Caged Eagles (11 page)

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The smell of coffee and steaks wafted through the air. Another pan hit the stovetop. Trevor could imagine Forrest mashing the chunks of potatoes into creamy white deliciousness. His thoughts went back to his computer. He had bought his ticket to Anchorage that afternoon. Sarah would be ecstatic to receive the news after dinner. Since he was online, Trevor had decided to research Blaine. Again he found a mixture of opinions on the man.

Freedom of Speech Being Attacked or is Blaine Martin a Terrorist?

This country follows its own Ten Commandments. What, you might ask, do I mean by this unorthodox statement? Some of you might be outraged at the thought of a political piece mentioning the religious term. Let me explain.

Blaine Martin, well-known radical, was arrested and sentenced to rehabilitation. Martin's name has been spread all over every available news source for the past month. This type of publicity would make him a Hollywood icon if he were in the latest action film. Instead, Martin has become a household name through his outrageous beliefs. He started with protests in college, which led to riots after graduation, and eventually a plan to revolt. The “Ten Commandments” also known as the Bill of Rights, are the rules we govern ourselves by. Has Martin merely challenged his first commandment, Freedom of Speech? Was he arrested on false pretenses? If not, when did he cross the line? Blaine Martin never acted in violence. No bodily harm has been inflicted or lives have been taken on his account, despite false reports. So, is Blaine Martin demanding the use of his birthright or is he indeed a terrorist?

Comparing Modern Rebellions to past Rebellions

Rebellions have dotted human history since the beginning of time and they lead to violence and death for hundreds or even thousands. Many lives of innocent people are taken. Blaine Martin claims his goal is not to harm American citizens. How can he not? Martin's intentions point to one thing, a second civil war and the loss of thousands of American lives. His supporters are blinded to this fact. Who says Martin's objective would be carried through to the end? He would have a few thousand supporters going against the national military. The outcome would be thousands of lost lives for an outrageous instigator's ideals. Keeping Blaine Martin in a top-security Rehabilitation Center keeps this country at peace and the people free and safe.

Modern Day Robin Hood?

He's been labeled many things; rebel, terrorist, anarchist, revolutionary leader, and radical. How did he get these labels? Speaking up and fighting against the masses and their beliefs for this country. Blaine Martin's speeches have always been ridiculed as political nonsense. How many times in our history has a revolutionary leader fought against the mindset of thousands of people? Two notable times have been the Revolutionary War and abolition of slavery. Important leaders and individuals during those times risked charges of treason, the very same charges Blaine Martin has been convicted of. Years later, these Robin Hood figures are honored for fighting for change. Is Blaine any different? Why is he called wrong when he's doing exactly what our ancestors have done? They fought to restore the balance of liberty.

“Time to eat!” Forrest called from the kitchen. Trevor immediately closed the screen and made his way through the kitchen door. Forrest was already seated in front of his food.

“Did you get your airplane ticket?”

“I did, I'll leave Tuesday morning.” Trevor tore viciously at his steak with the knife. Once he had a few pieces cut he reached forward and lobbed a spoonful of potatoes on his plate.

“I've been thinking, do you want company on this adventure of yours?”

Trevor stopped shoveling spoonfuls of potatoes into his mouth. He gulped down the food before asking, “You don't have work?”

“Yeah, but that's not why I want to get out of town.” Forrest stared into his plate. “Brandi stopped by last night.”

“Oh no, what happened?”

“She begged me to forgive her.”

Trevor dropped his fork onto the plate. “Please tell me you kicked her butt back out the door.”

“As soon as I could.” Forrest had lost his appetite and pushed his half-eaten steak away. “I can't believe she went so far as to date me when it was only to get to you.”

“She's trash, forget about her. She isn't worth it. I know how you feel, and I'm telling you this is a good thing that has happened.”

Forrest didn't answer, only nodded his head. Trevor voiced his own concerns about his ex.

“I'm worried Brandi is causing trouble for Sarah.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Brandi is always up to something and I'm kind of surprised I don't have a police officer on my front door for assault. All Brandi did was tell Leslie about it. That leads me to believe she has another plan and one that probably involves Sarah.”

“I guess there's one more reason for us to hit the road.”

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“I have a surprise for you.” Trevor said the moment Sarah picked up the phone.

“Can you give me a hint?” Sarah played along with his game.

“Nope, I'm not going to tell you anything.” He taunted.

