Tyrant

by Tiana Laveen

  He hesitated. “Well, her father sent me. Can I come in?”

  “I’m not opening this door. You could be any damn body.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Something funny?”

  “Nope. Hold on.” Removing his phone from his jacket pocket, he dialed Kylie, fearing Noah wouldn’t answer his own cell which was often the case as of late. After the third ring, she answered. He placed her on speaker phone. “Kylie, I’m tryna give your niece what Noah wanted her to have but this woman isn’t having it. The lady here is afraid of me and—”

  “I’m not afraid of you. I don’t know you. Olive!” the woman called out, but didn’t move a muscle from the door.

  “Ma’am,” Kylie stated, putting on a sweet tone. “I’m Olive’s aunt, Kylie. She knows who I am. Noah wanted Hunter to give Olive a gift since my brother’s health is failing. Please let him give it to her.”

  The Black woman looked at the phone, back up at him, then back at the phone.

  “Does Noah know that his daughter is technically homeless? Does he know this poor girl was abandoned?! Forget a gift. She needs permanent shelter, love and attention!”

  “Ma’am.” Kylie’s voice shook a bit. “He was told that Holly is missing recently but since he’s dyin’ as we speak, there’s not much he can do about that right now.” The woman blinked a few times, then her scowl faded away and she stood up straight. A few seconds later, another person came at the front door. He presumed Olive was standing before him.

  She does favor Noah. I can see some resemblance. The mouth, definitely the ears just like he said…

  “Hi,” the teenager said, a nice smile on her face as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Hey. I’m a friend of your father’s.” He forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look too artificial or silly. “He wanted me to give you something.” The girl’s smile faded. Then, she rested her head against the shoulder of the lady who’d answered the door. It was like she understood the girl’s feelings.

  “Do you still need me?” Kylie asked, interrupting the exchange.

  “No. Thanks. I’ll call you back later.” He quickly ended the call and stared at the pretty Black woman with the attitude problem. After a few seconds, she removed the chain and opened the door.

  “I guess you are who you say you are. Come on in…”

  I’ve lived here in Detroit my whole life. There’s not much that shocks me. This is a rough city, but there are a lot of good people here. Regardless, one thing I did not expect to ever see was a towering White guy at my door in the wee hours of a Saturday morning. When I looked on my phone app and saw him after he rang the bell, he was so damn tall that he barely fit in the frame. This motherfucker is huge!

  I am not going to lie, I was scared shitless when I opened the door to get a closer look. He didn’t have on a delivery man uniform, either. In fact, he was wearing a hoodie and a leather jacket, like some criminal. I couldn’t fathom who he could be. I know what Noah looks like, so I was sure it wasn’t him. Being a single woman with two girls now to look after makes me particularly paranoid as of late. Let the wrong son of a bitch in your house, and you’re lucky if all you get is robbed and raped. He wasn’t someone I could take on physically, so I made sure when I went down the steps, I had my gun on me. I’m the wrong one to play with. I’m certain it would’ve taken a shitload of bullets to take his big ass down… like tryna shoot five angry buffalos on a rampage.

  This man is commanding. When you see him, you move or pretend he doesn’t frighten you at all. Can’t show any fear in these situations. His voice is deep and raspy. He’s got big hands that look as if they’ve been turning soil. But his eyes… that was the kicker. They’re bright green, a shade like I’ve never seen, and they glow like orbs. His skin is tan, making them pop even more, and he has a beard and mustache that could use a bit of a trim. A couple pieces of light blond hair run through the dark shades of brown of his facial hair. He’s handsome. Got a rough and rugged look about him though. He’s scary. He’s a little odd…

  Nita handed the man now sitting on her couch a cup of hot coffee. “Thank you,” he said, taking a sip then placing it down on the coffee table.

  “You’re welcome.” She sat across from him with Olive, while Tisha looked on from the kitchen, peeking from afar like some timid mouse.

  “I remember now,” Olive said with a smile. “Dad did mention you.” The big man’s lips curled in a smile. “He said he had a real good friend named Hunter, but everyone called you Tyrant.” He nodded. “You did time together, right?”

