by Malone, M.
“Tanner Marshall? Come in. Your father is expecting you.” She leads me to a spacious living area. “Have a seat.”
As soon as she leaves the room, I wipe my hands on my jeans. Why the hell am I sweating?
The decision to meet with my father was made out of necessity. He backed me into a corner. I signed his stupid contract for my mom’s sake not mine. But my conversation with Emma last night put things in perspective.
Spending time with my father will never be high on my priority list but getting medical care for my mother is.
That’s what my heart has been saying loud and clear. Save Mom.
So that’s what I’m going to do.
Emma would be proud of my decision. I really wish she was here with me now but she wanted time so I’ll give it to her. Maybe she’s right and it really is bad timing or maybe I just came on too strong. A family dinner may have been too much too soon. Plus all the drama at the dinner table would be enough to scare anyone off.
The young woman comes back into the room pushing a drink cart. “Mr. Marshall will be out shortly. Would you like anything to drink?”
“Uh, sure. Water is fine.”
As she prepares the drink, I look around the room.
“This hotel is pretty swank. It’s exactly the kind of place I’d expect him to be,” I mutter.
“Yes, it is. Mr. Marshall remodeled it last year.”
She smiles absently as she places the drink on the table in front of me with a white napkin beneath.
“He owns the hotel?”
She gives me an odd look. “Yes, of course. He owns all of the StarCrest Hotels.”
“Of course he does.”
Resentment festers just below the surface. Each one of these rooms goes for an astronomical rate. While my mom was clipping coupons and working two jobs, my father was buying hotels.
Briefly, I wonder if I’ll even recognize him. My last memories of him were from the perspective of an eight-year-old boy.
What boy doesn’t think his father walks on water?
But I’m a man now and I wonder what it’ll be like to meet him again this way. Will he still seem familiar?
If I could have, I would have put this meeting off. Taken some time to prepare myself. But since I agreed to his terms, I had to meet with him in thirty days or less. I don’t want to take any chances.
If I keep to his agreed upon schedule then the money in my trust will continue to grow. So I’ll visit with him until I have enough to pay for all of my mom’s care.
I may have to visit him to get the money but there’s nothing in that paperwork that says I have to like it.
“Tanner. You’re here.”
I turn at the grizzled voice in the doorway. My face probably shows my surprise but it’s too late to cover my reaction.
When Patrick mentioned that my father was ill, it didn’t really hit me that he would look sick. But this elderly man in a wheelchair is not what I was expecting. I don’t bother correcting my name. He can call me whatever.
I don’t plan to be here enough for it to matter.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Would you like something to drink? They have lemonade. You always did like lemonade.”
“I liked it when I was eight, Dad.” The word slips out before I can stop it and it annoys me.
I don’t want to call him that. He hasn’t earned the right to that title.
His face falls slightly but he recovers, wheeling himself over to the sideboard. He selects a decanter and pours himself a drink.
“Of course. You’d probably be more likely to want a scotch right about now.”
The fact that he’s right only ratchets my irritation higher.
“Actually I don’t want anything. I’m not here for a drink. You already know why I’m here. Mom needs surgery so I need the money. It’s that simple.”
“I don’t have any right to ask but I’ll ask anyway. Why does she need surgery?”
Keeping it a secret out of spite crosses my mind but who would that serve? He can’t hurt her anymore at this point. Maybe if he realizes she’s sick and needs me, he’ll let me out of these stupid scheduled visits.
“It’s cancer. She has breast cancer.”
He tosses the drink back but before he does, I notice his hand is shaking.
“My lawyer said she was sick. But I didn’t realize it was cancer. I didn’t realize.”
He wheels himself over to the window and looks out. In profile he looks almost sad. It’s unsettling to see this display of emotion. I don’t think of him as being sad or regretful.
In my mind, I am always eight years old and he is a spoiled, middle-aged man on a perpetual hunt for youth and excitement. The man before me now, this broken shell of a man, is someone that I don’t know.
His pain isn’t something I want to see because it’s so much easier to remember him as a bastard who walked out on his family than to see him as a man who regrets what he did.
“I apologize for forcing you into these meetings. It was the only way I could get you here.”
“Why was it so important for you to see each of us? And why the weekly visits?”
He doesn’t meet my eyes. “I have my reasons.”
His evasiveness pisses me off. Again, it’s him pushing us around and structuring things to his perspective. He couldn’t care less about how it affects me, Mom or Finn.
“I just wanted to see my children. I may have figured it out too late but you are my greatest accomplishments.”
Despite the heartfelt speech, I can sense there’s a lot he isn’t telling me. There’s an ocean between us filled with half-truths and assumptions. It’s like yelling across a great distance trying to be heard. I find I’m just too damned tired to even try anymore.
“Well, you can see me but that’s all. The papers said I had to show up. They didn’t say I had to make small talk.”
I sit in one of the armchairs and glance at my watch.
