In the Nick of Time

by Laveen, Tiana

  “This is really good.” At his grin, Taryn laughed ever so lightly, though he could hear a slight tinge of nervousness in her tone as she soothingly caressed his shoulder.

  “Anyway, I also stole a lot, Mr. Jones. Not a candy bar every now and again like many children have done; no, I was a professional. I was lifting cameras, video gaming systems, bikes, expensive jackets, rare car parts, jewelry, you name it. I’d gotten so good at it that big time gang members were hiring me to lift things for them, too. There were women that would pay me a little something to lift high-priced underwear from the fancy boutiques, perfumes… like the kind your beautiful wife is wearing. Anyway, I had guys that would give me a list of parts they needed for their televisions and music systems. I was good at taking things apart and putting them back together, too. That was key. This way, I could break something down in the bathroom of a department store and have it fit in my damn jacket pockets by the time I walked out of there.” He took a deep breath.

  “I was quite good at it, but once I got into drinking heavily, my work became sloppy. I don’t know what day it was when I became an alcoholic, Mr. Jones, but considering the road I was going on, it was destiny. It happened in my teenage year, that’s for sure, and it messed me up. I didn’t stake an area as well, and that ended up being my undoing, but it also saved my life. You see, someone finally cared about me, gave a shit. That someone, a young man at the time, is now dead, Mr. Jones. He didn’t see me the way you do. He saw the potential in me. He didn’t see where I was, but where I could be going.”

  The man’s chest rose and fell a bit faster now; he was clearly irritated.

  Nick’s lips curved upward, pleased with his handiwork as he continued on.

  Squirm, motherfucker…

  “His name was Frederic. He was my mentor. He didn’t think I was trash because of where I grew up. He earned my respect in five minutes…” His eyes narrowed on the man as he pushed the fruity drink away, not wanting anything sweet to pair with such a sour mood. “He helped me, and was probably the closest thing to a father figure that I’d ever had. You know.” He shrugged. “People like you, Mr. Jones, hear this story, and instead of thinking, ‘That thief was resilient. What if he used those skills for something positive, he’d be unstoppable?!’, you’d think, ‘He’s sneaky, untrustworthy and will never amount to anything.’ Instead of seeing that I just needed someone to give a damn and show me a better way, you’d think, ‘He’s a bad seed.’ Instead of looking past where I grew up, the father I didn’t have—you see that as my fault, my ruination, and let it define me.

  “I’m an alcoholic and a drug addict just like you said, Mr. Jones. I am those things because I never dealt with some of the stuff I just shared with you. It ate at me, festered. When you have that sort of stuff inside of you,” he said, pointing at his chest, “it builds up like vomit in your gut, but never comes out. You think you’re okay, but you’re not… and before you know it, your entire life is one big, stinking mess. I grew up in a place where boys didn’t cry. You didn’t complain, you acted hard and tough even if you were scared shitless. Because of people like you, Mr. Jones, a lot of boys like me back then didn’t make it. Luckily…” He widened his smile, forcing himself to feel his anger, but not let it control him. “Your opinion doesn’t matter because I’m a grown man and you’re no better or worse than me.” He got to his feet, slid his jacket on, and zipped it up.

  “I’m a damn good cop, addict ’nd all, and I am a good boyfriend to your daughter, too. I treat this woman with respect.” He hitched his thumb in her direction. “I love her and would never do anything to hurt her and should I become that jerk that causes her a moment of pain, I’d leave her. That’s my promise to you and your wife. I love her just that much!”

  Just then, the front door opened and a tall man with a dark green beanie hat entered the dwelling. His smile was whiter than freshly fallen snow, but soon faded like tiny leaves in the wilderness on a pitch-black night.

  “Damn.” The guy burst out laughing, slowly slipping the hat off his head and clutching it with both hands over his crotch. “Did someone die in here? Why is everyone looking so serious?” The man drew closer, tugging at his thick black coat as he slipped it down his arm and removed it.

