Mean Tucker- the Bully

by Edwina Fort

  “Gary, why don’t you begin.”

  Gary was the nervous type, always looking for the next big thing. In my field, I’ve seen them all. If I had to guess, his drug of choice is cocaine. He needed a drug that could keep up with his ambition to have the next big record label, or real-estate franchise, or whatever it was that will help him get rich quick with the minimum amount of know-how.

  He stood and gave a nervous glance around the room, his gaze lingering on me. No doubt, his spidey-senses were tingling, something about cops and addicts…they can sniff them out like they can their drug of choice.

  “My name is Gary. I’m the CEO of Sexy Baby Records. My fast life requires many hours of the day and night, leaving me little time to rest. I was introduced to cocaine ten years ago and I’ve been riding the white horse ever since. However, thanks to Dr. Robinson, I’ve been clean for the last year.”

  The other fourteen men in the circle clapped for him as he took his seat.

  “Remember, Gary, your recovery has nothing to do with me. You made up your mind that you were taking control of your life… You made that decision, Gary, so, let’s give you a round of applause. You are the true hero.”

  My gaze went to Jackson and Asher when they started f*cking clapping again. Both of the bastards were sitting in the back with huge grins on their faces, enjoying the hell out of themselves at my misery. And on it went, one sappy ass story after another. When it finally got around to me again, I was fighting to stay awake.

  “Okay, Tucker…It’s your turn.”

  I tried to give her a look, pleading with her to move on, but she wouldn’t…she had her sweet hooks in me and she wasn’t letting up.

  Exhaling, I stood. “My name is Naphtali. I’m a cop.” As soon as I said that, all the other clients sat up on instant alert.

  Good, you bastards, that’s what the hell you get for boring me out of my f*cking mind.

  “I don’t have an addiction, I’m here because—”

  “The first step to recovery is having the courage and the strength to admit that you have a problem,” some dickhead said from my left. My angry gaze shot to his, he inhaled sharply and sealed his f*cking lips.

  “Like I was saying before this—”

  The doc clearing her throat brought my sentence to an end. “This is an open circle. I try and encourage you guys to encourage each other. Quincy was simply stating a well-known fact. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Please continue…”

  Dammit! I was f*cking up…I’m supposed to be different from the dickhead she knew in high school. Okay, let me try again.

  “Thank you for that, doc. Of course, you’re right.” My gaze went to Quincy’s b*tch ass. “Sorry about that, little buddy.” More chuckling came from behind me and I was one step from picking up my chair and hurling it at my two bastard friends.

  Quincy smiled and nodded. “That’s alright. We’re here for each other.”

  I take that back. I was one step away from picking up my chair and hurling it at this douchebag. Damn! I was beginning to sweat. This sh*t was going to be harder than I thought.

  I cleared my throat. “I have a problem with weed.”

  “WEED?!” an older guy who was missing a few teeth cried out. “Don’t tell me you in here for some mutha f*ckan WEED!”

  “Papa C! What is our policy about judgment?” Free admonished the older fella.

  “Yeah, I know, baby…but this mutha f*cka in here talkin’ ‘bout he had a problem with weed. That ain’t no mutha f*ckan problem! I got a problem! I used to be the daddy of fifty hoes. But because I couldn’t let go of the rock, neighboring pimps stole each one of them. Now, everybody call me the broke pimp. Ain’t that some sh*t?!”

  The broke pimp had Free good and ruffled. She went on to admonish him about his language and the way he was making me feel.

  “Naw, I’m good. I agree with my man,” I told her, then went on to give him some dap, ‘cause sh*t that’s the same thing I’d been saying. Out of all these saps here, Papa C was my favorite so far.

  “Alright, young blood, it ain’t no thang,” he said before he settled back down in his chair.

  “And who do you have with you today?” Free said gesturing to the terror’s cage at my feet, getting this sh*t show back on the road.

  My hesitant gaze lowered to the cage. “Who? This guy?”

  She smiled. “Yes, that guy.”

