Just a few more minutes to go…
He looked back up at the clock, watching the second hand tick and tock its way around and around, drawing him closer to a resolution. He was pleasantly surprised that his nerves hadn’t kicked into high gear. Regardless, he was thankful for the calm before the storm.
It’s almost Showtime…
Tick… Tock…
“And so.” Fern sat back in her seat and her chair sighed as she shifted about. With each move, her clear bracelet slid against her tanned flesh. “If we order, say, one hundred units, we would want to sell the ‘Living Dolls’ nightgowns in the three colors and seasonal designs mentioned, at approximately seventy-two dollars a piece.”
“That’s astronomical. That defeats the purpose,” Jules spoke up, his brows bunching in annoyance at the woman. Taryn sat across from him at the other end of the long table, lulled by the faint sound of a water cooler juddering about.
Seventy-two dollars? Is she crazy?! I’m not selling those nightgowns for that price. We’ll just have to find a cheaper manufacturer.
“Fern, first I want to thank you for coming, and for your interest,” she said, unwilling to let this go on a second longer.
The woman nodded.
“I must say, although my clothing line is considered higher end, it is not only intended for wealthy women. Women of all walks of life have suffered from this horrible disease. All women, whether they make eight bucks an hour or five hundred dollars a minute, deserve to be able to feel beautiful and sexy. I want to offer all sorts of lingerie products that fit most budgets. I cannot in good conscience sell a nightgown for over seventy-two dollars to anyone, if it is not made of a higher end material. This is our middle grade, and the price point was supposed to be at thirty-one, thirty-five tops. You’ve almost doubled that.”
The woman sighed, an obvious look of annoyance on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Now, I know we wanted to keep all the manufacturing in the U.S. I get that and I am all for us having the gowns and bras made here, but if we need to consider having some manufacturing outside of the States to help keep this price point low, then we simply must.”
Jules nodded in agreement, cleared his throat, and got to his feet.
“I’m glad you brought that up, Taryn, because I’ve been encouraging you to consider that from the onset. Though your mission was admirable, if you wish to keep the lingerie at that price point, then not all of it can be manufactured here, especially not the prosthetic inclusive ones. We have a meeting with Spanx in two days.”
The room buzzed with instant chatter at his revelation.
“They are quite interested. Now, we have—”
The room suddenly brightened, as if a novel idea had been hatched. Taryn looked about, wondering where the strange sound was coming from. It grew louder and louder…
…That’s music.
Jules looked around in confusion, as well as the other executives, shareholders, and guests.
“What is that?” He looked about. “Why is there music playing during this meeting?”
Everyone wore a dumbfounded expression. The oversized doors slowly opened, and there stood a man. The music grew louder, and she recognized the damn song—one of their favorites, the one they made love to at least once a week… the one that made her climb the damn walls while he moved like a river within her…
‘Ed Sheeran’s, ‘I See Fire’…
She clasped her hands over her trembling mouth as she slowly rose from her seat. When he walked in, all eyes turned his way…
Chin held high, he slowly undid the last button on his blazer, a smirk on his beautiful face.
“Oh my God… what are you doing here?” she whispered, knowing the man couldn’t hear her…
“You should have stayed away from me,” he announced into a small microphone. His smirk soon morphed into a smile. “That’s what some people think… that’s what some people say.” The music died down a bit, but continued to play as he spoke. He casually stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping the microphone.
“Hi, everybody,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt, I know that this is uh,” he looked towards his feet then focused back on the audience, “an important day for Taryn, for Ms. Jones.” He pointed down the way at her, and though he was so far away, he felt so close… so near… so dear… so deep.
“My name is Nick Vitale, and I’m a homicide detective for the Brooklyn Police, the 73rd precinct in Brownsville. I’m also Ms. Jones’ boyfriend.” He took a deep breath and continued. “We have been together for awhile now. All of you in here are well aware that she is not only the creator of the Living Dolls lingerie line under the Sweet Warrior brand, but she’s beautiful, intelligent, kind, and highly capable. I’m not here to make a business deal with Ms. Jones, however. I’m here to make a lifetime pact.”
“…Oh my God…oh…my God.” She stood there, frozen in her damn skin. Lost, drowning.
“I’m doing this, right here, right now, in this way, to prove something to myself, as well as to her. You see, for the longest, I was closed off. I didn’t play well with others. I… I had some problems. I still have problems, but I deal with them in a totally different way. This woman,” he said, his voice breaking. “taught me how to do more than just survive. She taught me how to live, give and accept love and to thrive. I thought I was doing okay, but I wasn’t. She is the strongest, most resilient person I know. She was young and beautiful, and in her prime, a monster came, called breast cancer, and tried to beat her down into submission… but Taryn is submissive to no one…”
Chuckles and claps erupted in the room, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“But… she’s not hard. She’s all woman… soft, calming, beautiful, alluring, and feminine. She had this dream…” He pointed to the designs piled neatly in the middle of the table. “…and because of her trauma, that dream came to fruition in a new way. Come to find out, there were hundreds, thousands, even millions of women who had the same desire she did, to feel like they had before the monster came and challenged them. To wear clothing that complemented their new bodies, made them uninhibited, sexy and simply… comfortable.
