Hotbox

by Delia Delaney

  “That’s your choice. Just do what I’ve asked and she won’t get her heart broken.”

  My own heart dropped into my stomach. He was really going to do it, wasn’t he? He was going to do what it took to manipulate me into doing what he wanted. It took everything in my power to keep my hands off of his neck. If I could get away with it, I may have strangled him right then and there.

  “I’m not even half as skilled as my dad. I’m not the guy you need—”

  “It’s just a little paint job. Here’s what you’ll be getting your hands on,” he smiled, handing me a piece of paper. “I doubt you’ve even seen one of these besides in a book. Maybe you’ll be inspired with some enthusiasm.”

  I looked over the specs and couldn’t hide my shock. It was a two million dollar Veyron.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmured.

  “Here’s an address. I want you to meet up with Conlon right now. He’ll go over everything with you. I have work to do.” He motioned me away like I was a stray dog. “Until next time, Tyler.”

  I didn’t move at first, contemplating if there was another way out. He gave me a look that said I would be forcefully removed within the next few seconds if I didn’t comply. I opened the door and climbed out, not even feeling like I was in control of my own body.

  The car drove off the second I shut the door.

  I got in my truck and just sat. I wasn’t sure how long I was even there until my phone rang, breaking me out of my stupor to look at the clock. 6:05.

  “I’m just running a little behind,” I told Jayden.

  “All right, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Yeah, I guess I got sidetracked. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just being selfish. I really miss you.”

  “I really miss you, too. But, uh, I’m gonna be a little longer. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

  “Okay. I’ll just stick dinner in the fridge and it can be reheated. Is everything all right? You sound…a little down.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty tired. It’s been a long day. I’ll get going so I can be home soon, okay?”

  “Sure. Love you, see you later.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Ty… Have a seat. Are you hungry? You wanna eat?” Dean took a bite of his food and he motioned for me to sit down.

  I sat across from him in the tiny little restaurant and said, “No. Hurry this up so I can get home.”

  He laughed and said, “Fine, fine… Let’s see here… The car is arriving next Thursday night. I’ll pick you up that night at eleven p.m. That’s all you need to know,” he finished, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms.

  “What do you mean that’s all I need to know? What exactly will I be doing? Depending on what it is, it could take some time.”

  He looked at me impatiently. “All I know is that you’ll be home for breakfast, and if you have more work to do, I’ll come and get you the next night at the same time.”

  He continued to talk and I found myself without any replies whatsoever. All I could think about was Jayden. Olevsky now had my weakness. She was the only thing that was important to me. If I did this one car, who’s to say there won’t be more? These people didn’t mess around. Dean was a nasty man and he did whatever his boss told him to do, but Olevsky’s influence could be felt from the other side of the world. The man was rich, powerful, and worst of all, ruthless. I knew the things that I’d heard weren’t even stories; they were real. A man that cunning and crafty could only be compared to the devil himself.

  I felt like my fate was now sealed. This was really it: I had become my father.

  “It’s been nice seeing you, Ty. Our face-to-face meetings are few and far between. I have another appointment, so I’ll let you go.” He continued eating his food so I stood up. “Oh and Ty… I know you’re not happy about all this—it’s pretty obvious—but just get it done so there aren’t any problems, okay?”

  He looked past me and seemed a little startled, so I turned around. There was a guy about my same height with dark hair, and tiny eyes that shifted cautiously between Dean and I. He looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then he sat down at a booth with his back to me as I left out the back entry.

  I drove home and replayed everything that happened that evening in my mind. That job offer in Olympia was looking pretty appealing again. I decided I would give the company a call in the morning. I had another week before they chose whom they would hire and, even though I had already turned it down, Marty told me I was still his number one choice if I changed my mind.

  Jayden was watching TV when I got home. She was sure a sight for sore eyes. I even let her hug and kiss me longer than I normally would after coming home from work smelling like a grease pit. I quickly showered and ate so I could spend as much time with her as possible before she left for the night.

  “Megan called me today,” she said. I was lying across the couch with my head in her lap, enjoying the feel of her fingers running through my hair.

  “Oh, yeah? What about?”

  “She asked if I would help with the flowers for the wedding.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I told her I would since I had offered a long time ago. But from the sounds of it, I think it’s going to be a big job. I’ll have to enlist some help.”

  “Are they having a really big wedding?”

  “Pretty much. I guess Megan’s had her wedding planned since she was, like, five years old,” she lightly laughed.

  I sat up and moved close to her. “And what kind of wedding do you want?” I asked, softly touching her hair. “Millions of flowers, ice sculptures, a live orchestra—”

  “No!” she laughed. She actually looked horrified. “Not even close. Do you know who you’re talking to, here? I would die if anybody even looked at me! Vegas or the courthouse and I’m good to go.”

  I had been teasing her because I knew she didn’t want anything elaborate, but now I was a little surprised. I thought she might just be joking, but she looked completely serious.

  “What do you mean?” I asked her. “You don’t want…”

  “I want to get married. I don’t need a wedding.”