Fifty-five minutes and counting …
* * *
After an uncomfortable hour staring at my shoes, I get up and leave. My father looks disappointed.
I guess he thought that by forcing me to come here, that we’d eventually talk and make up. That an entire lifetime of him not being there could be erased with a pleasant afternoon.
I didn’t take my bike today and I wish I had. A hard and dirty ride is exactly what I need to purge this restless rage from my blood.
My thoughts turn to Emma. She’s right, I know she is, that we need to keep our distance. But now I’m stuck in this endless limbo, wondering where she is and whether she’s okay.
That way lies madness so I decide to just drive.
I end up at Finn’s place. His car is still in the same parking space. He must be leaving though since he’s agreed to the weekly visits with dear old dad as well.
“Finn? Hello?”
He appears to my left, coming from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just got back from seeing our father.”
“No wonder you look homicidal.”
I put my feet up on the coffee table. The television is on but the sound is muted. It’s one of those news commentary shows where people are always yelling at each other and trying to sound more knowledgeable about world events than they actually are.
“I met our brothers. That was interesting.” Finn sits on the couch next to me.
He looks better. More alert. His eyes don’t have the bleary quality they get when he’s taking the pain pills.
“You did? When?”
“Right after you sent me the information. I drove over to their shop and we hung out for a minute. I would have gone the day you went if you’d told me.”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t sure if they’d be open to us. I was just feeling things out.”
“They were cool. It was weird to see the one who looks like you. Gabe. Did you ever find the youngest one?”
“L
uke? Not yet, I’ve got Eli looking into it.”
“Maybe he’s hiding. Hell, maybe he’s hiding from Max.”
I grunt in response.
Finn narrows his eyes. “You’re not listening to anything I’m saying. Why are you really here?”
“I have no idea.”
“Where’s Emma?”
“Again. No idea. Why would I know that? I took her on one date. One awful date and a do-over where I had to share her with a college boy and a roomful of feral cats.”
Finn snorts. “You enjoyed it. You even like that ugly ass cat you adopted to impress her. She’s good for you.”
“She’s not my girlfriend, Finn. She’s not my anything.”
“And therein lies the problem. You’ve been different lately. In a good way. I don’t care what dumb ass excuse you’re using not to be with her right now but just forget it. Call her up.”
“She doesn’t want me. Not really.”
Finn gives me a disbelieving look. “Try telling that to someone who didn’t see the way she watched you at dinner. I don’t know how you two originally hooked up but she feels something for you. I’m not sure what, but it’s something. That’s all you need.”
He scrubs his hands back and forth over his face. “I can tell you from experience that looking back and wondering if you did all you could sucks. You know what happened with Rissa. I still wish I’d fought for her. Don’t do that to yourself. If things don’t work out between you, let it be her fault, not because you didn’t pursue it. At least then you’ll have the comfort of hating her.”
I’m stunned into silence. Finn doesn’t talk about the past or what happened with his former fiancée. He blotted her out of his life so completely it’s almost like she never existed. This is the most I’ve ever heard him speak about it.
He raises bleak eyes to mine. “Call her.” Then he gets up and walks back to his room.
I let myself out.
Taking a drive would make more sense but I need physical exertion so I walk down the street leading away from Finn’s place. I want the burn of the cold air in my lungs when I breathe in. After I’ve walked for a little while, the neighborhood changes drastically. Graffiti pops up on random buildings and everything looks older. A man shuffles along pushing a shopping cart filled with old magazines and books.
As I pass, he says “Change? Any change?”
I pat my pockets. “No, I honestly don’t. Sorry.”
He shuffles along with a disgruntled expression. I think about all the money sitting in my bank account now. I’m a freaking millionaire but I don’t even have twenty-five cents in my pocket.
I laugh out loud. There’s no one out here to see me laughing and talking to myself like a crazy person. Not that I should care. I have money. Isn’t that supposed to make me happy?
It’s like I’m caught in a dream turned nightmare where on the surface I’ve been granted this amazing gift but it’s just a facade. Because beneath it all, I don’t have any of the things that really matter.
I’m not even sure how my phone ends up in my hand but suddenly I’m dialing Emma’s number and holding on to the piece of metal like it’s the only thing tethering me to the earth. Seeing her, hearing her voice is all I can think of. She’s the one true and honest thing in my life. The only thing untainted by all the negative emotions I carry around like a suitcase.
“Hello? Tank, are you there?” Her voice echoes in my ear.
I close my eyes and absorb the sound of her voice, the tones flowing over me and through me.
“I’m here.”
She’s quiet but I know she’s still there. I can hear her breathing.
“Are you okay?”
I allow my head to hang loose on my neck. She’s one of the only people content to just let me be. Not a lot of questions, just the important ones.
“Sorry. I know you said this isn’t possible for you right now. And shit, I know I’m a bad bet any given day of the week anyway. I just needed to hear your voice.”