  “Uh, this is my brother, Robert Jr., Nick. This is Bobby.”

  Nick waved lazily at the guy. “Nice to meet you Bobby…”

  “Robert,” their father barked. “Hold on, I was just having a conversation with this person… It’s almost over.” His tone grated, covered in layers of rudeness only the heartless could concoct.

  Nick had heard enough. “You’re right, Mr. Jones, it is almost over. I don’t need your approval. I only care about what one person in this room thinks of me, and it’s not you. In case you’re still clueless, it’s this woman right here.” He pointed to Taryn. “I need to get out of here before I say something you’ll regret, so if you’ll excuse me…”

  “I’m leaving too. It’s about time!” Taryn huffed, shooting a glare at her father. “We should have left after the first nasty comment. Dad, I will never forget this! How could you?!” she stated between gritted teeth.

  “Taryn, I only—”

  “Mom, I’ll call you later.”

  The older woman nodded, kept a prim and proper demeanor, but something unspoken simmered under the surface, like a poisonous spider lying in wait beneath the folds of a cottony sleeping bag.

  “But what about me? I just got here!” Bobby explained as he grabbed Nick’s arm while he marched past. The two paused, stared into one another’s eyes, and gave each other a quick shake. He looked over at Taryn who was now frantically moving about the place, tossing on her jacket and slinging her purse over her shoulder fast as could be.

  “You and I will have time to talk later, I promise.”

  “But what about brunch?” Mrs. Brown called out as she stood to her feet, seemingly wishing to salvage the tattered threads of the day. “Nick, please don’t go… seriously.”

  “It’s best that I do, Mrs. Brown, and as far as brunch,” he said with a shrug, “I don’t have much of an appetite now.” He sneered at the older man before turning to walk towards the front door. “Something turned my stomach, and I just don’t like the taste of pompous pie…”

  Score: 0 for the nasty, internal monster, 1 for Nick. Case closed…

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  He hated how she looked at him. The woman he’d loved for over thirty years lay in the bed, her body rigid as if she were a damn corpse, gripping a hardbound copy of the latest Jackie Collins book. Her blood red nail polish gleamed in the dim lighting, while her pale pink frilly gown from some second rate catalog covered all of her secret, lovely assets. He called that getup the attire of death—the very same that held up a big, glaring stop sign to any physical advancements or sexual inclinations he may conjure. He sucked in air as he turned his back to her, only to hear her slam the book closed then place her eyeglasses down onto their thick, cream-of-wheat-colored sheets.

  “Now that the doozy of a day is done,” she said with a sigh, “let’s talk about the events.” He heard her shift, and the sound of her glass of iced water being lifted from her nightstand. As always, the tumbler had two slices of fresh lime floating amongst the icy chunks. He kept turned away from her, not in the mood to hear the groundwork she laid for an argument of the Gladys kind. But nothing compared to the scowl across his daughter’s face earlier in the day. Taryn had given him such a horrid look, he’d never forget it, but he had to stick to his convictions! Who in their right mind would want such a thing for their child?

  Finally, he faced her, slicking his hands in his navy and white pinstriped robe with nautical embellishments….but he was captain of a sinking ship.

  “What do you want to talk about, Gladys?”

  Yes, I’ll not acknowledge what she’s digging for. This never works, but I’m tired, not in the mood for any of this crap this evening. I did nothing wrong…

  T
he woman dropped her head ever so slightly as her eyes drew dull like an old schoolroom chalkboard and narrowed into cobra like slits.

  “Don’t mess with me, Robert.” Hers was the tone that snowcaps were formed upon. She set her glass down, faced him head on as she clasped her hands across her lap…the lap his head should have been lying on… Better yet, his lips should be nestled between her heated thighs. Even in her anger, she stoked his fire, made him ignite like spontaneous combustion of the passionate kind. But, his thoughts were yanked back like a dog on a leash as her voice cut through him, each vowel like a heated knife thrust into his mushy, soft dreams.