“Don’t we miss how we felt in some ways, five years ago? Hell even a year ago?”
Several people nodded.
“Recall your best times in life, how you felt, what you were wearing, seeing and feeling… oddly enough, the best time of my life happened during one of the worst times. I was in a drug rehabilitation center. While in there, I was forced to find myself, to figure out why I was doing what I was doing. I wasn’t addicted to alcohol; I was addicted to suffering!” His voice cracked again.
“I felt the continuous need to be punished for many things that were not in my control. It was far easier for me to chase bad guys than to deal with the bad guy inside of me. It was much easier to risk my life each and every day for the people of New York, than to care about my own life enough to try and make it better, make it count. I was alive, but not living… I didn’t think I deserved to live, because there were dead people all around me, and in some ways, I believed I put them there; therefore, I should be dead, too.” He took a moment to regroup.
“No one has judged me harder and harsher than I judged myself. No one has pushed me as much as that woman right there.” He smiled sadly at her, and though she stood too far away to be completely certain, she could have sworn the damn man’s eyes were glistening with emotion. “She loves me…” He shook his head, as if in disbelief. “I’m not completely sure as to why, but she does and I need it!” He pointed to himself.
“I’m the best me when I’m with her. We’ve had some experiences together that most will not have, but those experiences made us better. She showed me how to be present, to feel and accept and change. And I showed her how to let go, to step back, re-evaluate, accept help and never give up on herself. Taryn was everyone’s cheerleader except her own, and that needed to stop… It needed to stop.”
>
She dropped her head, blinking back the tears.
“You all need to get back to making these deals, agreements, and a bunch of shit that I think is pretty damn cool but frankly, don’t understand.” This caused a louder burst of laughter. “And you may wonder why I came in here, thinking this was planned, some sort of sales pitch so you could see that you were getting a real prize, a warrior to go along with the merchandise, but that’s not it at all. I’m here because she tells me I’m the most important person in her life, and this is an important day for her, so why not merge the two together and create a beautiful memory?” He zoomed in on her then, like a rocket, his steps beat fast across the floor. At the same time, he dug in his pocket. Before she knew it, she was inhaling his Jean Paul Gaultier cologne and his warm breath wafted against her cheek as he whispered, “I love you,” and planted a kiss upon her lips.
His watery eyes, rain over the storm, made her blush within. He opened the black box he held, revealing a large snowflake shaped diamond ring. She gripped her chest, certain she may just fall out and have a heart attack right then and there.
I never knew! He gave no indication he was up to this!
“Taryn, I wanted to know if… uh, if…” His cheeks reddened as he looked down, then back into her eyes. “I was wondering if you’d marry me? Become my wife… ’Cause I kinda need that. I want to be with you forever, in every sense of the word.” The room burst out in awwws, drawing a reluctant audience in the romantic, chaotic scene but her heart beat too damn loud within her to fully take it all in. She ran her hands nervously together as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“You kinda need that, huh?” She smiled. “Well, I kinda need that, too…”
The room burst out in applause as she flung her arms around him and kissed him hard and strong. Reluctantly releasing him, she immediately blinked away tears but relished his ear-to-ear grin as he took her hand and slid the gorgeous engagement ring upon her finger. People jumped up from their seats, laughing and applauding.
“I swear you guys, I didn’t know anything about this!” she protested, causing many guffaws. Taking a hold of her, he placed a kiss upon the crown of her head… just as he had done one day so, so long ago…
“I love you, apple head. I could just sink my teeth in that cute, tiny thing.” He playfully jetted his tongue out at her.
“Ass!” She giggled, and then he placed another gentle kiss on her cheek.
“All right!” He threw his hands up, walking backwards, away from her, towards the doors. “I apologize for the interruption.” he smirked. “I’ll let you all get back to what you were discussing. Baby.” He pointed at her, winked in her direction. “I’ll see you later on this evening and it was nice, a real pleasure tellin’ all of you strangers my business! Enjoy the rest of your day!”
Laughter rang in the room one more time. With another wink and a wave, he was gone. Congratulations rang out from varying voices in the room.
“Oh my God!” She turned from side to side, joy flooding her, and slumped back down in her seat. Her hand trembled. Had she dreamt the whole thing up?
Jules approached her, looking vexed.
“Oh shit…” she murmured under her breath.
Please don’t kill my vibe…
She grimaced. When the man reached her, he slowly dropped down to one knee and in his thick, sultry French accent whispered in her ear, “Yes, you had someone at home alright… what a lucky man!”
She laughed and shook her head.
“I have no idea if you lied and knew about this or not—doesn’t matter, but it served you well… Fern wants in! Congratulations!”
“Stack these up there.” Officer Tomas handed Nick the whopping, dusty files, all seasoned with the odor of time.
“You think I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs? I’m not your damn secretary.” Nick scoffed at his previous patrol partner.