“Now that's not fair, there are millions of possibilities.”

He could hear the doorbell ring on her side of the line. The rustling sounds coming across the phone was Sarah getting off the couch.

“Expecting company?” Trevor jested.

“It's probably Javier here for my massage appointment.” She snickered and opened the door. Trevor heard her gasp, and a gratifying smile spread across his face.

“Trevor, did you do this?” She began to talk to the person at the door again. “Yes, I'm Sarah Morrison. Thank you and have a pleasant day.”

“Do you like them?”

“Of course I do! They're the most beautiful calla lilies! Who says guys can't remember their girlfriends' favorite flower!”

“I specifically asked for them to be white, I hope they are.”

“They are.”

He could hear her fill a vase with water.

“Did you read the card?”

“No,” the water stopped and he heard paper tearing.

“Are you ripping the card to shreds first?”

“No silly, I'm opening it.” She went silent for a moment to read the words. As soon as she had she exclaimed, “Is this true!?”

“I got the ticket today. I'll be there as fast as the airplane can fly. My arrival time is supposed to be Tuesday afternoon.”

“Oh Trevor, I love you so much.” Sarah proclaimed. He wished he could be there to hold her and kiss her face.

“Where are we going to meet when I get there?”

“I can't get away until Thursday night. We are supposed to attend a dinner party. I'll pretend to be sick. There is a little park on Lake Otis Parkway and O'Malley Road, it's more of a courtyard, but it's a quiet place.”

“I'll be there, babe. I had better get to work. Tonight is my last shift at the bar, but I love you and I'll see you in less than a week.”

“I can't wait, I love you so much, Trevor.”

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Trevor filled beer mugs to their brims and wiped puddles from the bar top. Sweat ran down his cheek. He raised his shoulder to his face, and brushed the perspiration away. A leather-clad biker raised his arm on the other side of the looped bar top. Trevor reached the customer in six strides. This was something Sammy appreciated about his best employee. Trevor could hold command over one entire side of the bar. Tonight this was especially important. Half of Sammy's staff were out with the flu. This left Trevor, the new bartender, and Sammy to serve the hundreds of people that would pass through Lucky Number 8 that evening. Only after Sammy announced “Last call,” did the bar become vacant. Trevor threw the towel over his shoulder. A few of his customers still nursed the last remains of their drinks. Trevor wondered, could this be their way of prolonging the evening?

“Is it too late for a drink?”

A woman interrupted his thoughts. Trevor turned around to see Leslie climb onto the bar stool.

“What can I get you?”

“The usual.”

“Martini it is.” Trevor made his way to the require bottles and combined the liquors in the exact amounts to please Leslie. He set the glass in front of her. She took the olives out and tasted the liquid.

“Delicious.”

“Good,” Trevor stepped to the side and wiped away the shine of beer on the counter. Leslie chewed on one of the olives.

“I'm not used to you acting so serious.”

“I'm officially off shift now,” Trevor nodded toward the clock on the wall. “So I'll start being a pain in the butt again.”

Leslie shook her head and took another sip of her drink.

“So what brings you out so late?” Trevor leaned against the counter.

“To be honest,” Leslie took a large gulp of her drink and he raised an eyebrow at her action, “you did.”

“Really?” Trevor's stomach turned, but not because of butterflies.

“I thought it was time I was honest with you. It wasn't a coincidence we met here the other day. I'm guilty of missing you … in our sessions.” Her cheeks glowed bright pink. Clearly the liquor had given her uninhibited courage.

“So that's what took you so long to sign those release papers?” Trevor teased her. She shook her head vigorously.

“No, no, no, I kept my feelings at bay while you were my patient.”

“Did you really?” Trevor questioned, his eyebrow upturned again.

“The best I could. The floodgates just burst open after you left … I guess.” She shrugged and continued, “Do you remember when you said a person can't help who they fall in love with?”

Trevor's facial expression must have been panic because Leslie rapidly finished with, “No pressure but I just wanted to point out I couldn't help but miss you.”

Silence fell over the conversation. He had to busy himself with something before awkwardness settled in. He grabbed a new towel and cleaned a glass, turning it in circular motion in his hand.

“I know this is all overwhelming for you. I had hoped you felt the same.”

“It is pretty shocking and a lot to take in after the shift I just had.” Trevor placed the glass on the shelf behind him. “Plus, I'm used to uptight Dr. Taylor, so this change in personality has my jaw on the floor.”

