My smile faded. “Yeah, well…”
"—and you getting money from anyone you could strong arm on the ave at night."
I nodded. “We’d always somehow have enough to split a single order of Chinese food each night for a whole week.”
She nodded and cast her eyes down. “Yeah, I remember those days.”
“Then you should know, things weren’t better then, Fati.”
“I’m not so sure.” Her voice broke on the last word, and tears filled her eyes.
“Hey, hey,” I said, wiping her cheeks with my thumb. “None of that, babe. Things are better now. We got everything we wanted in life.”
She nodded.
“Hey, I’m serious, Fati. I put ten carats on your finger like you told me I had to when I first proposed back in high school. I got you the big house with the white picket fence, and then the high-rise condo overlooking the park, just like you wanted.”
She shook her head, and her tears fell faster. “But I feel like I’m losing you!” Her body shook as she sobbed freely. “None of this means anything if you feel a million miles away, even though we share the same roof.”
“Babe, I’m right here.” I pulled her close into a tight hug.
“Darien, please.” She pushed away and took a deep breath. When she exhaled, I could almost see the resolve flood back into her. She lifted her chin and met my eye. “Don’t act like you don’t see it too. If you really don’t, well that would make things even worse than I thought.”
"All right, babe. Hey," I caressed her cheeks, "I'll do better. I promise."
"Things are so stressful as it is at the hospital now that I'm the only RN on the wing. I have no idea when, or if for that matter, they will fill the vacant positions. On top of that, lil' DJ is still struggling to fit in with the other kids around here; he seems to be withdrawing more and more into himself, which has me more worried by the day. With all of that going on, I can't have us having issues now. We are supposed to be rock solid, Darien. We are the only stable things in my life right now."
"Fatima, I've told you, again and again, you don't have to work. I've asked you so many ti—"
"Dammit, Darien! Not that shit tonight. You ain't marry one of those pampered zombies that spend her days ‘shopping the fifth’.”
"Joking, joking," I cut in before she got too worked up. "Babe it's you and me from the beginning to the end. We are solid." I cupped her face again and caressed her neck. "No more stress babe."
I pulled her into me and kissed her. She tensed at first, but I brought one arm down around her slim waist and pulled her tight to my body. I didn't release her until well after her body relaxed, giving in to the moment of our kiss.
~ * * * ~
Waking up to the sound of my alarm was a comforting, welcomed return to normal. After the night I’d had, there wasn’t much that could beat waking up in my bed. Well—I rolled over to Fati’s empty side of the bed—maybe if Fati hadn’t already left for work. I could have used a bit more time with her, curled up in bed together, but a regular workday was exactly what I needed.
The alarm that sounded from the hidden speakers embedded inside of the walls of the room cut short as I sat up in my bed.
Good morning, Darien. Shall I list your appointments for the day?
"No, Gordon," I said as I climbed out of bed. I walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the full length of the far side of the room, "but open the curtains, please."
The curtains fully parted by the time I made it to the window. I opened the door and stepped out onto the terrace. The sprawling view overlooking the city never ceased to amaze me. But in a weird way, it never really felt like mine. In fact, even though I’ve lived in Manhattan my whole life, in zip codes spanning both extremes of the economic scale, I never really felt a part of the city itself. Now watching ant-sized joggers running the park, and the toy-sized vehicles move about the grid-style streets, the view seemed to match my detached perspective.
I walked along the perimeter of the concrete terrace, appreciating the splash of pinks, purples, and reds that spread across the early morning sky as the sun was but minutes from breaking the horizon. It was the start of my daily routine, rain, snow, or shine.
I glanced into DJ's room as I passed by the glass wall of his bedroom and smiled at him peacefully sleeping in his bed. On a morning after the night I had, looking at him was a reminder of my priorities. But why do I always seem to need a reminder of what should be important to me?
I let those thoughts go as I continued. When I made it to the end of the long terrace, I stole one more glance out into the city, and then slid open the door. I stepped back into the living room of the apartment and froze.
"About fuckin' time you woke yo ass up, D," Red said. He was stretched out on my sofa with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, hands behind his head.
I bristled at the sight of him. I’m not sure why I got so angry, it’s not like he hadn’t gotten me into worse situations than last night before, but my reaction was visceral. “What are you doing here.”
Red frowned. His calm gaze studied my face, then drifted down to my clenched fists. "Is that how you greet me now? Huh? No ‘thank you, Red, for seeing to it that my three-million-dollar car found its way back to the garage, safe and sound, without a scratch on that beautiful fuckin’ paint job. No ‘thank you, Red, for making sure nobody says a fuckin’ word about what happened back there at the lounge’—no cops, no questions, no procedures—shit just swept under the fuckin’ rug. Huh? Nah, I get none of that shit people call gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” I couldn’t believe this guy. “It’s your fault I was in that situation in the first place. I’m not going to thank you for getting me out of the shit you put me neck-deep into.”