  “You know damn well what I want to talk about! Why did you do that to that man?!”

  “Oh, please! Someone had to say something.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s this turn around about, huh? Gladys, you felt the same way I did! We discussed this before he came over,” he yelled as he beat the backside of his right hand into his left palm. “Someone had to say something, damn it!”

  “And thank Heavens you were there for the cause!” She sucked her teeth and turned away.

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this! I defended our daughter, Gladys! What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it all and pretend like he is an upstanding member of the community?”

  “Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘You get more bees with honey’?” She lulled back abruptly onto the bed, her head slumping down onto a fluffy pillow in exasperation. “Robert, you talked down to that man like he was some trash. Where’s your class? You sat there like you didn’t understand anything he said—not one word. It was hard to watch.” She briefly closed her eyes.

  “And may I ask why?” He put his hand on his hip, barely holding onto his composure.

  “Because it was dehumanizing.”

  “Dehumanizing?! If anyone had the right to be angry, it was me!”

  She sat up straight with no chaser, shook her finger in his direction, and squinted as if the blinding sun were in her eyes. “You are not the victim. He was right, okay? I heard the whole damn conversation from the kitchen. I was hoping you were going somewhere with your questions, gave you the benefit of the doubt, but all you did was poke and prod for sport. How very childish!”

  His stomach moved about within him as if a cowboy were twirling a lasso with his cantankerous innards…

  “We don’t know him, we haven’t given the guy a chance, and let’s not even get into the fact that Taryn absolutely refuses to speak to you now. She even hung up after I handed you the phone.”

  “That was her choice. If she wants to protect this thug, she won’t be able to do it without it being perfectly clear where I stand on the issue.”

  “He’s not a thug. He’s a police officer and it was your choice to behave that way.”

  “Cops can be thugs, too! Look, I’m choosing to be my daughter’s parent, not her friend, Gladys.” He covered his words in the thick, bubbling sauce of judgment, and asked the woman how it tasted after he served the shit up… hot and ready. A steely darkness crept into her eyes, overtaking the irises like the night framing the full moon in the sky. He was alone, lost in the wilderness. Out in the cold amongst wolves, yet their shining, golden eyes glowed with frightful familiarity.

  “I refuse to lose my daughter again, do you hear me?!” She punched the small hump of sheets beside her, causing a muffled, pounding thump as her body quivered beneath the lady-like material of her unflattering attire. “Have you forgotten everything we’ve been through with her?! The countless tears I shed, fearing my baby was going to die! The loud arguments in this house when she refused to get help after stealing thousands of dollars from us, not returning her agent’s calls, and becoming a nightmare to be around!” She gripped the sheets in her fist, twisting and turning them every which way. “Taryn became a liar and a con artist seemingly overnight, totally out of character, and I mourned my baby, Robert! I mourned her!

  “Where’d she gone off to?” She swiped at a tear and continued on, her words slicing into him just as she intended. “The never-ending hospital stays…holding her hand, the machines, her moaning out in terrible pain! The ongoing cancer treatments, watching her lose weight and turn into a skeleton right before my eyes…the horrible, double mastectomy that made her a bit less trusting and a lot angrier, and then, the subsequent recovery! She’s thirty-two, for Christ’s sake! That’s old enough to make her own choices, and young enough to still mess up and live and learn!”

  “So I’m just supposed to sit back and watch her move in with a drug addict, Gladys?! I’m not supposed to say anything?! I’m surrounded by craziness! That is preposterous!” His throat grew hot with words yet to be spoken, fighting himself tooth and nail lest he utter something gruesome and abhorrent to match his true sentiments.