  “Yeah. Actually, we first met almost thirty years ago. Then sometime after that, we were in juvenile detention together. He moved to Detroit from Saginaw. I had family and friends here, so we’d see each other sometimes. Then we ended up getting locked up together and rekindled our friendship.” Olive nodded in understanding. The man shot them both a look, then reached over the table, an envelope in hand. “This is for you.” Olive gently took it from his grasp.

  “Excuse me for a moment, I’ll be right back.” Nita got to her feet, made a quick trip to the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee. As she was exiting, Tisha yanked her by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Mama!” she whispered, her forehead all bunched up.

  “What?”

  “Damn, he’s tall! And he look good, don’t he? He is fine as hell, Mama!”

  “Girl, if you don’t be quiet and go on somewhere! Talking about damn and hell… I should pop you in your mouth!” She shook herself loose and rejoined them. Olive removed some sheets of paper from the envelope. Nita took her seat beside the young lady and crossed her legs. She tried to not look over at Hunter, but snuck a glance or two out the corner of her eye. He was staring straight at Olive, his thick brows slightly ruffled. The girl set the papers on her lap and put the envelope aside. She held onto the letter, then looked around the room.

  “Should I read it aloud?”

  “That’s up to you, baby.” Nita patted her knee.

  “Have you read it?” Olive questioned the man. He shook his head. Olive cleared her throat and began to read aloud…

  Olive Love-Bug,

  I know you may be surprised to get a letter from me, but under the circumstances, I felt it was the best way to handle this situation. I didn’t want to call you because if I hear your voice, I’ll break down. Sometimes I couldn’t call you when I’d planned to though because I was ill. I need you to know that I wasn’t ignoring your calls. I wasn’t myself. I didn’t know what was wrong then. Now, I do.

  I am just going to come out and write it. I have cancer and cirrhosis of the liver. I don’t look right. My eyes are a bit yellow. I’ve lost a lot of weight mainly because I have no appetite and I throw up a lot. There are some other things going on with my body too but there’s no need for me to describe all of that. I’m sure you get the point. Olive, daddy is dying. I don’t have long to live, so right now, I am just trying to stay comfortable.

  The letter shook in the poor girl’s hand. Nita reached over and pulled her close, then kissed the top of her head. Tisha entered the room and joined them, then all three hugged one another tight. Olive patted away her tears and continued to read aloud.

  I have not been the best father. There’s no excuse for it. You loved me no matter what and I took that for granted. A good father would have tried harder to stay out of prison. A good dad would’ve taught you right from wrong so you’d know how to make it in life. Now I hear that your mother has disappeared. I blame myself for that. Maybe if I had been there for you more, she would have at least called me and let me know she was in trouble or needed help. Holly and I were on speaking terms but the conversations were always hard, princess. She had a lot of anger towards me for not being around you more and I told her she blamed everything on everyone but herself. We were both right. Regardless of that, there’s nothing I can do to right my wrongs from the past.

  What I can do at least though is tell you how much Dad lo
ves you. I remember the day you were born. Just beautiful. You came out of your mother with a head full of dark hair. I thought you looked just like me. As you got a little older though, your hair got lighter and lighter and turned blonde. You were gorgeous, just like your mother. I felt a connection with you that is indescribable. That was one day of my life when I can say I was genuinely happy. I want to let you know that without me, you can be happy, too.

  Without your mom, it’ll be hard sometimes, but you can make it. I am a strong person. So is your mother. That’s why we made some of the mistakes we did. That might not make sense to you but when you keep everything in and don’t complain but do whatever you can just to make it, that takes a lot of guts. It also tears apart your soul. We weren’t made to struggle like that. My definition of a man was a guy that held his chin up, never backed down from a fight, and did whatever he needed to do to get money and survive. I didn’t see anything I did as wrong. The things that landed me in prison were just a part of my life.

  I would say the right things during my parole hearings, but deep down I felt like the system was unfair and rigged, so why in the hell should I play fair? Now I see I was in fact wrong. Not because I got caught. Not because I’m sick, either. I have had time to sit here in this hospital and think.

