“Taryn likes many places. She enjoys the movie theater, and the—”
“No, no, Jordan. I mean in here, at Firststone.”
“Yes, Taryn hangs outside near the East wing. She told me it was her favorite spot because it’s quiet and pretty. She enjoys being in the open-air regardless of the weather. I take walks every Thursday night and see her there. Sometimes we talk for a few minutes. She likes to stargaze. The universe was created 13.8 billion years ago. No one knows how many stars are in the sky due to pollution, various locations, and other barriers, but nearly two thousand can be seen in a clear, dark sky with relatively good visibility.”
“Thank you, Jordan. That’s good to know. Hey, what time does she go outside usually?” His heart pumped a bit faster; he hoped the human computer could help him just a wee bit more.
“Will I get compensated for this?” The man’s eyes hooded.
“Yeah, yeah, you will.”
…Whoever called this motherfucker dumb is a damn idiot. He is definitely on top of his shit.
Jordan nodded a time or two, then began again. “She is outside between 8:00 P.M. and 8:03 P.M. She stays out for about twenty minutes, sometimes a little longer. She doesn’t like pork chops, but she does like bacon and baked fish. I told you that last fact about her for free. It’s on the house.”
Nick stifled a grin and patted his shoulder once more before breaking contact.
“That’s good to know, thank you, Jordan. Now, is there something I can get you in return for your help? Within reason, of course.”
“Yeah, I need a new mp3 player.” The man slicked it out of his pocket and turned it to and fro.
Nick looked down at the antiquated thing. He had another one at home he wasn’t even using that was in far better shape. “You got it. I’ll have it dropped off next week, okay?”
The man’s eyes grew bright as he cracked a smile and began to nod over and over.
“Thank you! Thank you, Nick Vitale.”
“No, thank you, Jordan, and hey, you are one smart cookie, you know that?”
“I do. I do know that.”
Nick shook his head in amazement before turning away.
“Hey, one more thing,” Jordan called out.
“Yes?”
“She’s a very nice lady. She’s nice to me, too. Very kind. She told Brian Williams, who was a resident here, that if he called me underdeveloped again she’d tear off his arm and beat him with it, Nick Vitale. Underdeveloped is another term for stupid. I’m not senseless, Nick Vitale… Taryn is my friend. She’s a very nice lady…”
Nick stood there staring at the man for a moment or two. He knew that many people on the autism spectrum would at times repeat themselves, echo a sentence, a thought or an idea, but this was different. Jordan was warning him. Of this, he was certain. He was telling him in his own special way to not do anything foolish, or there just may be consequences…
He caught Jordan’s eyes darkening before he put distance between them. A few seconds later, he spotted another guy joining Jordan. The man wore a blue denim jacket. Nick slicked his hands in his pocket as he watched the two talking while they journeyed up the hallway together.
Second Chances… He got it from a thrift store called Second Chances, huh, Jordan? Well, I sure hope I get a second chance to right some wrongs, make some things right… I need a second chance, Jordan. I need it bad…
Chapter Five
The sky cried clear crystals. Snowflakes tumbled from above and left the world of New York covered in a white, fluffy blanket, just thick enough to cover the internal filth. This time, she was dressed appropriately. Taryn wore a bright crimson coat a la Little Red Riding Hood, the sexy version. She’d wrapped long, slender legs in thick, red leggings, like the perfect winter gift stuffed under the prettiest boots with fluffy, blood red trim. Matching thick gloves protected her hands. Nick stood a good distance away, believing he was going to lose the feeling in his toes at any moment. He’d been watching her for such a long time, his gaze so intense he didn’t dare blink.
Worst of all, he’d lost track of the time as he stood semi-cloaked amongst a series of short, young, bare trees. Their branches sprawled before him, covering just a bit of her here and there, but he was good at filling in the blanks. She was building a snowman, flitting about like some charmed, fire engine red fairy. The damn thing needed a few more touches. He made his move on this prey then, the big bad wolf that he was; his dick grew and thickened as he drew closer, the damn thing constrained against his pants.
