The Satyr

by Tiana Laveen

  “Because I needed to!” his father barked. “Sunday was better. You tried to make it so you wouldn’t have to deal with me over a weekend. I know what your game plan was, Nix! You don’t want your old man in the way!”

  “Bullshit. You are completely paranoid! Look at the calendar, it is over a weekend, you crazy nut. Your timing is horrible, too. Let’s stick to the main issue: You are procrastinating.”

  “I told Marcus about how my oldest won’t let me crash at his pad with him… how he’s ashamed of me. He told me not to go, that I’m the father and you all should be comin’ to see me anyway. That’s how it should be.”

  “Marcus? Your old buddy from the Marines? The guy who does crank and meth, served five prison sentences, and is far from the father of the year? Didn’t he try to sell one of his daughters when she was like sixteen to get money for a high? That’s who you take family advice from? Figures!”

  “That’s not exactly what happened. He—”

  “How the hell are you going to say that’s not what happened? That’s exactly what you told me! What? You think I’ve forgotten? He’s a fuckin’ deplorable human being.”

  “Until you’re a father, you don’t have the right to say any of this.”

  “I honestly don’t care about Marcus or this discussion at all. The topic is you and your need to make things difficult. You’ve already rescheduled twice since we talked; you’re being completely flaky, and I can’t deal with your shit right now. You know what? Why am I trying so hard? Fuck it. My offer is off the fuckin’ table. Keep your ass over there in New York.”

  “Too late. I’m coming. Besides, I’ve already packed. And yes, Marcus is a shmuck, but he is in rehab now. He gives me cigarettes and his sister bakes these incredible cakes. The last one had weed in it, so I didn’t give a damn about anything for five days.”

  Nixon burst out laughing as he neared the courthouse.

  “Dad, I gotta go. Look, no more shit like that, okay? The airline sent that email and I thought you’d cancelled on me again. It’s been a hectic day. No more shit from you. Let’s just have a good time.”

  “What do you have planned for us?” Dad’s voice brimmed with excitement, as if he thought those two criminals about to take Chicago by storm. He finished off his sandwich as he stood on the courthouse steps.

  “A good ass time, all right? When you get here, we’ll have a big family dinner. After that, the following day, you and I will go to the movie house and see one of those classic 1970s films ya like, get a bite to eat, and you can visit some of your old friends ’nd such. We can go to the pier, take a boat ride, and you can meet my girlfriend. Then—”

  “Wait… girlfriend? Girlfriend?”

  “Yeah… girlfriend. What’s the problem?”

  “You never told me you had a girlfriend!”

  “Why are ya sayin’ it like that? You act like I was told I have three months to live and kept it hidden. What gives? Who cares?”

  “What gives? Who cares?! I have four fuckin’ kids! I know all of you bastards like the back of my damn hand! Nixon, Maria, Tonya and Leonardo! Leonardo is a goofball, a bit spoiled, but a good kid. Tonya is like you guys’ mother – no comment. Maria is my sweet, intelligent worrywart… and then there’s Nixon! My first fuckin’ born! The first kid to come outta my nutsack and after you, we shoulda stopped because you were the worst of the whole bunch! Always in trouble, always gettin’ into something. You were sneaky! We could never catch you doin’ anything, but you always had your hands in some trouble. You were smart as shit but too cool to let everyone know it! Ya liked to be alone all the time. That’s when you’d do your best plottin’, no doubt.”

  “Nah, I just liked my own company is all. I’m still that way.”

  “You liked girls as company, too. Had a real problem… You always had a way with girls. Our phone would ring off the hook with your latest flavor of the month… a fucking heartbreaker.”

  “I was a kid, then. Things change. People change.”

  “I know that. My point is, I know you’ve had relationships but you keep things pretty hush-hush. You always have. I asked you about this a long time ago, when you were in your twenties. Ya told me you didn’t want to be tied down. I respected that because you were still young. Then I asked you about settling down and getting married when you were in your mid-thirties. You said you wanted to focus on your career and liked your life just how it was. I also asked you about grandkids. Ya told me you didn’t want kids. I thought that was kinda strange, but I never busted your balls about it; I let it go. And now, you have a girlfriend and want me to meet her? You have NEVER asked me to meet anyone you were with, Nixon. This is a big deal.”

