In the Nick of Time (64 page)

“What’s wrong?” She took another sip of the frosty bottled water.

He looked away, out the window, his ears listening to the sounds of the passing cars and the sidewalks filled with people walking fast to arrive nowhere.

“Gotta call from Captain O’Sullivan… He wants me to come back sooner than I thought…a week earlier.”

“That’s great, Nick! You wanted to get back into the swing of things, right?”

He looked in her direction, leaned back in his seat, and briefly closed his eyes as if he could barely muster the strength to answer her right then, and possibly never.

“Yeah, you know that I do…”

She sat right beside him, lifting her hip up a bit and covering part of his leg. “Nick, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but this is what you wanted. I’d even go as far as to say that this is what you need. What is the problem?” She wrapped her arm around his own, tugging at him, bringing him closer as he continued to stare off into the distance.

“I’m afraid I’ll let them all down, Taryn.”

He sighed, hating how the words sounded coming out of his mouth. Frailty was a monster with a huge mouth that enjoyed exploiting its prey, making a mockery of all his best intentions.

“Oh, I see.” She nodded, leaned back in her seat and tucked her foot underneath herself. “Because you are a perfectionist when it comes to your job, you actually are concerned about the stigma, that people won’t think you’ve got what it takes.”

He slowly turned towards her, his brows bunched ever so slightly. The woman was picking at him… picking hard.

“That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just reading between the lines.”

He stared at the lady a good while.

“That’s not it…” He turned back away and melted into a series of daydreams, leaving her in a way, putting space between them. Those sticky, icky feelings began to creep and crawl up his spine until they surrounded his heart in preparation of taking the bastard down.

“What is it then? I don’t mind being wrong.”

He could hear the air of confidence in her voice.

Is she right?

He pondered it briefly, then threw her a glance over his shoulder. “It’s possible that you’re right,” was all he offered, catching her expression morph into a smirk.

“Look, Nick, you are just as capable, actually more so now post treatment. All of these doubts floating around in your head—you gotta push those out of the way! You can’t let all that negative shit inside of here,” she said, pointing to her temple. “Stop it. You’re beyond it. You’re over and above it. You said yourself that your boss is a tough guy, doesn’t mess around. If he is saying he wants you back,” she shrugged, her brows bunched, “then hell! Believe him!”

“You’re right.” With a sigh, he leaned back further onto the couch and crossed his arms, looking straight ahead at a black flat screen television. “You’re absolutely right.” Crossing his legs, he slid his index finger under his nose and fell upon more deliberations…

“I’ll tell you what another thing is, you know, the big thing that has me a little screwed up. I think they’ll just keep me on my beat.”

“Okay, and why is that a problem?” She gently caressed his ear, causing a tickling sensation mixed with a bit of soothing, too.

He turned towards her, his expression lazy, his heart guarded, though it beat somewhat faster.

“I want it
so
bad, baby… I’m pretty sure I was about to be promoted to homicide detective. That’s what I
really
want to do. I was on my way. I knew I’d never make it at the rate I was going though; I’d flush my chance right down the damn toilet. It takes a certain type of person to work homicide day in and day out. You’ve got families depending on you; you’ve got a D.O.A. that you can’t interview, but you better try and get justice for them, and that’s an adrenaline rush for me. I like chasing, hunting.” His eyes narrowed. “I like finding answers. I like for a mothafucker to hide, and for me to seek them out. I
love
that shit…I
live
for it. But, no matter how you cut it, I’m going to be looked at with suspicion, like, ‘Is he usin’ again? Is he getting drunk again?’ I can’t worry about that though… You’re right. I can’t control another man’s thoughts.” He shrugged as he turned away from her, only to be drawn back into her magic touch with a caress from her hand on his shoulder.

“Nick, they can think whatever they want. As my grandfather used to say, ‘I can show you better than tell you.’ I refuse to sit back and watch you stab your dream in the face.”

He looked at her and cracked a smile. A faint wisp of a laugh escaped his mouth and he had no idea where it originated from, but it felt good.

“Stab a dream in the face, huh?” He leaned over to her, gripped the back of her head, and brought her in for a kiss…

Damn, her lips taste sweet, like sugar cookies…

Reluctantly releasing her, he hooked her gaze. “Let’s go get the rest of your stuff,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Sit your ass down.” She chuckled as she stood, pulled her sweater down, and yawned. “I told you I’ve got this.”

“You don’t have
shit
.” He laughed as he pointed to all of the boxes. “You’re not going to fill this place with a bunch of designer clothes and girly shit. Why in hell do you have so much stuff?” He walked to his hallway closet to hang up his jacket, and prepared to help the woman regardless of her continued protests.

“You’re just jealous!” She grinned as she trailed behind him. “You have a nice place here, but it has no flair. What would you do without me?”

“Have more closet and counter space…” He grabbed a box cutter from out of a junk drawer and placed it on the kitchen table.

