by Mia Ford
My father worked with Jimmy and liked him. He didn’t care that he stole from Maxwell. That is another thing I don’t want to venture into with Charlie. Why the hell do I want to get caught up in this drama? My eyes go to Charlie helping out one of the twins and my answer appears. Charlie really is a great guy and if I decide to take my singing public he is the perfect person to do it with.
If we get serious then it will have to be discussed. I’ll have to tell Charlie about dad, and dad about Charlie.
I try not to think about it and just enjoy watching Charlie show a little girl how to place her fingers on the guitar for the third time without any irritation.
She smiles up at him when she finally gets it and my heart melts a little.
My phone buzzes again and I finally look at it seeing it’s my dad.
I hold my phone up to him and walk out the door.
“Dad,” I say when I pick up, “Is something wrong?” My father never calls me. If we talk it’s because I called him. It’s also strange because I had been thinking about him.
“I need you to come over to the house on Sunday. There are some things we need to talk about. Okay, sweetheart?” There’s a tone in his voice I don’t quite recognize. The fact that there was no greeting also shows the importance of whatever he needs to say to me is.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
I hang up and go back in the studio to find a jam session in full force. Each student is playing their own version of whatever he told them to. Charlie is in the front playing with them and looks like he’s having the time of his life.
I put the strange phone call with my dad out of my mind. It’s possible he knows about me spending time with Charlie, but I don’t really see how he can. Like everything else I push that worry to the back of my mind and lean against the wall enjoying the show.
The enthusiasm Charlie shows for helping these kids is phenomenal. I know the big question is coming again. He really wants me to sing with him. The thing is I don’t know if I’m ready to answer him yet. I still don’t know the logistics of the whole thing. We really didn’t discuss much at dinner last night. Questions swirled in my head.
Will I have to travel if we’re successful? Do I have to sign a contract? I realize this is one of those things you kind of jump into with both feet, but I still need some time to weigh everything out.
I am in my own head when I realize the little girl has made her way over to me.
“You should sing with us,” she says and swings her little body back and forth, arms outstretched.
“Oh no, honey. I’m just here to watch.”
“Please,” she makes the word as long as possible and starts to jump up and down. Now the twins have come over to mimic what she’s doing.
“How can you say no to that?” Charlie asks with a shrug. He is loving this.
“I’ll compromise. I don’t want to sing, but I’ll dance with you.” I tell them.
The girls have fun with me as I spin them around and then all the kids take turns being picked up and spun around. After about the third one I can feel it in my back. They’re so excited so I keep going.
Before I know it, time is over. The kids are packing up their stuff to leave.
The pretty mother from earlier is the first to pick her kid up. She puts a hand on Charlie’s arm and gives me a pointed look. I smile brightly at her and wave making her scowl.
One by one the parents come in and take their kids. We are alone again. He walks over to where I’m seated and looks down at me.
“See this is why I do this. The passion, the enthusiasm, the fun.” He is getting excited as he talks about it, making big motions with his arms.
“Yes, you’re really good with them. I even understand it. I love teaching my kids. The passion is the same for me in the classroom.”
“But there is so much more. You can have even more passion singing with me. I promise you will love the exhilaration. And I’ll be there with you sharing the spotlight.”
“I almost want to say yes just because of your commitment.”
“So, do it? Be the other half of my duo?”
“I don’t know.” I stand up and he puts his arm around me walking to the door.
“What’s holding you back?”
“I need to think about it and then I need to meet with you and Thomas before I make my final decision. I have so many questions that need to be answered.”
“Okay, I can handle that. Let’s go out Friday night. We’ll go with Thomas and kill two birds with one stone.” He bends over and kisses me. It’s not as chaste as the goodnight kiss from the other night, but it has the ability to haywire my brain.
“Alright, that will be good. Friday night it is”
“I’ll pick you up from the school.” He smiles and walks back inside.
My cell phone is buzzing again and I pick it up as I walk to my car.
“Ada, it’s Madeline,” a voice I didn’t think I’d ever pick up my phone to hear croaks at me. “I need you to sub for my class. I didn’t have time to do a lesson plan so you’ll have to do it tonight. I don’t expect to be back until Monday.” She pauses to cough daintily. “You’re a lifesaver, bye.”
I can’t be sure but the last sentence didn’t sound as sick as the first. This means I’m subbing for three days. Who calls in on a Tuesday night and knows they won’t be back until after the weekend? The whole thing is suspicious to me.
I don’t know why I’m the only one they ever call to substitute. They don’t think I can handle their classes so they spend the whole next day after asking their class about what I went over and then criticizing it. I know this because some of my music students have been in the classrooms and told me.
“I should have refused,” I say out loud as I get in my car. I look back to the door of the studio to make sure Charlie didn’t hear me talking to myself.
