In the Nick of Time
Page 50
His confessions moved out of his mind and rolled off his tongue, voiced with the greatest of ease. He wanted this man to understand the depths to which he loved his flower’s very soul, but no words could truly describe it, for they hadn’t been invented yet.
“If for some reason Taryn and I don’t work out, Robert, I’ll still have what she taught me. She uh…” He took a deep breath. “That lady, my flower, will forever be my Love, and you raised a hell of a woman… I applaud you and your wife. You created the best gift I’ve ever received in my entire life, and I have no intentions of being careless with her.”
More silence ensued, this time, not a hefty or uncomfortable one, but the kind of hush that was home grown from the heart and soul’s garden due to an overwhelming need, and that need sprouted wings and took flight high up into the heavens.
RELEASE…
“Thank you for talking to me, Nick. This conversation has been… wow, just kind of speechless. Anyway, I’d like to speak to you a bit longer, but I understand you have things to do and I myself am late for a very important meeting. I also promised to not take too much of your time, but we’ve talked for quite a while. I was so engrossed in the dialogue, I lost track of time.”
“We’ll talk more soon.”
“Yes, I’m certain we will… Nick, can you do me a favor?”
“I don’t know. Depends on what it is.” He sat up and turned his car on, stretched his legs a bit.
“Can you tell Taryn about our chat and have her call me, please? I really need to speak with her.”
“Yes, I will tell her.”
“Thank you… One last thing, you make it seem like in some ways she saved you. Well, she said the same thing about you…”
A slow warmth took root and grew across his chest, titillating his heart from the words spoken.
“Initially, I honestly thought Taryn had lost her mind. I didn’t understand.”
Nick burst out laughing at that for he couldn’t help himself. “Of course you didn’t. I’m sure you aren’t the only one, but things happen…”
“Yes, but now, it’s starting to make more sense. It’s strange, almost like you two rehearsed this, but I know that’s impossible. She said that you gave her a new reason to smile in the morning… that you said things that made her challenging days better, and you would push her past her own limitations. She said you embraced and loved her for her. No supermodel obsessive bullcrap, and for the first time in a long time, she felt she was being loved and cherished. So, she decided to give love a try one more time.”
“One more day of life is one more try… She and I are trying together. There’s nothing ugly or wrong about that, Mr. Jones. Matter of fact, it’s wonderfully right. Love isn’t intelligent, but intelligence knows a good thing when it sees it… and I’ve found a damn good thing…”
Chapter Twenty-Six
There are seventy-seven police precincts in New York City. There are twelve Transit Districts and Nine PSAs. I work in the 73rd Precinct. That number has been like a football jersey for me, one worn with pride. My uniform arrived fresh, dry cleaned and pressed. My badge sparkled and my hat appeared brand new. But I didn’t want a brand new hat; I wanted my old one… I was assured that it was…
He closed his journal, placed it in the glove box, got out of the car, and headed towards the place. The tightening in his stomach was laced with the freshly spun juices of anticipation. He inhaled deeply, getting high off the possibilities. His fingers twitched, sliding against one another in a strange fashion before he clasped the cold, metal handle of the front door. The scent of hot coffee intermingled with the strong odor of Lysol, as if the cleaning crew had just left the building. The din and smells of the area came for him…overheated, hard working copiers and computers amalgamated with the melee of other scents, creating a concoction he’d almost long forgotten. When he opened the second set of doors, he didn’t expect much—a nod here and there, a ‘Welcome Back’ from Officer Clark, the friendliest of the bunch. But, he soon found himself face down on the ground with four uniformed and armed motherfuckers clobbering him, going at his limbs with playful punches, laughing their damn asses off.
“Shit! What are you doing?!” He scratched against the linoleum floor, his hat now tilted to the side like a damn beret as the TS Operator snickered away, turning red and pointing at him. Finally, he succumbed and accepted his mock demise.
