by Tiana Laveen
“No.”
“So, her biggest crime is that she didn’t tell ya. Not cool, but not the end of the world. You know it’s not the end of the world, too, but you also have this shit about trust. She broke yours, and then you ask yourself, what the hell else is she lying about?”
“Yup. I’ve thought about all of that.”
“Maybe you want to punish her for it. Maybe you wanted to punish her, because that broken trust reminded you of what your mother did to ya.”
He looked up at his father, and their gazes hooked. “I don’t trust anyone, but I gave her the keys to me. I can count on half a hand how many times I’ve been in love, Dad. I don’t fall in love easily. I’ve cared about a lot of women… had a type of love for them. But this? This shit I feel for her is rare. It’s different. I’ve never loved a woman like I love Promise. Maybe I’m pissed off because of my relationship with Jenny, too. I hadn’t thought of that. It’s possible I guess. Not really into that psychological shit. Anytime someone lies to me, someone I trust, it’s hard for me to get over it. It’s just hard for me to let people close…” Thoughts of Jenny flooded his mind. “She abused that trust. She knows things. Promise knows a lot about me, Dad. When this happened, and I found out she kept a secret like this from me… well, shit. I felt like, what if she was playing me this whole time? Maybe she could use that stuff I told her against me. How fucked up would that be?”
“I don’t know why you’re so paranoid.”
“What? Are you kidding me, old man? I got that from you.”
“Oh, so I’m to blame for why ya broke up with your girlfriend?” His brows ruffled, and irritation laced his tone.
“Not blaming ya, Dad, but you don’t trust anyone, either. That’s all I’m saying. Hell, you barely trust me.”
Dad went to turn off the pasta on the stove. His broad shoulders slumped as he shuffled about.
“This isn’t about me.”
“I know that. I’m just sayin’, once someone hurts us, it’s hard to get past it. She got past my wall. It’s just something about her, Dad. If you spend one damn day with her, ya wanna spill your guts. People all over the place, strangers even, just walk up to her and tell their business. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. There’s a natural kindness about her. She’s not fake. She’s smart, not a pushover, and she knows what she wants in life. She’s driven. Sexy… She’s special.” He ran his hurting hand along his forehead, feeling suddenly hot.
“Zake, you’re gonna do what you want to do, no matter what advice I give you. I know this upset you. I imagine most guys wouldn’t be happy about this. I think you at least need to talk to her about it.”
“I gotta say, I’m surprised at your response. I figured you’d say kick ’er to the curb.”
Dad moved the pasta off the eye and drained it in the sink.
“Why’s that?”
“It just does.”
They were quiet for a bit.
“I don’t know her well. Can’t tell ya what to do. What I do know is that you’ve been happier since you met her. I imagine that’s on account of her.”
“That’s what Jenny said, too.”
“She’s got something special all right. It feels good to ya, and it rubbed off on you. At the very least, you two can be friends.”
“I don’t want to be just her friend. That would be worse than never speakin’ to her again.”
“See? You’re possessive. Like I said. You’d rather not deal with her at all than ever see her with someone else.”
He mulled that over. Dad was right. Gutter reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. He placed it in the center of the table. Moments later, Dad returned, sweat gathered around his brow from standing over the stove and the steam of hot water, and sat down. As he drank his juice, he noticed it.
“What’s that?”
Gutter curled his lips.
“What does it look like?”
“A tiny fuckin’ box.”
“Yeah…”
A second passed. Then another. And another.
“Awww, geesh! You were gonna ask her to marry you?! Jesus Christ, Zake! Open it and let me see the rock!”
“Why? You plannin’ on saying yes in her place?”
The old man burst out laughing, grabbed the box himself, and popped it open. His smile slowly faded.
“There’s two rings in here. One I’ve never seen… a big ass beautiful diamond. I know you paid a pretty penny for it. And then, there’s this smaller ring… old… This is… this is your mother’s engagement ring. I gave it to your mom such a long time ago…” He stroked it with his fingertip.
