by Tiana Laveen
“You damn freak. You’ll find a way to turn even an old, empty Kool-Aid packet into a sexual object.”
Happy and sated, they headed to the beautifully designed bathroom together. He washed up at the sink, cleaning up his dick, face and hands, while she took a shower. When she was done, Nita slid her dress back on and he wore a nice white shirt and dark pants, along with a pair of dress shoes his Love had picked out for him for Noah’s funeral. They checked themselves out in a large mirror.
“JJ, you know you’re fine as shit! Look at the arm candy I have.”
She squealed when he grabbed her and gave her a peck on the cheek. Moments later, they exited the hotel room, hand in hand, on their way to the banquet hall for the after-party – his first, as a professional boxer. As they drew closer, he could hear loud, thumping music from the DJ: ‘Cum on Feel the Noize,’ by Quiet Riot. He could see in the near distance what appeared to be an ice fountain with assorted fruit all around it. Before they entered, she grabbed him and kissed him, then rose on her tippy toes to place her mouth by his ear. He wrapped his arm around her waist.
“I love you, Hunter,” she whispered. “If you want to keep pursuing boxing, then that’s what you do. Don’t let any of my concerns stop you. I know what I said in the hotel room tonight, and that was true. I feel how I feel, but you deserve a fresh start. You’re good at something amazing! No, great… you’re great at it, and if any part of you is curious about going further in this profession, I will be there for you. You’ll have my full support.”
He looked at her for a while, not certain how to respond. He did need to hear those words, but not for the reasons she might have thought. He kissed her forehead, then they entered the large room filled with so many people, one could barely see the dance floor.
The DJ looked his way and bobbed his head.
“Laaaaadies and gentlemen… Our star, our hero, the alpha of the wolf pack has arrived! Tyyyyyrant, the big bad Wolfe that blew the Joker’s house down is in the building!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The DNA Test determined, ‘That was a Lie!’
He smelled blood.
There was none around, at least not to the naked eye. The odor of strong astringents and cleansers filled the space, along with a whiff of B.O. and the all too familiar chicken broth aroma that seemed to almost coat the air come chow time – but it was never actually chicken soup or anything of the sort. The inmates’ lunch that day might have been a stale, thin-sliced ham and processed cheese sandwich with wilted lettuce and a bruised orange.
As he moved, he caught the scent of blood once again, and smiled. Again, no blood in sight, but a killer was always ahead of the scent way before it could be seen.
The subtle nuisances that most missed, he detected from several feet away. What tricks his mind could do since he’d first entered the revolving door of incarceration. He’d never admitted it, but all those stints behind bars had changed him, made him harder, angrier, more skilled at not getting caught. He fisted his hands at his side. The iron doors opened with a loud click, then closed with a violent bang, and Hunter walked inside the penitentiary with a sense of purpose.
They all had a similar feel and stench; the mixture of sweat and fear tinged the air. He stood between two guards who reminded him of zombies. They went with the motions, doing their jobs, their hands inches away from their weapons. This time, Hunter wasn’t filled with the anxiety and dread, the fear that he would be sleeping on something hard and cold, listening to insane men rant and fight at all hours of the morning. He wasn’t serving time now. He wasn’t being led back to his own cell, but these officers were escorting him to see the man who’d pointed a gun at his mother’s head and pulled the trigger right before his eyes.
The large room was bright and lined with glossy orange tables, most of which had paper cups filled with water. Guards paced back and forth, keeping watch during the visiting hour as Hunter and many others were paraded inside to see their loved ones – or in this case, his hated one.
There the old man sat.
Thinner, less frightening than what he recalled. Clad in a blue jumpsuit, hands clasped on the table, he looked down at his fingers. Then, he glanced up and their eyes met.
Hunter took a slow, deep breath as he drew closer. He hated how he immediately saw himself in the man, their likeness too evident to deny. Anyone with eyes would know that was his father. Without as much as a greeting, Hunter pulled a chair out from under the small table and plopped down into it. He leaned forward, linked his hands on the table, and held the man’s gaze for an eternity. His father’s lips curled on one end in a devilish sneer.