  I rubbed my hands down my face, really wanting to skip this part. This f*cking cat was the devil. Who knows what it’s going to do when I open this cage? He seems like the kind of bastard that would hold a grudge.

  “Hey, doc, can we skip this part? I’m not real comfortable…you know?”

  “I know, sweetheart, but this is a part of your healing. The only way to get comfortable with something is by doing it. So, take your time, we’re here for you.”

  I could feel Asher and Jackson boring holes in my back. I bet they were loving this sh*t. I reached down and grabbed the cage. F*ck it! Let’s get it done!

  “This is my pet kitty, I named him Grapefruit. He’s ummm…” I cleared my throat again. Sh*t! I was sweating. “He’s ummmm, helping me tap into my sensitive side to help—”

  Before I could finish, the two mutha f*ckas behind me exploded in f*cking laughter. My gaze shot to them. Both of them were laughing so hard they’d fallen over to the empty chairs next to them.

  “What the f--?!” I looked back at Free, waiting for her to say something to them or at the very least to kick them the f*ck out. When she didn’t do anything but sit and wait for me to continue, I gestured toward them.

  “Is this what we’re doing then? We’re allowing the supportive guests to laugh at the sensitive clients with the conditions?”

  Her gaze went behind me to Asher and Jackson, who were both wiping tears from their eyes. “Fellas, do you mind not laughing at Naphtali’s vulnerability? Grapefruit is a really good friend and support system for him. Let’s not make him feel bad for embracing that.”

  It took the f*ckers a minute, but eventually, they got their sh*t together. “Okay, you’re right. We won’t laugh at Tuck’s Fruity-“ Jackson began, but couldn’t finish because he was still f*cking laughing at me. I swear, when this was over, I was going to kick both of their asses.

  “Grapefruit, punk! His name is Grapefruit!” I growled, but that only made the assholes laugh harder.

  Free’s beautiful eyes came back to me. “Go ahead, Tucker, let us meet Grapefruit.”

  After shooting one more murderous glance behind me, I opened the cage. As I was reaching in, a horrible screeching sound emitted from it before a small, hand-size furball with claws shot out of it straight at my face.

  “Arrrggghhh! Sh*t!!!” I yelled as it then proceeded to use those razor-sharp claws, trying to shred me to pieces, moving faster than I could see, circling my head, neck, arms, and chest.

  Free

  Oh! God! Give me the strength! I can’t believe what I was seeing. This is so worth it. If I lose my practice tomorrow, seeing my bully get his butt kicked by a baby kitten was well worth it. Now I can die happy.

  I wish you guys were here to see this with your own eyes. I know I will never be able to do it justice trying to describe it. Mean Tuck was yelling and doing this little jerky dance as the kitten sheathed his claws in another piece of his flesh. He was knocking over chairs and everything as he tried to get Grapefruit off of him.

  “Shoot this mutha f*cka, J!” he yelled.

  My mouth opened in a laugh that I could not let go of in front of my patients. And dear God, it was killing me. No, I’m serious, I was getting ready to die…I couldn’t breathe!

  Help me! Oh my God!!!! Help Meeeee!!!!

  My gaze went to Jackson and Asher, but I don’t know why I did that. The both of them were laughing so hard Asher had fallen out of his chair and Jackson held up his cellphone recording the spectacle Tucker’s big self made trying to dislodge the angry little kitty. But he was laughing s
o hard there is no way that will be good footage.

  I’m a doctor, I can’t laugh in front of my clients…But help me, I need something or I was going to die.

  Papa C handed me one of the files from the desk next to him. Desperately, I reached for it, holding it up in front of my face, so that nobody could see the tears coming out of my eyes as I tried but failed to hold in my laughter.

  “Damn, player! You need to get yo’ sh*t together.” Papa C told Tucker as he tried to see the best way he could help him. Papa C was the only one not laughing at him, everybody else was in tears.