  In prison, you are so busy trying to make it and get the hell out of there, you can’t really calm down and relax. As soon as you do, someone will test you, try to hurt you or set you up so you always have to keep your guard up. When you’re dying, all you can do is explore your past. I’ve thought about this over and over. I’ve thought about what I should have done differently and even if I didn’t think my crimes were wrong, I had a kid to consider.

  Olive turned away, blinking back tears as Nita ran a loving hand along her back. She sniffed, then continued to read.

  You should have been enough motivation to stop. I was greedy. I was wrong. I am not going to ask for your forgiveness… No, I take that back. Yes, I am. I want your forgiveness, Olive. You never said anything bad to me about not being there enough. You remind me of myself when I was a kid in that respect. When someone hurt me, broke my heart, I just didn’t say shit. Say something, Olive. You have to or you’ll carry that around until it starts eating you alive, leaving you hollow inside.

  What can I say? I fucked up. I wish I could see you graduate high school. I wish I could walk you down the aisle when you get married. I wish I could be a grandfather. None of that will happen because I’m a drunk. I drank my problems away. I’d stop drinking for months, then start up again. I tried to quit but couldn’t for long. We made liquor in prison, so I wasn’t sober there, either.

  Alcoholism will kill you. It runs in our family. There are a lot of alcoholics on my side of the family and your mother’s, Olive, so please be careful. They say it’s hereditary. Please don’t take any drugs. Please don’t get involved with any guys that commit robberies, sell drugs or other crimes like your dad did. If you do, you could end up like your parents. I should have been there with you every day to teach you this stuff. Saying it now in a letter is lame. But it’s all I can do. I don’t want you to hate me, but if you do, I understand.

  I am sending this letter to you through a friend of mine. His name is Hunter Wolfe. That’s a funny name, isn’t it? We call him Tyrant. I told you about him but you may not remember. Tyrant is cut from the same damn cloth as me, Olive, but despite that, he is a good friend to me. The best. He’s never backstabbed me. Better than a brother. I can trust him around my family. I can trust him to do the right thing and give my baby girl this letter and a gift I have for you. Any day that you’re missing me, pull out this letter and read it. Remind yourself how much I love you, even though nobody showed me how to love anyone the right way. I’m self-taught, and that’s why I never really figured this shit out, but I tried.

  I’m not blaming anyone for my mistakes, just saying that without good role models, sometimes people go astray. Like me. I could have been somebody important. I was smart in school, especially math. But nobody encouraged me or told me I could work on computers with that sort of aptitude, or electronics for cars, or something that could bring in some legit funds. I tried to get real jobs for a while but no one would hire me because I had no experience and I had a bad attitude. I think when I was younger, I felt like the world owed me something. Olive, the world owes us nothing.

  But we owe ourselves the world.

  I love you, princess.

  Noah/Daddy

  Olive hung her head and started to sob. Nita wiped her own tears as her daughter cried, too. The girl placed the letter down on the coffee table and crossed her arms, averting eye contact while the tears flowed. Everyone was silent, even the stranger that sat across from them, stone-faced.

  “Can you take me to him, Hunter? I want to see him before he dies. I don’t care what he looks like.” Olive stared at the man for the longest. His facial expression didn’t change, but he looked away and stroked his mustache, in deep thought.

  “He told me he can’t see you. He wants you to remember him the way he was. I wish I could take you to him, but he probably has instructions for you to not come in his room at the hospital.”

  “This isn’t fair! It’s not right! I’ve tried to call him and my calls go straight to voicemail. Can you call him for me? Please! I deserve to speak to my father before he passes. He said in this letter that he’d been selfish. Well, that’s selfish too!” Nita glared at Hunter… He took forever to respond. The silence was exhausting.

  Finally, he leaned forward and clasped his hands, smiling at Olive.

  “I agree with you. It is selfish. But he also wants to protect you. It’s not just about him. Trust me on that.” Olive sniffed and turned away. “I’ll ask him anyway, okay?” She nodded. “This is also for you.” Hunter reached across the table once again, this time offering the big metal box. It looked rustic, timeworn, as if perhaps it was a family heirloom. Olive stared at it in confusion, then placed it on her lap. She ran her hand over the top, as one would a sacred object. Perhaps it was.

