“Then why the hell did you hang around her apartment like that?” Melinda practically demanded to know.
Richard’s reply came with a bribe. “Buy me a drink, toots, and I’ll tell you.”
Again, Melinda and I looked at each other, and where I shook my head vehemently, she frowned and told me we had no choice.
“Chris, we won’t take him to a bar,” Melinda explained. “I don’t want you going into one, so I’ll get a bottle and we’ll find some place where we can talk and he can drink.”
I did not like that solution at all. “I thought the whole reason for finding Richard was so we could talk him into a rehab, not help him get drunk again.”
“He’s going to get drunk whether we help him or not, but this way, we can talk to him about rehab, and find out what his problem is with Norma,” she replied with conviction.
I wavered, ashamedly, because I wanted to know what he had to say about Norma. I nodded my approval, and Melinda rushed out the door. I stayed with Richard to keep him from getting lost again. His mind seemed to vacillate back and forth between clarity and stupor, and right now, he was back in a stupor. I listened to his mumblings, but couldn’t make sense of them. He looked at me with those sad, bloodshot eyes, and I saw my own reflection. He smiled, as if to say that he recognized a kindred spirit in me. That completely unnerved me, and I was suddenly chilled to the bone, and wrapped my coat closer around me. Where is Melinda?
As if she read my mind, Melinda stepped inside and waved at me to come outside.
“Come on, Richard. We’ve got your medicine outside.”
He looked at me curiously at first, and then understood what I was saying, and rushed to the front door. Melinda and I took him across the street to a small sitting area next to a statue of some rebel general long forgotten, except by the pigeons. Melinda pulled out a brown bag from her coat and a shot glass. She handed the glass to me and opened the liquor bottle, pouring a small amount into the glass. Richard frowned, but then grinned when I handed him the glass. He downed it and held it out for more.
“Nothing doing, Richard. Not until you tell us about Norma,” Melinda said, as she hid the bottle behind her.
Richard smacked his lips. He held his glass out again. “I can’t talk when I’ve got the hibby-jibbies like this.”
Melinda pulled the bottle out and again only filled the shot glass, which is no taller than my thumb, halfway full. And again Richard frowned, but he swigged it down, just the same. I think he and Melinda came to an understanding about how this game would work.
“Okay, why are you still so angry at Norma?” Melinda asked, hiding the bottle again.
Richard rubbed his chin as if the answer lay in his stubble. “I loved her.”
While it looked like Melinda thought we had our answer, I wasn’t ready to accept such a blanket statement.
“And?” I asked, and he gave me a pinched look.
“And she spurned me.” He held out his glass, but I shook my head.
“No, Richard. You don’t get any more, until you can form a complete sentence. Why did she spurn you?” I asked, noticing he was barely tolerating his quivers. I was beginning to feel bad about this whole bribing ploy.
He sighed, and a tear sparkled in the corner of his eye. “Because, she loaned me a hundred thousand dollars, and I never paid it back. I lost it all at the craps table, and Norma never forgave me for that.” He wiped his eyes, and then his nose on his coat sleeve. Then he held out his glass, and Melinda poured him a full glass this time. He tossed it back.
“And what about her Oscar, Richard? What did you do with that?” Melinda asked, waving the bottle at him.
He said that he had it hidden away, but I didn’t believe him because his eyes had glazed over and his head drooped sideways. I figured he sold it years ago for chump change.
I stood up and nodded for Melinda to follow me. “Richard, we’re just going to step over here for a second. Don’t go anywhere, okay.” If he heard me, he didn’t indicate it. Melinda picked up the whiskey bottle and together we walked just out of earshot.
“So, what do we do? The man is obviously mad at Norma because he needs a scapegoat.”
“I think so too. But I have an idea along the lines of another type of bribe.” Even though I felt bad about bribing him with liquor, I didn’t feel any remorse with this idea. “If he voluntarily goes into rehab, and makes an honest go of getting sober, we’ll give him the money, and bring him to Norma to personally repay her. And then we can set him up with a permanent place to stay. What do you think?”