“Tank,” she breathes and that one syllable arouses me like she’s talking dirty to me or something.
“I need you, Emma.”
There’s a rustle on the other end of the line. “Where are you? I’m coming to you.”
I give her the address and then hang up to wait. The homeless man has moved on a little further down the street and it’s just me and the concrete wall. I don’t even want to think about my admission on the phone.
I need you.
There’s usually a timeline of acceptable behavior in any relationship. You aren’t supposed to need a woman that you’ve known less than a month. I should like her and want to see her again but need her?
I push off and decide to circle the block again. She won’t be here for another few minutes to pick me up. I haven’t been walking long when I notice the man behind me. When I speed up, he speeds up. I turn another corner just to see if he’ll stick with me. After a minute, he does.
He’s following me.
I turn to face him. I could easily evade him but I don’t want to run.
I want the fight.
I need it.
He seems shocked I’m not running but recovers quickly. He pulls out a knife, the blade glinting in the moonlight.
“Don’t make this difficult, big guy.”
I rush him, slamming him against the side of the building. A grunt escapes his lips as he hits the bricks and the knife falls to the ground. I must have knocked the wind out of him because he doesn’t resist at first but then he headbutts me. He’s strong but not as big as I am.
He’s also slow. My fist connects with his ribcage, his gut and then his jaw. That familiar chill settles over me and I unleash all my rage, my frustration and my pain into hurting him.
With my fists, I can right a few wrongs even if everything else in my life is going to shit.
“Tank, stop! You’re killing him. Please.”
Emma’s voice filters through the rage and I come back to see the man is completely unconscious.
I collapse on the sidewalk.
“Oh my god, you’re bleeding.” Her hands come away from my arm smeared with blood.
Until then I hadn’t even noticed the searing burn on my forearm. He must have sliced me before dropping the knife.
“What were you doing?” she whispers. When I look up, she’s watching my face closely. “You weren’t even trying to get away.”
I can’t answer that but she must see the truth in my eyes. I wasn’t trying to get away, I was engaging. I was participating.
I was enjoying it.
“We have to get out of here. You need to go to the hospital.” She helps me to my feet, looping my good arm around her neck.
“No hospital. Just drive me home.”
“But Tank, your arm—”
“Please, Emma. I need you.”
The words hang there between us again and they take on a whole new meaning now. Her hand clenches around my waist.
“Okay, let’s go.”
The mugger’s knife is on the concrete next to him. I kick it away and then pull away from her so I can lean down and rummage through his jacket. There’s a wad of cash tucked into the inner pocket. Probably all the money he’s stolen from other victims tonight.
“Tank? What are you doing?”
I grip the money in my right hand as she leads me away. As we pass by, I stuff the bills in the homeless man’s cup.
“Donating to charity.”
Chapter Fourteen
Tank
Emma’s hands are shaking as she grips the steering wheel. The look on her face back there in the alley, it was a kind of déjà vu. The horror and fear. Some of it directed at me.
She’s seen the real me now. She’s seen the rage I can’t control.
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
She hesitates and I’m sure the answer will be no. There are reasons, valid reasons it’s a bad idea for us to get attached.
She’s trying
to get her education back on track and I’ve already got my hands full dealing with my family situation. If we could have picked a worse time to meet, I can’t think of when it would be. But none of that matters when I’m on the edge and all I want is to see her face.
“Yes. I’ll stay with you.”
She glances at me once and then turns her attention back to the road. Her expression tells me nothing. Maybe she’s staying with me because she’s worried about me. I don’t know and don’t care.
I have her for tonight and that’s all that matters.
One more night of peace.
She pulls up in front of my building and parks. For a moment, I don’t move, just sit watching her. I take a deep breath. The terrifying panic that’s been riding me since I left the hotel recedes a little.
“Have you ever done the wrong thing for the right reasons?”
She’s watching me with those big gray eyes and it feels like she can see straight through me. I’ve held it together until now but with one look, she disarms me.
“I would do anything for my mom, even make nice with my father, when I know he’s up to something. But what if it’s not enough?”
My blurted words convey my deepest fear.
My anger toward my father has fueled me over the years, carried me through all the hard times, the loneliness, the worry that my mother was working so hard to take care of us. Letting go of that, even for a good cause, threatens my whole foundation.
If I don’t hate him, then who am I?
My hatred has defined me for so long that I’m lost without it. Now I’m taking his money and allowing him back into my life.
What if I’ve sold my soul to the devil and it still doesn’t save her?
“Let’s go inside. I really want to look at your arm. I can at least clean the cut.”
Once we’re inside, Emma pushes me to the table. It’s odd to submit myself to her care. She’s never been the forceful type but my injury seems to have triggered her mother hen instincts.
I show her where the first aid kit is located then sit as still as a child while she fusses over me, swabbing the long slice on my arm with peroxide and then wrapping it with an Ace bandage.