“Hey, son. Damn… it’s like lookin’ in a mirror thirty years ago. You look good! My family has some strong genes.” Pride shone on his face.
“Don’t call my grandparents anymore.”
“I don’t even get a hello?” His father’s brows bunched.
“Don’t write anymore fuckin’ letters, either. I’m not reading them and neither are they. Stop tryna get Justin to persuade me to deal with you. If he wants to fuck with you, that’s on him. Now you’ve even gone as far as havin’ the media harass me. That’s borderline snitching. Why in the hell would you do something like that? Now they’re pulling up my records ’nd shit, digging into my past.”
“They’re doing a television show and I wanted to help. They needed to speak to people who know me… my sons, my mother, best friend.”
“I don’t know you, man.” Hunter sucked his teeth. “We don’t talk. And you don’t know me, either. All I have to say is that your little fifteen minutes of fame are going to be ruined if you don’t tell them to back off. I’m tired of these reporters callin’ my fucking phone now. One of them was from a station called the I.D. Channel, talking of some show about cold-blooded killers. Like it’s an honor to have done what you did. How fuckin’ thoughtless.” Hunter cocked his head to the side, feeling a strong desire to swing on the man and knock him the fuck out. Cold. “I’m not going to give your ass any shine.”
The old man’s smile quickly faded and his demonic eyes darkened, reminding Hunter of the past. Just like that day…
“Still full of indignation after all these years…” The old man shook his head in disbelief.
“Indignation? That’s a big word coming from a small-minded person.”
His father had the nerve to huff.
“Still just as angry as you were that one time you picked up the phone at your grandmother’s house ’bout ten years ago and cussed me out. It’ll kill you, Hunter.”
“Like you killed Mom? Say it louder for the fuckers in the back.”
The man sighed. “That hatred you have towards me will kill ya. That’s what I am saying.” He shook his finger in his face. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t give a shit about you.” Hunter shrugged.
“Well, I give a shit about you.” The man looked down at the table, as if trying to collect his thoughts. When he looked back up, his eyes were glassy. Hunter grimaced and crossed his arms. This man was full of shit. He refused to be moved. “Son, there’s uh… a lotta politics going on in here. There’s some people in here doing things that could cost a lot of people their peace, maybe even their lives. I don’t want to get stabbed, or die without lookin’ you in your eye and telling you that I love ya.”
“You don’t love me. You don’t love anyone but yourself.”
“Look at this. Look how you’re acting. I can’t… I can’t even talk to you.” The old man threw up his hands. “You’re making this impossible. Why did you even come here, Hunter? I thought you were willing to talk with me. Finally.” Hunter simply glared at him. After a few seconds, the man went on with his spiel. “That night… That night that uh, it all went down, I was intoxicated and had a bunch of drugs in my system. I wasn’t thinking straight. It was an accident, Hunter. I loved your mother.”
“You were thinkin’ straight enough to put the bullets in the
chamber and unload them in her, while cursing her out as she died. You were thinkin’ straight enough to tell her the day before that you’d kill her if she tried to leave you.”
“All of that was within the timeframe of me on a binge.”
“Bullshit. It wasn’t your first time threatening her. It was premeditated. I didn’t come up here to argue or debate with you about any of that, though. I know what happened, I know the facts no matter how you try to sit there and lie about it. You asked what I came here for? I’ll tell you. I came up here to tell you that I want nothin’ to do with you, and I stand by that. I take back what I said. I do hate you. I hate you more than ever. That’s not going to change. And it’s not killing me. It reminds me of who and what not to become.”
Dad flopped back in his chair, real easy like, and burst out laughing.
“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve…” He drew serious, a sinister ugliness pouring from the pain. “You think you can just erase me?! You can’t. I’m your father whether you like it or not! You embarrassed me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“We were in the same prison at one point, Hunter, and you refused to even acknowledge me! I sent notes. I practically bribed the guards to help and what did you do? Blow me off.” Hunter chuckled as the man tapped his finger on the table. “Oh, is that somehow funny?”
