by Tiana Laveen
The doorbell chimed.
She jumped in her skin.
Getting to her feet, she almost tumbled towards it, then caught her composure and gripped the doorknob tight before looking out the peephole. There Nikki stood in full view, her hair pulled back in thick, lustrous braids, her dark honey skin flawless—and she was wearing the hell out of her uniform. Emerald swung the door open, and before she could grab her, Nikki did the honors, taking her into her arms and squeezing tight.
“Nikki!!!! My baby is home!”
“Mom, yeah… I’m here,” the young woman choked out.
Emerald’s eyes moistened with joyful tears and she couldn’t let go. The feeling was too surreal, too wonderful to release. She needed to feel it all, take it in, smell the air, etch it in her mind, and remember this exact moment just as it was, preserve it like furniture, hold it like love. She opened her eyes, grabbed her daughter in a vise like hold and pressed her lips into her cheek.
“So glad to see you! Come in, come in, come in! Now you just stop talking to me outside like you’re a Girl Scout or some door-to-door salesman and get your behind in here.” She reluctantly released her and stepped inside the doorway. Nikki walked in, her hand wrapped around the fingers of a young lady with a short, natural, reddish brown do. The woman had glossy pink lips, large silver hoop earrings, flawless makeup, and gray contacts.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mya.” Breaking her hold on her daughter, she barged between the two, grabbed the woman in her arms, and gave her a hug, one as tight as the one she’d bestowed upon Nikki. She’d finally met her daughter’s fiancée, and was grateful for the opportunity. Out of the corner of her eye, she took notice of her daughter’s raised brow and a slight expression of confusion.
“Thank you!” Mya exclaimed, turning and churning the awkwardness into something useful. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, too. Nikki has told me so much about you, and the topic of her missing your cooking came up practically every week.”
“Well, that’s good to know because now you both can have a taste. Come on in; make yourself comfortable. Have a seat and relax!” She closed and locked the door behind them. “It’s time to catch up.” Clasping her hands together, her heart swelled as she watched them smile at one another, then back in her direction. “We have to make the most of this precious time.”
“Time is short, right, Mom? You always say that.” Nikki winked at her and set a large black duffle bag on the couch.
“You better believe it, so do the best you can by those you love right now…”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Daddy’s Little Girl
“Well, actually, I’m putting ‘Bane of My Existence’ on hold,” Sloan explained to his agent, Deloris. He took a glance at the time showcased in an olive and martini novelty clock set on a bookshelf to his left. His children would be there soon for a visit, and he’d shut down his computer in anticipation. Quiet moments passed as he relaxed in the office with a cigarette in one hand and dreams of indulging in a glass of cognac swirled in his head like the smoke around him.
“You. Did. What?!”
“It’s not forgotten, just on ice.”
“But you’ve been working on it for three months, Sloan! This is a joke, right? You’re playing a practical joke on me right now.”
“I’m serious. It’s just the way it’s gotta be. I—”
“But we’ve got so much riding on this! You can’t do this. You can’t just pull the plug like that, act like Daffy Duck and yell, ‘That’s All Folks!’”
“Actually, that was Porky Pig…”
“I prefer to think of you as Daffy Duck… a tyrant, never thinking things through, flying by the seat of your pants and the hell with everyone else who may be affected by these bonehead decisions.”
“Well fuckerin’ fuckotash! She thinks I’m dessssspicable!” he teased in a Looney Tunes Sylvester the Cat voice.
“Screw you, Sloan. This is serious.”
“I think I just spit all over my phone doing that Sylvester the Cat impression. I preferred him over Daffy. Have you ever thought about how Daffy Duck and Sylvester the Cat sounded alike? Wow, that never dawned on me until now. That crazy lisp, and they used some of the same damn phrases. Wonder why I didn’t notice that as a kid?”
“Are we really about to discuss Warner Brother cartoons right now, Sloan?”
