Trouble Triangle (Tyler's Trouble Trilogy)

by Casey, Travis

  "Sure. Will you excuse me, Mr. Knight?"

  He waved his free hand around and kept patting his face with the hanky.

  Holly stood with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes when I came in. "What the hell are you playing at?" she whispered.

  "I was taking an interest in his profession." I poked a finger toward her face. "And you better watch it, you just said a cuss word."

  "I'm warning you, buster." She jabbed my chest with her finger. "Anymore cracks like that and I'm going to be totally super mad at you and may never speak to you again. You promised to behave." She reached in the fridge and handed me the jug of iced tea. "Go fill Daddy's glass up and be nice to him. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes."

  "Sorry."

  I returned to the living room and topped up Mr. Knight's glass. I sat down and we both looked around the room, not speaking. It was slightly uncomfortable, but I didn't want to set him off again and send him into another rant disguised as a sermon.

  Holly quietly walked behind her father on her way to the bathroom. She shot me a dirty look and moved her hand in a talk gesture, then thumbed toward her Dad.

  "So, Mr. Knight, Holly tells me you're a Shakespeare fan."

  A broad smile crossed his face. "Ah, yes. That's one thing the British gave us. A literary genius. I thought Hamlet was his best work, but I enjoy it all."

  "Yes, Hamlet, of course," I said. "But my personal favorite is Love's Labour's Lost.

  'Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,

  That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks;

  Small have continual plodders ever won,

  Save base authority from others' books.

  These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights

  That give a name to every fixed star,

  Have no more profit of their shining nights

  Than those that walk and wot not what they are'."

  Mr. Knight stared at me opened mouth. Not very subtle. "I'm impressed. Love's Labour's Lost is an obscure choice as a favorite. You must have studied him intensely."

  "Probably nowhere near as well as you, but yeah, I'm a big fan. Labour's Love was never the critics' favorite, but I quite enjoy it."

  "You guys will have to put a hold on Shakespeare," Holly interrupted. "Lunch is served." She led the way to the dining table and we all sat down.

  Reverend Knight said a ten minute blessing. Once the food had sufficient time to get cold, he offered an Amen.

  "Princess, this looks wonderful. Did you marinate the chicken in avocado and walnut sauce like Grandma used to?"

  My stomach lurched.

  "Of course I did. Getting Grandma's recipe book was the most awesome thing ever. God rest her soul."

  The Reverend bowed his head. "God rest her soul."

  He patted her on the shoulder and looked at me. "Isn't she the greatest gal ever? You're a lucky guy, Tyler." He playfully grabbed her ear. "This girl's got brains, looks and she's the finest cook this side of the Mississippi. I hope you've thanked the Lord for your good fortune landing this one."

  "Yes, sir. I certainly have."

  Fortunately I didn't have to do much talking through lunch. Just as well, I needed to keep my mouth shut to keep the food down. Mr. Knight dominated the conversation, switching between preaching, reciting Shakespeare or praising his wonderful daughter. I wanted to tell him she was a little firecracker in bed, but didn't want to crush his belief that twenty-one year old virgins still existed.

  After lunch, Mr. Knight continued to bore me with more incessant psycho-babble. The combination of a large portion of chicken-ala-crap, fighting off a top ten hangover, and an endless stream of useless information, my eyes continually grew heavy. I kept regaining consciousness either because my head would snap forward, jerking me out of slumber, or a well placed kick from Holly connected with my shin.

  Around six o'clock Holly started making suggestions about rustling up some supper, but I had enough of the chicken crap thingy to carry me through until tomorrow and insisted it wasn't necessary. Mr. Knight agreed with me.

  I dropped some hints about leaving and going back to base, but they weren't getting the message.

  Reverend Knight pulled out his wallet and handed Holly a twenty dollar bill. "Princess, why don't you run down to the store and get us some strawberry ice cream. We'll just have that instead of another meal." He patted his stomach. "You don't want your dear old dad getting fat, now do you?"

  Holly smiled and shook her head.

  I stood up. "Put your money away, Mr. Knight. I'll go. My treat."

