The Satyr

by Tiana Laveen

  “Fuckin’ unbelievable!” the old man yelled, then burst in a fit of laughter. “This bedroom alone is the size of an apartment in some places. Wow! My son is a fuckin’ big shot!” On one wall hung a painting depicting wine bottles, lit cigars, and a lipstick-stained glass on a table, and red lace panties hanging from one of the chairs.

  “Another picture. I had no idea you were into art like this. This shit is nice, though. Provocative, but nice.” Dad stepped close to study it.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m particularly into art, like a collector or anything, but if something calls to me, then I want it.”

  “I take it this was expensive, too?”

  Nixon shrugged.

  “It was moderately priced. Nothing that broke the bank. That’s from a local artist named Luisa Francis. She’s really well known.”

  Dad noticed Nixon’s Satyr white stone statue, a recent purchase. The figure sat on a pedestal, holding a curly-haired naked Nymph in his arms and kissing her. His huge dick was extended, the tip inside the Nymph’s pussy as he passionately kissed her.

  “Nix, I think ya need some help, son. Almost every damn piece of artwork in this joint has some tits, a ding dong, or a fuckin’ beaver! Is that all ya think about?! I’ve failed you. You’re a fuckin’ pervert. Jesus…” Dad muttered.

  All Nixon could do was laugh his head off. The old man made his way over to the bathroom and peeked in.

  “Holy shit!” Dad hollered. Nixon remained in his bedroom, casually smoking his stogie. “Waterproof speakers in the wall! Look at these faucets and the shower head in this baby! Nix, you really are doin’ it up, big! Wow! I’ve got a serious question.” He came back out and paused, his brows furrowed as if everything was riding on his next words. “How can ya afford all this shit?! I mean, I know you make a good living, but this is crazy.”

  “My firm is one of the best in the city, so we’re able to charge larger fees than most of our competition. I also make great investments. I get a royalty check each month from some Jujitsu belts and rash guard shirts that are sold internationally, since I helped with the design and patented it.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Dad walked to the closet. Nixon was prepared to tell him not to open the doors. “I remember you tellin’ me about that now.” Dad reached for the handle slowly.

  “Yeah. As you know, I also made partner and my salary increased quite a bit… Please don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Go in my closet.”

  “Why? Ya got a dead body in there?” Dad chuckled.

  “No, but I have some things that are for my eyes only. Stuff I’d rather you not see.”

  They sized each other up. It wasn’t just the strange costumes his father may want him to explain, but he also had all manner of toys, masks, and BDSM props he’d used at The Cage. Private stuff. So that was off limits.

  “Fine.”

  “So, as I was saying, that’s how I was able to get this place. I also do contract work for smaller companies who don’t pay large retainers, but have me on the payroll as a kind of insurance policy should the need for a lawsuit arise. That way, it’s not as expensive since they’ve already been depositing money monthly. There are other things, too. I have multiple streams of income. For example, I offer online business advice for a small fee, and help law students through a subscription service set up through a number of universities. All of that combined gives me a really nice nest egg and spending budget.”

  “And you always send me the best birthday and Christmas gifts, and nice checks, too.” Dad smiled at him.

  Nixon knew his father wasn’t living in squalor. His wife made a decent wage, Dad’s mother had left him her assets after she died since he was the only living child at the time of her death, and he had his retirement fund Roth IRA and pension, too. Regardless, he wanted to ensure that his parents never had to worry about their bills being paid. As long as he had it, they had it. No questions asked.

  “Well, that pretty much concludes the house tour, Dad. There are a couple other smaller bathrooms and a few closets, but that’s about it. Let’s go have a drink and sit down by the fire.”

  Nixon switched off the bedroom light and led the way out. Dad sat down by the fireplace, while he set his cigar in an ashtray on the kitchen counter. He then poured himself a glass of Negroamaro and some sparkling grape juice in a champagne flute for his dad. He placed them on coasters on the coffee table, then sat across from him on the couch.

  “I’m proud of ya, Nix. I’ve always been proud of you…” Dad said after an extended silence. He looked down at his shoes. “I’m going to be honest with you, okay?”

