by G. S. Carr
“No daddy, not someday, today. Please,” she begs. “I don’t like living with mommy. She’s mean.” She whispers the last part, looking over her shoulder as if she’s afraid the boogieman will snatch her up if he hears her. Red hot rage courses through my veins. I’ve talked with Alexis about how she treats Emma on several occasions. Apparently my warnings have been falling on deaf ears.
“I’m sorry baby. I talk your mom again.”
“No daddy!” She says, fear and panic coating her words. “Please don’t tell mommy I told you that. She’ll get me when you’re not here.”
I know I’m not supposed to ever put my hands on a woman, but my hands are itching to wrap around Alexis’ throat. What kind of mother makes her child trembled in fear? Mothers are supposed to be the ones to nurture and care for children. Then again that was never Alexis even before I planted my seed in her. We should’ve never happened. But the way she swayed her curvy hips and wore skintight dresses that left nothing to the imagination had been my kryptonite. Now my baby girl is paying the price for my stupidity.
“Fine baby girl. I won’t tell her.”
Relief melts the stiffness from her body. She cuddles further into my lap as I stroke her silky head. Moments like this are perfection.
“Thank you daddy.” She leans up and places a kiss on my cheek. Once again I am back to being her knight in shining armor.
“All right Angel it’s time for me to go.” I sit up in the tiny purple Barbie covered twin size bed. I place The Princess and the Frog book we were reading on the nightstand next to the rainbow haired unicorn lamp. The one thing I was able to do for my baby girl is make sure she has the standard girly, glitter ball explosion princess room.
“A few more minutes please,” she begs holding me tighter. She buries her head into my chest in the cute way she knows melts my heart every time. I wish I could stay longer. Every time I have to leave is like having my heart torn from my chest.
“I’m sorry but my visiting time is over.”
“Okay daddy. Just come get me soon. I won’t tell the court people I promise.”
What little bit of my heart still exists belongs to this little girl. She is my world and the fact that I can’t protect her even in the small ways tears me apart. But that’s what happens when you hang out with people you know you have no business associating with. You end up one wrong step away from federal prison, owing some really nasty people a lot of money or your life. I couldn’t protect my little girl, even if the courts were crazy enough to grant me custody.
I pull her arms from around my waist as I stand to leave. The action tears through my body like a physical pain. I wipe the tears that fall silently down her face away with my thumb. This must be what hell feels like.
I make a promise to myself as I pull the pink and purple unicorn blanket up over her tiny body. I will no longer fail her. I am going to figure out a plan to get her out of here. Courts be damned. I am going to rescue my princess.
“I love you princess.”
“I love you too daddy.”
I lean over to kiss her forehead before turning to leave. Nightlight on I turn off her bedroom light and slowly close the bedroom door behind me.
A cloud of smoke being blown through blood red lips greets me as I walk into the living room. Alexis is parked on the couch watching whatever trashy reality show she is into now. God forbid she actually go outside and live her own life rather than watching other people live theirs. I walk in front of her blocking her view of the screen and snatch the cigarette out of her mouth.
“Hey! Who do you think you are? You don’t run nothing in this house no more, including me,” she sasses at me.
“I told you to stop smoking in the house. If you send my daughter to the hospital again because your smoking irritates her ashma one more time I will end you.”
Alexis slumps back into the couch with a smug grin etched across her lips. “No you won’t. You need me to watch over that little monster. With you owing so much money to the Catillian’s you can’t even take a leak without their permission. Which means you definitely can’t take the brat and go no where. So you need me. Don’t forget that. Because I don’t need you.”
Alexis picks up a piece of bubble gum from the coffee table and shoves it between her lips. She smacks the gum, something she knows grinds my nerves, with a snide, triumphant smile on her face.
“You need me to put food in that refrigerator. You need the money I send you every week to take care of Emma. When was the last time you had a job?”