  "It's you I want to talk to, Tyler. Run along, Princess." He pointed at me. "You, sit." He pointed to the chair.

  Holly took the money and headed for the door. I cringed when it shut. Mr. Knight stared at me in silence.

  I felt myself sobering up quickly. "So, what would you like to talk about, sir?"

  "I'll get straight to the point. What are your intentions with my daughter?"

  I wiped my palms on my pants. "Oh…umm…you don't need to worry, Mr. Knight. I'll look after her."

  "I'm not asking your security guard credentials." He leaned forward. "What are your long term plans with her?"

  "Well, sir, we haven't really talked about that."

  He slid to the edge of the couch. I quickly looked at the table to see if there was anything that would go flying if he decided to have another fist thumping session.

  He pushed his glasses up. “Look, son, I'm talking about you. What do you want out of the relationship? She's a virgin you know, and is going to stay that way until she gets married. You'll find out more about that in my sermon tomorrow. If you're out for some quick gratification, you're sniffin' around the wrong tree, pooch.”

  He took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. He put them back on and shoved the hanky back in his pocket.

  I took a sip of water and waited for the interrogation to continue. I glanced at the door, desperately willing Holly to return and take some heat off me. I slid my hands under my thighs to hide their unsteadiness.

  "You don't look like a virgin to me, but I'm not going to ask if you are or not. That would be impolite, and I'm not a rude man. I always hoped that the man she married would be as pure as she is. And maybe you are. So I'll ask you again, what are your intentions?"

  "Sir, I really like Holly. I think she's a swell gal and we're taking things slow. I'm sure the good Lord wouldn't want me to defile the girl, in wedlock of course, and then decide that she wasn't the right person for me. We're getting to know each other really well."

  Mr. Knight jumped back when I used the word defile. It must have been too graphic of an image for him. I could have gotten out of the conversation at anytime by giving him a massive heart attack. Sir, I fucked your daughter silly in the public restroom of a strip club. Yeah, that would do it. I could see him clutching his heart with that one.

  "What I mean to say is, marriage is a sacred institution. We don't want to rush into anything that either of us may regret later. Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better."

  "Ah, Twelfth Night. Well put."

  That Otto's a genius. I was going to have to buy him a pillow or something.

  "I guess Holly told you that her mother died giving birth to her."

  I nodded.

  "That means she's very special to me, and I'd like some grandchildren. Her mother died giving her life, and I want her to bear as much life as possible, knowing my wife didn't die in vain. And God blessed them, and God said unto them," his voice shook the foundations of the building, "be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth." His fist came crashing down on the top of the glass coffee table, smashing it to bits.

  "Holy sh…hsazbar." His outburst nearly rocketed me out of my chair. Broken glass lay on the floor. I pulled myself together. "Amen, brother," I shouted. "Revelations, right?"

  "Actually," he pushed his glasses up and spoke calmly. "It's 'The Book Of Revelation'," he emphasized it being sin
gular, "and no, it's Genesis 1:28." He looked at the destruction he caused. "Doggone it. I told Princess not to buy this cheap Chinese stuff. Now I'm going to have to buy her a new table." The hanky came out for the traditional brow wipe. "And by gum, I gonna make sure it says 'Made in the good ole U.S. of A.'"

  Holly returned with the ice cream as the Reverend and I picked up the broken glass.

  "What the heck happened here?" she asked.

  Her father stopped and gave her a stern look. "Princess, I've told you, heck is slang for hell. Pretty girls like you shouldn't curse."

  Holly hung her head in shame. "Sorry, Daddy."

  Go ahead, Holly. Tell him how you begged me to fuck you like a whore. I dare you. I broke into a chuckle at the thought.

  He redirected his angry gaze toward me. "Something funny, young man?"

  "Umm…no, sir. It's just funny to hear you say that because I've told Holly that myself."

  His angry look dissipated. Holly looked at me, her lips pursed together and her eyes throwing daggers. I gave her a wink.

  Holly dished out the ice cream as her father and I finished cleaning up the broken glass. We sat in the living room holding our bowls of ice cream. I took a bite and enjoyed the coldness. It soothed my head. Mr. Knight shot a look of disgust in my direction. I widened my eyes and returned his look. He bowed his head.