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “Tonight was, uh… not what I expected.” The old man wrung his hands, shaking his head. The crow’s-feet around his eyes became more pronounced. “That’s why I haven’t been talking too much on our way here. I tried, but I’m tired, ya know, after being in that busy airport and plane ride and all. But I’m feelin’ a little strange right now.”

  “Why? Was it something I did or said? If so, let’s talk about it.”

  “No, it wasn’t you… wasn’t you at all.” Dad toed off his shoes. “You’ve been a good host. It was just seein’ your mother, all you kids… my grandkids… meetin’ your girlfriend. It was nice, you know? But it made me miss you guys even more. I know I was there, in the moment, but after I kissed and hugged everyone goodbye, I felt alone…” Dad shifted in his seat, then stared at the fire. “Speaking of your girlfriend, I can tell you really like Yasha, I mean, Yasmine. Shit! I can’t get her name right for nothin’.” Nix smiled. “She seems like a real nice lady, Nix.”

  “She is…”

  “Are you in love with her?” Dad looked at him out the corner of his eye, as if he couldn’t quite muster total eye contact just yet. An instrumental of Kodak Black’s ‘Like Dat’ played on low volume through the speakers.

  “Yeah. I am.”

  Dad nodded. “I knew that. I could tell. It’s important to have somebody to love, Nixon, and that the person loves ya back.” Dad kept staring into the fire. Nixon’s chest tightened at the sight of the flames dancing off his father’s face. “I had that with your mother.”

  “You don’t have that now?”

  A long time passed before Dad spoke again. The man reached for the cigar and placed it to his lips, nostrils flared.

  “Alice was the first woman I ever just looked at and fell to pieces for. Not to toot my own horn, but I had plenty of women, Nix. Women liked me, just like they like you. Like you, I had a lotta sex, too. This was back in the ‘70s though. I was wild back then… experimented a lot, too. Got out of the Marines and just was free to do whatever I wanted. This was all before meeting your mother, of course.” Nixon nodded in understanding. “I saw her at that party. I know I’ve told you and your siblings this story before, but it was an amazing night.”

  Dad smiled sadly as he leaned over and tapped the ashes off the cigar onto the ashtray. “I tell ya, it was love at first sight. She was really cute – such a sweet girl back then. Your mother always used to say things like she was average or plain. She never said it in a bad way though, more like in a matter-of-fact way, and the crazy part is that she didn’t care. She really didn’t. I told her she was wrong each and every time though. She was adorable to me. Beautiful eyes… She was the most confident woman I’d ever met – and her body? Jesus! I know you probably don’t wanna hear about all of that, but it’s true! She was built like no other!” Nix laughed lightly. “She wouldn’t let me get away with the stuff I’d gotten away with when I’d been with other women. And I liked that. We ended up gettin’ married and settling down and all of that stuff. Then you came along…”

  Dad drew hard on the cigar and placed it back down. Nixon debated offering him a joint, too, but thought better of it. “You were a surprise.” He snickered.

  “A surprise? Now that’s the first I’ve heard of that. No one ever told me I was a mistake. Well, some ex-girlfrien
ds have, but not you or Ma.” Nixon chuckled.

  “I mean, it happened so quick. It’s like we got married, then bam! She’s pregnant.” Dad laughed. “Three more kids, two houses, and five cars later… then a divorce… a damn divorce. I never saw it comin’, Nix. I knew we were having some issues. I knew your mother was complaining, telling me I didn’t listen, that I was difficult, all that shit. She’d told me she wanted space… that I was smothering her and that she was evolving. That was her favorite word.” He rolled his eyes. “Evolving. I thought it was another man. She swore it wasn’t. I asked if it was the drinking, so I promised her I’d try and slow down on it. She said it was too late for that and it was just one of many problems.

  “I slowed down on it anyway, but she was right, it didn’t matter anymore. I was hurtin’ real bad, Nix. It’s like, no matter what I did at that point, it wasn’t good enough.”