“Welcome back, you bastard!” someone screamed out. The sinking feeling in his gut let out as if someone had flushed a goddamn toilet. In its place sat a big yellow life preserver, along with an ‘all teeth’ showing smile spread across a ruddy face. His eyes glassed over from the fun of it all, though he was certain his back would be bruised from the rumpus. Soon, the heavy weight came off him and inviting arms stretched downward. He stopped. He stared. He looked at those hands, all of them different colors, shapes and sizes, extended in his direction—some big, some smaller. A few brandished shimmery wedding bands… others wore old scars… The hands waved at him, offering a way up, from being down… These were his brothers and sisters.
These were his ‘good’ outlaws, bandidos, compañeros. They’d replaced the street creed with street beats. They imbued the bloodshot eyes of an all but forgotten Brownsville boy, who would peer through shattered glass windows at a broken, ugly world, with a hint of hope and a vision for the future. He grabbed hold of a dark brown hand with one palm, and a creamy tan one with his other.
My brothers… my sisters… mi familia…
“Uhhh…” With a heave, he was on his feet. He immediately fixed his hat, dusted his knees off, and looked about while new bands of chatter commenced. His friends dispersed, like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed, and for that, he was deeply grateful. He’d been gone for seven months total, but it felt like a fucking lifetime. He realized he was still very much addicted—not to alcohol, but to his damn job. He dreamed about it practically every night, scouring for information about who was doing what, wishing so much to touch base with the ones his heart beat for.
But… he wanted to see them face-to-face, look them square in the eye, and earn their trust once more. He’d left a coward, not wishing for them to see his damn face as he took his walk of shame, a tour of his fractured internal world hidden from the masses. However, he’d returned new and strong, standing erect, ready to earn that damn respect. He continued to trudge forward as yells of, ‘Welcome back, Vitale!’ echoed throughout the place. He passed the Complaint Room, shot Patricia a wink as she waved in his direction and entered information into her computer.
As he navigated to the area his desk used to be in, drawing closer and closer, his chest drew tight. His breathing increased and he blinked several times, trying to make sense of the matter.
Who the hell is that?
His freshly launched jovial mood deflated like a popped, saggy balloon at a little boy’s birthday bash. He glared at the back of the man’s head as the guy’s thick, short fingers glided across his keyboard, typing in information, taking care of his paperwork in a happy-go-lucky sort of way. Suddenly, the man stopped, undoubtedly noticing him in the computer reflection. He hoped he didn’t make out his expression, for he was certain his mood showed as clear as ice in a glass of cold water.
“Hey Nick, welcome back, man.” The guy offered a tilted grin and got to his feet. They slapped hands, did a light embrace.
“Hey Greg, what’s up?”
“Uh, nothing much…same ol’ same ol’. We missed you, man.”
“Yeah… thanks.” Nick looked around nonchalantly, forcing himself to play the damn role. “I missed you all, too.” He exhaled and rocked back on his heels, fighting for the right damn thing to say.
“Nick!” Captain O’Sullivan called out, his large body almost blocking the entranceway to his door.
Saved by the bell… thank goodness…
“I’ll talk to you later, man.” He tapped Greg gently on the shoulder and ushered his way past him, making a qu
ick-footed beeline towards his boss. Before he could say, ‘thank you’ or ‘hello’, the man grabbed him and pulled him to his chest for a bear hug that nearly crushed him like a peanut beneath a hammer.
“Welcome back!” His gruff voice broke through as he released him, pushed him inside his office to the desk covered in papers. The guy slammed the door behind them as if he were mad at the whole world. “Sit the hell down, Nick… We need to talk.”
Nick did as instructed without hesitation. His back straight as a ruler, he respectfully removed his hat and placed it on his lap, his fingers grazing the cotton material of the thing.
“Now.” Captain O’Sullivan clasped his hands together and looked him dead in the eye. “You saw that Officer Lesley was in your seat.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Here’s why. We didn’t hold your seat out of necessity. We needed to move him so we did.”
