Cyrus

by Mj Fields

  “You need a fucking wake-up call man, you’ve got …three fucking rides, well you just fucked that all to hell, now didn’t you?!”

  “She fucking gets it!”

  “Look at your God damn bed, Cyrus!”

  “Get out!”

  “You’re smarter than this!”

  “I’m done with this shit. You wanna talk about something else I’m all ears, but this isn’t your fucking problem it’s mine! I got this: go home.”

  I covered my ears, I didn’t like the fighting and I didn’t like that it was about me. I have gotten through the past fifteen years without it, blending.

  I sank lower in the tub so the water covered everything except my nose and lips. I could hear myself think like this. “One blanket, two sheets, three pillows, four pants? Oh damn it.”

  I was breathing, feeling the anxiety building up, scared, a little not a lot. I felt a vibration and opened my eyes and sat up.

  He was looking at me different, he was going to tell me I had to leave, which I know is going to happen, expect it to happen.

  “Cyrus,” it came out in a whisper, it was the first time I had said his name.

  He didn’t say a word he just dropped his boxers . I closed my eyes and felt him step into the tub.

  “Birdie you got your period?”

  “No,” I opened my eyes and he was sitting with his knees bent, resting his elbows on them looking at me.

  “You’re bleeding,” he looked a little upset.

  “I didn’t know.”

  “You wanna tell me this crazy shit going through my head is wrong Birdie or are you gonna sit there and make me fucking wonder if I just …Fuck!”

  I looked down and tried not to get upset.

  “So that shit in the internet was real? You’ve never…”

  I shook my head no.

  “Can I ask why you didn’t bother to mention that shit?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “I just assumed, that a stripper who gave fucking blow jobs on the mother fucking internet…”

  I stood up, “I’m going to take your shirt and find some shorts and I’m going to leave now. I’m sorry for any problems I’ve…”

  He pulled me down hard and water splashed everywhere.

  “Tell me why God damn it!”

  “Why what?” I was a little afraid now, maybe more embarrassed.

  “Tara!”

  “He can’t have it,” I had to whisper because I know it sounded really bad, “and he won’t come after me.”

  His jaw dropped, “So you used me?”

  His voice actually squeaked and I looked up at him and tried not to smile and shook my head yes.

  “And you think it’s funny Tara? I don’t fuck virgins! I don’t fucking do shit like that!”

  “I want to warn you again that you don’t scare me. I also know you won’t hurt me, so I may actually argue with you.” This was the first time I felt I could say what I wanted, “Besides, it had to happen sooner than later, right?”

  “How old are you?”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  “No games Tara…”

  “Fifteen.”

  After the shock wore off he started to stand and I grabbed him just like he had me but I sat on his lap.

  “You need to …I’m so sorry Tara, Christ I’m going to burn in hell…please get off of me.” I hugged him, “Fuck!”

  I couldn’t do that to him anymore because as comfortable as I was with him, I really didn’t know if I should feel this comfortable.

  I grabbed his face and made him look at me, “I was teasing you.” It didn’t seem to make him any less comfortable, “I’m almost twenty one.”

  “You’re almost twenty one? So now I fuck virgins AND serve minors,” I tried to smile, “It’s not funny Tara.”

  “I’m not trying to upset you. But honestly, you were a perfect gentleman. I got to choose.”

  “I’m not a gentleman,” he growled.

  “You were more so than anyone else I’ve ever met,” I leaned forward to kiss him and he leaned away and shook his head slowly no.

  “I can’t,” he closed his eyes.

  “Okay,” I got out of the bath and dried off.

  “This doesn’t mean you’re leaving, we still have a tattoo to fix and we need to make sure you’re safe.”

  He covered himself when he got out of the bath and my face burned, I was so ashamed of myself. “Cyrus,” I whispered him name and he looked at me.

  His face didn’t carry the confident strong alluring look anymore, it was full of raw emotions. Hurt, anger, pain… and I did that to him.