  You’re my wife! And here your spoiled ass sits taking that fucker’s side! When have you known Taryn to EVER bring a good guy home, huh? The 21st of never, that’s when! You think I give a shit that he’s got a nice smile? He’s conniving! He’s a playboy cop with a penchant for drinking his ass to death! Nice! Real fucking nice! He probably snorted cocaine this damn morning and has our daughter hooked on it now, too! I will not trust him with my child, I won’t, and if you do, you’re a goddamn crazy woman…

  …But he kept his thoughts to himself.

  “We don’t know him yet, damn it!” Her chest heaved up and down. “You said your peace, but you couldn’t leave it be. She already knew how you felt, but you just couldn’t stop yourself now, could you?”

  “That wasn’t just for her; it was for him to hear, too. He needs to know where we stand! And I don’t have to know him to figure out he’s a damn drunk and she met him in a drug rehabilitation facility! That’s not the stuff good relationships are made of!”

  “I’d much rather have my daughter healthy and happy than depressed and angry; and if she is the latter, I damn sure don’t want to be the cause of it!”

  “Yes, because once again you want to be her peer, not a parent!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “Fine.” He shrugged. “I’ll be the bad guy… If it saves her from a terrible mistake, I’ll take that one for the team.”

  “You can keep saying that all you want. She opens up to me, talks to me more now since I changed my approach. Don’t you get it?! She never talked to us about stuff that bothered her in the past because she believed we didn’t want to hear it, or worse yet, wouldn’t understand. I told her I wanted things to be better, to be different, between her and me. I love her enough to meet her half way, Robert. You, on the other hand, are the same old bullheaded bastard I met thirty-five years ago. I hope you’re satisfied!” She lunged towards her nightstand, pulled out a tissue, and blew her nose.

  “What? You think I’m happy about this?” His eyes bucked. “Look, let’s take a step back and calm down, okay?” He cleared his throat, trying to sound diplomatic when he wanted nothing less than a glass of something tall and strong. “Sometimes things like this are uncomfortable to discuss, but I had every right to ask him what I did, get it all out on the table. The man is an addict; he has some issues, okay?”

  “Everyone does…”

  “No.” He shook his head adamantly as he fought a smirk. “His are a little more serious, or have you forgotten that?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten that, Robert… How could I?”

  “He’s a dope head and a drunk. I’m shocked he will be trusted with a gun again… walking around in uniform! Unbelievable! An addict, Gladys! You’re defending a drug addict.”

  “Your daughter is one, too, and yet you seem to need to be reminded on a daily basis! Let me tell you something, I play a role, Robert. I play a role and try to act as if everything is fine but trust me, behind closed doors I know the deal! How would you like it if this were reversed, huh?”

  “Reversed how?”

  “How would you feel if someone treated Taryn the way you treated that boy?”

  “He’s not a boy; he’s a grown man, honey.” He
sighed. “He can take care of himself. And she’s not an addict…”

  “She is!” Her voice rang out so hard, heavy and loud, the walls seemed to pulsate after the two words sprang from between her lips. “Do you know how hard it is for me to admit that?! Do you have any idea? Do you know how long it took me to be able to say it, and mean it in my heart?” Another tear streamed down her face. She quickly patted it dry. “It doesn’t even matter anymore how it happened, Robert; it’s that it happened! The girl was stealing money out of our account to take care of her habit! Why do you think she refuses to accept another dime from us now?! Not even when she needs it most! That check is still uncashed! She’s been couch surfing for Heaven’s sake! Our daughter,” she said, pointing to herself as the tears continued to flow, “once one of the top models in the industry, on the cover of Elle France, Vogue and Maxim, officially homeless after being strung out!” She shook her head as if in disbelief. “She’s been hiding from the paparazzi, ducking and dodging, ashamed, embarrassed. She refuses to Google her own name because she says nothing but horrible things come up but despite all of that, she’s got pride and strength! She’s got what we taught her to have, in spite of it all!”

  He swallowed, looked away.

  “…And you don’t think Nick might feel the same?” Her voice cracked. “You don’t think whatever you said to him he hasn’t said to himself—thought of himself, too?!”