“Understood. It’s a consequence.”
“In some ways, yes, but there is another reason.”
“Really?” His brow arched. “What?”
“I want you to start in slow. No car or foot patrol assignments just yet…” The dreaded yet predictable words rolled off the older man’s tongue, hit his ear like a knife to the drum, and made the damn thing bleed. Nick sighed and nodded in understanding.
“Because I want you to get your bearings, become reacquainted… We want to work you up to being back on your beat, Nick. But first, we need you to—”
“Prove myself.” He shook his head as he looked down at his shoes that picked up his reflection. “You don’t trust me. I expected this.”
“I wouldn’t say I don’t trust ya; it’s just, well, we have to watch you for a while is all.”
“It’s fine, really.” He took a deep breath, meaning the words though he hated saying them nevertheless.
“Okay, good.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“I’m glad you’re back, Nick. Everyone is. You were really missed, buddy. You have no idea. So many of the guys wanted to stop in and see you on visitation days, matter of fact, a couple tried but were denied, per your request. Tomas pulled some strings it seems and got in.” The man frowned at him, showing his disapproval of such a thing.
“Captain, I needed control over something. I had lost everything, well, almost everything. I needed to be able to have a shred of dignity and regain influence over that portion of my life, and that was one thing I could regulate.”
“Makes sense…” The man nodded. “Okay, back to business. I’ll call Tomas and have him show you to your new desk. There’s some paperwork for you to jump into, and you can get your files organized, all of that.” He waved his hand lazily in his direction. “I know it’s not what you wanted, your ideal situation, but I’m glad you see why we have to do it this way. It’s beneath you.” He clicked his tongue and winced. “But I agreed to it in order to get your ass back in here without delay or incident.”
“Thank you. I didn’t assume I’d be treated any better than anyone else that had a similar experience, captain.” He slowly lifted his head, meeting eyes once more with the man. “It’s alright… really, it is. I’m just grateful to have another chance, you know?”
“Yeah, and we’ll be doing drug tests on you, okay? During dates and times you aren’t aware of this time, do you understand?”
“Of course, yes.” He nodded.
“And if one, just one, goddamn it”—the man held up his long, fat finger and looked at him sternly, his unkempt dark brown brows furrowed—“comes up dirty, that’s it, Vitale! I’m not vouching for you. I refuse!”
“I understand.”
“Are you still tryna casually drink?” The man’s thin lips twisted in a smirk. “I know some alcoholics do that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “Be upfront with me.” Captain O’Sullivan turned away to type something on his keyboard, then returned his full attention to Nick.
“Nah, I can’t touch the stuff, captain. I know if I start up again, it will go in just one direction, downhill. I knew pretty early on I’m an all or nothing sort of guy… there’s no little bit with me. I do everything full steam ahead. I don’t know what the yellow light means,” he said with a smirk. “Only green and red…”
“Remind me to never let you direct traffic,” the guy teased, causing them both to chuckle.
“I don’t even want to test those waters so I haven’t tried that, don’t plan to. It’s kryptonite.”
“Good, I think that’s for the best, considering your aspirations.”
He liked how the man said the word. It sounded like ‘dreams’, only fancier…
“Yeah.” He ran his hands nervously up and down his pants legs. “Seems to be the best plan. Look.” He sighed, flushed with slight embarrassment. “Thanks for taking care of my bills while I was gone. I’ll pay you back every dime…every damn cent of it. I’m no bum, okay?”
The man nodded in his direction, but the gesture wasn’t sincere. He knew a fucking blow off when he saw one.
“It wasn’t a loan.” Captain O’Sullivan started to type again, before piercing him with a straight look.
“I know, but in my mind it was, and I have to make that right. I’ll make monthly payments to you until it is all paid back. Now that I’m not buying a bunch of booze and other shit anymore,” he offered with a soulless laugh, “it shouldn’t take that long.”