  “I had an ex-girlfriend tell me one time, Dad, that when a woman is fed up, that’s it. There’s nothing we can do about it. I tend to agree with that. Once they’ve gotten us out of their system, it’s pretty much a wrap. A woman has to be completely empty by the time that happens. It’s not even a blame game situation, a who did what sort of scenario. It’s just how she interprets what we did, how hurt she feels. Once they get to that point, that invisible area no one can see but them, that’s it. It’s really over. Men have that point, too. It just seems that we arrive much faster at that place than they do.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I consider myself well versed in the way women think.” His father’s interest was clearly piqued. “I know a lot about them. I’ve studied them since I was a kid. They intrigued me. I found them so different from me and my friends. I liked how they looked, how they spoke. I wanted to rein that in, seize it. I wanted to control that. I wanted to regulate that smile on their faces… be at the wheel. Something so beautiful and complicated… because they are quite complicated and could be manipulated, if you push the right buttons. I look at it like this. Every woman has a code, kind of like a password. Those passwords have a few of the same letters and numbers, but they are never duplicated. The similarity, however, is just enough to be able to tap in, you see? The myth that women don’t want sex, or are shyer about sex is just that, a myth. Sometimes they want it more than we do. I realized early on, Dad, that something I enjoyed I could use to get my way and control their mood at the same time. I hate seeing women cry, so when they would, I would turn away… Because I knew I was the reason.

  “I was aware that the walls I put up would have caused it. The barriers to keep them away was creating strife. My lack of commitment, too, or even sometimes my cruelty. I cause women to fall in love with me quickly. I know exactly what to do. I become who they want, and I do that shit very well.”

  “So, you’re acting? It’s all fake?” Dad asked, abhorrence in his tone.

  This is the turning point… How much of myself will I share with him? Will I open the door and let him enter? Honestly, this is a big part of my life. It is a 24/7 thing – because I am Raze the Satyr to some degree, throughout all of my waking hours. It’s not just sexual, it is a part of my personality. Dad wants to communicate. He has opened up to me and told me he felt lonely after the dinner party was over. That is major for him. He doesn’t say things like that typically. Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. Okay, I am going to take this slowly, and see how it goes. Dad obviously wants me to open up to him more. Here goes nothing…

  “No, not at all. It’s never an act. It’s who I am. See, I find women who actually like guys like me, Dad. There are women who crave to be dominated, especially by who they consider attractive, successful men. Not told what to do, not treated like shit, not beat up—no, no, that’s not sexy; that’s not what I do—this is consensual, and it happens behind closed doors, if you will.”

  The old man’s eyes lit up. He was finally catching on. “Our society is lacking alpha men right now. Now, there are guys thinking that cryin’ and acting like a pussy, being extra sensitive, will make a woman love them. Women say they want a man with sensitivity, but a lot of them actually don’t. What they actually want is someone who shuts up and listens to their problems, takes care of those problems, fucks them ruthlessly, and puts them in their fucking place without laying one damn hand on them. I’m that man. But, I have a critical flaw.”

  “Which is?” Dad took a sip of his juice.

  Nixon was perplexed yet intrigued by his father’s calm demeanor. He expected a bolder, contentious reaction.

  “The problem is I at times pair this with brutality.”

  “Brutality? What the hell are you doin’?”

  “I can be intentionally mean. It turns me on. I tend to do it when I feel like I am losing control of a situation. If I start feeling less appreciated, or the woman I am dating seems to be trying me, testing the waters, seeing how far she can push me, it upsets me. Women do that sometimes because they are in fact testing us, sometimes it is to receive incredible make-up sex, but sometimes it’s all in my mind, and I am man enough to admit that. I sometimes like to break people, Dad.”

  “Beat people up?”

  “Not so much physically. The daily home work-outs and martial arts pretty much take care of that desire, but mentally, intellectually and emotionally. I like to tear people to pieces. Find their faults, their weaknesses, and exploit them.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “It is.”

  “I bet that’s why you’re such a good lawyer, huh?”

  “Probably. Oddly enough though, I like to elevate people, too. I really like solving complications and helping people reach their goals. I’m an oxymoron. It’s a problem.” He reached for his glass of wine and took a sip. “It’s not how I should be operating. I know this from a logical standpoint. I know this isn’t something you do to someone you care about. I do care about the women I’ve done this to, but I do it anyway. It’s the darkness in me.”