“Yeah… yeah, it is. I did you a favor. If I had seen you, I would’ve killed you. On sight.” They locked eyes. And just then, he could see the old man realized he meant what the hell he said. Hunter’s chest ached with pangs of rage as flashes of his mother lying on the living room floor dead resurfaced like acid reflux in a throat. Dad reached with handcuffed hands for a cup of water. He took a shaky sip, then another.
“Hunter, listen to me.” He sounded calmer now, as if he’d had a chance to reevaluate the situation. “Me aside, would you please see my side of the family at least? They’ve been asking about you.”
“They know where the hell I am. It’s no secret.”
“They don’t know if you’re open for a relationship with them or not though. My mother, your aunt, uncles, cousins… they don’t know who you are. They’d like to. They’ve told me more than once. Don’t punish them for something I did.”
“Oh, so you’re the king of family togetherness now, huh? You’re concerned about roots, tradition, bloodlines, shit like that. Now that’s hilarious.”
“They’re my family, and yours, too. Whether you like it or not, it is what it is.”
“Isn’t that just fucking rich.” Hunter fished a Halls cough drop from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. His throat had been scratchy from all the celebrating and yelling he’d been doing at a few parties lately. “You kill my mother, but try to sit here and encourage me to deal with your family. No thanks. They’re guilty by association. Fuck them, too.”
“Hunter… I’m warnin’ you.”
“Of what? What the fuck you gonna do, huh?! I’m not a little snot-nosed kid anymore! Who tha fuck you think you’re talking to?!” Hunter snarled as he shot up from his seat and got in his father’s space until their noses almost touched. “I asked you a question. What the fuck are you gonna do?! DO SOMETHIN’. I DARE YOU.” His father’s nostrils flared, but his lips remained still, never parting like a nun’s legs. “Threatening me… Are you crazy? I will tear you from limb to fuckin’ limb. By the time the guards get over here, you’ll be divided in thirds like a fuckin’ math problem.”
His father tilted back a little, eyes wide. A guard walked over, asking for Hunter to relax, sit back down in his seat or end the visit. It took a moment for him to regain his composure, and during that time, the silence stretched between them. Dad’s chest rose and fell like an accordion.
“You said you didn’t want to be like me, Hunter, but you’re just like me,” he finally said. “It scares me for you.”
“I’m not a drug addict.”
“You’re angry all the time. Drugs have nothin’ to do with it. I’m tryna save you. I heard about you going back and forth to prison, being the neighborhood car pimp. I taught you about cars, too. I heard the stories about you… takin’ hoopties, pieces of shit, and turning them into showpieces. Car thieves all over Michigan would bring you vehicles and you had a waiting list for people trying to get their hands on cars you fixed up and refurbished. Anything you put your damn mind to, you do it. Believe it or not, I was like that, too, when I wasn’t under the influence. Everything about me isn’t bad, Hunter.” His eyes glossed over once again. “I can’t make you stop hating me, and I see that you won’t let it go, you’re stuck in the past, you won’t move forward. None of what you’re saying will help or change anything. You and Justin are everything to me. He seems to think the world of you… and ya looked out for him. I heard about the robbery. Those four guys got word that you gave him some cash, stole it, beat him up real bad, too. You went after those motherfuckers and fucked ’em up. They were scared shitless. That’s my boy.”
Justin and his big damn mouth again…
“I’m not your boy.” Hunter looked away for a spell.
“Yeah, you are. You’re damn good with your hands, son. Boxing, fixin’ shit, cars, hell, even playing the guitar which Justin said you told him you haven’t done in years. You have so many talents, Hunter! So many skills… I don’t want you to waste them is all.”
“Compliments? From you of all people? You’re up to some shit, as usual, aren’t you? Just admit it.” Hunter laughed dismally. His father just sat there, making him feel like he was looking through him.
“No. I’m telling the truth. I just wanted to make peace with you. My family, your family, wants to make peace with you, too. Family is important, Hunter.”