  “What is it Tara?” he wrapped a towel around his powerful body and looked at me.

  I was having a hard time seeing that I’d hurt someone, I never hurt people, never.

  “I want to leave,” I tightened up the towel around me suddenly feeling ugly, wanting to hide, just disappear.

  “That’s not gonna happen right now,” he closed his eyes and turned around, “I’ll go grab you some clothes.”

  When he returned he knocked on the door and then handed me clothes through the crack in the door.

  I walked out and he was standing in the kitchen with his back to me, “Have a seat, I made you something to eat, it’ll be ready in a couple minutes.”

  He had on black sweats and a white t-shirt. The black ink down his left arm stopped right above his elbow.

  I walked around and stood next to him, “I can help.”

  He glanced down at me and quickly away, “I can handle toasted cheese and soup, Tara.”

  I let out a deep breath and he looked at me again.

  “You like tomato soup and toasted cheese, right?”

  “Yep,” I felt my emotions swell up in my throat, “But I’m really not hungry.”

  “Gotta eat, Tara.”

  “I’m tired,” I walked over and sat on the couch. I didn’t want to be here.

  He walked over a few minutes later and handed me a cup of soup and sandwich, “I already cooked it…”

  “I’m not hungry,” I felt tears coming and then felt anxious. I tried to stand and he stood in front of me.

  “You’re going to at least drink the soup Tara,” he was angry.

  “Please move, I want to leave now,” I couldn’t cry in front of him.

  “Sit! Eat the sandwich. It’s three o’clock in the damn morning, it’s been one fucked up night…”

  “One pillow, two blankets, three shirts, four….”

  “What are you talking about?” Cyrus looked at me like I had three heads and I realized I was doing it out loud.

  I shook my head no.

  “Christ Bir…Tara, please just eat,” he looked exhausted and frustrated.

  I took half the sandwich and ate it.

  “I want to go to sleep now,” I stood and he stepped back.

  “Go ahead,” he waved his hands in the direction of the bedroom.

  “I wanna sleep here. I just have to use the bathroom,” I was crampy, exhausted, and on the verge of tears.

  He looked at me and for about two seconds I thought he looked hurt again, “You sleep in the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

  “It’s your bed.”

  He groaned loudly and I looked up and walked around him. “I’m taking the damn couch!”

  I hid in the bathroom for as long as I could. He was pacing outside the door. When I walked out he stopped.

  “Get in bed Tara,” he pointed to the bedroom and I walked quickly to it.

  I closed my eyes when I walked in, “The bedding…changed.”

  “There was blood,” Cyrus grabbed a pillow and then walked to the closet and grabbed a blanket. “If you need anything I’ll be out there, goodnight Tara.”

  “Cyrus…” I had to swallow back tears, I couldn’t cry, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I upset you.”

  He shook his head and walked out.

  I looked at the bed, there was one blanket, two sheets, four
pillows. I took one and put it on the floor beside the bed. Three pillows, four…I needed four of something. I looked around the room and saw a picture on his dresser, there were five boys, one man and one women. I picked it up and noticed he was one of the boys, and Jay. Cyrus had four brothers. Five is my least favorite number, five minutes to cry.

  I sat on the bed holding the picture I had to make this work. There was one sun, two parents, three…three siblings I didn’t know, four boys, five boats, six people total in Cyrus’s family, seven...

  I felt the anxiety rising inside of me as I looked around the room. Seven pictures, black and white’s on the walls. Eight, I yawned and looked at the picture again. Eight boats in the background. Nine were the number of birds flying in the sky in the photo. Ten, with his family and the four others on the beach in the photo.

  “One sun, two parents, three siblings, four brothers, five minutes to cry, six people total in his family, seven photo’s on the wall, eight boats in the background, nine birds, and ten people total. Okay you can do this, now go to sleep Tara Gardner, go to sleep.”