“I don’t have a problem with the money, but I don’t think he can pull it off. Honestly, giving a drunk that kind of cash would be like playing Russian roulette with a loaded gun.”
My eyes softened, and my throat tightened. “Don’t forget that I was a drunk once too, and when I sobered up, I didn’t fire that gun.”
“I know, babe,” Melinda said softly, “but you only drank for a couple of years. He’s been drinking non-stop for over thirty years, probably longer.”
“I think we have to try, Melinda. We have to give him that second chance, or third or fourth chance, if that’s what he needs. For Norma.”
She nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”
We sat down beside Richard again, and before we could say anything, he held his glass out. Feeling like his mother, I told him no more, not until he heard us out first and gave a sober answer to what we propose. He had no choice but to agree, but I wasn’t so sure that he was sober.
Melinda went first. “Richard, we have an idea of how you can make amends to Norma and feel like a man again.”
It was probably trite to bring up his manhood, but I agreed with Melinda, that’s what had him so mad at Norma. If we could get him sobered up, perhaps he could once again be the man that Norma fell in love with. It was romantic whimsy on my part, but romance and hope are very closely related.
His answer was less than encouraging. “Give me that damn bottle and fuck off”
I had a fleeting moment of thinking that we were in over our heads, but there was nothing to be done now but to shake it off and try to persuade him that this was the best thing for him. “Richard, hear us out first. We can help you with a fresh start. One where you can walk up to Norma with your head held high, wearing a suit and carrying one hundred thousand dollars.”
He laughed and shook his head.
Melinda poured him a tiny bit of whiskey. “Richard, we’re serious. We have the money and can make it happen for you.”
“What’s the catch?” he asked after he downed his liquor.
I pulled out the rehab brochure. “The catch is you have to go into rehab. We have found a good one—”
“Fuck that! I’m not going back to that torture chamber again.” He got up quickly, but his knees wobbled so badly that he sat back down.
“How long ago was it that you were in rehab?” Melinda asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Twenty, thirty years ago, right? The rehabs today are luxury spas compared to back then. And all you have to endure, is getting past the detoxification, which should be a breeze for a big, strapping man like yourself.”
“Richard, it says in the brochure that you will have your own warm, clean room, and three square meals a day. Plus, they will give you massages, saunas and medicine to help you get past the withdrawals.” I threw in the medicine part as an afterthought. I wanted him to know the truth of it all.
Melinda sweetened the deal. “And the day you walk out of that rehab, clean and sober, I’ll hand you one hundred thousand dollars. If you choose to pay it back to Norma, so much the better. But if you don’t, I won’t say a word, because the money will be yours, free and clear.”
He looked at her as if she were crazy. I was kind of wondering the same thing. I thought we wanted him to repay Norma to make them both feel better, but I guess Melinda felt he needed to have more options before he agreed to rehab. As it turned out, Melinda was right.
“So,
all I have to do for the money is get sober? What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that you have to complete the three months the facility requires, plus the month-long volunteer assignment they give you, and then we’ll give you the money and cut you lose.” I wasn’t sure he was understanding what I was saying. “This is your chance, Richard. In four months you can absolve yourself of all your sins by paying that money back to Norma.”
Melinda got up in his face and made him look at her. “Well, Richard? What’s it going to be? Will you take a chance at a new life, or will you die alone in the gutter?”
Chapter Fourteen
A Very Old Secret — Melinda Blackstone, Chris Livingston, and Richard Burke
“Hey, lady.” Richard waved for me to come closer, which I was cautious of, because I could smell him just fine from where I stood.
I took a step closer. “Have you decided to go into rehab, Richard?”
“Yeah, sure. But I know another secret, and it’ll cost you a drink.”
“No, Melinda.” Chris touched my arm, “If we keep giving him drinks, he won’t be sober enough to check himself in.”
