Page 35 of Coming In Hot
CHAPTER13
JAX
I feelstrange stepping into the formally decorated lobby of the nursing home. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and polished wood, with a mix of something floral that feels a little too artificial. The soft hum of background music fills the space, but it's quiet—unnervingly quiet. Every step I take echoes too loudly in this sterile environment.
The walls are lined with old photographs—black-and-white portraits of smiling families, some faded with age. The floral-patterned chairs look like they belong in a waiting room for a doctor’s office. It's all so neat, so orderly, but it doesn’t feel warm. It doesn’t feel like home.
I can already tell this place is designed to make people feel comfortable, to reassure them, but for some reason, it has the opposite effect on me. It feels like a place where people come to wait. To wait for time to run out.
The receptionist gleams at me, a smile that’s too practiced to be genuine. Her voice is kind but distant when she speaks. “Can I help you?”
“Hi. I’m here to see Mrs. Kendrix.”
“Your name, please?”
“Jax. Uh, Jaxon James.”
The receptionist checks her screen, typing something with quick, efficient movements. Her eyes flicker up to me for a moment before she nods. “Ah, yes. Mr. Kendrix recently added you as a guest.” She gestures toward a hallway to the left. “Room 212. Just down the hall.”
I incline my head and murmur a quick thanks before turning to make my way down the corridor. The hallway is even quieter than the lobby, the only sound being the soft shuffle of my boots against the carpet. It smells faintly of piss, and the pungent aroma makes my nose twitch.
I reach room 212 and pause, steadying myself before I knock softly on the door. There's no response at first, and I wonder if I’ve come at the wrong time, if she’s not even awake, or if maybe I shouldn’t have come at all. But then I hear a soft voice, faint but clear.
“Come in.”
I push the door open slowly, stepping into the room. Mrs. Kendrix is sitting in her wheelchair, dressed in a long tunic dress over matching pants made of the brightest fuchsia linen and decorated with rhinestones of every color. Her long braid falls over her shoulder.
I stop for a moment, just taking her in. Mrs. Kendrix has a presence, much like her son, something that commands attention even in a place like this, even with the soft glow of aging that tints her features. The fuchsia outfit, the rhinestones—everything about her screams vibrancy, personality. It’s like she refuses to blend in with the sterile environment of the nursing home.
Her eyes, slightly darker than Pharo’s striking gold color, twinkle when she sees me. “You certainly took your sweet time getting here. Did you bring my new slippers?”
The door to her closet is open, several pairs of shoes and bags are strewn onto the floor.
“Slippers?” What slippers? Pharo didn’t mention I was supposed to bring her anything.
“My Ramesses said he would bring me slippers. He also said he was traveling for work and that a good friend was stopping by to visit with me. Are you the good friend?”
“Uh, yes, ma’am.” Good friend? That’s a stretch.
“So, did you bring the slippers?”
I try to keep the grin off my face, but it’s hard not to. The contrast between her sparkle and the dull, drab room is striking. She’s like a burst of color in a sea of gray. I can’t help but smile, feeling a little more at ease with her energy. It’s strange—how easily she makes me forget about the awkwardness of why I’m here.
“I didn’t, but next time I visit, I promise I won’t forget.”
“Well,” she sighs dramatically, shutting the closet door. “I guess that’ll do.”
I take a seat in the chair beside her bed. She called him Ramesses. The word is foreign to me, but I type it into the search bar on my phone.
Ramesses-ancient pharaoh of Egypt. Born of Ra, Son of the sun.
Must be a nickname or endearment.
“What’s your name?”
“Jax. Pharo and I go way back to his Army days.”
A cloud passes over her pretty features. “Those were dark days. The sun never shone upon my pharaoh in the desert.”