“Deloris, can you imagine going behind the guy who did that voice-over work for Disney? They must’ve need a hundred new microphones after he short-circuited them with flying saliva.”
“We’re talking blogs, promos, the works,” she went on, ignoring him. “The cover is finished, the marketing is paid for! Posters drafted, everything! We’ve discussed the content in great detail. It was a sure bet, a home run. I have you scheduled to discuss it in upcoming interviews, for God’s sake! Comic-Con even invited you to attend as guest speaker!”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yes it is, and of course it’s a paid appearance. How can you do this to me?”
“Ohhhh Deloris, you’re so melodramatic.” He chuckled.
“You’ve gone crazy… you’ve gone completely out of your fucking mind.”
“Okay, that’s not a proven theory but regardless, I’m truly sorry about the inconvenience. That doesn’t change the fact that I had to switch gears. I’m honestly not trying to derail all of your hard work on my behalf. You know I appreciate you. I just can’t finish the book right now.”
“Why?” He could hear the gloom and doom saturating each syllable she uttered, could envision the tiny wrinkles across her freckled forehead bunching together as she inwardly devised a plan to manipulate him back on course.
“Well, I was getting to that, but I wanted you to calm down first. I tried a bit of comedic relief, but you were less than impressed.”
“Nope, I’m not calm, Sloan. I’m not going to be calm in an hour, nor later on today. I won’t be calm tomorrow either, so you may as well spit it out.”
“I did… but you don’t like cartoon impressions.”
“You bastard.”
He suddenly heard the flicker of the woman’s lighter. Deloris hadn’t smoked in weeks. He imagined she’d found her tucked away ‘emergency’ cigarette she’d hidden in the dark recesses of her designer purse, the one she’d squirreled away inside of a houndstooth print lipstick holder. There was no uncertainty left between them… she was prepared to huff and puff and to blow him the fuck down. Happily Ever After had been shit upon and flushed down the proverbial toilet. He was sorry he’d stressed her out so badly, but what could he possibly do?
“The truth? Because another project is calling to me. I’ve been living this, feeling things that… never mind. Look, it needs to be written, and I’ve already begun it, actually. Don’t worry about the interviews; keep ’em, okay? I’ll discuss this new project at any venue you have me booked and I promise you I’ll be finished with it sooner than you think. I’ve been working really hard on it, and it’s coming along quite well.”
“Hmmm.” She exhaled. “You actually sound excited about it. What is it about?”
“Well, remember when you called me asking why TMZ ran that story about me having a ghost as a roommate?”
“Yes… and you were livid. Thankfully you’re in a gated community helping to cut down on unwanted visitors who have grown curious, but unfortunately for me, I spent the rest of the night with all the lights on in my apartment after I’d gotten off the phone with you, watching religious programs and praying all night to a God I hadn’t spoken to since my second divorce. I doubt He was happy to hear from me.”
“Well.” He chuckled. “Sorry to hear that, but you demanded to be told the truth and you know me, I wasn’t going to spare you the details.”
“Yes… how thoughtful of you,” she retorted. “And you let me come up there to visit you, knowing all of those rumors were true. You obviously hate me.”
“Well, that’s what this is all about, actually
. Just like I told ya, it’s all true. I’m going to write Peter Jones’ biography, Deloris. Only thing is, it won’t be your typical one. This is gonna be a part of him no one has ever heard about before.”
“Sloan, you’re trying to ruin your career, aren’t you?”
“Of course not… well, at least not today.” He snickered.
“Biography? You don’t write biographies, Sloan. You’re a fiction writer! FICK-SHUN! You write epic sci-fi fantasy! Jesus Christ!”
“You’re callin’ on his son now, too? I got you praying again… See, I’m good for something after all.”
“Ha-ha-hardy fucking ha. What an appropriate title for the book you placed on the back burner, Mr. Steele. You certainly are the bane of my existence. You’re the type of client I wish I had never taken on. Oh if only I hadn’t answered my phone that day when you reached out to me, in need of an agent after your overnight success.”