"Who's the one that put the drink in ya hands? Did Red do that? Nah, I remember tellin' you to do the exact fuckin' opposite. No drinking." He pointed at me. "You know the rules. It's like I keep tellin' you, D, stick to the fuckin' plans, and we won't have a problem. I was tryin' to do something nice for you. Celebrate our hard work."
“Our hard work?” I nearly shouted. Red’s expression darkened at that, but I didn’t quiet down this time. I was tired of doing the bulk of the risky work and having him take equal, if not most, of the credit for it. “I think you mean my hard work, Red.”
Red leaned forward to the edge of the couch, coiled as if he was about to leap to his feet. “You forget who put you on already?”
“I didn’t forget who was up all night at the office making sure the transactions went through nice and smooth, without a problem. I was the one terrified the last trade wouldn’t go through in time and I’d be short millions of dollars overnight, or we’d win too big and draw the attention of the SEC and the IAC.”
“And yet it always falls in line, exactly like I fuckin’ planned. Every time, without fail.” He bit down on his lower lip and took a deep breath before continuing, only slightly calmer. “Since when do you question my plans, D? You forget who the fuck it was that got you that promotion? Me, the same person that got you the last three promotions, Mr. Portfolio-fuckin-Manager, which is what got you this fuckin crib, and that sweet ass car, and all the pussy you’ve ever got in your fuckin’ life.”
“Except it’s never actually that easy with you, Red. You dump me with all of your cryptic shit I need to decipher: ‘if you buy here, there's a chance the option would mature before the call,’ or ‘if you go all in on this random company nobody ever heard of, at this specific date and time, we should see exponential returns, but if I miss the window by even seconds, we miss the window’.”
“And yet we never fuckin’ lost.”
"Because I ignore half of the damn shit you say!" I shook with anger. "I use my own fucking judgment to know when I should and shouldn't pull the trigger on one of your leads. Don't act like I've never lost going all in on one of your—”
“Darien, honey, what are you doing?” I heard Fati say from behi
nd me.
My body went cold. I turned to see her cautiously stepping further into the living room from the kitchen, eyes wide, holding a steaming plate of food that she carried between us.
Red laughed as he sank back into the sofa again, kicking his feet back up onto the table and crossing his hands behind his head.
I looked from Red to Fati and then sighed. "Fuck." It was the only word that came to mind. Moreover, given how royally fucked I was, it was the most appropriate.
“How long, Darien?” Fati said as she slowly stepped closer.
I tried to force a smile as I reached out to her, my anger gone in a flash. "Fati, baby, let's sit down and talk. I can explain this."
She shook her head as she reached me, stepping around my outstretched arm and cautiously resting a hand on my shoulder.
"She ‘bout to hit you with some shit, D. You know that right," Red said with another chuckle.
My eyes flicked to him for just a moment before returning to Fati’s stricken face, but she picked up on it. She squinted, turned towards the couch, and then back to me with even more concern in her eyes.
“I’m going to find Dr. Ryan’s number, babe. It’s going to be all right."
“Told you she was ‘bout to hit you with some shit. I told you about losing your cool, but I can help you through this, man. All you gotta do is give me the sign.”
“Babe…” She said with a squeeze to my arm. She waited until my attention returned to her before she continued. "I'm going to call the office. I need to know how long you've been talking to yourself again."
“Fati,” I said and rested my hand atop of hers on my shoulder, "baby, listen. I'm fine." Red chuckled again, and it took all my focus to continue without breaking the natural cadence of my speech. “I must have hit my head last night. I think I need a bit more rest. That’s all.”
"Darien," Fati said as emotion washed over her face so strongly that I wanted to rush in and hold her for comfort, but before I could manage a step she stood up tall, and her expression became stone flat. "I told you if it ever happened again we would either get you fixed or DJ and I were gone."
“Hey, hey. Don’t talk like that. Don’t even put something like that out into the air.”
“You’re going. No hassle, Darien. No fight. You either get help or— “
“Okay.”
She blinked. “Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay. Schedule the appointment. We’ll go, but I need to go to work today.”
“I’m scheduling the appointment. Today might be a little too short notice anyway, but you will go to the first appointment I can schedule. Right?”
"All right, babe."
“Oh, before I forget, Dr. Wan should be here before nine this morning. I’ve told her what I know, but she’ll likely want to examine you herself.” With that, Fati put the plate down on the center table and hurried towards DJ's room.
When I turned back to the couch, Red was gone. I exhaled and stepped around the table, to the couch, then sat in the same spot where he was just seated. I kicked my feet up onto the table and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if my life had finally unraveled more than I could put back together.
CHAPTER THREE
"YOU'RE LATE, SIR," Karl said as he opened the passenger side door of my black custom Maybach S600.
"I know," I said as I stepped inside and settled into the soft leather seat. "Argument with a friend, rough morning with the wife, last minute appointment. One of those days already, Karl. You know how it is.”
“Yes sir, yes sir.” Karl laughed as he closed the door. He walked over to the driver side and entered, then turned off the air conditioning. I always liked it warmer than most people felt comfortable. He adjusted the rear-view mirror so that he could see my entire face. “Should I raise and frost the partition?”