  Finding You

  I was fucking done for. How do you recover from this shit? You go out one night needing to set some shit straight and needing to get laid and you end up fucking a stripper who happens to be a virgin and twenty years old. Un-fucking-believable. Add to that the fact that she’s probably fucking crazy, I’ve caught her talking to herself more than once. Not just thinking out loud, but counting shit.

  I walked away from the room when she stopped talking because I had to-- if I didn’t, one of two things was gonna happen. One, I would walk in there and ask her if she had lost her damn mind or two, I was gonna be all over her. Crazy or not, she was a tasty little treat and I needed to get the fuck over it, no three rides for the crazy little bird in my bed.

  When I woke up it was quiet, I sent Jase a text letting him know I wouldn’t be in today, I had shit to do. The bedroom door was still shut and I was glad. I had no clue what I was gonna say to her after what had happened.

  I showered and threw my sweats back on and took a deep breath before walking back in that room. I grabbed a shirt and threw it, she was real curious about my ink last night and for some reason, that did shit to me too. I couldn’t go through that again.

  “Tara, I’m gonna make breakfast and then we have a lot to do,” she didn’t answer so I reached over to pat her head. “Awe--- fuck no!”

  Nickey ran in the room, “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s fucking gone!”

  Nickey laughed at me until he saw my face, this shit wasn’t funny, “Nickey, that shit bag is gonna look for her. I need to find her.”

  “She couldn’t have gone too far man, relax. She’s got no money, no clothes….”

  I looked at the dresser and noticed my wallet laying open. Next to it a note.

  Cyrus,

  I borrowed some money. I’m not a thief, I’ll pay it back.

  I know the address, I’ll mail back the one hundred and twenty three dollars as soon as I’m settled.

  I’m sorry I upset you.

  Tara

  I read it out loud and probably shouldn’t have, Nickey was trying real hard not to laugh, “Not funny, Nickey.”

  “Nah man it’s funny, Cyrus Steel got robbed by a stripper, that’s real funny,” Nickey was about to get his ass beat. He bent over and grabbed something off the floor, “Bro, she took the picture out of this,” and he busted up.

  “I may think this shit was funny at a different time, but right now I need to find her. Call your Dad, tell him too…Nickey, now is not the time! Call your father…”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Tara.” I grabbed my leather jacket and keys to my bike.

  “Last name, age, birthday? Cyrus do you even know any of that shit?”

  It took me a minute, “I think she said Tara Gardner last night when she was talking to herself…” Nickey stifled a chuckle. “Tara Gardner she’s twenty. That’s all I got Nickey, but this shits not funny. That guy is bad fucking news.”

  “Go. I’ll call when I know something, and Cyrus, I’m calling Jase.”

  There was no sense in arguing, I was in pretty fucking deep with the Latino Leprechauns right now and I knew it. “Tell him I’m gonna go to the shop.”

  ~

  I drove up and down so many fucking roads looking for her, waiting for something from Nick, waiting to fight Jase about this shit, and I had no fucking clue what to do, where to look, all I knew was she was out there alone.

  I pulled up to the shop and Jase was already inside pacing. I took off my helmet and walked in.

  “The club opens at noon. We go together.”

  “Yeah, alright. Jase I don’t wanna hear any shit from you right now.”

  “I get it, but I swear to God Cyrus, whatever you’re doing here better be for a good fucking reason.”

  “Well, what the fuck is that supposed to mean!”

  “You like this girl.”

  “No man, I wanted to fuck her, nothing more nothing less. Then all this shit and she’s a fucking…”

  “You tell yourself whatever you want Cyrus but answer this, what are you gonna do when you find her?”

  “I’m gonna kick her ass!” And I wasn’t joking. I really wanted to.

  Jase laughed and shook his head, “Like I said.”

  “Shut the hell up, Jase.”