“Actually, you were the one who called me, but never mind all of that. Yeah, but like I said, this won’t be your typical biography, babe. Look.” He surveyed his desk, practically littered with old, yellowed copies of books written by the ghostly man himself. “It’s not going to focus on where he was born, how he became successful, all the shit you’d usually see. It’s going to focus specifically on his love life, a story that was never told. A story no one else knows.”
“So not only are you writing a damn biography; it’s a romance novel, too. This is by far a heart-attack inducing conversation. I’m so glad I went to my Pilates class before talking to you today.”
“I can do this, Deloris. I need you to trust me… and like I said, I’ve already started.”
There was a long pause, the kind that grew full with tension and begged to burst with the slightest touch.
“…Read me some of it.” Her tone was serious, almost a dare of sorts. Sloan reached for his computer, shoved the books to the side, and powered the thing up. He smiled at his screensaver photo of him and Emerald sitting in his car at a drive-in movie, huddled up under a thick blanket, then opened the document.
“Some say right and wrong are as black and white as truth and lies. The dye bleeds red on the pages, words written and drowned in tears. But one man’s fiction is another man’s fact. Imagine living inside a world that held you prisoner, a place that lifted you up, exalted you, but put limits on the person you could be. It stifled you with dogmatic, discriminatory rules dripping with the blood of those who craved power over the masses on a daily basis. The same people that lifted you up would knock you down if you dared to be your truest self.
“You’d suffer, lose everything you’d worked for if you dared to deviate from the blueprint of expectation. And worst of all? The results could be crippling, perhaps even deadly. I want you to step back, close your eyes, and envision yourself as the best of the best, a twisted, charismatic, genius in your own right. But you want more, so much more, and that next step is wrapped tightly around love. So much so, you literally fall apart, day by day, until there is nothing of you left… mere skin and bones of a gray memory. You could not obtain the ultimate prize you sought, which is freedom to love without constraints.
“Sometimes, love eludes us; yet, other times, we close doors out of fear of loss, cruelly imposing limitations on ourselves and vastly affecting the ones we adore. We crush their spirit, in an attempt to preserve our own.
“What can a man do, who regrets nothing,
Until it is far too late?”
Daddy looked like a king.
Michelle still called her father ‘Daddy’, but only in her mind. She looked across the living room at the man who’d raised her, the tall guy with the half grin and maturity of a million wise men. He sat there, leaning back into the blue and cream paisley print loveseat that sat across from the matching couch, a light blue pillow shoved behind his head. His green eyes twinkled, as if he had a big secret to tell; perhaps he did, and she’d be all ears, waiting to hear it. He’d just extinguished his second cigarette since she’d been there and offered her another store bought appetizer, some sort of spinach crescent roll wrap with a horrid aftertaste. She imagined he’d seen his failed marriage to her mother in a similar way towards the end. Cheap, lackluster, and dismal…
She’d always looked up to him, which made the divorce between her parents all the more painful for her to watch. Things had gotten downright nasty between him and Mom. The mudslinging between the two brought to mind the ‘War of the Roses’ movie to the highest degree. She’d already become an adult when the shit hit the fan, but it still hurt her to her damn core.
Of course she didn’t want them in an unhappy marriage, jammed, stuck in a place of reproach, no longer in love. Honestly, she’d known the light had dimmed between them when she was still in her teens, but they struggled and trudged along, trying to make a go of it. Joel had somewhat taken their mother’s side, and she’d done the opposite but tried to remain verbally neutral. Honestly? She had a hard time forgiving Mom for messing around on Dad, despite her refusing to acknowledge that as truth. Worst of all, it was the ultimate betrayal—a work colleague, of all people.