“Yeah.” Gutter caressed his beard, trying to calm his damn nerves. “Jenny kept it all these years. I didn’t tell her I wanted to marry Promise. She gave it to me a few weeks ago out of the blue, and said that whoever I marry, she’d like for them to have it, even if they only put it on a necklace. I didn’t want it. She insisted. I went on and bought a ring I thought Promise would like anyway, but I kept Jenny’s ring, too. Don’t know what I’ll do with it.”
Dad kept staring at that ring, the color draining from his face as if he’d seen a ghost. Gingerly, he took it out of the box and examined it. Meanwhile, Gutter reached for his phone and dialed.
“Promise, it’s Zake. When you get this message, give me a call. We need to talk…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Booth is Occupied
“So that package, if that’s what you go with, would run you approximately two thousand more than the first one you asked about. We could also make an additional fifty obituaries, as well as a keepsake photo montage of the service, saved on a USB drive.” Promise felt her phone buzz in her blazer pocket but kept speaking to the older woman and her husband who were making arrangements for the poor lady’s mother who’d just passed.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure which she’d want. She liked carnations, but the rose displays are prettier.” She turned bloodshot eyes to her husband, who sat quietly holding her hand.
“Well, there’s no rush. Please take your time. Look at this brochure, and please remember that some of these can be à la carte. You could even mix any kind of flowers that you wish. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. I’ll give you a few moments to discuss it, and when I return, if you have any questions, we can go from there. I’ll be right back.”
The woman nodded in appreciation as Promise got to her feet and made her way out of the meeting room, into the hall. Sliding her phone out of her jacket, she checked to see who’d left a voicemail, and gasped. She’d only tried to call the man one time since they’d been estranged, and her call had gone straight to voicemail. She knew then that he’d more than likely blocked her number. Realizing this had cut her to the core.
Racing down the hall, she made a beeline to her office, opened the door, and locked herself inside. She quickly hit the call back button, but dread hit her like a punch to the throat.
He may not want to resolve this. He might be calling just to check on me, or maybe he left something at my apartment. She hated how swiftly her good mood took a sudden turn for the cynical.
“Hey…” His husky, smooth-as-silk voice climbed inside her and slid down to her soul. “How are you doing?”
“Hi, Zake. I’m fine. How are you?” She slipped behind her desk, her body tense.
“I’m all right. Outside. Walking. Just stepped out of my father’s house. Spending the day with him today.” He sighed.
“It’s cold. I hope you have on a jacket.”
“Yeah. Look, Promise. I love you. I’m tired of not talking to you… not seeing your face, not feeling your arms around me, not laughin’ with you… not makin’ love to you. Nothing has changed any of that. I went to Maine and the whole time, all I did was think about you.” She bit her lower lip, squelching a smile. “I’m mad at you… but I’m mad at myself, too.”
“Why’s that?”
“I had the right to be angry, but I should’ve
at least let you tell me what happened. Heard your side of the story. I think I was in shock. On top of that, my adrenaline was pumping because I had gotten into a fight, too. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“I understand. I would have liked to have discussed it with you, but you’d just found out and had a rough night. I can’t blame you for being out of sorts.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t handle this right, Promise, and so for my part of it, I want to apologize. I have a lot of questions.”
“Naturally you would.”
“But the thing is, if you did it willingly, or felt pressure to do it, whatever the story is behind it, it really shouldn’t matter. That was then, this is now. I’ve filmed myself getting my dick sucked more than once. Not the smartest move, but I did it.” He paused. “I wasn’t smart enough to get paid for it. Should’ve had it leak like Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee’s sex tape. Then I could at least get paid for being a dick, instead of being a dick for free.”
She chuckled at that, though her stomach was in knots.