  Tucker snatched off his shirt, trying to get to the kitty that had somehow worked its way underneath it. He wore a gun holster over his tank top. When I saw him reach and grab his gun, I made my move.

  “Come here, Grapefruit.” I cooed to the kitty, plucking him off Tucker’s back, sheltering him in my arms.

  “Put him down, baby, I’m going to shoot it!” Naphtali yelled aiming his gun at him. I turned around so that my back was between them. The little furball burrowed into my arms shaking badly.

  “Put your gun away, you’re scaring him.”

  Tucker looked at me as if I’d gone crazy. “Scaring it?! Do you see this sh*t?!” He held out his beautifully muscled arms that were now covered in about a hundred little red welts.

  Jackson and Asher were laughing so loud they were drowning out Tucker’s heavy breathing. Jackson was asking for a ventilator. I know the feeling, I had to get out of here before I blew.

  “I’m going to take the kitty to my office until things cool down.” I hurried out of the room, if I looked back at Tucker, I wasn’t going to make it. As soon as I closed my office door, I collapsed on the couch and had a really good laugh.

  Oh my God! I haven’t laughed this good in a long time. Grapefruit had cuddled up next to me and nodded off, his fight with Naphtali tuckering him completely out. It’s official, this kitty is my favorite being in the whole world.

  It took me about ten minutes to get myself together. I left Grapefruit napping on the couch as I made my way back into the meeting room. Everything seemed back to normal…Well, as much as it could get.

  Tucker had put his shirt back on and now sported a few bandages on his face, neck, and arms. My other clients who sat in the circle with him stared straight forward, no doubt afraid to laugh at him now that the kitty wasn’t occupying his time.

  However, Jackson and Asher did not share their fear and still quietly laughed amongst themselves. Both of their heads were bowed as they looked down at Jackson’s phone. Every now and again, one of them would throw their heads back and chuckle, only to catch a mean glare from Tucker.

  Okay, Free, you can do this without laughing. You are a professional. I ran my hand down my skirt, using the roughness of the wool against my palms to help keep my mind off what I’d just seen.

  “Alright, now that everything is back to normal, our hour is almost up. But before we go, you will need to pick your support buddy.”

  His irritated gaze came to me and I almost lost it. I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing.

  “Support buddy?”

  Poor baby, he was afraid of what I had in store for him next. Now, this is the point in the story where you should insert the evil laugh, because hell yeah, I had plenty in store for him.

  However, this wasn’t a part of it. “Yeah, a support buddy is someone you can call to talk you off the ledge. You find yourself wanting to smoke, you call your support buddy. They will be your strength and talk you down. Some of our support buddies have formed great friendships. Sometimes they just go for a walk with each other or maybe to the bar for a little drink. Maybe they catch a show…” I gestured to Melvin and Ryan.

  “Melvin and Ryan catch the baseball game together from time to time.”

  Both Melvin and Ryan quickly looked away, not wanting to make eye contact and I instantly got a bad feeling. And although something told me to not press the issue, I forged on.

  “Now, who has room in their group for Naphtali? I know many of you may look at marijuana as no big deal, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth with someone who desires to quit smoking.”

  When no one volunteered, I started calling on people. “George, how about you and Douglas?”

  George’s nervous gaze went to Naphtali, who looked up at him and growled. He shook his head rapidly. “Ummm, no, doc, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Douglas and I just learned how to tolerate each other. We don’t want to sully the waters by throwing in another personality too soon.”

  “Okay, well how about you, Papa C?”

  Instead of answering my question, Papa C followed with a question. "Say, baby, how about you be his support buddy? Can’t you see his big ass makes everybody else nervous as hell? What you want to do, be the reason most of these mutha f*ckas start doping again?”

  It was now Tucker who wore a grin. “Papa C, I think that’s a great idea,” he told him, doing that little fist bump with the older man. Out of all the folks in this group, he would take to the ex-pimp.

  “It ain’t nothing to it, young blood.”

  I rolled my eyes before shaking my head. “No, I’m sorry. That’s not going to work. The traditional way of doing that is to have the patients be there to support the patients.”

