by Trixie More
Chapter 21
How could he explain it to her? Not possible. It wasn’t something he dwelled on, and he wasn’t going to start. Derrick and Allison were in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes from their breakfast. He’d been trying to explain about George but got sidetracked into explaining why he spent a year living in the man’s garage.
“You’ve met my dad.” It was a start, he supposed.
“And?”
“At some point, I stopped wanting to hang around my house, and my grandparents lived in Manhattan.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Pelham, north of the city. Big house, great school, wine cellar in the basement with seating for eight. You know, the usual.”
She looked shocked. “You’re rich?”
“My father’s rich, in a manner of speaking.”
She leaned back, her expression dubious.
“He makes a lot, and he spends a lot. He put two of his kids through extended degree programs at the best schools, his wife …” He stopped. “My mother has a housekeeper who works for her every day.” He tossed the frying pan into the sink, splashing a little. “They have money, but I doubt it hangs around.”
“And what about you?”
He smiled wanly. “I hang around.”
She smiled back at him, tipping her head to the side.
“So, back to Debra and George, how much money do they owe?”
It was funny. Allison was the first person to assume the debt belonged to Debra as much to George. “As of last week, seventy thousand or so. It goes up seventeen and a half percent every two weeks.” He had to work at it to keep the mug he was washing in his hand. It would have felt so good to just smash it. Allison rose from her chair, graceful and regal. Gently removing the cup from his hand, she rinsed it and dried it. He picked up the frying pan and washed it. A safer bet, he guessed. She took it from him, rinsed and toweled it dry. He moved on to the coffee pot.
“Are you and Ben trying to help?”
“How can we? If he’d come to us for the original loan, we could have helped him out. Now? It’ll be a hundred thousand in no time. Even as we work to get the money, he’ll be getting further behind.” He started the sink draining, turning his back to the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. George was a moron.
“And what about Debra?”
Just so. What about Debra? George ran off and left Ben and Derrick to watch as his wife cowered in her home, afraid to let their two children go to school.
“She’s pulling the kids out of school,” he said.
“But she works at the school!”
He was silent, and Allison didn’t disappoint him. “Oh, she quit,” she said quietly. “This just gets worse.”
He looked at her. Something was eating at her, beyond their conversation. He studied her. Nope, he couldn’t guess.
“What?” he asked. Allison didn’t prevaricate.
“I have to tell you something, but I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with this.”
He rubbed his eyes, checked his watch. Allison had only a half hour before she had to leave. She was going to drop a bomb on him when there was no time to work it out, he just knew it. Damn her mouth.
The mouth in question was starting to speak. Just like any other time, Derrick wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He braced himself.
“I haven’t been keeping up with the mortgage on the shop.”
Derrick exhaled. At least this was something he already knew about. At least, his grandfather was going to give her more time, so that was one thing he didn’t need to worry about.
She kept going. “I know how close you guys are, and at some point, he’s going to take the business back from me. When that happens, I know you and I will have to split up.”
“How did this go from money to you and me?”
“Your family is everything to you, and I’m not on the same page as them.”
“What page is that?”
“The one where it’s OK for Angelo to take my business. I’m not going to make it easy for him, Derrick.”
Ah, now that made sense. Derrick let himself imagine a battle of wills between Angelo and Allison. Epic would be one way to think about it. When he imagined how he would fit into that battle, apocalyptic came to mind.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I have some cash I can give you to catch you up.”
She looked at him in shock. “I’m not taking your money.”
Christ, she was a pain in the ass. He could make all of it go away with a bit of green. She couldn’t be that far gone, indeed not more than five or six thousand. He could take overtime at work and make that in a couple of months. As long as Angelo wasn’t …
“Is he charging you interest?”
“Angelo?” she asked. “No, not that I know of. I think he just wants his money.”
Derrick relaxed. “I’ll take care of it then.” He started walking to the door to get his boots.
“Where are you going?” She trotted after him. She couldn’t just let it go. He needed to figure out a way to help Debra, and he needed Allison to just be OK. A few bucks would do it. Derrick picked up his boots and carried them back to the kitchen, sitting down to put them on. The whole way, Allison chattered.
“You can’t just announce you’ll take care of it. This is not your business. This is between Angelo and me. You don’t get to put money in unless I say you do.” She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest and literally tapped her foot at him. Why did he care, really? He pulled the laces on his boot tight and tied them, watching her while he did so.
Why this woman? He looked down and shoved the remaining boot on, frowning at it while he tugged the laces, tying them off. Because she loved him. She might not know it, but he did. He had the best examples of it right at the bar. Angelo and Rose. Sophia. The way they loved him, the way they loved each other. Allison was loyal and steadfast. She cherished others in the way he valued most. Of all people, Derrick knew that different people, different families, different parts of the same family, all loved in their own way. Allison’s love was strong, resilient, and that was a rare thing. He could see it in the way she took care of her father, the way she sent Marley home, the way she took nothing. And that really wasn’t the reason either. He yanked the leg of his jeans down and stood up. Allison’s pretty face tipped up, tracking him, her bangs caught on her eyelashes, her hazel eyes determined, a bit of pink to her cheeks. He stepped up to her and took her by the shoulders. Bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Sweet and soft, she opened, wrapping her arms around his neck, her hair smelling clean and fresh, her skin soft. He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb along her jaw.
