Xavier Cold

by Michelle A. Valentine

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Fine,” I lie. “Just tired.”

  He nods. “A good night’s sleep will do wonders after a stressful day.”

  A black SUV pulls up, and Freddie opens the back passenger door, allowing me to climb inside.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.

  “Yeah, okay. Bye.” He shuts the door, and the car begins to move.

  I fish my cell phone out of my back pocket and frown when I notice there’s no new message from Xavier. I’m unable to stop myself from calling him.

  His phone rings twice and then goes straight to voice mail.

  “Xavier, if you don’t call me back tonight, I’ll know we’re finished.”

  There’s so much more I could say, but I decide what I’ve said is clear and concise. If he doesn’t call back after that, I’ll have my answer.

  Chapter 21

  Xavier

  The distinct aroma of gingerbread cookies fills the entire house, and it makes me smile. Today is going to be a good day. Whenever Mama makes her special cookies, no matter the time of year, she’s always in a good mood.

  I step into the kitchen, and my gaze lands on a freshly showered woman wearing a yellow sundress with a grin on her face and a twinkle in her eyes.

  Mama notices me watching her and waves me to come farther into the room. “Want to help me? I’m making gingerbread cookies, your favorite.”

  I nod as she reaches down and pats my cheek. “Okay then, go get your hands washed. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

  I rush over to the sink and stand on my tiptoes to reach the faucet and soap. Mama says I’m tall for a seven-year-old and that I get my height from my father. I like when she tells me things about him because I don’t have many facts about him.

  I hold my hands up for her inspection. “All clean.”

  She nods and then gives me the cookie cutter in the shape of a little man. “You can cut out the next batch.”

  She kisses my cheek and then nuzzles her nose in the spot her lips touched, causing me to giggle. It’s times like these when I’m truly happy.

  More and more often, Mama’s been taking medicine to make her sadness go away, but today she’s happy without using it.

  We are on our third batch of cookies when the front door of our apartment flies open, and my grandmother comes flouncing in, wearing her favorite flower dress, which means she came from church.

  Grandmother steps into our tiny kitchen and removes the oversize hat from her head. “Gingerbread cookies in the middle of the summer, Gina? You do realize those are intended to be Christmas treats.”

  Mama waves her off. “Who says? They’re Xavier’s favorite, so we can make them anytime we want. We don’t follow rules around here.”

  Grandmother lifts her chin. “Rules maintain order. Without them, there would be chaos. Speaking of which, have you thought any more about what I said to you? I think you would do much better staying clean if you moved back home where I could keep an eye on you.”

  “You mean, smother me, don’t you?” Mother retorts. “I’ve told you, Mother, I’m done living under your rules.”

  “Gina, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t—”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve always managed to chase off every man who’s ever been important to me, and then you try to control every aspect of my life.”

  “I just want what’s best for you. Living life by the good book and finding a man who’s suitable to marry aren’t such bad things for me to want for my only daughter, is it?”

  Mother sighs as she rolls out the last batch of dough before her. “No, I guess not, but all the men you pick for me are boring, and I don’t find them the least bit attractive.”

  Grandmother’s nostrils flare. “And I suppose that monster who got you pregnant was better? Remind me where he is again. Oh, that’s right. He ran off and left you after his spawn was born.”

  Mother slams her hands down hard onto the table. “His name is Xavier. He is your grandson, and if you can’t love him the same way you love me, you can forget about me ever moving back home with you.”

  Grandmother’s cool blue eyes lock on to me, and I slink down, trying my best to become invisible to rid myself from the weight of her stare.

  “By bringing him along with you, perhaps we’ll get to know one another better.”

  That sounds nice, but I know she hates me. The only reason she tolerates me is because she loves Mama. When she’s not around, Grandmother calls me names and shoves me.

  I tried to tell Mama about it once, but she explained to me that Grandmother has a right to discipline me when I misbehave while she’s not around. After that, I never told Mama about anything that went on when she left me alone with her. I would do my best to make sure I was never alone with Grandmother though.

  Mama sighs. “No. I like being on my own.”

  “You don’t want to come live with me? Fine.” Grandmother slams her purse on the counter beside Mama and then fishes a rectangular piece of paper out from it. “Then, understand this, Gina. There will be no more money from me. I will not pay another penny on this apartment of yours, so when you decide to go out on a binge again and lose this new job of yours, don’t ask me for another handout. The only way I will continue to help you is if you move back home, where you belong.”

  Grandmother tosses the check at Mama, and it flutters down to the floor as Grandmother grabs her purse and disappears through the front door as quickly as she came in.

  It’s quiet in our kitchen for a few minutes before Mama begins humming “Jingle Bells” and continues to cut out little gingerbread men. She bumps her hip into mine. “Sing with me.”

  She smiles at me as we both sing, and when we’re through, she gently pinches my chin. “You have your father’s eyes, and I know you’re going to be just as handsome as he was. Only promise me that you’ll be a better man than him. Promise me, when things get hard, you won’t run away and leave me like he did.”

  “I promise,” I tell her. I mean it with my whole heart.