“Oh yeah? You are sooooo funny.” She rolled her eyes as she sauntered past him. Grabbing his keys, he stuffed them in his back pocket as he closed the door behind them.

“Where is this truck at, huh? I’m going to charge you five dollars a box, you hoarder.”

“You’ll end up taking my ass to court.” She giggled as they made their way outside to the moving truck parked right in front of the place.

“You know you aren’t supposed to be parked there; you’ll get towed. We better hurry up.” He opened the back of the thing and was relieved to see only a few more items. Reaching for what appeared to be the largest and heaviest box, he grunted as he bear hugged the thing and made his way back towards his place. “What the hell is in here, Taryn?!”

“My hopes and dreams…”

“Well, in that case, I’ll help you carry them no matter how long it takes you…”

He couldn’t help but like what she’d said, love it real tight and strong.

I can dig that… hopes and dreams should always be big and bulky, taking over every damned thing. Yeah, dream big, baby… Warrior Princess dreams, they sparkle yet cut. They are weapons of mass construction. Construct it, baby… build it, and I’ll help you… You’re going to tell me what it is you want. You’re going to tell me and we’ll build it brick by brick; we’ll build each other back up from ground zero all the way until we reach the top…

I
t was one
of those days when odd yet familiar scents floated about in the air, taking him to a place filled with well-worn memories of yesteryear. The aroma of maple syrup wafted in the wind as he tugged at his dark green hoodie, hiding himself from the world in a strange sort of way. Taryn had finally landed a small gig after she’d already decided to switch directions. She finally admitted that she did have a firm plan, but it required a presentation of sorts, and she’d be sure to share it with him. He rolled his eyes at her stalling methods, but found it comical all the same. Funny how things turned out…

Wanting the money, she went on and conceded, did the advertisements. He was so damn proud of her that he bought her a large bouquet of red roses, yet that didn’t explain the pink bouquet he’d bought her the day before he knew… He didn’t need an excuse to spoil her; he simply loved doing it. Parking a block away to ensure he got a bit of fresh air, he made his way toward Livonia Avenue. Keeping his head a bit down, he contemplated buying a bottle of ice cold water and made a mental grocery list, when he saw someone humped over in the distance, sitting on the steps of an old, light blue row house.

He looks familiar…

He wasn’t certain if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but as his sneakers continued to smack the concrete to an uneven beat, and he gained leverage, his vision proved to be 20/20…

“Diego? Oh shit!” His mouth split into a big grin as he reached the house. “Diego! Man!”

The guy immediately looked up, stopped speaking on his cell phone, and stared him in the eye.

“Oh shit, I gotta go, man. You won’t believe who I’m looking at!” The short guy in an over-sized light brown T-shirt and slouchy jeans disconnected his call and got to his feet, standing on green and white sneakers. Nick opened the lopsided gate that squeaked as he pushed it forward and they raced towards one another, slapped hands, and held tight in a warm embrace.

“What tha hell you doing out here, man?! I ain’t seen you in like five years, man!” Diego cracked a smile, exposing several missing teeth. Nick’s smile gradually faded as he looked deep into the man’s dark, haunting eyes…

Oh no, he’s on some shit…

His heart sank down low, drowned in a pool of pity.

He exhaled, pushed past it, and kept on.

“I was just taking a walk, believe it or not. I try to get a little exercise every now and again.”

“Seems to me you’d be getting
plenty
of exercise chasin’ mothafuckas up and down the block.” The guy laughed heartily.

“Actually man, I’ve been outta work for a while.” He swallowed, deciding to bite the bullet and tell the guy. Hell, pride had no room here, and though he wasn’t trying to be anyone’s savior, monsters simply weren’t allowed; the least he could do is share his story. “Some shit happened… some real messed up shit.”

“Word? You get fired, man?”

“Not quite. I had a problem with alcohol and drugs.” He paused, scratched the back of his head, and continued. “I was in rehab, man. Just got out not too long ago and I start work again in a few weeks.”

“For real, man?” Diego’s eyes glistened as he observed him, no doubt making assessments and forming opinions, some of which may have been accurate, others that begged for correction. Nevertheless, it didn’t matter. He’d told the truth.

“I’m not ashamed of it, man. I just needed to get some help is all, before things got even worse.”

Diego slumped back down on the porch, almost as if the wind had been knocked out of him, as if he couldn’t afford to stand any longer. The man rolled his tongue around in his mouth as if tasting something sour. He ran his grimy hand along the side of his face, his fingernails caked with dirt. Diego was Jonathan’s little brother… the little boy they ran from, told to shoo… He used to follow Jonathan everywhere, making himself a damn pest, but he was as much a part of their clan as all the other official members.

“Diego, I want you to know that I think about Jonathan every damn day. I mean that. The shit haunted me, man. I loved him so much.” His eyes watered.