“That’s where you’re wrong sweetness. I don’t need you because I don’t need the girl. All I have to do is make one phone call and I can sell…”
I don’t realize I’ve moved until the stench of smoke and unbrushed teeth slams into my nostrils as I invade her space. My face hoovers inches from hers. The back of the couch traps her under my hard glare. From the wide-eyed terror etched across her face I suppose I’ve achieved my desire to contort my face into a mask of darkness that rivals the devil himself.
“Don’t you ever threaten my daughter. If anything ever happens to that little girl I will find you and I will kill you. That I promise you.”
Mouth hanging open all Alexis can do is blink as I slowly pull away to stand up straight. My hard eyes glare down at her for a few more seconds as I tower over her. I want to make sure she understands that I mean every word I say. Not saying anything else I turn to leave her watching my retreating back.
I step out of the apartment into the warm evening air and exhale all the tension coiling in my muscles. Time is short. Who knows how long my threats will keep Alexis in line. Even if she never physically harmed Emma, she wasn’t winning any awards in the providing a mentally healthy environment for a child department.
I pull out my phone to check my phone for any missed calls. The icon for a voicemail sits on the home screen. No one I know ever leaves voicemails. The number on the missed call log is one I don’t know so I open the voicemail to listen to it just in case it has something to do with Emma.
Hello this message is for Wyatt Carter. My name is Susan and I’m the casting director from IBC TV Network. I am currently looking for participants for our game show Divorce Wars. You submitted your application a little while ago and I wanted to talk with you about possibly coming to LA for a final casting call. Give me a call back at 555-3946 when you have a moment to chat. Thanks.
My mind goes blank as I pull the phone away from my ear. Was this real? If so this could be it. The prize was $250,000. I could pay off my debt to the Catillian’s and still have a little left over for a nice place for me and Emma. I can pay Alexis to turn over her rights and finally give my little girl the life she deserves. It’s finally possible.
* * *
I walk, back straight, face blank, toward the man relaxing in a white chaise lounge chair by the inground pool. Kids of varying ages, heights, and skin tones chase each other around the pools edge. Some jump and some are thrown in.
Rainbow colored balloons litter the area, being kicked around by the running children’s feet. A clown is making swords and other balloon animals for those patient enough to wait for one. Parents lounge in chairs or sit at the bar ignoring their children. No one finds anything wrong with the burly men in shorts and Hawaiian shirts carrying M4 machine guns spread across the backyard.
“Wyatt,” Carlos greets me with a warm smile. “Good to see you. Why didn’t you bring Emma?”
Carlos looks around me as if Emma will come walking from behind me any minute. His warm smile never leaves his face as I sit on the edge of the chair across from him.
“I’m here on business,” I reply in a casual tone. No point telling him I would never allow Emma anywhere near him or his family.
“So? It’s Peter’s birthday party. We have a clown, water balloons, and ponies will be here later. She would have had so much fun.”
Carlos points to his ten year old son running away from a group of kids. To those who don’t
know him Carlos Catillian is like any other middle-aged Italian guy who loves his wife, his children and pasta, in that order. For those of us who do know him, we know not to be fooled by his smile. He is a cold blooded killer that wouldn’t hesitate to make your children orphans. If he let your children live.
“Maybe next time,” I reply.
“Fine. At least bring her a piece of cake,” he says. He sits up and takes off his sunglasses. Our gazes lock. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a plan to pay you what I owe you. Then I want out. I want to take Emma and start over.”
“I’m intrigued.” Carlos leans forward attention riveted on me. “You owe me one-hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars. How do you plan to pay it off?”
“I made the cut to be on the show Divorce Wars.”
Carlos doubles over laughing. “I love that show! People are crazy man. The stuff they come up with. Makes me grateful for Maria.”
“Yeah, well we can’t all be lucky enough to have a woman like Maria.”
There is nothing lucky about having a woman like Maria. She is a doormat. Carlos flaunts his hoes in front of her and she never complains. I want a woman with a backbone.
