Hard Redemption: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy

by Emily J. Wright

  “I don’t drink.” I cut short the conversation in between.

  “You are a sober man? My God! How do you live like this?” He poured himself a glass of scotch and turned the tabletop back to normal. “Why are you here, Mr. Duke Kingsley?”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “It’s written in your daughter’s medical file.”

  “If you have already read my daughter’s file, you would know that she is suffering from congestive heart failure and need immediate surgery.”

  “My apologies for that. She is so young. It’s terrible.” He was only sounding sympathetic to me but didn’t appear least bit concerned. He was drinking scotch without a care in the world.

  And since I wasn’t interested in his fake sympathy, I directly got down to business. “Let’s come to the point, sir. My daughter needs a new heart, and I am here to get one. What would it take for you to give me that?”

  “As long as we are coming straight to point . . . ,” he said while placing his glass down on the table. “I inquired about your daughter’s condition from my associates in Michigan. Your daughter case file is real. She is legitimately sick and urgently needs a heart. Now, the good news is that we have an adolescent heart which would match perfectly with your daughter, but the bad news is . . . it’s out of your reach.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Isn’t it self-explanatory . . . ? Well, if you want to hear it from me, then listen. I also conducted a short background check on you. You are what you say you are. An ex-convict . . . but broke.”

  “How much is it?”

  He started laughing as if I cracked a joke. “It’s a human heart—not a chicken breast.”

  “How much?” I asked again.

  “If you ought to know, it’s half a million dollars.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “You have half a million dollars? You look like you do your shopping in the thrift store.”

  He couldn’t hold on to his laughter, but instead of losing my temper, I just modestly replied, “Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘never judge a book by its cover’?”

  “Yes. I have heard it. But in my view, it’s an attractive book cover that makes the sale.”

  He seemed very certain that I was just bluffing and trying to con him of half a million dollars. I wouldn’t even have trusted myself if I were in his position.

  But I tried to convince him and said, “I’ll show you that I am good for it.” I checked my pocket to look for my phone. “Where is my phone?”

  “Downstairs. With the security team. You will get it back when you leave.”—He handed me his iPhone—“For the time being, use mine, but don’t call 911. You can call if you like; it’s not like you can actually connect to them with my heavily encrypted phone. You have a better chance of reaching the remote village in Africa than Emergency service.”

  I heard a threat in his tone and read between the lines that it would not end well for me or my daughter if I tried to outsmart him. “Got it!” I agreed without thinking twice. “If only my net worth would have shown in the background check you conducted on me, the situation would be entirely different then.”

  I logged into my bank account and turned the screen of the phone for his eyes only. I was expecting that after seeing my checking balance, his cold attitude would warm up, and he would treat me like a customer and not a bum of the street. At the least, he would be surprised to see my net worth.

  But nothing happened.

  “Well—good for you,” he said coldly, looking least bit impressed.

  That meant only one thing. He was a big shark, and my net worth was not more than a chump change for him.

  But it got the job done as he further said, “I better stop judging a book by its cover. Let me give you the routing number and account number of my account in the Cayman Islands.”

  I quickly initiated the transfer of the half a million dollars in his Cayman Islands account and showed it to him while returning his iPhone.

  “Okay, looks good. My assistant will inform you when the payment gets cleared, and then you can collect the heart from here.”

  “Should I wait here, then?”

  “Sure, why not?” he said sarcastically. “It’s only six hours.”

  “Six hours!” I stood up shouting in surprise.

  “Sometimes, it happens in four.”

  “I don’t have that much time, sir. Every minute is crucial for my daughter.”

  “I understand, but I can’t let you walk out of here with a half million dollar merchandise before the payment gets cleared. What if you cancel the payment?”

  “I’ll do no such thing, sir. I promise. It may be merchandise for you, but for me, it’s my daughter’s life. Please let me have the heart. I’ll be forever grateful to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life as your slave. I’ll mow your lawn, polish your shoes, clean your house—”

  “A white man offering to be a slave of a black man. My forefathers must be dancing in their graves—but I ain’t like them. All I care about is money.”

  I tried everything but couldn’t persuade that rapacious bastard anyhow. When nothing else came to my mind, in desperation, I decided to emotionally manipulate him.

  It was not the first time I did that. I had a fair share of experience from the life I left behind. I manipulated some very stubborn racist elderly living in the assisted living facility to sign their insurance policy to me. If I got to them, then tackling Michael would be more like snatching a candy out of a kid’s hand.

  I strongly believed that nobody can be emotionless when it comes down to their own family. So, I said, “Don’t you have a family? How would you feel if something like this happened to your wife or kids?”

  “No wife—and no bastard kid yet.”

  No, luck there. But still, there was plenty of relationships I could use to manipulate.

  “Parents?”

  “Dead.”

  “Siblings?”

  “One estranged sister—but I hate her. So, the immediate family card is out of the table. What else you got?”