The principal who would be told immediately if I refused, wouldn’t appreciate that. I know I’m going to go home and work on lesson plans for an English class I haven’t been in once this quarter. I drive home with a lot on my mind and try to think of a movie I can play for the students.
Chapter Twelve
Charlie
I make quick work putting everything away so I can sit down to write. I like the quiet of the studio once the kids are gone to think and write. It’s a good time to play and just unwind. I’m thinking about Addy. She has been on my brain a lot since I first heard her sing.
I hear something towards the front door and wonder if she came back for some reason. Going towards the front I don’t see her standing outside. After standing and listening for a minute I chalk it up to my imagination.
Walking through the back and turning off the lights I get the feeling I’m being watched. Once I turn off the last of the lights I stand for a minute to see if I hear the noise again.
A loud crash startles me and glass showers down from the side window as something heavy comes flying through it. One piece sticks into my arm and I feel smaller pieces stick into my face.
“What the hell!” I yell while trying to shield my face from the shards.
Someone laughs in the parking lot and I pull my phone out to call the police. I walk across the floor to look at the object. It’s a brick. There’s a note tied to it that reads, we’ll take everything from you like you’ve taken everything from us.
There’s no doubt in my mind it’s related to my dad. More than likely it’s from the same men who were angry with me before. After I call the police to report the damage I debate on whether I should go outside. I decide to wait for the police because if I had to guess, there are probably at least six or seven of them. I don’t like those odds.
The laughing continues for a little longer and I keep thinking they are going to come inside and destroy everything.
“We’ll be back tonight rich boy, you better sleep here,” a loud voice says as a truck drives by. I look out and see there are at least five men in the back. I was right to
wait. They had to have been parked behind the building and ran up with the bricks.
The police show up long after they have already driven away. One officer gets out and comes over to me. She isn’t in a huge hurry. She walks to the front and looks at the broken windows.
“Someone break out your windows?” She asks stepping inside.
“They threw bricks through them,” I tell her and point to one with the note. She picks it up and reads it shaking her head back and forth before putting it right back where she picked it up from.
“These are people you know?” She takes out a little notepad and pen ready to write.
“Not really. I don’t know the actual individuals who did this, but I think I know the group responsible.”
“You do?”
“Yes, just recently my father made several of his workers mad when he fired them. I think for some reason they think they can get at him through me.”
“They can’t?” She looks at me with raised brows.
“No, I don’t have anything to do with my dad’s business. There’s no reason for them to come after me.”
“Besides your dad laying them off from their jobs.” Her tone doesn’t seem helpful. It almost sounds angry.
“Right, but I am only guilty of having him as my dad. After that, I’m not responsible for any of it.”
She makes a noise in her throat and walks forward writing as she goes. I get a feeling she’s not really going to be any help. Something is bothering her about me and my family. I would get the only police officer with a chip on her shoulder.
After she looks in every room she walks back out the front and heads to her car.
“What are you going to do about this?” I say to her back.
“We’ll keep our eye out, but the chances of finding who did this are pretty slim. Here’s my card.”
“What do you mean? I told you who did it.” I need to maintain my cool but this police officer is really getting under my skin. This is my safe place and it’s been tampered with. I have children who come here to learn how can she not see how awful this is?
“You can’t prove it,” she smirks. Once she’s gone I walk back into the studio to try and pick up the glass. I’ll have to deep clean before the students return so no one gets hurt. I turn the card over and look at the name. Deputy O’Neil. I’ll have to figure out if my dad somehow knows her.
I decide to go in the back room and try and write for a little while. If I go home I’ll just end up falling asleep on the couch watching something horrible. The words in my head have congealed into one big blob of nonsense. I wonder if Addy has somehow gotten into my head with her lyric hating ways. After I play a few notes on the guitar some sentences start to form about a high school beauty wanting to grow up too fast. It doesn’t sound terrible in my head.
“Charlie, are you here.” A voice outside the room startles me and I jump upholding the guitar like a weapon above my head.
My friend from high school George Starling is standing in the doorway. He looks tired with large bags beneath his eyes. His green t-shirt is wrinkled and the jeans he’s wearing have large holes in the thighs. They are dirty and his hair is in a huge mess on top of his head.
“You’ve been on a bender,” I say as my heart starts to calm down.
“Just a little one,” he says holding his two fingers close together.
George has an addiction to cocaine. He fends for it in a way that never got me. I would use and be fine, but the second he found it he was hooked. I’d been distancing myself from him bit by bit. I didn’t want to leave a friend in trouble, but there was really no way to help someone who didn’t want to help himself. I still had the coke I’d bought from him for Savannah in my apartment. We hadn’t spoken for two months before that.
