by Janice Ross
"What did she tell you?" I cut in, ready to swing over the memory of her, the asshole, and even the condo I was determined to never set foot in again. "What could she possibly have to say?"
"That you were making an ass out of yourself." Not only did he spit out the words, the entire car shook with his thunderous roar. Jeff lost hold of the wheel briefly, and even my insides shuddered.
"Are you flipping kidding me? That whore–"
"How dare you refer to her in that manner? Whatever the hell went on between the two of you, you better thank her for not pressing charges."
"You're kidding me, right?" I sat there as calmly as possible, flicking one thumb over the other as I clenched my palms together. Rupert might as well had grown horns before me because he just turned into the damn devil in my eyes.
"What's the problem, Rhys? You know, relationships have a way of working themselves out. She's willing to forgive your irrational behavior."
I literally reached up to hold on to the top of the vehicle to steady myself. I tossed my head side to side and prayed to God to muster up enough strength to turn away from my father's idiotic ranting.
"Are you serious?" Every ounce of pressure I'd felt from the moment I'd stepped into that god forsaken apartment I shared with Maggie, right up until Rupert's self-righteous, scolding weighed me down. If I was a lesser man, the rage swirling inside would've exploded by now. I wouldn't have been responsible for a single piece of shit flying out from my mouth.
"The way I see things, you have one of two options. You can take on a modest role at Colburn Financial Consulting or finish your final year and then move into a position. I'm no longer financing your careless lifestyle." He held an almost God-like smirk, as if to say he'd won.
"And if I don't?"
"That's not an option."
I reiterated, "If I don't?"
"You can say goodbye to your trust fund, as well as the luxuries of owning my name." He reeked of power, while pitying the small people of the world. I was important to him when he needed me to be. I was his son for the public's sake. We were a strong family unit to carry on the farce.
I gripped the rounded edges of the leather seat. A fierce, expansive burn flushed through me. "You're blackmailing me now?"
"Blackmail?" Rupert chuckled. "Call it what you must."
I glared deep into his eyes with the type of hatred a son should never exhibit for a father, while watching him tip over the glass to empty the last bit of clear liquid. He reclined onto the plush seat, taking care to cross his right ankle over top of his knee.
I set my eyes outside of the car, down on the lines running along the middle of the streets. I looked on as yellow taxicabs swerved across the lanes. Why was this so profound to me all of a sudden? I was a grown man with daddy issues. I relied of him for every area of living, right down to the condo I'd set Maggie up in. Shit, I couldn't hold up my head in respect.
Respect, what in the hell was that anyway? I was a boy to him.
As we rolled close to the intersection of West 39th Street and 9th Avenue, at the crowds of the Hell's Kitchen Flea Market, I felt a push to give up on everything that had suddenly tag-teamed me. For under 180 days, I'd held off on the drama of dealing with a bastard for a father. I was the one who was desperate to return to New York and Maggie. Right now, neither was any good for me, and this intervention style lecture was the final straw.
Bracing with my right hand, I quickly grabbed for the door to unlock and open. We'd just started moving forward again. A variety of vehicles piled around us while shoppers attempted to rush from amongst the traffic. My breathing sped up. Pricks of sweat formed across my forehead. Without taking time to plan an escape, I forced open the door to his Bentley and hopped out in what seemed like one swift movement.
I bolted from the car, slamming the door shut behind me. If felt damn good. Empowering. I heard the shock in his words as he scrambled to call out my name through the window–smug ass. Without initially looking back, I imagined the startled expression on his face, as well as the pompous snarl he'd force out whenever he got embarrassed. Make no mistake, he had to feel like shit.
I stumbled forward onto the roadway. I didn't want to get myself killed while trying to prove a point to my father. My emotions fluctuated between elation and frustration. The sun beat down on top of my head. It was a heavy type of warmth, but still I pressed on, taking wide strides. At least one thing panned out for me– I'd been gifted with his height at six-foot three.