“I’m still not taking your money,” she whispered.
“I know, love,” he said. “We can fight it out in bed tonight.”
“I have to work until late,” she said.
“I know, but tomorrow’s Sunday and I don’t have to work.” He brushed his fingers over her neck, she slipped her arms around his waist. “Our schedules won’t match up again for the rest of the week, I’m leaving for work too early.”
She blinked. “So that’s it?”
“What?”
“We sleep together once, and now we’re just all the time?”
“Pretty much.”
He smiled at the look on her face. She didn’t like that she hadn’t been the one to make the call, but she also didn’t want to say no. He waited, but it didn’t take her long. She was a practical sort, after all.
“OK.” She smiled broadly. “My magic bed or your bathroom of the gods?” She leaned back. “Oh, my father!”
“He needs his own room.”
“No, I’ve been staying at his place on Saturday nights to save him some money.” She bit her lip. “I go there and relieve the midnight to eight shift.”
“Ok, I’ll pick you up there at eight a.m.”
“I’ve got his car.”
�
�Look, we’re having sex in the next twenty hours. You pick.”
She checked her watch. “We’ll have to do it in my office at nine thirty tomorrow morning.”
“Done.”
“You’re serious!”
“Allison. I’m not going to beg you. Are you in or out?”
She reached up and kissed him softly. “All in, Derrick. I’m always all in.”
An hour later, Derrick was heading up the steps to George’s home just outside the Bronx. Back when Derrick had still been an apprentice and basically squatting in the garage, George had met Debra, got married and settled in the small white-sided home with aluminum awnings over the windows. A short, concrete drive, one car width wide, led to a garage in the back, the set up reminding Derrick of his family’s home. Except, of course, the driveway in Pelham ended at a massive three-bay structure that held cars far more expensive than the 2010 Hyundai that sat in the garage here. Derrick went up the walk, two yards of straight sidewalk bisecting a lawn the size of an index card. Even with that, Debra had managed to make it look homey, with small shrubs street side, and window boxes that would spill over with petunias in the summer. ’Round back a three-season room came off the back door, pretty much the small family’s pride and joy. Derrick thought back to the big barbeque they’d thrown to christen the thing when George had it installed. That had only been three years ago.
Leaning against the flimsy railing, he checked out the neighborhood while he waited for Debra to open the door. In his pocket, his cell phone buzzed.
Are you the only one out there?
He was tempted to give Debra a smart-ass reply, but he thought the better of it. The woman was afraid to leave her house.
Yep
The door latch clicked beside him, and the white door opened just a crack.
“Derrick?”
“Yep, sweetheart. It’s only me.”
The door opened, and Debra stepped back, letting him pass. She had the door shut and latched in a heartbeat.
“Oh, Derrick, thanks so much for coming over.” Her turned up nose was red, and her eyes were a swollen mess.
“Any time, you know that,” he scanned the hallway, the door into the tiny living room, the stairway. “Where are the kids?”
“I’ve got them playing in the basement. I’m so afraid, I don’t let the kids near the windows, and I know I’m freakin’ them out, but I just don’t know what else to do!” His stomach clenched at the sight of her, so terrified. What in the hell had George been thinking, leaving her alone? And the kids? Derrick couldn’t imagine. George’s kids were young, little George was only six, Julie five. He’d thought Ben and George were cut from the same cloth, thought because they had come to a few of his robotics competitions, that they were loyal. Big difference between loyalty that cost a couple hours of cheering and loyalty that meant staying around when the shit hit the fan.
“I can’t stay here another minute,” Debra said. She started up the stairs, signaling him to follow. In the upstairs hallway, two suitcases sat. “I’m packing up Julie’s stuff now. We can talk while I work on it.”
Derrick followed her into the small room with its pink walls and white ruffled curtains. White painted furniture and fluffy fake fur throw rugs. Unicorns and rainbows on the walls. For God’s sake. Julie had unicorns and rainbows on her goddamn bedroom walls, and George had been beaten within an inch of his life. Worse yet, more debt was running up even as he stood there.
Debra was racing around the room, yanking open drawers, tossing sparkling clothing into a hot pink bag. She lunged toward the bedside table, grabbing a handful of barrettes and a stuffed animal, almost at random, and throwing them into the bag. She opened the closet so hard that the sliding door bounced back. Debra screeched in frustration.
“Stay the fuck open!” She pushed the door back into place.
Discomfort wasn’t the word for what Derrick felt, standing there, watching this woman both fall apart and rebuild simultaneously.
“What can I do?” For once, he couldn’t see how to help just by watching.
