzzy, she could carry a tune."
"You weren't—that's not?—"
"Room 314. Mercy General. The cancer ward smells like disinfectant and death." Her voice carries through the door. "You sat by her bed reading Psalms because she couldn't see the pages anymore. Your voice broke on chapter twenty-three."
I slam my fist against the door.
"How?"
"I was there. Volunteer program, reading to terminal patients. Small world, right?" The water shuts off. "Your mother talked about you constantly. Her Marine son. Her guilt over praying for the wrong things. She asked me to pray for you once."
"Stop."
"I did. Prayed you'd suffer like she was suffering. Prayed you'd know what it felt like to lose everything." The lock clicks. "Guess God was listening after all."
The door opens.
She stands there in a towel, water still beading on her skin.
"Your mother died in the early morning hours. You were holding her hand. She tried to say your name but couldn't manage it." She steps past me. "I know because I was in the hallway. Watching. Learning. Understanding the man who killed my father."
"You're sick."
"Maybe I am." She drops the towel, stands naked in my room like she owns it. "Did you know she kept a picture of me? Not of me specifically, but the volunteer group. We're all in it, smiling like idiots who think reading to dying people matters."
I can't speak.
Can't process this violation.
"She said I reminded her of someone. 'Such a nice girl,' she said. 'My Jackson would like you.'" She pulls on fresh clothes—mine again. "Funny how right she was."
"Get out."
"No." She sits on my bed. "We need to discuss what happens when your boys hit that stash house."
"What did you do?"
"Me? Nothing. But Pablo might have mentioned to certain people that Los Lobos was planning to move on Sinaloa territory. Might have suggested they keep an eye on their properties." She examines her nails. "Might have failed to mention it would be Iron Veins MC pulling the trigger."
"You set us up."
"I set the board. How you play is up to you." She lies back, casual. "Call them off, and the cartel wonders why. Let them go, and deal with whatever comes. Your choice."
"People could die."
"People do die. Fathers die. Mothers die." She looks at me. "Everyone dies, Jagger. The question is whether it means something."
My phone rings.
Chord.
I answer, decision made. "Yeah?"