“He’s sober enough to want to bribe us for a drink. I think it would be worth the risk.”
“Why, it’s probably just drunk speak that we won’t be able to understand,” she said, and she had a very good point.
“I’ve got an idea.” I handed Chris the shot glass and poured a small amount of whiskey into it.
Richard looked at the glass and licked his lips in anticipation.
“Richard, if we think your secret is a good one, we’ll let you have this drink.”
He was none too happy with me, and after a few obscenities that would make even my father cringe, he prefaced his secret with a confession, and then he led us over to the apartment building, and removed a brick from the wall facing the alley.
Paying It Forward, Case #1 – Case Closed — Chris Livingston, Melinda Blackstone, and Richard Burke
“Hello, Norma, it’s Chris.” I held my cellphone in one hand and took a sip of coffee with the other one. “Yes, we found him, and we’re on our way to Hot Springs, Arkansas. He’s agreed to go into rehab. Isn’t that wonderful news? What? Yes, we’re flying there now in a rented corporate jet, so we should be there in a little over an hour. Melinda and I will be home for dinner, and we’ll tell you all about it then, okay?” I looked up to see Melinda hand Richard a shot of whiskey to calm his nerves. I hope that’s all he’s getting or he’ll be too drunk to sign himself in. “What was that, Norma? Oh yes, he’s shaky, but still sharp as a tack. All right then, we’ll see you this afternoon. Goodbye.”
I laid my cellphone on the table and watched Melinda put away the liquor bottle. The shot of whiskey apparently was all Richard needed to help calm his nerves, because he was fast asleep now. Melinda sat down beside me at the table.
“Do you think he’ll really go through with this, Melinda?”
“I think he thinks he will, right now,” Melinda replied. “I don’t know what he’ll do after he goes a week without a drink. I can’t imagine what kind of torture that will be for him.”
“I know a tiny bit about what he’ll go through, and I’m beginning to wonder if it wouldn’t be better just to leave him as he is.” It’s not that I was having second thoughts about our plan. It’s that I was afraid of the agony he would have to endure. Not just the physical pain he’ll have to withstand, but the mental games his mind will play on him.
Melinda looked at me with empathy. “I also know what it was like. My entire existence was dependent on my next fix.”
She had opened the door to her past that I was not fully aware of, so I stepped through it. “Melinda, how were you able to stop using drugs? It seems like it would be a very hard thing to let go of.”
“Actually, for me, it was easy to stop because I developed a tolerance to drugs that scared the shit out of me.”
“How so?” I asked, intrigued and a little bit frightened for her.
“My drug of choice was cocaine, and it used to be just the thing to take me high enough to escape my life. But then it took more and more of the stuff to get me back up there again. I was willing to pay the price, but when one of the women I was having anonymous sex with, tried to kill me for my coke, I woke up, literally.”
“Tried to kill you? Dear God, were you hurt? Tell me what happened.” I probably shouldn’t have been, but I was fascinated.
“Well, it was pretty orgasmic actually.” My mouth hung open, and she grinned at me. “It was my first and only venture into bondage sex. After I snorted up a new high, this woman I didn’t know pulled me away from my party and into my bedroom, where she had me lie down and then tied my hands and feet and pulled out a whip. I laughed and said something cocky like, ‘Bring it on, bitch.’”
I put my hand over my still gaping mouth, because the visualization was becoming strangely arousing.
“Well, she did bring it, and just as I was begging for release, she pulls out a paring knife, that I guess she stole from the kitchen, and puts the tip of it to my face. At first, I thought it was part of the bondage act, and I admit, it did sharply enhance things. But then she moved the knife down to my clit and said if I wanted to climax, I had tell her where my stash was.”
“Oh, dear God,” I said again. “That fucking skank!”
“I didn’t have a choice. I told her where it was. She dropped the knife and grabbed my drugs, and left me there, still gasping for release.”