“What can you do? What can you do?” Debra tossed a dozen outfits on the bed. Derrick reached over and gently took them, folding the tiny pink jeans, the T-shirts with princess crowns in glitter on them. They looked like doll clothes in his hand. A sudden desire gripped him, he wanted to check on Julie and Little George. He hesitated, looking toward the door, lime green corduroys between his fingers.
Debra stopped moving, her face slightly softer, pointing at a baby monitor. “They’re fine right now,” she said, and he heard his own exhale. She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being a male and not being a shit.”
He didn’t know where to go with that, so he said, “You’re welcome.” A tiny part of him relaxed when she gave a strangled chuckle. And then she was back to whirling dervish mode.
“Where are you going to go?” he asked. She gave him the stink eye.
“You’re not a shit, Derrick, but I’m still not telling you.” She tossed a pair of sneakers into the bag, grabbed the last outfit out of his hands and zipped the bag shut. She was out the door, heading to the bathroom, where she basically dumped the medicine chest into a garbage bag, tied it off and headed to the stairs. “Help me with these.”
He followed her down the stairs.
“You’re as big as an elephant, and they stopped you that day. Why should I think they can’t do it again?”
Because now I’m ready, he thought. But in reality, he lived in a world where you couldn’t just beat the living crap out of your problems, and right there, that was why these men would always have an edge on him. The edge of no rules. She opened the back door, checking carefully for anyone in the backyard and then she flat out ran to the garage. The door was open, and the little Hyundai backed out with a screech. She hopped out, leaving the engine running and opened the trunk.
“OK, got it. How’re you going to pay them?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“What about George, Debra? What about George?”
She was trying to pull the suitcases out of his hands, so he took them to the car and tossed them in.
“Watch that car, while I get the kids.”
Debra disappeared into the house, tripping over a fluffy beige cat as she did so. She put her hand over her mouth and started to cry.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Whiskers.” A choking sound came out of her like it was being ripped from somewhere very deep down. He was watching this woman dismantle her home, the place she’d built to shelter her kids. She was leaving the safety she knew, taking her kids into the unknown. She was going without her cat, and his heart broke for her.
“You want to help?” she cried. “You want to help so fuckin’ much, Derrick?” She was angry, but her words stung. He wondered if she thought he had enough money to save her. “Take the damn cat.”
The fluffy, hissing animal was thrust at him, and the next thing he heard was her feet pounding down the basement stairs, her voice low and wild as she called her children’s names.
It was early afternoon by the time Derrick walked past George’s auto garage and headed up to the loft. Mr. Whiskers fought him the whole way, yowling inside the soft carry case Debra had given him. He’d had to promise her and the kids that the cat would love being at the loft. All that Derrick knew was that Ben had better not give him any shit about the cat.
The trip home had left him with too much time to think. Debra had said George knew how to get in touch with her, but she didn’t know where to find him. And soon, she said, she wouldn’t have the same cell phone anymore, effectively cutting off all connection between husband and wife.
For now, she was saying she didn’t care if she never saw him again, but Derrick didn’t believe that. It wasn’t something he wanted to accept. With George and Debra on the run, the urgency seemed to have drained out of the situation, but he also knew that was a lie too. After all, sooner or later, Ge
orge would have to be able to come home to his family, right?
The door to the loft opened quietly, new hinges well oiled, and so the occupants of the living room didn’t see him come in. Derrick stood in disbelief, watching his sister with her fingers in Ben’s sandy brush of hair, her hand lazily stroking behind the man’s ear, as she sat on the couch beside him. He wasn’t sure what this was about, but he didn’t think that Sophia held any deep feeling for Ben and if she didn’t, it was going to really yank the guy’s chain.
Frustrated with her for being willfully obtuse, Derrick let the door close. He didn’t have to bang it or announce himself because, from the sound of it, Mr. Whiskers was as unhappy as he was. Worst of all, he wouldn’t see Allison until nine thirty tomorrow morning. A state of affairs as unacceptable as anything else that had happened today. He carried the cat to his worktable, pushing some parts out of his way.
“What is that sound, Derry?” Sophia’s voice carried over to him. She didn’t sound embarrassed. She should be. He opened the case gently and lowered the flap, like a little drawbridge from the cat’s old life in a warm family home to the brand-new industrial setting of a bachelor flat.
“Hey, little guy. You’re hanging with me now.”
Mr. Whiskers was not impressed. He arched his back and pressed with his front paws, becoming one with the end of the carrying case. His ears were flat as a board, sticking out straight from both sides of his face and the hiss he let loose required that his mouth open far enough for Derrick to check the cat’s tonsils.
“Hey, Soph, do cats have tonsils?”
“I’m putting twenty on no,” Ben called.
“Twenty on yes then,” he answered. His friend was way too chipper. A sick thought crossed Derrick’s mind. Did Ben and Sophia? He outright didn’t want to know. He was sorry he thought of it.
On his phone, a bell sounded. The reminder that Rob and Justin would be getting online in a half hour.