Oh what a big cock you have, Mr. Wolf…
…All the better to fuck you with…
“Hey.” He stood close beside her, taking notice of her bright red lipstick covering a perfectly shaped mouth he wished to feel against his own. “How are you?” Swirls of cool air escaped the side of his mouth, reminiscent of his cigarette puffs so many weeks ago…
She smiled, her damn teeth almost whiter than the snow they stood upon. She sparkled like a brand new Hallmark Christmas ornament. Only, he didn’t want her as a decoration; he preferred the notion of placing her against his bedroom wall, naked, the warmth of her thighs cocooning him just right as he drove into her like a limousine in a long, dark tunnel. He’d back up, return, back up, and return like a blind man trying to parallel park that son of a bitch in a tight fucking spot until he got it just…right.
“Hey, Nick.” Her grin seemed genuine, lovely, forgiving…
“Would you like this?” He pulled a large carrot out of his pocket and handed it to her. She looked down at the orange, pointy thing, turned it this way and that, as if it intrigued her, got her creative juices flowing.
“Thank you…” She plopped the nose on her perfectly crafted snowman. He couldn’t help but observe upon closer inspection that the thing was well formed—a perfect sphere.
“How about these?” He’d dug in his pocket again, this time pulling out a handful of juicy plump raisins along with two small plums.
“You’ve been stealing from the cafeteria, I see.” She chuckled as she took the fruits and placed them on the snowman’s face just so.
“Hey.” He shrugged. “I’m a thief at heart. It’s what I do.”
She shook her head, no doubt stifling another laugh, but she refused to give it to him just yet. No, he’d have to earn it.
Fine; I don’t mind working for my pay…
He reached inside his pocket a third time and removed three shiny black buttons.
“How about these?”
She looked down at them, and her brow rose… yeah, her eyebrows had grown in some from the last time he’d looked at her beautiful fucking face. Now, they were darker, a definite line.
“Where’d you get these from?” She pointed down at his palm.
He pulled at his coat, showing the missing ones he’d removed. He’d snatched the fuckers off just moments ago. To freeze his ass off proved a small sacrifice to pay to watch the little red vixen tiptoe around the icy lair of her hidden world.
…Invite me into that world, Taryn… Baby, it’s cold out here. Let me get close to you, get next to that fire…
“You took them off your coat?! Are you crazy?!”
“Yeah,” he smirked. “But it’s no big deal,” he lied. His damn chest tingled as it lost sensation, but he refused to let her see him sweat…or in this case, freeze.
“You are out of your mind. It’s subzero! These need to be sewn back on. I can’t take them.” She reached towards him, tried to hand them back, but he stepped away, his hands raised in a crisscross sign as if he were a vampire and she waved cloves of fresh garlic.
“Your snowman is just borrowing them. Besides, I have another coat I can wear.”
“Take them back.” She twisted her lips to the side, attitude dripping off her expression. Bossy…
“Nope. I refuse. Now put them on him.” She stared at him for a moment or two, laughed lightly, and placed them on her snowman with care, lining them up on his stomach just like so.
“See! You did that perfectly!” he teased, then caught a snowflake on his tongue. He flicked the damn thing out, wiggling it about, caught up in the moment. As he raised his gaze to the semi-darkened sky, the snow landed on his face, the cool crispness like a frozen floral petal against his cheek before disappearing in the form of an icy tear. Like hide-and-seek. Like how everything he loved once was now gone…
So, he disappeared, too. He drifted into his own world until he felt her soft caress against his wrist. Rather than say anything, she pressed her shoulder close to his, jetted her tongue out too, and caught the damn things like flies to a frog. She was a natural.
“Is this a competition?” he said after a hearty swallow. “’Cause let it be known, I’m the snowflake eating champion.” He let the words simmer against her ear as he relished in his propensity for double meanings. Besides, he had to be careful; he didn’t want to appear disrespectful once again.