  I stare into her eyes, and I don’t know how she get the idea that I would ever leave her when my biggest fear in this world is losing her, the only person in this messed up world who loves me.

  “Such a good, strong boy,” Mama whispers. She bends down to kiss my cheek.

  A gasp so deep comes out of me that it wakes me from a dead sleep. I sit up, stiff as a board, in my makeshift bed on the floor.

  Heat still lingers on my cheek from where my mother kissed me in the dream. I clutch my shirtless chest as I attempt to slow my breathing down, but it’s no use. Even though this wasn’t a nightmare, it still yanks me back to the past, back to the place where all I can do is think about my mother.

  I roll over onto my belly and begin to do vigorous push-ups, counting out loud as I work my body into pain so that I’ll forget.

  “One hundred twenty-seven...”

  I keep going, but the pain isn’t bringing my normal relief.

  I twist my neck, focusing on the couch. I can’t forget my past while I’m in this house, while I’m surrounded by every painful memory throughout my lifetime.

  Nothing good has ever come of this place. Coming here was a mistake.

  I lift my head and realize the fifth of Jack I killed before going to bed is still flowing through my veins. Wvwn through my drunken haze, I can’t even bring myself to sit on the stupid fucking couch. Every time I see it, I see Mother’s face. Her dark hair and brown eyes are burned into my memory, and I don’t understand how she couldn’t love me more than the high she always sought out. Life was so good when she was clean. It was just her and me against the world.

  It’s a fact that Mom never received the abuse from Grandmother that I did, so that couldn’t have been the reason Mom never wanted to live in the moment. Grandmother treated my mom like a princess, always telling me that her Gina was perfect, until the evil infection, which was my monster father’s seed, found its way into her daughte
r.

  Maybe Grandmother was right. I do seem to fuck up everything I touch, and if I don’t stop myself soon, I’ll destroy Anna’s life, too.

  I close my eyes as tears slip down my cheeks.

  My Anna. My sweet Anna. I’m losing her.

  I’m not good enough for her, and it was selfish of me to ever believe that I could keep someone as loyal and loving as her to myself.

  I am a fuckup.

  I am evil.

  I don’t deserve her goodness, no matter how badly I crave it.

  I do nothing but put her in danger, which is why I haven’t answered when she calls. Maybe distance will be good for us, and she’ll figure out what a waste of her time I am and leave me. The only way I can make sure she’s safe is to keep her as far away from me as possible.

  I eye the couch, desperately needing it out of my face because I can’t take much more of reliving the shit of my past, the past that’s still ruining my life. I march over to the end of it and bend at the knees to pick it up. It easily lifts off the floor, and I drag it to the front door. I twist the knob and kick it open before I grip the middle of the couch and hoist it over one shoulder and my head. I step out onto the porch and toss the couch into the yard, and an audible crack echoes down the deserted street.

  My thoughts run wild, and the only thing I can think of is how I want to be rid of this thing because of what it represents. I run back into the house and head straight for the kitchen to the drawer where Grandmother always kept a lighter for her candles. My fingers curl around the first one I see, and I sprint back outside and then down the steps to the couch. I drag it out to the middle of the street. With the flick of my thumb, a flame dances on the lighter, and I crouch down and hold the fire to the edge of the burlap material poking out beneath the plastic. It takes a moment, but eventually, flames take ahold of the fabric and lick their way around the couch before the entire thing is engulfed.

  I take a step back, and relief washes over my chest at the very thought of never seeing this couch again. Now, I have to figure out a way to expel every other bad thing that plagues my life. It’s time to purge these fucking demons.

  Soon, the only thing left of the spot where my mother died is a pile of smoldering ash. Watching the fire has sobered me up. Good thing, too, because the flickering of red and blue lights in the darkness catch my attention as a police car rolls up to where I’m standing.

  Jesus. Just what I fucking need.

  My body tenses. Every time cops come my way, there seems to be trouble.

  I stand still as a statue and continue to face the fire. There’s no way I’ll be able to deny that I did this. Grandmother’s house is one of the only ones occupied on this street, so no one else would have a couch to drag outside but me.

  My eyes flick over to the squad car as the door pops open, and my body quickly relaxes when I notice the cop getting out of the car is Cole.

  “Shit, Cole. You scared the fuck out of me,” I tell him as he approaches me.

  He slips the stiff hat off and then rubs the top of his head. “What the hell are you doing, man?”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “Redecorating.”

  “I can see that, but did it really require starting a fire in the middle of the street?”

  I shrug. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  He shakes his head. “I have to call this in, so we can get it cleaned up. You should take off.”

  I nod. “Thanks, man.”

  “What are friends for?” he answers simply.

  “I owe you one.”

  He slaps the hat back on his head, and his face lights up with a half-smile. “If that’s the case, can I collect tomorrow?”

  I suspiciously eye him. “Depends. What is it?”

  “I’ve got this kid I’ve been working with, and I really think he has something special, X. He’s just rough around the edges. Reminds me a lot of you actually.”

  “So, you want me to come down and check him out? Show him a couple of moves?”