  “What’s in here?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t mine to open, so I didn’t. Here’s the key.” Hunter dug into his coat pocket and placed it on the table. He picked up his coffee and sipped.

  For a split second, he cut eyes to Nita. Something about the way he looked at her in that moment took her breath away. Was it apprehension from his presence in her home? Maybe. Olive turned the key in the hole and it sprang open. With some hesitation, she removed a white envelope and opened it. She gasped.

  “Oh my God…”

  “What is it?” Tisha asked, craning her neck to see.

  “Money. Lots of money! Wait… there’s a folded note in here.” Olive unfolded the piece of paper and read it aloud.

  Olive, I didn’t just spend the money I made. I saved some of it, too. As you know, I paid child support to your mother. I am not saying that to brag. That’s the least I could have done. I am telling you this so you understand that I was in fact thinking of you, even when you may have thought I wasn’t. I’m not rich, but I didn’t have shit to worry about when it came to bills. I invested my money and made it grow. This money is for you. Follow the directions on this slip:

  1. Deposit it into your own bank account under your own name, immediately upon receipt.

  2. Give whatever adult you are living with until you turn eighteen $300.00 a month for your care. You can give more if you want, but I want you to offer that amount at least.

  3. I have two properties. One of them I have left to you. As long as you pay the taxes, light and water bill, you will never have a mortgage. It’s a nice spot over in Flagship. You can sell it later if you want. I’ve enclosed the address and contact name and number for the attorney who can help you when the time comes. I also own a small four-unit apartment building but it’s in my mother’s name. When you turn 21 or if she dies before that, it’s yours.

  I want you to make something of yourself. This mone
y can help you do that. Start a business. Go to college or learn a trade. Just make sure you do something and be smart about it. Holly said you wanted to be an actress. Go to acting school if you wish.

  Do what I didn’t do. I get a second chance at life through YOU.

  Olive tossed the note into the box and her shoulders sagged, as if someone had taken a pin and deflated her. Nita turned to Hunter, who was looking down at his phone. Their gazes locked once again.

  “I just sent Noah a text message about Olive wanting to see him,” he mumbled. “He is on a lot of medication right now and probably won’t get back with me soon but I also contacted Kylie. Olive, you could call her, too. She can probably tell you a lot more than I can.”

  “I don’t have her number.” Hunter cocked his head to the side as if mulling that over, then looked back down at his phone. “Kylie’s number is 313-814-4155.” He stood to his feet, casting a huge shadow over all of them. Nita looked up at him and her heart pounded. It wasn’t even that he was wide per se; it was his entire demeanor, his aura, his energy. He was like a huge black hole.

  A sense of mystery flowed from his core and filled the entire space. He was the kind of man who could kill you with just a look. It sure felt that way.

  “Olive, it was nice meeting you. Wish it could’ve been under better circumstances. If you don’t hear from your father, I’m sure you’ll be told about the funeral. I better get going. Thanks again for the coffee.”

  He walked to the door, every step sounding like thunder. Nita stood from the couch and met him there. She could hear the girls whispering amongst themselves as she leaned in close to the man. His eyes bore into her soul. He placed his hand on the doorknob, she placed her hand on top of his and startled when he snatched it away.

  “Are you all right?” She crossed her arms, pushing her fretfulness aside.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” His jaw tightened.

  “If you were as close to Noah as he said in that letter, I doubt that.”

  “If I’m not fine, what are you going to do about it?” The icy glare he shot her way froze her spirit on contact. “That’s what I thought.” Reaching for the door knob once again, he twisted it and opened the door. A burst of cool air greeted them. The man crossed the threshold and walked slow and easy to an older model black Honda. He managed to get his big ass in the car, start it up, and put it in reverse. She could hear muffled music playing from the vehicle, couldn’t quite make out what song, but it sounded like rap. He didn’t look at her, didn’t wave. He just drove up the street, disappearing just as quickly as he’d come…