But, she couldn’t completely hate Mom. Dad hadn’t always been easy to live with. Rather than talking things out, or going to marriage counseling as she’d suggested prior to Mom’s affair, he’d simply scoffed and showered her mother with gifts… as if to silence her. Truthfully? Both were right, and both were wrong… but when she looked into her father’s eyes, she could almost feel the hurt he’d endured. He’d genuinely loved his wife; everyone could see it, except the woman herself…
“Dad!” Joel called out as he returned to the living room, buckling his belt. “You did a great job on remodeling that bathroom. It looks great, compared to the first time I was here.” He hunkered down next to her, then reached for an appetizer, this one a tiny bagel with lox and cream cheese.
“Thank you. I tried to get a replica of the original sink pedestal. It’s not a dead ringer, but it comes pretty close.” Joel nodded in understanding as he stuffed his jaws now with a celery stick, and began chewing noisily. “I’m glad you both came for a visit. It really means a lot to me.”
“Of course, Dad.” Michelle smiled, picking her delicate vintage tea cup from the table and bringing it to her lips for a sip. The warmth of the brew flooded her mouth and flavors of orange and lemon titillated her taste buds. “I would’ve been here sooner if it weren’t for the new fashion launch project and taking care of Jacob.”
“I know, I understand.” He smiled proudly at her. “You’re in one of the best fashion design schools in the world, and you’re doing it with a baby and a job to boot. I’m so proud of you.” He winked at her and smiled.
“Thanks, Dad.” She smiled back thoughtfully, though she knew full well that without his help, she’d be drowning. He practically paid all of her bills, especially since Jacob’s father was no longer in the picture.
“I’m just lucky you’re still so close by. Look.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Joel may have filled you in a bit regarding our heart to heart, I guess you could call it. I’ve had a lot of time to think about some things, to uh…” Dad’s face reddened and his words caught in his throat. “To…really evaluate some stuff I hadn’t before, at least not in the way I should’ve.”
Joel grabbed a bottle of water chugged it with noisy relish. “Dad, I didn’t tell Michelle about our conversation,” he said after finishing with a contented sigh.
Puzzled, she wondered what secrets they were hiding, and suddenly felt like she’d been left out in the cold.
“Michelle, I had previously apologized to your brother for being so stubborn with him at times and well, other things, too.” His eyes met theirs in turn. “I want to extend the same apology to you. I tried so hard to not be like my own father…” He looked down into his lap, as if ashamed. “But some of the characteristics showed up anyway. I’m sorry for how angry I’d become when I and your mother parted ways. It wasn’t fair t
o put you and your brother in the middle of it.”
“You can’t apologize for how you felt, Dad. Feelings are yours to keep. They’re personal.”
“They are personal, and feelings that we have, or in this case, the ones I had weren’t the issue.” He rested his hand on his chest. “It was my behavior, how I went about it. Now, moving forward, I encourage you both to confide in me, and I’ll be more open, too. I kept things bottled up. That’s not an excuse… There really is no excuse for you being roped in the middle of your parents’ bullshit, but I… I’m just tryin’ to explain, you know, what happened.”
“I get it. I mean…” she said, shrugging, “I don’t actually get it, because I’d never been with someone as long as you and mom were together. And then to have it end up that way, especially like… that…” With a grimace, she set her teacup back on the table. “All I’m saying, Dad, just like I told you right before you moved to Maxim, is that I think you’re the strongest man I know and I can’t fault you. All I wanted for you both was to move on and be happy. You and Mom pretty much kept us out of your private affairs. You never really even argued around us. I’m thankful for that… so whatever it was you two were going through, we didn’t know the details until the very end.”
“But we could always feel the tension.” Joel ran his hands nervously over his knees, observing his actions with thoughtful intensity.
Michelle wondered what was going on inside the man’s head. She knew there were several different sides to her father. He was loving, hilarious—mostly sarcastic humor, and his wit was beyond measure. He had a mysterious side, too, and tended to push people away if they got too close.
“You’re a wonderful daughter.” Her cheeks warmed with pride as he looked at her with adoration, his words sounding sincere and true. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady. I do thank your mother for giving me two great kids. I know you’re adults, but you’re my kids… and I love ya.”