“Oh, you poor thing. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“Don’t be, it probably saved my life.”
“But how did you come?”
Melinda smirked. “I’m Blackie Blackstone, and my condo was full of women who were chomping at the bit to get me into bed.”
I shook my head, and although I knew what she said was true, I was jealous, so I said, “Oh please.”
“No, it’s true. I screamed for help and five women came running in. I was in too much need to care how embarrassing it was at the time. Anyway, they immediately understood what I needed and we had a good old fashioned orgy.” Melinda grinned, as if reliving the moment, and I swatted her on the arm. “Oh, uh, yeah, well anyway, once I sobered up, people I didn’t know came up to me and told me how much they enjoyed having sex with me. They were surprised that I gave them complete control over me, since I never had before, and asked when I would do it again. And then I realized that the woman who robbed me had complete control over me. One thing I valued more than getting high was having control, especially over my own body. So I became pretty insufferable, banning drugs from my parties, not allowing drunk people into my condo, and for a time, even had a bodyguard, in case someone wanted to try that stunt again.”
I had a sense that that wasn’t the end of the story. “But you didn’t stick with it, did you?”
“Yes and no. I never did drugs again, but then I overcompensated with booze, which surprisingly, I had more control with. I developed a policy that I have stuck with ever since, which is, unless I fall in love with a person, I will only sleep with them once. I got drunk and slept with my bodyguard, so she was gone the next day. Over the years, I’ve slept with a lot of women I never saw again.”
“Melinda, you are remarkable.”
She looked at me and arched her brow. “Is that a good thing?”
“Oh, definitely a good thing. If Richard wasn’t in the seat up there, I’d take you right here on this table.”
Melinda grinned. “Well, Richard is sound asleep, and I don’t think anything could wake him. And, since I’m madly in love with you, you can take me as many times as you want, wherever you want, and however you want.” She held her hands together, suggesting that I handcuff her.
Unfortunately, the pilot came on the speaker, squashing my fantasies by asking that we prepare for landing.
“Shit! He did that on purpose,” Melinda quipped.
She sighed and went over to Richard to make sure that
he was buckled in, and then she came and sat down beside me in our seats. After buckling in, we held hands as the plane landed.
Spa City — Melinda Blackstone, Chris Livingston, and Richard Burke
We took a taxi from the airport to downtown Hot Springs. The taxi driver gave Chris a brochure of the city, and she began reading it out loud. I looked out the window as she described the spa city of the south.
Hot Springs, Arkansas, where over the centuries thousands came to bathe in the natural mineral waters that would supposedly cure them of all their ailments. And where gangsters like Al Capone came to hide out in the 1930s, turning the town into a gangster haven, and where the Chicago White Stockings, that would later become the Cubs, held baseball’s very first spring training camp. This city had a lot to offer, and I made a mental note to see about investing in it.
We drove past Bathhouse Row, and I found myself wishing we could stop and get a massage. It was also horse racing season, and there were signs everywhere, showing the lost tourist the way to Oaklawn. Chris told me that she had been to Oaklawn before, but didn’t much care for it anymore after a horse was hurt during a race and had to be put down.
We wound through the streets until we came to the rehab center, nestled in the tree line of a mountain. The outside of the building was beautiful, with lots of flowers and shrubbery and a water fountain in the middle of the walkway.
Richard climbed out of the taxi after Chris, and stood there, staring up at the building. I heard him say, as I was paying the cab driver, that he wasn’t so sure about admitting himself. Suddenly he had cold feet. I asked the cabbie to wait and gave him a generous tip as an incentive.
“It’s all right, Richard.” Chris said as I walked up. “It’s a little scary at first, but there’s really nothing to be afraid of. Those people inside only want to help you get better.”
“You do want to get better, don’t you, big guy?” I asked him.
He nodded, but said, “I think I want to go home.”
Combining Riches (Riches to Rags Book 2) Page 16