  The dessert prayer was only a few minutes. I peeked now and then to see if my ice cream had melted before he got to the Amen. It didn't.

  We discussed Hamlet until he announced he wanted to go to bed at eight-thirty. He needed his rest before his service the next morning. After thanking Holly for a wonderful lunch and praising Mr. Knight on his in-depth knowledge of Shakespeare, I made a welcomed exit.

  I took the bus back to base. Mark was in the room when I arrived. My bed was a pleasant sight and I walked straight to it and flopped down, trying to wrap my brain around everything that had happened. Talking to Mr. Knight really drained me, not to mention that the hangover had sucked any remaining life I had from my body. I couldn't wait to close my eyes and drift into the land of never-never.

  "So, how was Holly's dad?" Mark asked.

  "Not sure. He's certainly passionate about his beliefs. I think he wants me to marry his daughter and get her knocked up. He kept going on about having grandchildren. Winning that fifty bucks off you was the worst thing I ever did. I got blackmailed into a relationship I didn't want to be in. Then she turns out to be all right, and God, is she a fun fuck. I like her and all, but now Daddy comes to town and he wants us pumping out little Chambers."

  "I'd start wearing condoms if I were you. If Daddy wants his little girl to get married and pregnant, she might just do it to please him, but not necessarily in that order."

  A knock at the door startled me and Mark and I looked at each other. Mark got up and answered it.

  "Oh, hi," he said, "come on in." He looked in my direction. "Someone for you, Tyler."

  I sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.

  "Tyler."

  "Oh…hi, Debs." I hoped my tone came across as more chirpy than surprised. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

  "These." She held up a pair of my underwear. "You left in a bit of a hurry this morning." She threw them to me. "Came to ask if you wanted to go to the beach tomorrow?" She looked at Mark. "You and Lori can come too if you want."

  Mark nodded. "Thanks."

  "Tyler?"

  "Umm…I can't tomorrow. I already got plans."

  She walked over and sat next to me on the bed. Her blue eyes looked into mine. "I thought you said you were giving her a break."

  "What makes you think everything revolves around Holly? I'm volunteering at the soup kitchen tomorrow. You know, helping the homeless people and stuff."

  She didn't react. "Bullshit. Try again."

  I let out a sigh. "Okay, I'm going to church."

  "Bigger bullshit. One more time."

  "No, really, I am."

  "Wait a minute, that's right." She clicked her fingers. "Holly's dad's in town preaching, isn't he?"

  I nodded.

  Debbie folded her arms. "If you're giving her a break, why are you going?"

  "She wants her dad to think she's got a boyfriend. So I agreed to pose."

  "I guess she doesn't want her dad finding out about her lesbian past, huh? So she calls in the immoral drunk to look respectable and meet her famous preacher father." She laughed. "That's funny. Okay, I'll buy it. But it's going to cost you."

  "Cost me? What are you talking about?"

  Debs looked at Mark then leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I'm still horny as shit. I got a fresh bottle of Jack in my room, and I'm going to give you some sins you can take with you tomorrow to confess."

  "Oh God, please no, Debbie. Not another night on the JD."

  She nodded. Standing up, she took hold of my hand and pulled me to the door. "Don't wait up, Mark. Your roommate won't be back tonight." She smacked my ass. "And boy is he going to have a good time tonight."

  Chapter 19Debbie delivered on her promise. It was one of our best nights and she did leave me with a lot to confess for. But why the hell did I agree to do shots of Jack Daniel's with her? Last one to down the glass had to take off an item of clothing. I managed to get her undressed first, but so what? My head throbbed so bad it hurt when my heart beat.

  I staggered back to my room, putting my hand down my pants along the way to make sure I didn't forget my underwear this time. The feel of the cotton offered slight relief that perhaps I did maintain some form of coherency. In the shower room down the hall, I stood under the water and assessed the self-inflicted damage. The hangover didn't make it into the top ten, maybe a top twenty, but it still pained me.