“You couldn’t be.” She gulped. “My throat muscles are specially trained for this and I’ve been to Paris, London, and Cape Town to model my very special swallowing reflex abilities…”
He caught her drift, and raised her twenty below zero…
“But can you catch ten snowflakes in five seconds?” He raised a brow as he rubbed his hands together like a sneaky fiend embarking on the crime spree of a lifetime.
“I don’t know.” Flashing her tongue once more, she caught one and then another. “But I’m already two ahead of you.”
And there they were, laughing, unable to speak coherently as they bobbed around with their tongues jetted out and bumping into one another through all the snowflake falling and collecting mayhem.
“I won!” She threw up red-clothed arms and bounced about in place like a champion. Her oversized hood flipped lower, covering her eyes, and her red scarf rode up ever so slightly, bumping against her chin, framing her face just so.
I want to kiss you so bad, baby…
She stood amongst the whiteness, the only drop of passion, life, love, and beauty in the entire place. No wonder he was so drawn to her. He wanted to get close to her because of her vibrancy and heat. He felt like a cold-hearted, lonely snake, constricting himself to death, yet, she proved the warm-blooded, fiery target he so craved.
“Hey.” He bent low and scooped up a handful of snow, molding it into a perfect ball as he drew serious. It was time to address the big white snowman standing in the room, to tend to a little social housekeeping. “I wanna tell you that uh,” he smiled nervously as he continued to work his hands around the icy sphere, “I’m sorry for asking you to sleep with me, basically. I was coming on to you. I didn’t know you like that and it wasn’t right…especially not in this environment.”
She slowly stopped bouncing about and looked at him, her eyes wide as if she’d been suddenly startled from a quiet, lackluster existence.
“Oh, dear sir.” She smirked, showing off an ersatz British accent. “I loved that you hit on me. That wasn’t the problem, Officer Vitale. It was your approach, the way in which you did it, like I was some idiot.”
He turned away from her, keeping his grin secret for a second or two as he let her revelation simmer, got cozy with it. Then, he faced her again as he molded the perfect snowball until it fit the bill for his high standards of wintery perfection.
“Okay,” he said, swallowing. “So you like me too, huh?”
“I don’t know…” She shrugged, nonchalant. “Possibly…from what I’ve seen, I’d say yeah…” She winked flirtatiously and scooped up a handful of snow, working it between her gloved hands like a craftsman.
She likes to compete. She wants to be challenged. Maybe we can challenge and encourage one another… I could see that happening.
“So.” He glanced upward at the sky with one eye open and the other closed, wincing from the falling flakes. “What do I need to do for us to get to know each other better? It’s kinda hard in a place like this.”
“Well, we can talk…talking is not outlawed. You can sign up for some of the classes I’m in and vice versa. But you know what’s most important?”
“What?”
“To get to know me better, you need to be dedicated to your recovery, so that I know I can trust you.” Her eyes narrowed upon him as she paused and a whisper of icy air escaped from between her slightly parted lips. “I can’t be friends with any addicts that aren’t serious about getting better. I’m serious. This is my life we’re talking about here.”
He nodded in understanding. “And neither can I…neither can I.”
They looked at one another a moment or two longer after they made that declaration, not just with their mouths, but with their hearts and souls.
“And then, maybe…” she moved a bit closer to him, “just maybe, I’d show you my jazz album collection.” Her shoulder brushed past him as she moved back towards the building, leaving him all by his lonesome.
“Albums? Old school, huh? Oh, I see!” He laughed, hollering along the way as he raced after her, not wanting her to get out of view just yet. “You’re gonna make me chase you, huh? Well, maybe that’s not my style.”
He threw on his professional ‘I’m perturbed’ face, lying through his damn teeth. He had full intentions of hunting Little Red Riding Hood down. The woman shook her gorgeous ass in his face on a daily basis, teasing him with a basketful of beauty. Even if she’d fought him, he’d go after her until she forgave him and gave him a second chance…or, he’d just have to bite her, vampire and werewolf style; that’s simply what monsters did. The choice was hers…
…Oh Granny, what big balls you have!