  He saw right through me. He knew what I was doing, and my plan went for a toss as he shut me up for good. I didn’t have anything further to say. That man was a complete emotionless monster.

  I then put my life on the table and said, “Contain me in this facility until the payment clears. But please dispatch the heart to Michigan City Hospital asap.”

  “And what if the payment does not go through?”

  His face was giving away the malice intentions brewing inside him. How wicked and evil can one be? He was testing my patience to the limit, but I was not in a situation to negotiate. I had to agree to anything and everything to save Casey.

  With no other option left, I said what he wanted to hear. “Then take all my organs out. They should be worth more than the heart. You would easily cover your loss and even make a profit.”

  “I must say, Mr. Kingsley, that’s a very lucrative offer . . . but sadly, I have to pass.”

  “What?! What more can I offer you to change your mind?”

  “Mr. Kingsley, if you can trust me to deliver the heart to your daughter while you are captivated here, then I can surely trust that your payment would go through.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Could I be dreaming?

  No—I certainly didn’t.

  Hallelujah! It’s a miracle.

  He was not a total monster. Some feelings, some good was still left in him.

  But I still had my doubts. It was surreal.

  I was silently waiting for his joke to get over and thinking of ways to again beg him for my daughter’s life. But then he called his associate on the phone and said, “Abby, bring that adolescent heart we talked about earlier . . . and the . . .”

  Somewhere towards the end of the call, he said something in a low tone in his phone which I couldn’t hear, and quite frankly, didn’t even bother to. I was content with the fact that I was getting the heart and would soon be b
ack to Michigan.

  But the wait for the heart was going longer until I felt like someone stabbed at my neck from behind.

  “Son of a bitch!” I screamed with pain and then found a beautiful young woman appearing before my eyes from behind.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Kingsley. It’s just a syringe—a Nano GPS system—to safeguard our investment. If the payment doesn’t follow through, we will pick you up and sell you piece by piece.”

  I was wrong. He was a monster. A black-hearted devil.

  “Abby, show Mr. Kingsley his merchandise. I don’t want any complaints about the product later.”

  “Absolutely, sir.” She put a box on the table and opened it. There was a heart in there, beating, with a couple of pipes attached to it through which blood was flowing.

  The image was disgusting enough to haunt me for days. I rushed towards a trash bin nearby and vomited into it.

  “Every time I ask the customer to check the merchandise, they stink up my office with their vomit. Abby, do you have any idea why it always happens?”

  “No idea, sir. It surprises me each time.”

  Really? Was it so hard to figure that it’s disturbing to see an organ that’s supposed to be inside the body? That man still didn’t understand that—and so did his assistant. No wonder, everyone in that building was a psychopath, starting from the giant guard outside.

  “Mr. Kingsley, are you satisfied with the merchandise? I must inform you that we have no refund, no exchange policy.”

  “It’s beating. So, yeah, it must be fine,” I said closing the box; it was giving me jitters.

  “Then, it’s a pleasure doing with you,” he said standing up and extended his hand for a handshake.

  “Same here.” I couldn’t leave him hanging and had to reluctantly shake his hand.

  He then handed over his visiting card to me. It was still okay, but then he gave the creepiest and weirdest sales pitch I had ever heard.

  “If you need anything else—kidney, liver, eyes, bone marrow, or even blood—remember, we are just a phone call away.”

  “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.” I awkwardly put the card in my pocket without even looking at it.

  “Abby, show Mr. Kingsley out. He was brought here unconscious; he won’t be able to find his way out.”

  For a corporation that was involved in illegal human organ trafficking, their business etiquettes were beyond the doubt best—at least while escorting outside.

  “This way, sir.” His assistant asked me to follow her and led me outside of the building.

  The sun was shining as bright as ever—the first one to greet me for the victory I tasted after the havoc I went through. I felt like regaining all my lost energy and vigor back again. The dark night had finally passed, and it was just happiness that lied ahead for my little daughter.

  It seems to me as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders after I got the heart for Casey. The journey to Boston had turned fruitful and successful—all thanks to Dr. O’Neil for showing the ray of hope. I was happy and excited to think that my sweet little daughter would survive.

  I looked at my watch to see the time; it was quarter past noon. As I rushed to get to my car, I caught the same security guard smiling at me—more like blushing. I didn’t know what he saw or felt when I was naked, but he was undoubtedly ready to come out of the closet soon. His gaze creeped me out as I took a big gulp and got out of there as fast as I could.

  Do you think we can ever stop worrying about our child? You may not want to take the stress, but it makes its way anyhow. Hell, many times we get concerned for no reason whatsoever.

  But that time, I had all the reasons in the world.

  I tried calling Mary-Louise several times to check up on Casey’s health as well as to inform her that I got the heart for Casey. But I was facing trouble communicating with her; the GPS chip injected in me might be interfering with the cell network.

  With no update on what was going on a thousand miles away, I was bound to get rattled. Adding to that was my concern to not reach Michigan before the deadline given by Dr. O’Neil which scared me even more.