“Alright.” Captain Jasper leaned far back in his seat and placed his heavy arms across his slightly protruding stomach. “So, do you wanna come over for dinner next week or what?”
“Of course I do… Thanks for the invitation.” Nick crossed his ankles, getting a tad more comfortable. “That would be great. Can I bring someone this time though?”
The man’s forehead rose in haughty suspicion, an expression paired with a silly grin.
“You gotta broad, Nick?!” He snorted. “I mean, not that you haven’t had girlfriends since I’ve known you, but you never made formal introductions, nothin’ like that. This is a big deal, huh?” he carried on, his narrowed blue eyes full of sparkling delight.
Nick nodded, a sly smirk on his face. “Yeah, it’s a big deal… She’s living with me, we’re together. It’s serious.”
“You’re shackin’? Wow! Congrats. What’s ’er name?”
Flower, Beauty, Warrior, Princess of Fire, my fucking everything and then some…
“Her name is Taryn Jones.”
The man paused for a moment and tapped his chin.
“Why does that name sound familiar to me, huh? I’ve heard it before. I know I have.”
“Shit.” He shrugged. “Funny you should say that. I didn’t know who she was when I met her… Guess I didn’t keep up with those sorts of things.” He grinned as he scratched his scalp, digging in deep to cure an itch.
“Well? She famous or something? She gotta be, right? What is she, an actress? Singer?”
“She’s a model… been in magazines… She was big time, the kind you’d see on the newsstands. That’s probably where you’ve seen her.”
“Well, shit!” The man cackled. “You lucky bastard! What a crazy world! How’d you get ’er? Doesn’t seem quite fair!” he teased.
“I know.” Nick shrugged, showing off a goofy grin. “It’s crazy, right? She likes me though… she loves me. I love her too…very much…” His voice trailed away.
“Awww Jesus, you’re lovesick. This gets better ’nd better.” He laughed. “Congratulations, Pretty-Boy Nick!”
“Ahhhh, you know how I hate being called that! You promised you wouldn’t call me that anymore!” Nick whined, really feeling sorry for himself. This only caused the big man to laugh harder.
“I couldn’t resist! Anyway, yeah, bring her by… can’t wait to meet her.”
“Will do.” He turned serious, placed his hat back on his head.
“You can take that off, you know. You’ll just be in the office.”
Nick got to his feet and turned towards the door.
“…And you should be. Welcome back, son…”
He dabbed at the side of his mouth. The thick spaghetti sauce had done a number on his lips. They burned ever so slightly from the fresh cayenne pepper and fragrant oregano, but it had been oh so worth it. In appreciation of the delicious meal, his mouth curved in a satisfied grin. He’d inhaled his dinner faster than could be timed by a watch. Taryn could cook like no one’s fucking business. She said she’d learned from her mother.
Motherfuckin’ thank you, Mrs. Brown!
She raised her phone to her eyes and snapped photo after photo.
“When are you gonna stop taking photos of me, huh?” He took a sip of his water.
“Never! I like taking pictures of hot guys.” She smirked.
“Weren’t the ones you took of me in the shower enough?” He laughed. “Thought I’d put on a performance for you since you wanted to come to the peep show. I never got paid for that little gig, either,” he joked, winking at her.
“Speaking of which…” She twirled several sauce drenched noodles around her fork and stuffed them in her mouth. On a swallow, she began to speak again. “So, I put the rent money on your nightstand.” She looked at him from across the table, tapped her water glass with her fingernail just so.
“And I’ll put it right back on yours. Don’t do this shit, Taryn. I’m tired of arguing with you about this. You’ve got medical bills and other shit to deal with. We’re together, you live here.” He turned away from her gaze and leisurely took another bite of his garlic bread, then used the rest of the dense slice to trace up the abundant red sauce along his plate, savoring it almost as much as her pussy…
“Nick, I’m not kidding. I’m helping to pay the rent here.” Her words had attitude sprinkled all over them, but he refused to be shaken loose.