“Your style? You have style?” she taunted.
“Style and class! Two for one deal.” He grinned, showing all his damn teeth.
…And balls made of brass…
“But back to what’s important. I don’t chase women, but I might make an exception for you,” he added for good measure.
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m not just a woman, Officer Vitale. I’m the lady in red…and don’t you forget it.” And off she skipped, with her proverbial basket in tow. But unbeknown to her, inside sat not delicious baked goodies, carefully rolled joints, a handful of hypodermic needles, or random pints of assorted booze. No… it was his attention she held captive. The damn woman intrigued him, occupied his thoughts… made him imagine, ‘What if?’
…And then, she was gone.
He gripped the phone, swallowed a big, lumpy ball of pride. His boss has been calling but he’d found a way to escape the snare time and time again. This moment though, he’d run right into a perfectly laid trap for the man called from a different number, disrupting his flow.
“So, how’s it been, champ?”
“It’s been okay, sir.”
“Sir?” The man chuckled. “Relax, Nick, and call me John, Captain…hell, or Dad. I don’t give a shit.”
Nick’s lips curved in a twisted grin at the invitation… He liked that, made him feel a bit more comfortable.
“Okay …”
“Ya know I get reports about your progress, right? You signed a consent form.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have.”
“Why?”
He sighed and sat down on his bed, running his bare foot along the soft fabric of the towel he’d thrown down to serve as a mat.
“It’s not just you, it’s everyone…tryna get myself together is all. It’s been tough, harder than I imagined in some ways. I had one idea of how things would go down. It didn’t play out like that. Expectations are for the naïve.” He shook his head.
“You’re being challenged. That’s good though, right? Each day brings something new.”
“Yes, each day it’s like another sheet is pulled back, exposing a bunch of bullshit only.” He chuckled sadly. “That bullshit is me…and then more of me…and a little more of me. It’s depressing, upsetting, and other words I can’t even think of or articu
late. I feel like a… I don’t know what I feel like, John…”
“Nick, you’re a person, a cop. You’re a human being. That’s what you feel like. You’ve had some challenges; I didn’t know they affected you the way they did and I’ve been kicking myself for not seeing the signs. There were clues in retrospect. I thought about everything long and hard since you’ve been gone. There were definite signs that you were depressed but you covered it so well, I second-guessed my intuition. I didn’t trust my own damn eyes. Anyway, look, we all fall down, Nick.”
“I did fall. I fell down and busted my damn face wide open. I don’t even know what’s going on anymore, captain.” He ran his hand through his hair as he slowly closed his eyes. “I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who I am. Can you imagine that?” He laughed dismally. “Waking up one day, sober, thirty-two damn years old and not knowing who the hell you are. I have no clue who the hell you are talking to right now. Who is he? Who am I?!” He beat his hand against his chest.
“You’re a man, Nick. That’s what the hell you are… a man trying to be better than you were last night, and to believe that you can achieve more than you have yesterday…”
…Two weeks later…
She hated that she’d done it, but she had. The man stood there beating the eggs in the large, clear bowl and awkwardly moved about the kitchen, a white, crisp apron wrapped around his narrow waist and powdery flour smacked against his face as if a dusty bitch had beat him upside the goddamn head. This wasn’t no country club, but at times, his presence made her feel as if it were. Easy, breezy…so laid back…so cool…hard as rocks.
For the past two weeks, he’d attended three of her classes, and she even took in another art class to sit next to him, sniff his skin, laugh real low under the instructor’s radar as they shared an inside joke or two. Something about the way he sat, the way he smelled, the intensity in his stormy eyes made her sit up and notice. Something about the way he’d disappear inside of himself, too, then come out with a big ol’ bag of truth. The man was sincerely trying and that proved extremely sexy to her.
In the Nick of Time Page 13