  “Look, it’s not a big deal, all right? Yeah, I’m seeing someone. I’ve been in plenty relationships, it’s not like this is something new. I just figured you can meet her is all since you’re coming.”

  “Has your mother met her?”

  “No.”

  “Have you told your mother about her?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Yes! I finally get to beat her to the punch at something! I’m in!” Nixon smirked and shook his head. “Yeah, I definitely wanna meet this lady. What’s her name?”

  “Yasmine. Her name’s Yasmine.”

  “Yasmine? Is she Russian or something? Like one of those mail order brides?” his father teased.

  “Nah, she’s not Russian. She’s a lawyer though, like me.”

  “She must be a real fox, too. Where’d you meet her?” Nixon worked a piece of meat out of a side tooth with the tip of his tongue.

  “At a club.” Hell, it was the truth… Dad of all people certainly didn’t need to be in on the details.

  “A club? You can’t meet quality women at a club, Nix. Now, if you’d said church, the grocery store, something like that, I would’ve been proud but that means she might be a party girl, ya know?”

  If you only knew…

  “She’s fine, Dad. I’ve got it under control. I think I’ve got that part of my life taken care of and don’t need parental advice at this point.” He chuckled.

  “Says the guy who changes women like underwear! The guy who hasn’t had a girlfriend for more than a few months at a time! The guy who got me called at work because you were at school screwin’ two girls at the same time, you horny, degenerate piece of shit!” Those were good times… “I could give you some advice for sure, steer you the right way so you don’t screw this up.”

  “Yeah? So you’re an expert on women now, huh? As if getting relationship advice from you is even close to a good idea.”

  “What’s wrong with getting guidance from me?”

  “You’re the type of guy to tell someone who asks for suggestions on where to take a woman for a first date, to take her to a dog fight for a romantic night on the town.”

  “I’m very knowledgeable in this area, I’ll have you know!”

  “I’d be better off asking a priest which prostitute gives the best head in a whore house! Ya got an ex-fiancée from when you were in the Marines, before ya met Mom, who left ya because you were bat-shit crazy. Her words, not mine. Then, Mom got tired of your shit and ditched ya, and now you’ve got a wife who flees from ya every chance she gets. The difference between you and me is the fact I embrace how fucked up I am and how I might not be ideal marriage material!” He snorted. “You’re in total denial, so no thanks, Dad. I’ll take my chances on Ms. Party Girl from the bowels of sin.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be sorry. Call me back later.”

  “Nope.” He ended the call, slipped his phone in his pocket, and made his way inside.

  “Oh, Nixon, there you are! Thank God! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Oh, damn it!” Adrian, one of their paralegals, began to rifle through a bunch of papers he had in his grip. “It’s not here. Let me go get it! Stay right here.” He pointed at him as he walked backwards, looking out of breath. “I need you to look over
a copy of that contract before we’re called in again. I know you told us to handle it, but Harper found a discrepancy. I saw it but realized the date they had on the contract does not match up with the others. There’s also a clause in there about overtime pay. The wording is really strange.”

  “And you’re just now telling me this?” He threw up his hands. “You begged me to let you handle reviewing the paperwork, you told me I did not need to check this contract since I was swamped, that you had it all under control. I didn’t want to give up control, but I did, so you could prove yourself. Shit! Adrian, damn it… this was supposed to be cut and dry.” The guy’s face turned bright red and he looked away. “Never mind… yelling at you won’t help.” He took a deep breath. “All right. hurry up. We’re about to be called back in. Break is over soon.”

  The guy raced off in the opposite direction. As Nixon stood there, his jaws tightened. He nodded at another attorney walking past, then pulled out his phone to call his personal assistant.