  Cole nods. “I know it would mean a lot to him. The kid’s had it rough and never caught a break. Hearing from you that he has some talent and can actually make it in professional wrestling might be the thing that will keep him off the streets and out of Bishop’s crew.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “If he runs with Bishop, I don’t want any part of the kid.”

  Cole frowns. “That’s the thing, X. He’s not with them, but they are trying their damnedest to recruit him. He’s built, and he has a lot of rage—the perfect weapon for Bishop.”

  When Cole says that to me, he might as well have been describing me all those years ago when I found refuge with Bishop. If I can do some small thing to keep this kid out of living the same hell the Block put me through, it’ll be worth my time.

  “I’m in,” I tell him. “Have him at Tough’s at noon.”

  Cole smiles. “Will do. Thanks, X.”

  I turn to walk into the house to grab the keys to my bike. There’s no way I can sleep inside this fucking house after all this. I stuff my cell, containing voice mails I have yet to listen to from Anna, into my pocket, and I set out for the one place that really feels like home—Nettie and Carl’s diner. Hopefully, I can figure out what the fuck is going on with my life.

  Chapter 22

  Xavier

  The sound of boxes crashing to the floor jerks me out of a deep sleep. I gasp and sit up ramrod straight in the twin bed I found sanctuary in last night after letting myself into the diner with my key.

  “Sorry, sugar,” Nettie says as she stacks the boxes back onto the stockroom shelf. “We needed more ketchup out front.”

  I stretch and then rub the heels of my hands against my closed eyelids. “What time is it?”

  “Close to noon,” Nettie informs me as she comes over to sit next to me on the bed. There’s concern in her eyes. “You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Rough night in the house, is all. It’s hard being there, alone.”

  She pats my shoulder. “Anna will be back before long.”

  I sigh and then pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not sure she’ll be back.”

  Her brow furrows. “Why would you say that? That girl loves you.”

  “And that’s the problem. She shouldn’t love me.”

  “You deserve love, Xavier. You have to learn to open up and let her in. She’ll stand by you, no matter what, if she really loves you.”

  “What if she doesn’t?” That’s the thing that scares me the most. I fear the possibility that she might leave me.

  Nettie frowns. “You’ll never know unless you open yourself up and find out.” She pats my leg. “Want me to have Carl make you some breakfast?”

  “A quick sandwich to go would be great. I have to head over to the gym to work with a kid Cole thinks might have a real shot in professional wrestling.”

  She pushes up from the bed. “That’s great. It’ll take your mind off things a bit.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I tell her. But I know getting Anna off my mind won’t be easy.

  “I’ll get that sandwich going.” Nettie pauses at the door and turns to me. “Make sure you take a shower at Tough’s. I can still smell the Jack on you.” She winks at me before she disappears.

  I down the sausage-and-egg sandwich in about four bites and head out the door to my bike. I ride down the street to the house on Sycamore and am surprised to see only scorched concrete where the couch burned last night.

  I park my bike, take a deep breath, and then dash inside to change into workout gear. I do my best not to allow the house to get to me, but when I rush past the door upstairs to get to the bathroom, I eye the lock on Grandmother’s door.

  God, that woman really hated me and did anything to keep me at a distance.

  After brushing my teeth and slapping on some deodorant, I rush back out the door and head toward the gym.

  I hate being late.

  My bike roars as it comes to a halt in front of Tough’s Gym, and then I
sprint up the stairs.

  When I open the door, the sound of jump ropes slapping against the wooden floor is the first thing I hear. The gym is packed today, but after a quick glance around, I spot Cole talking to a man about my height. He has sandy-blond spiked hair, and he’s covered from the neck down in tattoos.

  Cole spots me and raises his hand in the air. “X!”

  A lot of the heads in the gym turn and notice me there, but they go back to training almost instantly.

  The guy next to Cole smiles and extends his hand to me as I approach. “What’s up, X? Thank you for doing this.”

  Now that I’m up close, I can tell this guy is really young, probably no more than twenty-one.

  “No problem. What’s your name, kid?”

  “Corey Trulove,” he says proudly.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Real or fake name?”

  “One hundred percent real, bro.”

  Cole laughs. “Almost as good as Xavier Cold, huh, X?”

  I nod. “Almost.” I turn back to the kid. “Okay, let’s warm up, and then we’ll step in the ring and see what you’ve got.”

  After about fifteen minutes, we’re loosened up and in the ring, bouncing around on our toes.

  I widen my stance and wave Corey at me. “All right, kid, come at me.”

  Corey shakes his hands out at his sides and then charges at me, but I easily sidestep him and push him down on the mat.

  He jumps up and smacks his hands together. “Damn it. Again!”

  I raise my eyebrows and then glance at Cole, who gives me an I-told-you-so nod.

  I admire people who don’t give up in the ring. It’s what makes a good wrestler.

  We go at it again and again for nearly two hours, but the kid never gets me in any holds. I can see the frustration growing on his face, and I want to make sure I don’t break his spirit or make him doubt his abilities too much.

  I step back and hold my hands up. “I think that’s enough.”

  “No, wait. I can do better. Please give me another shot.”

  I can see panic in his eyes because he believes he’s failed.