  A sword was continuously hanging over Casey’s head to take her away from me. But I couldn’t let that happen. I had to get back to Casey as soon as possible to save her life.

  And I started driving the car like a lunatic on the way back to Michigan.

  Few hours down the line, my tiredness kicked in, and I began yawning. But I couldn’t afford to sleep—the time was of the essence then.

  I though refused to let my urge to sleep stop me, but somehow I dozed off for a second a couple of hours later. I could have possibly met with an accident, but thankfully, a loud honk of a truck woke me up.

  I drove the car non-stop after that and only stopped the car once when I was two hours away from the hospital. I found a payphone nearby and called Dr. O’Neil asking him to prep Casey for the surgery.

  I reached the hospital at around two in the morning and rushed towards the waiting area with the box of beating heart in my hand.

  “Duke, where have you been? I was so worried about you.” Mary-Louise saw me coming and ran to me. She hugged me and then gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Why is your phone not available?”

  “I’ll tell you all about that later,” I said while looking for Dr. O’Neil who was nowhere around.

  “Is that the heart?” That was one of Dr. O’Neil’s assistant who was waiting there for me, whom I didn’t saw earlier.

  “Yes, for my daughter, Casey.”

  “Dr. O’Neil is in the operation theater waiting for it.”

  I handed over the box to him, and he got out of there to the operating room—literally running. I took a deep breath and sat on the couch.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Never been better.”

  I slowly laid down on the couch while putting my hand under my head. I was so tired that I didn’t even realize when I had fallen asleep while talking to her.

  “Casey.” I woke up calling her name when I felt the warmth of someone caressing my cheeks. Mary-Louise was standing before me; she was the one showering me with her motherly affection.

  “Where is she? How is she? How did the operation go? I grabbed Mary-Louise and asked her the series of question in my disoriented state.

  “Calm down, calm down,” Mary-Louise said as she patted my head. “Casey’s operation was a success. She’ll make a full recovery. Dr. O’Neil was surprised that her body instantly adapted to the new heart as if it was made for her.”

  “Thank God!” I closed my eyes and thanked the lord for the mercy bestowed on my kid.

  “Thank you.” I heard Amber’s voice.

  She had her hand extended towards me. I looked down immediately to avoid looking at her. She didn’t need to do that; Casey was my daughter too. But it might seem necessary for her to express her gratitude like I was a stranger.

  “It’s all right,” I said in a low tone and barely touched her hand in the name of a handshake.

  “Duke, why don’t you go back home and take some rest? You drove for 30 hours’ straight.” Mary-Louise advised.

  “No, I want to stay here. I want to meet Casey,” I said while standing up.

  “She is still unconscious. Nobody is allowed to meet her yet. Dr. O’Neil said that she is responding well and he may very well shift her in the general ward by the afternoon. I’ll call you when she wakes up.”

  I thought out for a few seconds and then said,” All right.”

  “And please take Frank with you. The hospital administrator is not happy that he is farting in the hallway. He is causing discomfort to the asthma patients.”

  “I’ll grab a surgical mask first and then take him home.”

  “Smart boy.”

  Chapter 20

  Casey was doing fine—all thanks to Duke. After what he did for Casey, he became a hero in everyone’s eyes—even mine. He might never earn my love, but he would always have my respect,
a place at the dining table, and be a part of Casey’s life.

  Casey was transferred to the general ward, but she hadn’t woken up by then. I was sitting by her bedside, stroking her hair. Walter also had to leave; he had an important business meeting. But, Mom continued to provide her unconditional moral support and hadn’t left Casey or me alone.

  Duke should have been back by then, but he wasn’t. A line of worry could clearly be seen on Mom’s forehead. She was continuously roaming around in the room out of concern for Duke. She was trying but hadn’t been able to reach him.

  “That’s the eighth time I called him. He isn’t picking up.”

  “Relax, Mom. Where would he go? He must be asleep.”

  “I want to believe you . . . but something doesn’t something doesn’t feel right. He wanted to stay here with Casey but then agreed to go back home without arguing much. I am surprised at his behavior.”

  “You are overthinking, Mom. Nothing else.”

  A knock on the door disturbed our conversation. An orderly was standing at the door with an envelope and a small package in his hand.

  “Miss Amber McCarran.” The orderly called my name by reading from the envelope.

  “It’s Mrs. Amber Kingsley.” Mom took objection to me being called by my maiden name.

  The orderly was about to approach Mom when she gestured him toward me. But I asked, “Mom, can you please see what it is?”

  The orderly delivered the envelope and the package to Mom and left closing the door behind him.

  “It’s a letter . . . from Duke,” she said after opening the letter that was inside the envelope.

  Why would he write me a letter? I was surprised, and more than that, it felt weird on receiving a letter. I mean, who does write a letter these days? And even if for some odd reason he did, what was it that he couldn’t tell me in person and had to write it down?

  “Read it, will you, Mom?” I said while still stroking Casey’s hair.