I glanced back no more than a handful of times. It wasn't that I was nervous or anything, just pissed and ready for whatever was to come. Honestly, I never hated anyone in my life. Never thought I'd have an enemy either, but in this second, I needed someone to carry every ounce of my pain and anger. Rupert won the prize by default. Then Lisle flashed through my mind. When all of the bullshit of the world came at me without remorse, she became a constant savior. I reached into my pocket, glanced back at traffic and effortlessly dialed my mother's number. The phone rang four times before voicemail kicked in. The same thing happened again and again.
Placing one foot in front of the next, I paused. A nudging feeling crept over my body, a sort of heaviness stripping away my energy. I didn't want to stop dialing, and prepared to run my thumb over the screen again when it buzzed.
"Lisle," I yelled into line.
Silence.
"Answer me," I spat out. Her faced flashed before me, the one from earlier in the day–the airport face with glossed over smoky pupils.
She let out a low sigh. Something told me she was holding on to pain and fighting the tears. "Rhys..." Lisle muttered into the line.
"What's wrong?"
A bone-chilling sob fumbled into the line. I squeezed the phone tighter. "What the hell's going on?"
"Rhys, I can't. I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
I got slammed by the sound of dead air and "call ended."
"Fuck!"
What seemed like a million different bodies flashed agitated snarls. Some walked wide while a few intentionally knocked into me. Distant cries sounded in my ears, but I couldn't distinguish between my inner fear and the outer reality. For a day that had started off with me up in the clouds, literally and figuratively, I'd fallen into the depths of the grimiest gutters. Now, Lisle seemed ready to pull me further into the darkness.
Three failed attempts at swiping my thumb over the screen only to get her voicemail did nothing to calm my rage. A heavy mass of regret settled over my heart. The realization kicked me in the gut. What now became clear: no amount of time away was capable of fixing my mom's issues.
She wanted to stay away and I needed to be here. Or so I thought. We should've both forgotten about this convoluted existence in the midst of people who didn't give two shits about anyone outside of themselves.
This day forced me to take a long look at who I was, where I was going and what the hell I needed to do. The problem–I was already screwed. I just didn't know it at the time.
IV.
Chanel
~
I'll be the first to admit how irrational some of my friends were. Like now, on the day Zach left for school, with our own classes being held at St. John's and tons of things to get sorted out, Chantele Braun decided we were due for a trip to the city just because she needed to hook up with some new guy. Don't get me wrong, I didn't typically mind hanging out in Manhattan. I loved the culture of NYC, along with the fashion, foods and events. I'm not referring to those aspects of the city. I mean the jacked-up side of life which made a female believe she could meet up with any Joe Schmo and not see the harm in it. Damn, Chantele had her priorities screwed the hell up.
"How much further?" I repeated for the umpteenth time. Her response was the same as the last five times–nada, nothing–other than for her to squeeze my wrist which she'd been grappling for the past twenty minutes since we'd gotten off of the train. No wonder I was the only sucker to volunteer to follow her on this crazy ass excur
sion. Everyone said she was crazy to put herself out there like this. Hell, I knew it too. She was just so damn determined, I didn't want to see anything happen to her, especially if she was alone and unable to defend herself.
Why do chicks do this to themselves?
I rolled my eyes to the back of her head, and considered yanking at her flowing, waist length, strawberry blonde hair swinging like a pendulum. Chantele stood about five inches taller than my height of five-foot four. She was slender and almost flawless, on the outside that is. Buried beneath a model like figure, empty hazel pupils and a deceptively innocence façade lived a girl with very little confidence. This was precisely the reason I'd decided to set aside my sulking for the day to tag along on her latest hook up with a total stranger.
The streets were filled with everyone. This was the glory of this region–it had to be the most diverse in the whole world. I must've heard about half a dozen accents and various languages.
For late August, the sun did exactly what it should've. And for that, with the help of high rises and busy bodies, I started overheating. But just as we passed a smelly pile of water as we stepped onto the next block, an object crashed onto the ground in front of me.