“Understandable.” Leslie smiled. “What are your plans this weekend?”

“Actually, I'm leaving town.”

“You are?” Leslie's body stiffened and she placed one hand across her body, cupping her shoulder.

“Remember I mentioned this the last time we talked?”

“Oh yeah,” she smiled bashfully. “I forgot. Where are you going?”

“Forrest and I are taking a vacation.” Trevor didn't see why Leslie needed to know the specifics of the journey.

“Brandi said you are going to find Miss Morrison. Is this true?” Her voice had become detached and cold. She placed both hands around the stem of her glass and turned it in a circular motion. Trevor knew she was avoiding his eyes. He could see she was hurt. In that moment Trevor knew without a doubt, Leslie was falling in love with him.

“Allowing Brandi to whisper toxic fairytales into your ear again?”

“I don't know who to believe out of the two of you.”

“Believe me,” Trevor reached under the bar and grabbed a note pad and pen. “Here, send me an email if you question the things Brandi is saying.”

“Thanks,” she folded the note and stuck it inside her purse. Before Trevor could place the paper back under the counter she grabbed his hands. He allowed her to pull the items away from him. “This is my number. Call me if you get bored, otherwise have a pleasant trip.”

Leslie slid off the bar stool.

“Do you need me to call you a cab?”

“No, I can handle that myself. Until we meet again.” She slipped her purse over one bare shoulder.

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Anchorage. They had finally arrived. The city was mostly hidden by the canopy of trees, but a few buildings towered over their surroundings in the downtown area. Mountains of insurmountable magnitude sheltered the city from the east. The mud bogs and inlet allowed no easy escape from the west. The mixture of city and wilderness combined to make Anchorage what it was.

Trevor called Sarah but got the maid. She said the family had gone to one of Mike Morrison's real-estate lunches. Trevor didn't care if he was caught; he could no longer wait. Every molecule of his being needed Sarah. Nothing would hold him back now that he was free and within miles of her. He convinced the maid to tell him where the lunch was being held. Forrest had waved down a taxi while Trevor used the online phone network at a coffee shop. Both men climbed into the vehicle and Trevor gave the driver directions.

“Trevor, are you sure this is a good idea? Her parents will be there and what if they see you?”

“Forrest, have you ever loved a woman so much it actually hurt not to see her, hold her, and touch her body?”

“Can't say I have.” Forrest threw his gum out the window. Trevor watched him for a moment; was he going to elaborate on his past or remain vague? Trevor continued after a brief pause.

“Then I probably sound like the biggest idiot but I have to see Sarah, today.”

“You are one strange man, Trevor Wells.”

In five minutes the taxi arrived outside the doors of the large building. Trevor made his way inside. He stopped in the entry to survey the surroundings.

The stairs let to a balcony on either side. A large archway directed him to the open patio. Trevor figured he could find Sarah more easily from up above the multitudes eating their lunch below. A small party of five were on the balcony, having a private business meeting. They didn't welcome the intrusion. Forrest tried to act discreet but Trevor boldly strolled past all of them and sat near the edge to see below. Minutes ticked by. Forrest was just about to suggest they had the wrong place, but Trevor's body became tense, eyes fixed on something below. Forrest settled down into a nearby chair.

There she was, Sarah. She was wearing a white suit and a large hat rested on her lap. Her hair was curled into large ringlets, and it was much longer than he had last seen it. Trevor wondered if the man sitting next to Sarah was the one her parents were trying to convince her to date. His fear came true. The man took her hand in his and kissed it lightly. Trevor's entire body stiffened with alarm and jealousy. Brandi had told one truth! His great dislike for her parents increased tenfold. The Morrison family stood and the man tucked Sarah's arm in his. She pulled away and put her hat on. The brim of it was so wide that the breeze played with the edges of it. He couldn't see her face well, but as they began to walk out, fate, or maybe chance, flipped the edge of the hat up. She reacted by grabbing it, exposing her slender white neck. Her long black lashes fluttered until suddenly stopping, frozen, exposing those enchanting eyes. The deep hazel grabbed Trevor, even from the balcony. They stared right into his soul–wait! Sarah was staring right at him! He raised his hand to his lips and blew her a kiss. She covered her mouth in utter disbelief. She watched him as long as she could and once she was gone Trevor descended the stairs looking for her. Forrest came up behind him.

“See her anywhere?”