“I’ve got a problem, Charlie, I need your help.”
There is usually only one thing Charlie needs from me, it’s money. When someone has an addiction and no steady job, they get in over their head a lot. Charlie is no exception. I’ve never been able to tell him no. I feel like he’s a victim of his circumstances. I moved on to money by a chance inheritance and he remained poor in our old neighborhood.
“Who do you owe money to now, George?”
“Corky, and it’s a lot.” He looks at the ground as he tells me. Corky is a big deal in the drug community and not someone you want to screw over. There was no doubt in my mind if he didn’t get the money he’d hurt George. Knowing my sometimes really stupid friend, he probably told him I’d pay him no problem before he made the trip to my studio.
“Alright, we need to go see Corky. Where’s your car?” I ask as we walk out the front door. No point in locking up. I make a mental note to call someone to replace the glass in the morning.
“I thought we could take yours.” He smiles wearily.
“No, I’m not driving my car through South Side. It will stick out like a sore thumb.” The place we grew up is not known for Lexus SUVs, it’s known for hoopties. “Where is your car, George?”
“It’s at Corky’s. They kept it for collateral. I told them I’d come get you, but it took an hour and a half because I had to walk. Lucky you’re here.”
“Why would you tell him I was going to pay? How much?”
My level of frustration with my friend is rising. He’s done this before and I simply gave him the money, but this time he seems fearful. I know Corky and hopefully, I can defuse the situation before he gets in any deeper.
“Twelve hundred.” He winces as if the admission is painful to him. “He has to have it by tonight Charlie.”
“We’ll take an Uber and I’ll go to the ATM. This is the last time though, you understand me. You’re going to rehab.”
“I will, man. I promise. Get me out of this and I’ll go.”
I have to use more than one card to get all the money out of the ATM and go ahead and get extra to pay the Uber and give George some money to gas up his car. I am proud that I’ve been able to make my own money over the years working for a friend’s construction business. It allows me to take money out without my dad checking up on me. The accounts he’s over are for paying the studio fees and for my apartment.
Once I have the money and we’re on our way I feel a bit of anticipation. It’s been a while since I dealt with Corky. I don’t know how many people he has working for him now and he can be a little hot-headed.
“Rich boy,” he sneers when I walk through the door. I immediately wish I was armed. There are four guys sitting in the back room of Haley’s Bar. The owner is Corky’s aunt and turns a blind eye to his dealings because she gets a kickback.
I know all of this because, before the money, I was one of the people who worked for Corky. He was small time then, a little weed and loan sharking. Now he’s moved onto cocaine and bigger fish, so to speak.
“What’s going on Corky, boys,” I nod at the men standing around him hoping nothing crazy happens. The guy standing closest to the wall pushes back his jacket and I see a gun tucked in his waistband.
“You’ve got to get control of your boy, Charlie. He’s been very, very bad.”
Corky, whose real name is Tuner Conrad, sits behind a table covered in cards and coke. He wears a lot of jewelry these days and I notice some gold crowns when he smiles. It’s a completely different picture of him than I remember.
“He owes you money, I brought it. We’ll get squared and then I’m going to get him cleaned up.” I say and slap George on the back.
“You brought five thousand dollars in cash?”
“He said he owed you twelve hundred.” The little man marching back and forth in my stomach starts taking higher steps. George could have lied, but why would he put me in such a shitty situation?”
“You’re good for it aren’t you Charlie,” George looks at me. His eyes are a mix of terror and remorse. The bastard knows I won’t let him get killed and he brought me here to trap me.
“What the hell. He said he owed you twelve hundred.”
> “What he didn’t tell you is I had him sell for me. He skimmed off of the product and then flat out stole money from me. Somehow he thought I wouldn’t notice.”
“George,” I turn to him, blood boiling beneath my skin unable to forgive him for this. I walk forward and put the twelve hundred on the table in front of Corky.
“What’s this shit?”
“It’s the money I brought. Sell the car you kept and then George can pay you back the rest from working. Once he’s clean he won’t need drug money anymore.”
“That’s not how this business works. Charlie, you should know better than anyone.” Corky nods at one of his goons and they produce a knife. “We’ll just cut a finger off and hold that until he can give the money, or maybe we’ll just shoot you.”
The guy pulls the gun from his waistband and I realize things got out of hand quickly. Before I know what’s happening, he’s pulled the trigger. It’s pointed right at George and there is no way I can get to him before it hits. In a split second, I realize I’m about to watch my friend die right beside me.
By some miracle, the gun doesn’t go off. I see the guy’s wide smile turn to frustration. He hits the butt of the gun on his hand at the same time the guy with the knife moves forward. Some strange survival instinct kicks in and I grab George’s shirt pulling him through the door.