“Nah, not today, old man. I need some of that wisdom you're always talking about schooling me in.”
"Oh, now you want some of this here knowledge, young blood?" Karl said, relaxing into a more casual speaking tone as he barked another laugh and slapped his leather Kangol hat across his knee as his body shook.
I grinned back at him. “Yeah, yeah. So far all I hear is a lot of talk.”
Karl readjusted the mirror and pulled off. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and cleared his throat. “You see, you still need to learn the most basic thing about dealing with your woman. Not any woman, you understand—your woman.”
I reclined the seat and rested my head on the plush pillow, looking out of the passenger side window, watching the concrete columns pass as we made our way out of the garage below my apartment building. “And what's that?” I finally asked when the gap in conversation stretched a little too long. Karl would have just let the conversation die then and there, had I not kept it going. He was good that way; it's why I've held on to him for so long after going through my first dozen or so drivers in rapid succession.
“They're always right, young blood.” He barked out another laugh. “They're right, even when they’re wrong.”
"I've heard that a time or two," I said with a grin. "I thought you were going to give me some of that wisdom."
“I’m sure you have heard it. We all have. But then tell me, why are you still having problems with your misses?”
“It’s not that simple.”
Karl laughed again. “It’s always that simple. Twenty-seven years happily married.”
“That’s beautiful.”
"Damn right it is young blood. But it's a balance, see. No woman likes a man she can walk over. You've got to carve out your domain, and enforce that territory."
"And where's your, domain?" I asked, genuinely more curious than I'd expected to be when he started his jive talk."
“I’ve got two in my household, see. The first is where every man should be king: The bedroom.”
I laughed. “You still get down in the bedroom, old man?”
Karl’s demeanor grew serious for just a moment. “There might be snow on the roof, but there's still some heat in this here plumbing, young blood. You better hope you can still do the same, live as long as me.”
I laughed again, and Karl picked right back up with his quick talk. “The bedroom has to be yours, see. If you don't claim it, she’ll give it to someone else.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “I’ve got that area locked down, believe me.”
“I don’t need to believe you, but a young buck like you better.” He said with a grin. “Now, the second is the kitchen.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You run your kitchen?”
“Damn right I do.”
“Now I don’t know if I can manage that.”
Karl glanced at me in the mirror. “You got one of these new age women that don’t know the difference between a pan and a piss pot?”
"Fatima loves to cook, but if she didn't, I would be cool with it. I'm just saying, she decides what's on the menu."
Karl shook his head. “…would be cool with it if she didn’t...don’t know what’s wrong with this here generation.” He said under his breath, almost as if he didn’t realize he had said it aloud. He glanced at me again in the mirror. “But she cooks at least, that’s good. We can work with that. This here does take a more delicate hand, son. You let ‘em make what they want just as long as she makes it how you like. That’s the most important part. Don’t know a cook want to make something people won’t eat, so give her subtle clues. It takes time, but you’ve got a lifetime together right?”
“So that’s it for you, then—the bed and the kitchen? You give her everything else?”
Karl laughed again, this time the hardest. “Damn right, young blood. What else do you need?”
I smiled. The old man had a point. “I do have one question though.”
“I can only give you but so much of this here game at one time.”
“Yeah, yeah. But you said my wife is right even when she’s wrong.”
“Right on, young blood.”
&
nbsp; “But what about us, when we’re wrong?”
Karl raised a brow. “Thing’s different for us, see. Us men always have to take responsibility for our actions. When we’re wrong, we’re wrong, and we do better. But when we’re right, we gots to see how we could have done better, and do even better next time. A man always gots to do better.”
It wasn't the first time Karl kicked his game, but this was the first time I really listened. It changed the way I looked at the old man.
I welcomed the casual banter on a morning like this, but it was time to get to the morning’s business—what was left of the morning, anyway. “I need to shuffle some things around on my calendar for today.”
“Already done, sir.” Just like that, once a topic of business came up, Karl switched to a professional conversation style. “You missed your eight and ten a.m. appointments.”
I nodded. “That’s right. Mr. and Mrs. Abbas are pretty easy going, so long as they’re making money.” I frowned. “Wait, a ten o’clock? This morning?”
“That’s right. It was marked low priority on your calendar, so I pushed both to tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow afternoon?”
“This afternoon is your first board meeting.”
“Yes, yes.” I’d forgotten about that. It was nothing but a waste of time, but I had to at least go to my first one. “but what about tomorrow morning?”
“Your wife blocked out time on your calendar from eight-thirty to ten-thirty with your doctor.”
I sighed.
Karl cleared his throat. “I tried telling her you had a couple of meetings scheduled for that time, one of which included the CIO, but she wouldn’t hear any of it.”
I groaned.
“Should I have her appointment rescheduled, sir?”
“No, no. Move the client meeting to tomorrow afternoon and reschedule the other. I don’t even remember what that other meeting was; you said it was low priority?”
“Yes, that meeting was labeled as…” His face took on an expression as if he had smelled something sour. “Personal on your calendar, and included Ms. Cassandra. When should I resc—”
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