“Family is important to you? I can’t tell! Look how you busted up our home. You’re family… my family? They’re not my family. They never were. I can tell you what they are, though. They’re part of the problem.”
“Hunter, your—”
“Your mother and sister said my mother was a whore, that she caused her own death, that you shouldn’t have killed ’er but she pushed you to it. All lies! I was there under that roof, not them. They’re enablers and just as bad as you are.”
“That’s not true. Who told you that?” The guy must have been thinking he was bluffing.
“I. heard. It.” His father’s posture grew stiff. “With my own ears! That degenerate clan of yours did anything and everything to facilitate the shit you did because when you weren’t locked up, you gave ’em money when you had it, and liquor. They worshiped you like you were some god when you’ve not been shit most of your life.” His father hooted like the shit was funny. “None of them gave a shit about my mother and I remember it clear as day. I remember how messed up they talked to her and treated ’er. All because she wanted you two to get clean and move to a nicer part of town. All they heard was, ‘She wants to take him away from us.’ She loved you and you destroyed her!”
“You know what, Hunter? Fine!” The man bit into his lower lip. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say my family is just a bunch of swashbucklers who hated your mother. What in the fuck do you want me to do about this now?! What do you expect me to do, huh? I’m practically groveling here!”
“Why are you so hellbent on getting me to talk to you and forgive you? Why do you even care?”
“Because you’re my son… my first born kid and I love you. Just like I said! I don’t wanna die without telling you to your face.”
“What, are you sick? Is this a way to clear your conscience before you kick the bucket?”
“No, I’m not sick.”
Hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out a few folded pieces of paper. He slammed them on the table between them.
“What’s that?” his father asked as he looked down at them.
“I took a DNA test, you know, the little mouth swab thing, and sent it in.” His father nodded in understanding. “I didn’t want to at first. I h
eard the government keeps that information and can use it against you, but I’m already in the system, so I figured… what did I have to lose?”
“What made you do that? Curious, I guess?”
“I work for a guy who told me that I should. He brought it up several times so I looked into it. He paid for it. He wanted to know, too. I don’t regret it.”
“Is this person like a father figure or something, too?”
If Hunter didn’t know any better, he’d swear the guy was jealous.
“He’s more of a father to me than you ever were. But no… not a father figure. He wants to use me, just like you, but at least with him I get somethin’ back for it.”
Dad blinked a few times, then drank a little more water.
“Work for a guy? Who? What’s his name?” He raised a brow. “Where are you working?”
“Security. Casino. Doesn’t matter who it is.”
“And the boxing? What about that? Fuck all of that casino shit. That’s small potatoes. My son is big time now.” Hunter’s eyes narrowed on the man. The truth was finally out. “You’re a fucking star, just like I knew you’d be.” The fucker grinned, and Hunter’s heart beat a bit faster. “What? You didn’t think I knew?” He smirked. “It’s all over the place, Hunter, or should I say, ‘Tyrant, the Big. Bad. Fuckin’ Wolfe’?”
“The test brought out some interesting stuff.” Hunter snatched up the papers and began to read. “Says here that I’m—”
“You’ve got an impressive record, boy. I saw a YouTube video of the fight, too. We get to use the computers for thirty minutes a day now. Send emails, shit like that. Chip off the old block you are.”
“The European portion has me as 23% Great Britain, 9% Scandinavian, 9% Italian, 14% Ireland/Scotland/Wales and—”
“You should’ve told them you can fight like that ’cause of me.” Anger swam in the man’s tone. “…Yeah, me, the son of a bitch you hate. You should’ve told them when they interviewed you that I’m the one who gave you your first boxing gloves. Bought ’em with my own money! Good ones, too! I’m the one who sat you down with me and we watched fights, night after night. I’m the one who taught you every fucking thing you know about boxin’ and you can think I’m no damn good, that I was useless to you, that you can just rub me out of the picture, forget me, but it was me and my damn genes, since you wanna bring up DNA that got you where you are! MY BLOOD! Your mother’s family never did shit! They weren’t worth shit, either!”