“The prize money is $250,000. When I win I will pay you what I owe you.”
“You mean if you win.”
“I will win,” I respond, my voice hard.
Carlos raises an eyebrow, amusement written all over his face.
“I believe you think you will win. Imagine with me for a second that you don’t. Your face will have appeared on millions of TVs across the US. You’ll be useless to me after that. My best enforcer can’t be a mini celebrity. I can’t afford that kind of attention.”
“I will win,” I repeat. My unwavering gaze meets Carlos’. I can’t show weakness or uncertainty. Carlos stares silently into my eyes reading me.
“Fine. I’ll take you up on that deal. Today is a good day and this feels like a fun little wager. You win and give me my money I let you walk. You have my word I will let you become a ghost. You lose and I make you a ghost. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good.” Carlos relaxes back into his chair a large smile spread across his lips. “I like you Wyatt. You have balls. I will be sad to see you go either way.”
My only reply is a nod. I stand to leave.
“You’re not going to stay?” Carlos ask looking genuinely hurt.
“I have a few things to take care of before I leave.”
“Fine. Like I said take a piece of cake to Emma.”
“Thanks. Will do.”
Carlos puts his glasses back on signaling the that I am dismissed. That was easier than I thought it would be. Now comes the hard part. Win or die.
Chapter 3
Kara
They say money can’t buy happiness, but it can definitely pay for my mother’s heart transplant, so I don’t intend to leave here without it. Yes I agreed to marry some stranger with the intention of somehow convincing him to divorce me. And yes I agreed to do it all while having my every movement broadcasted on national TV for the viewing pleasure of the halfwits of society who find this stuff entertaining. This still isn’t the craziest thing I’ve done so whatever. Okay maybe it is the craziest thing I’ve ever done, but like I said I really need the money.
Cameramen and production crew members scurry about the studio making last minute adjustments to the set. The overhead lights keep being moved barely an inch to the right every few seconds. Can’t have the host looking washed out and even more like a ghost I guess.
Speaking of which, said host is standing in front of his bright purple armchair having his electric blue hair fluffed into an even higher mound on the top of his head. A petite blond dusts a little more highlighter across his cheekbones and nose. The man is probably wearing more makeup than me.
“Alright everyone. We are about to go live,” says a woman with a clipboard and headphones that look like they are about to swallow her head. “You,” she barks, pointing at me. “Stand at the edge of the curtain until Damon introduces you. Then smile and walk out. There will be brief banter and then you exit stage left. Someone will direct you to the game complex when it’s time.”
I nod my head in understanding. The woman barely waits for my acknowledgment before she stomps away to tackle her next task.
“Positions!” A voice shouts across the studio intercoms. Everyone sprints around until they find where they are supposed to be. A quiet so thick my soft exhales of breath sound like the rustling of the noisiest bag of chips in a movie theater, falls over the room. The ones you sneak into the theater because paying ten dollars for a small bag of dry kernels of corn makes about a much sense as flushing your money down the toilet.
I stand in my designated spot at the edge of the curtain watching as Damon stands in his bright red suite -what was with this man and color- smile spread wide to show off the perfectly straight white veneers his dentist installed mid-way through the shows first season. The teleprompter comes to life as the man behind the camera raises three fingers. He slowly begins to lower them. His index finger, being the last one raised, points to Damon signaling the start of recording.
“Good evening ladies and gentleman and welcome to your favorite show: Divorce Wars! I’m your host Damon Monroe and boy do we have a good episode in store for you tonight. As you know divorce rates are at an all time high. Families are being torn apart. Children are growing up without both parents. Hearts are being crushed beyond repair. Sad, I know. So we thought,let’s capitalize on it and turn it into a show! Ahahaha!” The fake studio audience sound effect mixes with his obnoxious laugh. It grates across my skin. It’s like Bozo and an evil villain’s laugh had a baby.