  Most guys would probably be thrilled to hear that, but I couldn’t exactly explain why I wasn’t. I guess I had actually pictured the wedding and how beautiful Jayden would look in a wedding dress. I didn’t care for the audience either, but I always thought planning a wedding was on every girl’s list. My father had never had an actual wedding—he had one marriage in Vegas, and he married my mom at City Hall (she was four months pregnant with me). The thought of doing anything remotely like him was appalling.

  “Ty? You’re upset with me—”

  “No, no, I’m not, I just… I’m a little surprised, I guess. I just thought you only wanted something small not…nothing at all.”

  “And that disappoints you because…you want to have a wedding?”

  I shrugged, but decided I should just be honest. “Yeah, I do. I don’t care if it’s a tiny backyard ceremony, but I really would like to have an actual wedding.”

  She studied me for a long moment and from the look on her face, I thought she would protest. I was almost positive she was going to, but instead she replied, “Okay. We can do something small. But only if you tell me why.”

  Great. I really didn’t want to get into all the issues with my father. She knew a little bit about how I felt, but I was afraid she’d leave me for good if she knew the reasons. She had never witnessed the side of my father I was afraid of becoming.

  “Jayden, I don’t know if I’m ready to get into all that.”

  “Into what? I only asked why you needed to have a wedding. Why is that hard to answer?”

  I sighed. “It is hard for me to answer.”

  She was quiet for a bit before she said, “Okay, you don’t have to talk about it then. The man I love refuses to ma
rry me under simple terms, and I suppose it’s none of my business to know why—”

  “Jayden—”

  “No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’m being really pushy and… I’m sorry.”

  With a smile I replied, “You’re hardly pushy. If you really wanted all of my skeletons from the closet, I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard.”

  She studied me long and hard, and then took one of my hands in hers.

  “Ty, I really don’t know what you consider to be ‘skeletons,’ but things you don’t have any control over are not your fault, nor do they dictate what kind of person you’re supposed to be. You still have a choice. My mother left me when I was seven years old. Seven. From what I’ve been told, I was a pretty good kid, and apparently it ‘wasn’t my fault.’ I don’t know if I believe that. I have no idea why she left, only that she was bored with her life and wanted to pursue a different one. I was devastated. She was my mom. I didn’t understand why she would leave me. Now I’m sure there’s a part of me that is the way it is because of that experience. It’s probably the part of me that wants a family really bad so I can have what I didn’t have growing up. Maybe I want to prove that I’m nothing like her. But… Maybe I’m afraid that I am like her. What if I end up feeling the same way she did, or turn into a terrible mother because it might be in my genes?”

  “You are not going to be a terrible mother. It’s not possible.”

  “Then what about you? Isn’t that what this is about? Aren’t you afraid of becoming like your father?”

  It completely threw me. Had she already known my fear this entire time? She had, I was sure of it, because when she looked into my eyes, I could tell she understood. From what she had shared of her mother, I knew she connected with how I felt about my father. But my issues were a lot deeper, more severe. It was a different matter altogether, and I wasn’t sure she realized what she might be opening up. She knew my dad had issues, but she had no idea how deep they ran.

  “Jayden,” I said quietly, “my father is an alcoholic.”

  “I’ve gathered that. But you don’t even touch the stuff and you never will. You would never do that to me.”

  “He was never around. And if he wasn’t drunk, he was hung over. He barely came to anything my entire life.”

  “You would never neglect your kids. You’re too loving; you have such a big heart—”

  “He hardly did anything for me or anyone else. He’s the most selfish man I’ve ever known.”

  “You’re not like that, Ty.”

  “He abused me, Jayden. He knocked me around from the time I was five years old.”

  There, I said it. And she was silent, as I knew she would be. I could tell she knew my father was a drunk, but it was obvious she didn’t know it went beyond that. However, what she said next surprised me.

  “I’m very mad at you.”

  And she was; I could see it in her eyes.

  “Ty, you are nothing like that. Nothing. I understand your worry because of what you’ve been around your whole life, but you are not like your father. Do you really think you’ll be a deadbeat dad? Do you really feel you could become a drunk and hurt your kids?”

  “Yes.” Why beat around the bush anymore, right? “And what if…and then there’s you, and what if I…?” I sighed. “Jayden, I just don’t know, okay? I mean I can’t even stomach the thought of it but… The fear is there and…” I’d already said too much, but I guess it was about time. The only thing I could finish with was, “I am his son.”

  Her face softened and she looked at me for a long time. Finally she took both my hands into hers. “I love you so much, Ty. You are the sweetest guy I have ever met and you truly are a wonderful person. You are too good for a life like that. You’ve survived it because you’re meant to do more. You’re meant to be a better person, and you already are. You are exactly who I need. Your desire to be a good person and a good father means more to me than you know.” She took my face in her hands and kissed me. “I won’t talk about marriage again, unless you bring it up. Just…let me know when and where and I’ll be there,” she smiled.

  She cuddled against me, so I gathered her in my arms and held her close.

  “Okay,” I agreed. I wished I could give her more than that, but I honestly couldn’t.