“I’d like to be honest with you, finally, about this, and tell you what happened and why. There’s a back story, and you deserve to know it all. I want to answer your questions, Gutter. I want us to address this… I was wrong. I have a million excuses as to why I didn’t tell you, and they were valid, but that still didn’t make it right for me to keep it from you. I will apologize for as long as it takes. I’m not perfect. I’m not ashamed of my past sexual exploits, if you will, with the exception of this, but it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to do, either. It’s complicated.”
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t keep this from you to hurt you, Zake. God… I missed you so much. I spoke to your mom last week and didn’t mention a word of what happened. She didn’t seem to know because she didn’t bring it up, either. I wanted to ask her how you were doing so badly, but I didn’t. She’s going through enough right now.”
She pressed her hand against her mouth and shook her head, begging her emotions to not make a fool of her.
He emitted a loud exhale. “Shit, I didn’t even ask. Can you even talk to me now, or are you busy?”
“I’m actually helping someone right now but stepped away. They should be finished in about thirty minutes or so. Can I call you back after they leave, and we can talk more then?”
“Let’s try this instead. Can I swing by and pick you up after work? My day is fairly free, believe it or not. I’m just over my father’s house like I said. I think this may be something we should talk about face-to-face, anyway.”
“Yeah… probably so. Come on by at six then.”
“Bet. I’ll be there, Corpse Bride…”
And then, he ended the call. She slipped her phone back into her blazer pocket and headed out of her office, her feet practically bouncing off the glossy floors with each step to the tune of Her’s, ‘Cool with You.’ She sang along, her eyes brimming with watery happiness…
He plopped his black and white Yankees hat on her head, making her giggle, then took her hand. It was windy, cold, and dark outside, only the streetlights on in Red Hook as they strolled along. Promise had on a raspberry-colored blazer, a low-cut black silk shirt beneath it, matching skirt, black stockings and chunky heels. Her thick hair was pulled back into a big, pretty bun, adorned with a white pearl hair pendant. She smelled like daisies, cashmere, and velvet night skies.
“Anything else you want to know?” she asked.
“There’s always more I want to know about you.”
She smiled at that. “So… I have to discuss the elephant in the room. Are we back together, Zake, or do you need a—”
“We were never officially broken up, Promise. I didn’t sleep with anyone else, flirt, nothing like that. I just needed some time to think. Process everything.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
They’d spoken at length. She’d told him about her ex, nursing school, the missing money, the movies, eviction, the fresh start in mortuary science. Even the shit he didn’t specifically ask to know about. She was an open book, though he knew it was hard for her to bare her soul that way, and his heart hurt for her when she described everything she’d endured, only to have it all taken away in an instant. He wished with every fiber of his being that it had never happened to her, but it did, and in some odd way, it had led them to each other, via Jenny.
They shared candid moments. Regrets. Concerns. Unbreakable Love. Also, some resentment and sadness. She cried at one point, and feeling guilty, he hugged and kissed her. His father had been right—he didn’t want to share her with anyone. He didn’t like that other people, who didn’t appreciate her, had seen what was his… even if it had all happened a long time ago, on a small scale, and most of the world was oblivious to her deeds.
People talked. That’s how it would spread, but now, he’d be ready. His possessiveness of her made him dizzy with rage because he loved her so damn much. That was something he had to work through, not a burden she needed to continue to carry on her shoulders. Nevertheless, it gave him a sense of peace to have the missing pieces to the puzzle. She’d done what she’d felt she had to do, and he respected that, regardless of the end result. They wandered along Van Brunt Street, passing various diners, galleries and bars.
“You grew up here, huh? I’ve never walked around Red Hook before. It’s different here… different vibe. I like it. Why is it called Red Hook?”
“If my elementary school education hasn’t been smoked out of my damn head from prior relentless weed smoking,” she laughed at his words, “it was because the soil was actually red clay. Red Hook was founded by the Dutch. You can still see it in some of the old construction. Yeah, it’s different here. Real different from the rest of Brooklyn and New York. I love it here. It will always be home to me.”