“No,” Trevor stretched his neck to see above the crowd for the white hat. “She's gone. Probably good, since her parents were there.”

“Let's get out of here then.” Forrest walked out to the edge of the street to scan for a cab.

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Tuesday night the two men found themselves at a bowling alley. The E.V. pulled up under a flashing neon sign. The windows had smug marks and one small child stared at them pressing his lips to the cool glass. Trevor climbed out and stepped around puddle of water. A family with four kids blocked the entrance. They weaved their way through and split up; Trevor went to retrieve the shoes while Forrest found an alley.

“These haven't gotten much better since the beginning of time.” He tossed two pairs of bowling shoes at Forrest's feet. He picked one up by a single lace. An ugly brown and blue shoe twisted in the air.

“Are we sure there are no cockroaches taking residence in them?”

Trevor chuckled and sat down to put his own on. He glanced up and saw the two bowling balls Forrest had selected from the rack.

“I didn't know you were into flaming pink balls.” Trevor teased Forrest about his choice.

Forrest didn't miss a beat in responding. “Would a blue ball suit you better?”

“Oh! Touché .” both men laughed. The waitress brought a pitcher of beer to the small table. Trevor poured himself a drink and took a gulp of the foamy contents.

“Anyway,” Forrest said over his shoulder, “the pink one is yours.” He bent down and picked up the fluorescent orange ball and rolled it down the lane.

“I'm sorry, but as a heterosexual man, I won't bowl with that thing.” Trevor stepped around the bench and pulled a bright green ball off the rack. Forrest picked up the pink one and rolled it between his hands, mocking Trevor.

“Does it intimidate you?”

“I hold my right as a man,” he threw his own down the lane, “to respect that anything pink is reserved for women.”

“It's a color, not the 'Women Only' sign on the bathroom.”

“Call me sexist or whatever you want. I'm sticking with my good old earthy one.” Trevor's had returned and he patted its smooth surface. “But this kinda makes me wonder about you, Evans.”

Forrest chuckled and hurled his down the lane. In a flash of orange it disappeared, taking down all ten pins.

“The pressure is on,” he taunted and stepped away to give Trevor room.

“Alright, I win,” Trevor threw his ball down the lane–strike. “You buy the beer.”

“Deal, and you buy if I win.” Forrest stepped up for his turn. The game ended faster than the beer disappeared so they started another game, double or nothing. At the end of the tenth frame Trevor had been defeated by eight pins. He leaned back against the bench and shoved his hand to the bottom of his pocket.

“Aren't those rehab-issued pants?” Forrest picked his shoes up off the floor and stood.

“Yeah, not sure how I got away with them. They're comfortable though.” He pulled out a piece of folded scratch paper. At first all he could see was Blaine's name at the bottom. Gradually the words appeared under the black lights of the room.

Trevor,

I hope you discover the contents of this note. I'm optimistic we'll meet again under better circumstances. I'm taking a risk writing this, but I feel like you wanted to support the same beliefs I do. If this still holds true– Bamboo Shoot, red martini, Eagles.

Blaine

Trevor's jaw fell open. His stomach turned like he had happened upon a secret treasure map. Could this be a sign? How did Blaine know he would be curious to know about his group? Forrest peered over his shoulder.

“What's this?”

“A note I found.”

“It's from Blaine Martin?”

“Yeah,” Trevor handed the note to his friend. “I've been thinking about all the things he fights for and I agree.”

“I knew you had been researching him. I saw you on the computer reading articles.” Forrest folded the note and held it out to Trevor. “It's really dangerous, do you realize that?”

“Yeah I do, but I think it's worth it.” Trevor pulled the twenty-dollar coin out of his pocket and set it on the table. The waitress came to clear everything. Forrest led the way out of the building. Outside he stopped and turned.

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

“What, that Blaine's right?”

“Yes.”

Trevor studied Forrest. He had known the man long enough to know all the questions meant he was having his own inner struggle.

“I already believed in the same things. Blaine only brought it all to the surface.” They walked down the sidewalk toward their motel room.

“Are you going to research the clues he gave you in the letter?”

“Yes.”

“Let's do it now.” Forrest suggested. Trevor stopped walking and looked up and down the street.

“I don't know where we could find a computer at this hour.”

“The motel lobby will have one.”

They lengthened their strides to reach their destination faster. Forrest slid into the seat and inserted his credit card to pay for an hour of use.

“What was the first clue?”