  “Yo, Julia,” he said, pacing slowly up and down the hall. “Nixon here… your favorite pain in the ass.”

  “Hi, Nixon, and yes, you are my favorite, but never a pain in the ass, honey.”

  He smiled at her words.

  “That’s nice of you to lie to me. Look, hey… I need a favor.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Look up a Camden Riser for me please. Oh, and while you’re at it, get the 411 on Terrell Fairman, too. He’s at Steinberg & Fairman Law Offices. Both of them are, actually. I need you to check out Mr. Riser’s work history, any trouble with the State Bar, disciplinary actions, stuff like that. Do the same with Terrell but focus mainly on Camden. I want to know everything about this guy, any divorces, layoffs, brushes with the law, problematic posts, strange social media activity, political affiliations, any sexist, homophobic or racially charged jokes he may have liked or retweeted, anything that looks suspicious or unappealing.”

  “Okay, let’s see here… Are they medical malpractice attorneys?”

  He could hear the woman typing. He looked around him, then leaned against the wall, crossing his ankles.

  “No. Criminal defense team. They’ve gotten some pretty high-profile cases. And the firm is in good standing. Naturally, they’re linked tight with the prosecutor – not in a good way, of course, but that goes with the territory. And they’re local. Ya got it?”

  “Yes, got it all down. Since you’re in court all day, you just want me to text the information after I get it?”

  “Send it to me in an email. Run full-background searches, Julia. I want every juicy detail. I wanna know it all, even the last time they fucking farted.”

  She snickered. “Got it.”

  “Perfect.” He ended the call and looked up the hall to see Adrian barreling towards him once again. The young guy looked downright flustered, poor kid.

  “Here you go, Mr. Rossellini!”

  He shoved the contract in his face. Nixon snatched it and opened the door to the courtroom, his eyes on the paper, speed-reading like a motherfucker. He broke down the legal mumbo jumbo as they approached their table and everyone began to take their seats. Soon after, he tossed the contract back to Adrian and yawned. The young man’s face twisted in confusion. He picked up the papers and scanned them.

  “Did you see the clause I was talking about?”

  “That’s not our problem, but you and Harper did in fact find something.”

  Adrian stared blankly at him. “What?”

  “The signature is forged. Doesn’t match any of the other signatures our client signed on other paperwork. I know because I thought it was super strange how he signed the letter ‘C’ on all of his documents with us. He’s left-handed and holds his pen at an odd angle. I pay attention to things like that… Anyway, this is a slam dunk now. They’ve fucked up.” He smirked. “Call the hospital and have them fax over a copy of Mr. Parker’s driver’s license. I’m about to get this shit thrown out of court for fraud.”

  Adrian burst out laughing, drawing attention. He quickly gathered himself and raced out of the courtroom. Nixon stretched his legs and crossed his arms, a big ass smile on his face. Now, all he had to do was wait for the judge so he could blow the lid on this mess and go on with his day.

  One case down, five more to go…

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  An Open Book

  “I’m not convinced you enjoyed it.” He removed his scarf and hung it over the back of her couch. The scent of fresh watermelon she’d sliced up earlier in the day still lingered in the air. Taking a deep breath, she tried to gather her thoughts so they’d make sense.

  Nixon was after her like a dog gnawing at a steak. The evening surely hadn’t gone as planned. Unfortunately, he’d noticed.

  “Yo, I’m talkin’ to you. Anybody home? Did ya hear what I said, Yas?” he said, his deep voice dropping an octave or two as he glared at her. “You wanted to go to the opera, even called me back and told me ya want me to spend the night. I’m thinking, ‘Great! She’s already optimistic and feeling better.’ I took you there and you sat stone-faced all fuckin’ night.”

  “Look, Nixon, I’m sorry if you feel that I dissed you in some sort of way. Of course, I enjoyed it. It was wonderful.”

  “This isn’t about me,” he stated, clearly irritated. “I don’t feel dissed. You’re missing the point. Don’t try and turn this around. This is about you.” He pointed at her.

  “I was just concentrating is all.”