“This is the show where divorce can finally be profitable. Each season we give random strangers the chance to win $250,000. All they have to do is marry the other contestant and by the end of the season convince the other person to divorce them. The person who walks away first, gets nothing. The last person standing gets $250,000. But of course stay married and they both get nothing. So let’s meet this seasons contestants. First, we have Kara Davis!”
Fake studio audience cheering and clapping pours through the speakers. This is it. My que to walk out on that stage and show all of America that I am either crazy or desperate enough to marry a stranger for money. I move my feet slowly, because for the first time since I came up with the ridiculous idea doubt hits me. My feet turn to stone to heavy for me to lift. Shake it off! You have to go out there. You have to play this game. Mom’s life depends on it.
* * *
Wyatt
Now that I wasn’t expecting. At the call of her name a voluptuous vixen steps from behind the currant on the opposite side of the stage. My eyes follow the sway of her hips as she walks toward Damon. No, walk isn’t a good word. She has so much grace she looks like she is gliding.
Her skin is the warm brown of desert sand. I personally never use lotion, but if I had to guess I would say she definitely uses the stuff to keep her skin hydrated and glowing. I wonder if she feels as soft as she looks. Her hair is in a style I think called box braids. They hang just above her butt even in the high ponytail. It’s made up of various shades of gray mixed with black.
Tight skinny jeans, sneakers, and a plain black long sleeve t-shirt are all that make up her outfit. No jewelry or other unnecessary embellishments adorn her frame. A hint of makeup is dusted over her face, but I’m sure that is at the insistence of the production crew, not because of any vain inclinations on her part. Practical and functional.
So this is Kara Davis. I’m actually a little disappointed. Part of the contract we signed for the show states that if we take the divorce we are no longer allowed to keep in touch after we leave the show. Not even the occasional smoke signal. Wouldn’t want people taking the money and running away together.
Thus after this show is over I won’t be able to peel back this little beauties practical side and explore the hellcat I see
lurking in her eyes. I guess I better make the most of this while I can. Because we are going to end in divorce and she’s going to be the one to ask for it. I’ll make sure of that.
“Let’s introduce our other contestant Wyatt Carter.” The walking bag of skittles is calling my name. Show time. Shoulders back, chest puffed out, I expanded my entire six foot two inch, two-hundred and ten pound frame and walk out. I made sure to wear only a wifebeater so my dragon and skull covered tattoo sleeves are on full display. Half this battle will be fought on the mental plane.
I’m pleasantly surprised when Kara doesn’t flinch as my heavy marching steps bring me to the center of the stage. So she’s not afraid of me huh. I guess I’ll have to fix that. I’ll have to be strategic about how I do it. From the looks of the toned outline of her arms in her shirt she probably works out. That working out may have included a few self defense classes as well.
“Hello Wyatt and welcome to the show!” Damon croons.
I manage a grunt in response.
“Not much of talker I see. And look at that scowl. You can probably teach the Grinch a thing or two about mean mugging. Ahahaha!”
Fake studio laughter mingles with his manufactured cheer. Don’t cuss out the host, don’t cuss out the host. I remind myself why I am here and if putting up with this clown’s put downs is going to get me what I want then so be it.
“Anywho. Before we send you guys off to the game complex, we wanted to give each of you a chance to plead your case to the other. Maybe we can end this right here and now. So who would like to go first?”
“Ladies first,” I growl. Kara’s eyes narrow on me as she undoubtedly tries to figure out what my plan is. Why I want her to start. My face remains a stoic mask, giving nothing away. She steels her shoulders and pins me with her gaze.
“I need you to back down because I need this money to pay for my mother’s heart transplant. She is in her early sixties and her ticker is ready to give out any minute. She has crappy insurance so we have to pay for most of it out of pocket. I graduated college two years ago, but wasn’t able to find a decent job with my math degree so I am a freelance graphic designer enough to survive. Without the money from this show my mom will die.”