  “Do you blame me or your mother for being like that, Nix? I’d like to think we were good parents, but nobody is perfect. The divorce maybe?” Nixon shook his head. “I made a lotta mistakes. I know the drinking probably affected you. I can admit that now; I don’t hold onto pride anymore… and I really have none left to hold onto.”

  Nix’s heart dropped to his feet. He’d never seen his father so open, so vulnerable.

  “You and Ma have nothing to do with this. No one put it there.” Nixon shrugged. “It just exists. I’m aware of it, so I try to watch it. That’s the best I can do. But it didn’t stop me from hurtin’ my share. After a while, once I realized what I was doing, I started listening to these motivational speeches. I would read self-help and psychology books, too. I started to identify myself in some of them and understand better what was going on with me. Most importantly though, I began to write little inspirational sayings on paper, and place them in a jar. Each morning, I pick one and read it. I’ve been doing that for a couple years now, and it really helps.” Dad nodded in understanding. “It helps me stay on track. I needed regulation. Some humanity. I needed to better control myself.”

  “Yeah, it’s good that you recognize what’s going on, and you found some relief, but why would ya wanna do some shit like that, Nix? If it wasn’t the divorce or my drinking, why would you want to intentionally lash out and hurt someone?”

  Nix searched for the words to form an answer.

  “Because I’m broken, Dad. Something in me is terrified of something I can’t even see, explain or identify. I just know how it feels when its near. Hurt people hurt people…”

  Dad sighed. “Have you ever been hurt by a woman?”

  Nixon took a moment to reply.

  “Upset? Yes. Disappointed? Sure. Hurt? No. I always kept things from going too deep. That way, if she wanted to leave, I might not like that, but not because I was heartbroken at the thought of her gone, but because I’d somehow lost control of the situation.”

  His father looked at him in a w
ay that said he was trying to figure him out, or perhaps he finally saw what many others had seen.

  That he could be a cold, ruthless son of a bitch…

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  God’s Gift to Mankind

  “Anyway, continue about Ma, Dad. We got off track. You left off with her telling you it was over.”

  “Yeah.” Dad hung his head, looking so pitiful. “It was too late. Just like she said. She started looking at me differently. Talking to me different. She didn’t wanna make love anymore. She wanted to go back to college, hang out with people I didn’t know. Things got strange. She… just didn’t want me anymore. She didn’t… She didn’t love me anymore. And I had to admit to myself that I didn’t feel the same way about her, either…” Dad’s voice trailed at the end, dying out like a flame being blown by a harsh gust of wind. “That was the hardest part, knowing I was no longer in love, and wanted to be. Isn’t that crazy? That’s a real hurtful thing…”

  Nix swallowed and picked up his wine glass, needing something to quell the sudden dryness in his mouth and throat. The liquid caught in his chest, spreading like fire.

  “Dad, I want to talk to you about something from when I was a kid.”

  “Yeah? This is a first.” The man smirked. “Usually you avoid discussions about the past like the plague. Go right ahead.”

  “All right.” Nixon cleared his throat. “When I was younger, I felt like you were a little tough on me, but it helped me in the long run. You and I had a difficult relationship and I still can’t even put into words why.”

  Dad placed his glass down and scratched his head.

  “I don’t have the answer, either. I do know though that you were nothin’ like your brother and sisters, or your friends. You confused me. Most guys want a son who’s into sports and is successful. A guy who is good to his parents and works hard, makes his own way in life. You were all of that, for the most part… Ya played basketball for a little bit there; you got into martial arts and really exceled at that. Your grades were good in school, but you kept to yourself more than I or your mother would’ve liked. We never really understood why’d you disappear to your room or outside, Lord only knew where, but that was really our only main concern – your tendency to self-isolate. And even with all of that, the trouble you’d get into, you were a good kid overall. I joke about the trouble you put me and your mother through is all.” He smiled nostalgically. “You were entertaining, that is for sure. One thing about you though that always struck me as odd was… oh, never mind.” Dad waved his hand.