“Bamboo shoot.”

Forrest typed the words into the search engine. The computer hummed in the silent lobby. Trevor glanced around. Only the night manager sat behind the desk, reading a book. Pictures of yellow bamboo appeared on the screen. Forrest scanned down the page to find numerous recipes for bamboo. Trevor knew this is not what Blaine meant. Forrest clicked on the second page.

“There's millions of possibilities.”

“Type in the other clues.” Trevor placed his hand on the desk and leaned against it.

“This must be it.” Forrest pointed to the first option on the screen. “All the other alternatives are gibberish.”

“It's a club here in Anchorage.”

“That's luck.”

“I'm going, tomorrow night.” Trevor leaned stood up and stretched his arm across his body. The muscles ached under the strain. Forrest nodded.

“I'm coming with you.”

“Didn't you think this was too dangerous?” Trevor jested. He knew Forrest had already come to the conclusion long before that moment.

“Maybe you opened my eyes like Blaine opened yours?”

“Good to hear. Let's get some sleep, tomorrow is going to be interesting.”

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They pulled up to the club Wednesday at 8 p.m. on the dot. Dim lamps illuminated every table. A small bar was built on the left side of the room and a stage on the right. It was a small performance area, enough for a couple of musicians and a singer. A staircase lit by decorative lights led to the stage. Probably for the singers to descend, making a dramatic entrance. Bamboo shoots decorated the edges of the bar, stools, stage, and tables. The drinks were even presented in bamboo-shaped glasses. Both men sat at a table farthest from the stage in the shadows. The light at their table flickered and went dead. The room gradually filled and the entertainment began. Trevor and Forrest ordered a couple of beers and they sat, not saying a lot, just enjoying the performances.

None of the singers were unique until the last performance. She had the body of a goddess; smooth, long, slender legs that stretched for miles. Her voice was beautiful, seductive, as was her chocolate skin, enchanting face, and jet-black hair. As the Sirens in the Odyssey, her voice possessed every living being within earshot. It wasn't a surprise when an encore was demanded. The second time she left the stage and wandered by the tables, charming her listeners. She climbed back up into the spotlight to finish her performance.

“Wow, she's good.”

Forrest fixed his eyes on the empty stage, still in a trance. “Yeah, and damn sexy.”

Trevor took a sip of his beer and wondered what the next step was. He needed Forrest's help. “Hey, Romeo, now what?” He asked, snapping his fingers in his friends's face. Forrest blinked a few times.

“What if the three clues are all separate steps in this process?”

“So the red martini must be for someone around here, probably a bartender or singer.” Trevor stood up and went to the bar. A server stood in front of him.

“May I help you sir?”

“Yes, I was wondering which employee has worked here the longest?”

“Um,” he scanned the room for a brief moment before meeting Trevor's eyes again. “I don't know, I've been here only three months.”

“Can you find out for me?” Trevor placed a fifty on the counter. The server's hand collapsed over the money and it disappeared as if by magic. He made his way across the room and tapped another employee on the shoulder. Both men stared at Trevor. Their lips moved in a silent conversation. Forrest came up to the counter.

“Any progress?”

“Not yet.”

The server returned to the bar. “The gentleman I was speaking to is the manager and he's worked here for the last five years.”

“Longer than anyone?” Trevor guessed.

“Yes, unless you count the performers. Laney's been here just over five years.”

“Was that her tonight?” Trevor pointed toward the stage. The server instantly had a knowing smile on his face.

“Yeah, she's the star around here. I think most our regulars only come to see her.”

“Can I send her a red martini?”

“She doesn't like martinis.” The man turned to attend to another customer. Forrest leaned over the counter.

“Wait,” the server turned around at the sound of Forrest's voice. “She doesn't need to drink it, only let her know it's our way of enjoying her performance. It's completely innocent.”

The man began to refuse again but Trevor quickly added, “I'll pay double for the drink, that's a nice tip for you.”

The man paused, “Three times and I agree.”

“Okay.” Trevor placed twenty-five dollars on the bar. “Keep the change.”

The men walked back to their table. Trevor took a gulp of beer.

“Do you think she'll come out here?” Forrest looked nervous. He craned his neck to scan the entire room. Trevor leaned back in his chair with the beer in his hand.

“He had better take her that seventy-five-dollar martini or I'll go back up there and beat my money out of him.”

“I'm not sure causing a scene by breaking the bartender's nose will help our cause.”