Roses Are Red - James Patterson [25]
The little people will have their day.
He reread the letter and thought it wasn’t too bad — not for two-something in the morning. No, actually the letter was good.
He would do an edit, then sign, and finally deposit it in his file cabinet — as he did with all the other letters. They were far too dangerous and incriminating to actually send through the federal mail system.
Goddamnit, he hated the banks with a passion! Insurance companies! Self-important investment houses! Cheeky Internet firms! The government! The big boys and girls had to go down. And they would. The little people would finally have their day.
Chapter 35
I HAD PROMISED JANNIE something when I left her that morning. My most solemn oath was that I would stop at Big Mike Giordano’s for pizza takeout.
I was juggling a hot box in my hands when I entered her room at the hospital. She wouldn’t be able to eat much, but Dr. Petito said a slice would be fine.
“Delivery,” I said as I waltzed into the room.
“Hoo-ray! Hoo-ray!” she cheered from her bed. “You saved me from this awful, dreadful hospital food. Thank you, Daddy. You are the greatest.”
Jannie didn’t look sick; she didn’t look as if she needed to be at St. Anthony’s. I wished that were so. I already had the essential information on her operation. The total time for prep and the surgery would be between eight and ten hours. The surgeon would dissect the tumor and a piece would be used for a biopsy. Until the surgery, her condition was stabilized with Dilantin. The operation was set for 8:00 A.M. tomorrow.
“You wanted olives and anchovies, right?” I teased her as I opened the pizza box.
“You got that wrong, Mr. Delivery Man. Better take that nasty pie right back to the store if it has those slimy little anchovies on it,” she said, giving me the evil eye she must have learned from her great-grandmother.
“He’s just teasing you,” Nana said, and gave me a softer version of the squinty-eyed look.
Jannie shrugged. “I know it, Nana. I’m teasing him back. It’s our thing, doo, doo. Do what you wanna do,” she sang the old pop tune and smiled.
“I like anchovies,” Damon said, just to be controversial. “They’re real salty.”
“You would.” She frowned at her brother. “I think you might have been an anchovy in another life.”
We were laughing, just like always, as we dug into the extra-cheese pizza and milk. We exchanged news of our days. Jannie held center court again, elaborately describing her second CT scan, which had lasted half an hour. Then she proclaimed: “I’ve decided to become a doctor. My decision is final. I’ll probably go to Johns Hopkins like Daddy did.”
Nana and Damon finally got up to leave around eight. They’d been at the hospital since just after three.
Jannie announced: “Daddy’s staying for a while extra because he had to work and I didn’t see enough of him today.” She motioned for Nana to give her a hug and they held on to each other for a long moment. Nana whispered something private in Jannie’s ear, and she nodded that she understood.
Then Jannie waved Damon over to her bedside. “Give me a big hug and a kiss,” she commanded.
Damon and Nana Mama left with a lot of bye-byes, and extra waves, and see-you-tomorrows, and brave smiles. Jannie sat there with her cheeks wet and shiny, crying and smiling at the same time.
“Actually, I sort of like this,” she told them. “You know that I have to be the center of attraction. And everybody stop worrying — I am going to be a doctor. In fact, from now on, you all can call me Dr. Jannie.”
“Good night, Dr. Jannie. Sweet dreams,” Nana spoke softly from the doorway. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling girl.”
“Night,” Damon said. He turned away, then turned back. “Oh, all right — Dr. Jannie.”
She and I were quiet for a few moments after Nana and Damon left. I came over and put my arm around her. I think that the parting scene had been too much for both of us. I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, and I held her as if she would break. We stayed like that for a long time, talking a little bit, but mostly just holding on to each other.