  “Concentrating? This wasn’t Calculus class. It was an opera show, a no brainer. There wasn’t a test that followed. What the hell did you need to concentrate on?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “If you even blinked, it was like you would miss something important. I was all in.” She managed a smile as she toed off her heels. Nixon walked around her as if she were some scientific object in need of study. Her pulse raced.

  That’s the thing about him. I always feel on edge when we’re alone like this together. He always does something I am totally not prepared for…

  She always felt an adrenaline rush when he was near. She’d never had such a reaction to anyone on a consistent basis in her life. His mere aura, his self-confidence and ego made him appear a hundred feet tall in her eyes. There was just something about him. He was dangerous, even when smiling and seemingly relaxed. And she craved that, even with all this uncertainty. The never knowing what he had up his sleeve.

  He paused his pacing, undid the clasp of her necklace, and sat down on the couch, legs wide open, rubbing on his jaw and chin and staring off into space. She escaped to the kitchen, buying time off from his heavy, overwhelming presence.

  This won’t be swept under the rug. I don’t want to talk about it, but I know he’s going to make me. Moments later, she went back to him with two glasses of wine for them. She handed him one and sat next to him, then reached for the remote control.

  “You’re lying to me. I fuckin’ hate being lied to, Yas, especially by someone who professes to give a shit about me.” His tone was low, almost a whisper, as if he was saying something inconsequential. He glared at the screen and took a small sip of the beverage.

  “Lying to you about what? I did enjoy the opera!”

  “About how you feel, Yasmine. This is no longer about the opera. I know you. I don’t have to spend years with ya to know when you’re pissed, upset, worried, excited, horny, hungry, anxious, all that shit. I know you because we fit together. You’re the other piece of me. I understand how you’re made and what you’re made of.” His eyes turned to slits. A chill crept across her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “I know how you think. We’re each other’s temptation and balance, too. You mean a lot to me, Yasmine.”

  “You mean a lot to me, too, Nix, and to other people as well. You are the shit. I am the shit. We’re good together. I can admit that without choking now.” She winked at him and he offered a tilted smile. “You just draw a lot of attention is all. I’ve told you this befo
re. It’s not so much how you look, though that helps. It is how you carry yourself. I’ve seen how people look at you when we’re together. You fascinate people. You also draw a lot of unhappy stares from a crowd – usually other men.”

  She could see he was mulling over her words, dissecting them. She simply hoped his ego was stroked enough to leave her alone. The perfect divergent plan. Though what she said was true, nevertheless.

  “Anyone working towards a goal has a hater or two, or fifty, Yasmine. If you don’t have someone who doesn’t like you, you don’t motivate someone to talk shit about you, you don’t compel unhappy people to do something immature or shady simply because you exist and you’re makin’ moves, following your dreams, then you’re not living life right. People comfortable at the bottom never want others to rise up.” She nodded in agreement. “I’m not an angel, and I don’t want to be, angels are probably boring, but I try to at least not cause unnecessary harm to people anymore, ya see? I’m different now. I will defend myself. I will defend people I care about and if that means gettin’ my hands dirty, then fuckin’ so be it – but I’m not that guy out here fuckin’ up for no reason. I speak my fuckin’ mind. You know me now.” He threw up his hands. He drank some wine then set the glass back gently on the table. “I want you. Badly.”

  “You know you’ve got me, boy. I think it’s obvious that I’ve caved.” She leaned in and gave him a kiss.

  “My focus is not just getting you but keeping you.” She fought a smile. “You’re enough for me. You’ve always been enough.” Her face warmed. “So, back to the original topic…”

  “Oh, no…” She fell back on the couch.

  “Oh, yeah. You thought you could derail me, get off the hook and onto something else but I know that’s one of your manipulative tricks. Tricks of the Yasmine Trade. Mind-fucking sold separately. Anyway, I asked you when I picked you up tonight if you were okay. You said yes. Lie number one.” He held up a finger. “I figured you’d talk to me at some point. You didn’t. Instead, you wanted to remain in control.”