  Tucker’s intense gaze settled on me. “Yeah, but didn’t you just say, you don’t do things the conventional way?” He gestured to Jackson and Asher, who were now all ears in back of him.

  “Isn’t that why you let these two assholes in?”

  Papa C chuckled. “Well damn, doc, I think he has you there.”

  Crap! I think he’s right! There is no way I can speak my way around this without looking like a huge hypocrite.

  I am so screwed!

  “I mean, yeah, it’s no big deal. I can be an ear when you need one.”

  Tucker’s grin turned evil. It was the grin of my nightmares. It was the grin he’d worn on his face every time he tormented me.

  “Indeed…” was all he said.

  Oh God! I am so screwed…

  Chapter 6

  The Daisy Report

  Free

  April 9, 1972

  I met with Daisy today for two full hours. Her parents are worried that her depression is going to lead to a suicide attempt. Tuesday night, they found her in bed clutching her stomach in intense agony, yelling that the labor pains have begun. When I questioned if it was possible she could be pregnant, they both strongly denied it, seeming to be convinced Daisy is still a virgin. I suggested her parents take her to get examined for sexual activity to err on the side of caution. Daisy’s gynecologist confirmed her hymen is still intact.

  When I questioned Daisy about her behavior three nights ago and what she meant by the labor pains have begun, she responded with her typical answer, that she doesn’t remember saying it or even being in pain.

  There has to be a way to crack through the barrier she’s erected. I’m just somehow overlooking it.

  April 11, 1972

  Daisy is losing weight at a rapid pace. She refuses to eat unless forced and her parents fear that she will not survive to see her seventeenth birthday. Her parents are also concerned about the bookbag of supplies they found in her closet. They said it appears as if she is planning for a camping trip.

  When I asked Daisy about the bag, she said she had to be ready. I wanted to question her further but decided against it. Patience is needed if I’m ever to build trust between the two of us. It is a slow journey but one that is growing.

  Daisy is by far the phenomenal of my career. It will be my studies of her that will finally get me noticed by Dr. Baxter. I just know it!

  April 27, 1972

  To my disappointment, Daisy seemed happier today when her mother brought her in to see me. Although I’m not proud of this, I administered her 20cc’s of phenacetin to encourage the imbalance between the cholinergic and serotonergic mechanisms in Daisy’s brain, thus causing her to fe
el depressed again.

  May God forgive me. I know this is wrong, but the last thing I need is for her parents to believe she is on the mend and reduce our session time. I cannot lose my hold on Daisy. If my suspicions are correct about her, she could be the missing link to help us discover exactly what happened to the 7th Special Forces group on the night of Feb 22, 1969 in the Saigon jungle.

  May 6, 1972

  Dr. Baxter has rejected my studies on Daisy and believes them to be a waste of time. I doubt he even gave them any real thought. If I was a man or better yet a white man, he would have welcomed my research. I don’t know who the bigger oppressor of the black woman is, our own black men or white folk…

  No!

  I can’t give up, I believe so strongly in what I’ve found, that I’m willing to stake my whole career on it. One day, Dr. Baxter will see and then he will reward me greatly for it.

  May 14, 1972

  I am gaining Daisy’s trust. For the first time, she‘s opened up to me and spoke about the man with no shoes that visits her in her dreams. I believe this to be the same man that visited the 7th Special Forces group on the night of Feb 22, 1969 in Saigon, the night Sergeant Major James Bennet Law was changed.

  I have yet to make the connection between Daisy and Sergeant Major Law, but I believe that if I work with her a little longer, she will help us to understand what happened in the Saigon jungle on the night of Feb 22.

  May 18, 1972

  Daisy’s brain seems to be fighting the side effects of the phenacetin, thus making her parents feel as if she has become a normal teen. They’ve already decided to cut back our sessions to once a month. I offered to see her free of charge, but they’re more worried about the stigma that comes with having a daughter who sees a psychiatrist places on their family.