  We were interrupted by my phone, it was Nicholas DeAngelo, “What’s up….I know it hasn’t been twenty four hours, I just wanted it documented so when it is…Well if you can’t report her as missing go in under something else, she took some money out of my wallet...Yeah press charges if it can get you looking into this quicker, but I don’t want the charges to stick.... I can’t promise that. I can tell you I won’t go alone…Fine. Yeah e-mail me whatever you got.”

  I hung up the phone and Jase smiled, “She took money.”

  “She borrowed some cash, left a note saying she would mail it back when she was settled,” he chuckled, “She also took a picture, the one on the beach when we were kids. I’m supposed to get an e-mail, DeAngelo assured me they would go to her address, and work and check it out. So you can head back. If they find her, I’m gonna see her, set shit straight.”

  “Alright, but don’t you even think about going there alone Cyrus.”

  “I promise.”

  I have never felt more shitty in my life, well maybe once, but only once. That’s why I don’t do this shit. I fuck people up, break them and hurt them. I couldn’t go back there either, no trip down memory lane, I needed to find her, make sure she was alright until I got her back to her family.

  I waited for the computer to boot up and wondered if she was a runaway, or missing. I wondered how the hell her family would treat her after they found out about the internet videos and what kind of people they were.

  I logged into my email and opened the one from Nicholas. It was a compressed file so I knew I was in for a long read, which freaked me out.

  The first document fucking floored me. Tara Sippora Gardner, was orphaned fifteen years ago. Her parents died in an automobile accident while she slept in the back seat. Both Amy and Theodore Gardner’s parents had declined legal guardianship and she was placed into the New York foster care system.

  I sat back needing a breath-- something to calm me down because I could not imagine Little Bell losing Jase and no one stepping up to take care of her, but instead allowed her to become a ward of the state.

  Tara was bounced between homes for fifteen years and when she graduated at nineteen, she became legally responsible for herself. Her longest placement was the last one, three years. It seemed as if one year was the average, but the first two placements were each a little over two years.

  I printed out fifteen years of placement information and shoved it in a large envelope. She had no arrest record, and her school reports were nearly perfect.

  I called Jase and asked that he have the club watched, I
was pretty sure Tara was smart enough to not go back there but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t find her and drag her back. I called George in IT and had him figure out how to look into the videos online, “I want them shut down.”

  I promised her I would help her stay safe, and I was going to.

  I jotted down a few of the addresses, hoping she would be somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. I grabbed the keys to my bike and headed out.

  I shut the door behind me and locked it, the shop didn’t open for another couple hours.

  “Where the fuck is she?!” I turned to see Tony standing there all sorts of strung out.

  “That’s none of your fucking business. Now take your cracked out ass away from my building,” I was pissed but real happy he didn’t know, and I wasn’t gonna tell him either.

  “People are gonna be looking for her. She signed a contract, we got money upfront for the video she needs to get a hold of me.”

  “She doesn’t owe you shit. I’m pretty sure she didn’t see a fucking dime. Again-- turn your ass around and get the hell out of my face.”

  As luck would have it the pussy did, and he got behind the wheel of the car and drove, the piece of shit drove. I called Nicholas’s cell phone and gave him the plate number. He was gonna take care of it.

  I was Bronx bound to try to find her. She was out there, probably scared, probably angry and hurt by me, and she didn’t have anyone. No parents, siblings, grandparents--- no one except the families who she had been shuffled through for fifteen years.

  Tom and Rosie White lived in a ground floor large apartment in the Bronx. When she answered the door she looked at me like she was trying to place me, “I’m a friend of Tara Gardner’s, I was wondering if she was here?”

  She smiled, “No, actually we haven’t heard from Tara since she left over a year ago, how is she?”

  I scanned the living room that had a mishmash of furniture and four kids under the age of four playing with building blocks and two kids in a pen. It was like a kid farm, “I’m sure she’s fine, just wanted to catch up with her. Do you have any idea where she might be, anyone she might visit, places she likes to hang out?”

  “I’m sorry but…” she looked behind her when one of the penned kids started to cry. “I didn’t catch your name.”