  We stretched out on the couch together for a couple of hours and watched a movie. Her words meant the world to me and it was everything I needed to hear, but it just killed me that I couldn’t accept that my life might be different than what I had believed it would be. It was all I knew and all I was afraid I would become. I swore to myself that I would never get married; never have kids because I refused to subject another person to the life I grew up in.

  Being with Jayden confused me because I did want to marry her, but I was still unable to rid myself of the fear that kept holding me back. I felt like a better person when I was with her. I felt like there really was more to me, like she said, and that my future was full of possibilities. I don’t know what kind of father my dad would have been if he hadn’t turned to alcohol to solve his problems. Maybe I would’ve had a decent childhood and not have to be sent to live with a relative because my dad couldn’t stop drinking. When my father was drunk, he was a completely different person than when he was sober.

  Apparently the turning point was when my mother died. I don’t really remember too much of it, but I do remember how the house suddenly felt empty, lonely. My father wouldn’t talk to me; he wouldn’t hug me or kindly tell me my mother was in a better place, like a decent father should have done. My aunt stayed with us for a couple of days and she was the one that tried explaining how things were “going to be different.”

  My dad completely neglected me after that. Sue returned a week later to find out he had just been leaving me home by myself while he went to work. I was barely five years old. There was hardly even any food in the house. After she laid into him, he started making more of an effort. He had one of the neighbors watch me while he was at work—a cranky, heavyset woman with five of her own kids that she basically just let loose in the yard. I pretty much blocked out any memories of that experience, but the only thing I do remember from her house is having plain peanut butter sandwiches and water. Her kids were hellions and I never liked to play with any of them. I hardly ever spoke and Mrs. Brandt told my dad there was something wrong with me.

  To this day I can’t stand even the smell of peanut butter.

  The first time my dad ever hit me was about three months after my mother died. I remember it perfectly because it was Halloween. My aunt had bought me a Luke Skywalker costume and I was waiting to go trick or treating. My father was sitting on the couch drinking and I had asked for the second or third time when we could go. “I said not to ask me again!” he yelled, smacking me across the face. I remember sitting on the floor, crying, and he just stared at me. Finally he told me to sit by him and said that he was sorry.

  I didn’t go trick or treating that night because my father wasn’t feeling well. There were a lot of things I missed out on because he wasn’t “feeling well.”

  I’m not sure how my aunt found out he had been drinking too much and pushing me around, but a year later she took me to go live with her. My father demanded that he at least got to have me on the weekends, so she agreed to it—only if he didn’t drink. He never stopped, but he lied to her so well he got away with it for a couple of years. I never talked about it; I didn’t tell anyone that my dad would lose his temper, and then tell me that he was sorry and would never do it again. I probably believed him clear up until I was twelve years old.

  My aunt wasn’t the greatest parent, but compared to my father she was a saint. She had two older daughters from a previous marriage, and they were with their dad most of the time. I didn’t really see them much so it was just like being an only child again. But Sue put me in Little League when I was eight and that alone made her a hero in my eyes. I loved it from day one. She only lived two blocks from the baseball fields,
and I could easily get myself to practices. One of her neighbors gave me some baseball equipment and it all got plenty of use. My favorite was a metal-framed net you threw against so you could practice throwing and catching the ball. I remember playing with that thing for hours—it was my only friend.

  When I was fourteen Sue decided I should probably live with my dad full time. She and her new husband bought a camper and they wanted to start traveling. I remember being in the other room, hearing her tell my dad if she heard anything about him getting rough with me ever again she would call the police and they would take me away. My father cussed the daylights out of her until she walked out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

  But by then I was getting taller and starting to fill out a bit. I began helping my dad out in the garage a lot, and I realized it kept him from drinking. The more interested I became in mechanics, the more my father talked to me. We actually had a decent relationship by then. He taught me everything he knew about cars, and even though I didn’t want to turn out to be anything like my dad, I couldn’t keep myself from loving the one thing that he loved.

  The weekends found him at the bottle, and that’s when I would make sure I stayed away from the house. I didn’t always hang out with the best people, and I probably could have gone down the wrong path pretty easily. But I think I learned at an early age that I was kind of a sensitive kid. I wasn’t thin-skinned—I had my father to thank for that—I was just more vulnerable to having a conscience for some reason. Without positive parental influence I suppose I could have turned out really bad, but I never had a good feeling when I chose to do something I felt was wrong. I was a kid that had the freedom to do whatever I wanted because my dad didn’t care, and although I did take advantage of that on occasion, I found myself preferring to do better things instead. I actually spent a lot of time at the library. It was probably the safest place I felt I could be, and my strong desire to keep away from my father had, in the long run, taught me quite a lot.

  But I decided to try my luck one weekend and see if my dad wanted to rebuild a ’63 Nova with me. A teammate’s dad said that we could have it if we thought we could do something with it. My dad was thrilled, and I was so glad to have a project that the two of us could work on. He didn’t seem to drink as much and I was actually a pretty happy kid for a few months. My dad was great when he was sober, but it almost made my life with him more difficult because he became a completely different person when he was drunk. And comparing him to who he really was and who he had allowed himself to become…it was painful.