“There’s a lot of art and old architecture. It’s nice. I could see how you could be stimulated by ingenuity and inspiration here. I can feel it. It’s all over the place. It’s even in the air. Colder here by the water.”
“Yeah, it’s like—” Suddenly, his phone rang. “Hold on, C.B.” He answered it. “Hey, what’s up, Terry?”
“Hey, man. I heard you were back in town. I gotta head out in a little bit, but can you swing by real fast and approve the track for ‘Best Thing?’”
“Yeah, I can come through. No problem. See you in a little bit.” He quickly got off the phone.
“Hey, come to the studio with me, Promise. I need to hear something, approve it, and we can be on our way. It won’t take long. After that, if you want, we can get something to eat. Are you hungry?”
She smiled in that sweet little way of hers.
“Yeeeeah, you’re hungry. I’ll make this fast.”
“It’s cool. Is it the same one where we saw you and Eminem working together?”
“No, this is much closer. Over on Johnson Avenue.”
Minutes later, they’d made it back to his father’s house, got in his truck, and drove to the studio. On the way there, she rolled the window down, allowing the cool air to drift inside the vehicle as she hummed to the music. He had Blue Oyster Cult’s, ‘Burnin’ for You’ on heavy rotation for most of the day.
“You’re feeling this? You like this song?” He shot her a glance, happy that they loved the same music. This was one of many things that drew him to her, another reason why he’d fallen in love.
“I love it.” He leaned over, kissed her cheek, then turned the corner. Soon, they were at the studio. He slapped hands with Terry as soon as they were buzzed inside.
“Hey, this is my girlfriend, Promise.” She extended her hand, and Terry acted like a perfect gentleman, showing no signs of knowing a damn thing.
“Nice to meet you, Promise.” He shook her hand. “Make yourself at home. I won’t keep him long.”
Promise sat a few feet away while he and Terry settled at the controls, listening to the track a couple of times.
“Sounds good, man.” He turned around and noticed Pro
mise gawking at the recording booth in the near distance. “I’ll go ahead and sign off on it. Hand me that pen. Hey, can you give me a few minutes alone in here? I think she wants a singing lesson.”
Terry grinned when he looked back at Promise, who seemed to be in her own little world, oblivious to their conversation.
“Yeah, man. You were my last appointment tonight anyway. I’ll go grab something from down the street, then eat in my car. Just call me when you’re finished. Don’t let anyone in.”
“I know that man!”
Terry patted his shoulder, got up, and headed out.
“All done?” Promised asked.
“Almost. Come here. I want to show you something.”
She stood and they entered the recording booth.
“Put these on.”
“The headphones? What for?”
“I saw you looking. You want to hear how you sound on a recording? Want to make a song?”
“I hate my singing voice, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m ready to go. I’ll… stop!” She laughed, trying to get past him as he blocked her way, then closed the door to the stall.
“Come on… Just try it.”
“I can’t sing, Gutter. You know that.” Her shoulders slumped.
“It’s not about that. It’s about the experience. Sing the first two or three lines of my song, ‘Unfuckwithable.’”
“What if I don’t know that song well?” She smirked.
“Bullshit. You know all of my songs. Knew them before you even met me, word for word.”
She rolled her eyes and pressed her hands against the headphones, facing the microphone.
“All right, fine. Let’s go.”
He could see she really wanted to do it.
Walking out of the booth, he started the music at the controls.
“5…4…3…2…1!”
“I’m unfuck-with-able! Ir-ree-sist-able! On another level, on the treble, persist-able!” She kept going, hitting the notes hard, her pitch off, but giving it all that she had—so much so, he burst out laughing at the intensity of her facial expressions. Yes, she was off-key, singing was not her forte, but damn if she wasn’t on-beat, enjoying herself, and she had an unmistakable passion for music. She had his heart in the palm of her hand.