Smash!
From every angle, everyone continued their day. I pulled out of Chantele's hold and immediately stopped. My focus settled on the concrete beneath our feet.
Bits and pieces of an iPhone lay on the filthy ground. Perhaps, under normal circumstances, I might've continued to move forward and mind my own business. But then a shadow lurked near, right in front of me.
As much as the streets were filled with car horns and the screeching of tires or voices trailing from around us, I fell out of touch with reality. Instead, my stare trailed up a stranger's khaki covered legs on the opposite end of the ruined device. The sun shone down on him. Only him. The atmosphere turned darker, shadows twirled in the distance. Everything else faded into oblivion.
But him, this stranger sparked an interest.
His eyelids lowered, sheltering illusive gray pupils. Fear and uncertainty plagued his face in a way that made me want to speak.
But him, this stranger made me afraid; not for myself. For him.
"Are you okay?" I mouthed. His chest contracted inward, only to bulk up outward. This guy was like a beast, though, with hardening pupils and steam foaming out of his nose, ears and mouth. Truthfully, he might've been the most gorgeous guy I'd even set eyes on. Life should never turn on him, not with his amazing presence.
I needed to lean my head all the way back, so I guess he had to be several inches over six feet. Even angry, the honey-tinted hair which fell forward to dip past his brow gave him somewhat of an innocent appeal. His lips were not as thin as most white guys, but they were a succulent, almost beaten shade of pink. His nose was perfectly straight, set beneath commanding icy irises. I had an urge to know that he was as perfect on the inside as he appeared on the out, though our lives meant nothing to the other. "You good?"
A response never came.
Seriously though, who was I to come to the rescue of a total stranger, no matter how much his mere existence appealed to my senses. He clearly had a shitload of crap going on, apparent by the way he panted like a fricken madman. Yeah, he was not in a good place. Yet, I cared enough to step to him while a warming flow caressed me. But who was I to care? Especially about someone whose issues wouldn't allow him to take the time to address me. Someone in a sea of busy lives who'd actually stopped to check on him. My concerns never usually reached this far. At the risk of sounding selfish, I typically didn't care.
"Keep up, Chanel." Chantele's scold cut right through the fire and smokescreen. She brought me back to our physical realm. I couldn't part my lips to offer a reply, but tried to refocus on the troubled stranger with strained grays to offset the shaded depths of his soul.
He returned my stare, more in a curious glare until the shadows of the sidewalks became real life human beings to cover any remaining connections we might've ever had. For a second, I couldn't bring myself to stop this idiotic fixation. Couldn't shake this need to turn back and make sure this perfectly good stranger wasn't falling apart.
Was this guy with wild, stormy eyes my business?
I knew the answer, though every inch of me couldn't help but wonder if he might've been some missing link.
V.
Rhys
~
As much as I'd dedicated my life to defending this stinking city, I suddenly hated everything about it. Yeah, just all of a sudden.
Voila, just like that, I lost a battle I didn't know I was in. All along I'd been standing on the filthy field, traps set all around me. I knew it wasn't quite the same, but when life handed you a kick in the face there was no getting away from the facts all around. I'd grown up to believe the world was my playing field. Meant to stand at the peak of the mountain, I didn't know how to not be the heart and soul of any situation.
Take Maggie for example. When did things go south? What made me not enough? Did she just start screwing that guy? Or, or had I slept in our bed after him? Hell, she might've been giving it up to both of us at the same time.
Tossing my head back, the sun streaming from around the concrete and glass buildings of Midtown didn't give enough of a burn. Was I blind? Were the signs there all along? What if I’d pushed her away by taking the long trip?
Trip or no trip, Maggie didn't need for a damn thing. She had no desire to work either, and was content to not plan for a future. There was an unwritten agreement that I would supply for our financial future. My bank accounts would've been our hope. So, how am I supposed to move on with a life I hadn’t planned for and how the hell could I bring myself to concentrate when none of this should have been?