“You’re not good enough to be my secretary!” the man taunted him. “Come on, help me out. I’m behind on my paperwork.”
Nick huffed, gave it a thought or two, and swallowed down his protests.
“You think you’re a big shot now, huh?” Tomas teased. “Mr. Detective! Mind sharper than a stick of butter.” He burst out laughing, causing Nick to do the same.
“For somebody that needs a damn favor, you sure talk a lotta shit! Uhh…” he heaved one stack of the old, brown files and set them inside a file cabinet.
“Man, I got all this shit. It’s been so crazy around here lately,” Tomas explained.
“You’re in Tim’s old spot now, right?” He placed another stack inside the drawers.
“Yeah… there’s no telling how long he’ll be out and by the looks of stuff, he hadn’t cleaned that crap out in years.” Tomas shook his head in disgust as he flipped through a series of papers stacked on his desk. “Lucky bastard. Damn gallbladder surgery.”
“Doesn’t sound like any kind of vacation I’d want.” Nick grinned.
“Vacation? You don’t even take vacations… make the rest of us look bad. Now that you’re getting married, maybe you’ll chill with that just a little.” He cracked a smile.
“You wish.” Nick blew him a kiss, causing the guy to throw a wadded up piece of paper in his direction. Minutes passed, and they continued about their business until several trashcans were full and his fingers were covered in stinging paper cuts.
“A, Nick.” Tomas paused. On the desk he had a folder cracked open, exposing yellowed papers, some of which seemed to be sticking together. He attempted to pull at them, separate the damn things. “This guy’s named Vitale, too… I know that last name isn’t uncommon, but he kinda looks like you… ’specially the eyes.” Nick looked over Tomas’ shoulder at the damn thing. A faded photo lay paper-clipped to a stack of papers, more than likely an old report.
“Hey, let me see that.”
“Yeah…” The man handed it to him, turned his back, and continued with his chores.
Nick looked at the photo long and hard.
He looks kinda like the guy I saw walk in here a long time ago…
He flipped the photo out of the way, pushing it upward with the side of his thumb. He squinted at the words, and he got a tick at the edge of his mouth as he quickly scanned over the thing…
Case No.: 0178032521
Date: August 15, 2010
Reporting Officer: Deputy Bernard
Prepared By: CPL Inez
Incident Type: Robbery and Homicide
Address of Occurrence: 1620 St. John’s Place
Victim: Franco S. Vitale
Witnesses: William Alexander. Male, 52, pedestrian
Adam Hernández. Male, 49, storeowner
Evidence: Closed-circuit surveillance footage.
Weapons/Objects used: Pistol/Firearm
Details of Event: On August 15, 2010, at approximately 15:38, one unidentified male approached Happy Go Lucky Grocery Store on 1620 St. John’s Place. Franco Vitale, age 58, was exiting the store. He was placing his credit card back into his wallet when the unidentified suspect saw him and reached for it. A verbal argument soon escalated into a physical altercation, at which time, the unknown assailant pulled out a gun and shot Mr. Vitale three times in the chest. The store’s security camera recorded the incident, including the gunman removing the wallet from Mr. Vitale’s hand and running south down St. John’s Place.
Two witnesses who were inside the store, William Alexander and Adam Hernández, describe the suspect as being in his early twenties, Latino, and wearing a black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and black Nike sneakers. No other witnesses have come forward with any additional information.
Deputy Bernard arrived on the scene at around 15:51, responding to a 911 call from witness William Alexander. After reviewing the security footage, Deputy Bernard concluded that this was an unplanned robbery and, based on speaking with Mr. Vitale’s wife and adult children later that evening, neither the suspect nor the victim knew one another prio
r to the incident.
The suspect is still at large.
Nick’s hand trembled as he re-read the text over and over. In his mind, he could see the incident clearly, envision the blood oozing out of Vitale’s chest, the sheer panic he must’ve experienced, and the pain as he hit the ground then died, staring up into the summer sky. He looked at the picture; his heart seized up, damn near ceased to work, refused to beat. Those were his eyes…
His lips…
His hairline…
People were mugged, robbed, and killed every day. He certainly didn’t know about each and every case, and sometimes there were so many incidents, especially in the summer when criminal behavior seemed to thrive, the news couldn’t cover it all. He’d slipped…right through the cracks.
…The father that got away.
The man who’d stood inside of that same precinct years ago, reporting his car being torn apart like chicken meat from a bone, was now facing him in that photo, one more time. He seemed frailer, older, but it was definitely him…
Officer Tomas tossed another wad of papers in the trashcan.
“Any kin to you, man?” he asked. “He looks just like you!” He chuckled. “Anyway, what happened? What the report say?” He grabbed another stack of old files and plopped them on a nearby chair.
“No, no kin to me… Said it was a robbery, assault, and homicide…”
“This damn place! It’s a shame, ya got old people that can’t even walk the streets anymore! I betcha the fucker that did it wasn’t even caught, was he? I love my job, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes, Nick, I swear, this place is nothing but a big ass, stinking hellhole.”
In the Nick of Time Page 66