  I had visions of walking on stage to meet Reverend Knight. Forgive me, Cornelius, for I have sinned. I had sex with a woman with lesbian tendencies, although those tendencies were not on display last night. We stained a non-marital bed and had immoral sex. I defiled her, Corny! I would scream.

  HEAL! He would scream back, and smack my hungover head.

  I had to do it, Reverend Knight, I would plead. If I don't keep giving her the hot beef injection, she might go back to ways of homosexuality. And that's worse than sex out of wedlock. Right? He'd probably give me another smack on the head, and not necessarily a healing one.

  The shower washed some of the alcoholic poisoning from my pores and I felt slightly better. I swore once more that Jack and I were finished. This time for good. Debbie did pour it into some interesting places on her body that lured me back into his trap. But now I could claim: 'been there, done that' and tell Mr. Daniel's to fuck off the next time he threatened to darken my doorstep.

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror and admired how church-like I looked in a crisp white shirt and black pants, even with a head like a bass drum. I remembered to press them when I did my uniforms and was glad I did. A hot iron in my hands in this condition didn't bear thinking about.

  I got on the crowded bus and managed to find a seat next to an unsavory character toward the back. He looked like he should be sharing a doorway with Otto, but he obviously had enough money for bus fare and the bottle in a brown paper bag.

  The bus managed to hit every pothole in the road, rattling my bones and reminding me that I was still pretty hung-over. The drunk next to me kept unscrewing the cap and taking a drink. It smelled liked Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill wine and made me gag every time he undid the top and I got a whiff. I drank it when we used to shoplift it from stores when I was fifteen. Hardly a man's drink, but it served a purpose: To get drunk. Must have set him back close to two dollars if he didn't steal it. I looked around the bus to see if there was a vacant seat anywhere else. The smell of the guy and the cheap wine made me ill(er). Every other seat was occupied and knowing I was stuck with the guy made his stench even more unbearable.

  Halfway to Honolulu, the drunk rang the bell to get off. I swung my legs in the aisle to let him pass. He stoo
d, and cocked the wine bottle back, taking a departing drink. Suddenly, the bus jolted. The drunk lost his grip on the bottle and his cheap pink nectar made a substantially splash on my white shirt.

  I looked down at my shirt, mortified. "Look what you did, you asshole." I stood with my arms spread so he could see the full magnitude of his clumsiness.

  "Asshole?" His right hand came out of nowhere and connected with my eye. He packed one hell of a punch and knocked me to the floor. Then he ran off. Not that I could do much about it laying flat on my back.

  Other passengers helped me to a seat. I held my throbbing eye as my head thumped away. A little while later, the bus pulled up to my designated stop. I got off and looked around, heavily dazed.

  There was a restroom not far away. I went in and cleaned myself up as best I could. I walked down to the Blaisdell Center where Holly stood at the entrance waiting for me.

  "What the hell happened to you?"

  I was growing tired of her greeting me with those words. "Shouldn't cuss," I scolded her. "Some drunken dickhead spilled wine all down me on the bus, then punched me for wasting it."

  She cast her head skyward. "All mighty kingdom." She dropped her gaze to look at me and put her hands on her hips. "Daddy wants us to sit on the stage while he preaches. You know, like showing that couples don't have to fornicate out of marriage."

  "Holy shit. No one ever told me we were going to be on display as an angelic couple. I'm not doing it." I held my arms out. "Especially in this state."

  "Language," she snapped. "Look at you. Black eye, wine soaked shirt, gash on the head." She wheeled me around. "Oh, for the love of Moses, look at your back. It's totally filthy. It looks like you've been rolling around in the dirt."

  "I landed on my back on the bus floor when that fucking drunk decked me."

  She slapped me. "Will you quit swearing? I promised Daddy we'd do it. He needs my support."

  "Oh for fuck sake."

  "Goddamn it, Tyler." She stomped her foot. "Stop swearing."

  I wanted to tell her that goddamns were worse than fucks, name in vain and all, but I could see this really meant a lot to her. She wanted to charade as a twenty-one year old virgin and as her boyfriend, I felt obligated to help her with her deceit.