Maggie. Rupert. Lisle. And now the streets came calling from all angles. I desperately wanted to get away, now.
At my feet lay my shattered iPhone. I didn't want to focus on anything but disappearing. Yet, as a tiny multicolored brown-haired chick with somewhat of a darker skin tone disrupted my already funky mood, my eyes wouldn't shift from her pleading hazels. She wanted to know if I was okay. Hell, I didn't even know.
Two, three, four deep breaths. Count to ten. Blow out the anger.
I moved through the crowd in search of a ride. Walking might've been able to get me there just as quickly. Whatever the deal, Lisle needed me. For a moment, I’d forgotten about everything around with the exception of the girl who'd paused to look out for me, and the yellow cab I was now finally able to settle into.
When we rounded the corner of my parents' luxury domain the Times referred to as a "Park Avenue Penthouse in the Clouds," I gasped. It was one of the tallest residential buildings and still managed to take my breath away. The glass windows and doors which made up the vast structure called out to me. To think, my mom was suffering in the heart of a luxury most might never experience. I could almost hear the words singing in a weak tone which resembled Lisle's...
Help!
But she didn't call me to ask for my help even though I felt the pain. I had to be strong enough to defend or protect the only person to love me beyond my flaws. Every sound tortured me, from the bustling streets to the nonverbal mumbles of people going about their lives. There was a push towards the very edge of sanity and as a consequence, my breaking point.
I bulldozed my way beyond anyone passing along the front, whether they were entering the building or not. I had one aim alone and it didn't include a conversation with the guy at the front desk, or others who recognized me as Rupert and Lisle's only child.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
No answer.
"Lisle!"
Nothing.
My insides sunk. Not like earlier, but a knowing type of doom. There was no hopefulness in this feeling. I could just about hear the vibrations of my fears.
"Shit!"
"What are you doing here?" Rupert's words were capable of corrupting any real hope. As his footsteps drew near and his words came to m
ean very little, I eased one step closer to losing the remaining shred of sanity I'd been holding onto.
"Please open the door," I begged. My head slumped forward, low. Strands of hair brushed on the tip of my forehead, settling at my brows. His leather loafers reached within a foot of mine. To look up into the eyes of a man I considered the ultimate jackass and know that now was not the time for a confrontation, it took every ounce of strength to be humble.
"I don't know what happened over the past several months with you and that mother of yours, but I need answers. Your behavior is unacceptable. Her–"
"You can talk as much as you'd like some other time, but something is wrong." I finally raised my head as a challenge. "Lisle needs us right now." A vein flexed at his temple, right below an almost feathered silver lock of hair. His left eye twitched. As much as he believed it was his obligation to be in control, I noted a shift in our atmosphere. "I don't think she's in a good place." Pacing closer with wide shoulders and labored breaths, I added, "She needs us."
I stepped back long enough to give him a chance to unlock the door, only to fight my way into a cherry blossom aroma. The lights were off, still glowing gray fixtures along the walls aligned with the same in a variety of shades. The sun had begun settling from beyond the large, fishbowl windows. My heart raced with our footsteps on the panel floors. I pushed through their double master bedroom doors.
Déjà vu...
I could've sworn time turned back on me. Bits and pieces of my morning–airplanes, roadways, buildings, hair, moans, and dirty, filthy blood–swirled around me. The hurt was real enough to transition into visual forms. I expected to come face to face again with Maggie and the asshole I'd beaten the shit out of. With fists clenched at my sides, I paused on the inside of the entrance. Darkness swarmed through the space. An oversized bed in shiny platinum became the focal point. From the corner of my eyes, I spotted movement on the floor. My feet were planted in place. Visions betrayed me. I know I needed to move. I couldn't. The muscles and structures of my heart, soul, and mind unraveled. As the lights penetrated the darkness, I no longer inhaled. Something was bound to happen. My sixth sense, a staunch assurance, hung over me like the hair clinging to my skin.
