In the Nick of Time (68 page)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said stiffly.

Nick dramatically rolled his eyes, looked over at nothing in particular then focused his attention again on the guy.

“Just stop, seriously. You said you wanted to know me, to find out what I’m up to and all of that, so be quiet and let me tell you. This isn’t a courtroom, but you treated me like some accomplice to murder. I don’t appreciate it.”

“Nick, please calm down. I’d like to apologize for my husband if he offended you…”

He looked over his shoulder at the woman, and smiled.

“In order for me to have been offended, Mrs. Brown, I’d have needed to have higher expectations… I didn’t.” She shot him a look of utter surprise just before he turned back towards the man. “Now, back to what I was saying. As a child, I watched my best friend get murdered in one of the cruelest ways you can imagine. I was covered in his blood for several hours and will never forget it. I saw three people die from gunshot wounds before I’d reached age ten. I knew what gun smoke smelled like and the noises a guy makes before he takes his last breath.” He plucked an odd looking orange colored drink from the tray, examined it for a second or two, then took a taste…

“This is really good.” At his grin, Taryn laughed ever so lightly, though he could hear a slight tinge of nervousness in her tone as she soothingly caressed his shoulder.

“Anyway, I also stole a lot, Mr. Jones. Not a candy bar every now and again like many children have done; no, I was a professional. I was lifting cameras, video gaming systems, bikes, expensive jackets, rare car parts, jewelry, you name it. I’d gotten so good at it that big time gang members were hiring me to lift things for them, too. There were women that would pay me a little something to lift high-priced underwear from the fancy boutiques, perfumes… like the kind your beautiful wife is wearing. Anyway, I had guys that would give me a list of parts they needed for their televisions and music systems. I was good at taking things apart and putting them back together, too. That was key. This way, I could break something down in the bathroom of a department store and have it fit in my damn jacket pockets by the time I walked out of there.” He took a deep breath.

“I was quite good at it, but once I got into drinking heavily, my work became sloppy. I don’t know what day it was when I became an alcoholic, Mr. Jones, but considering the road I was going on, it was destiny. It happened in my teenage year, that’s for sure, and it messed me up. I didn’t stake an area as well, and that ended up being my undoing, but it also saved my life. You see, someone finally cared about me, gave a shit. That someone, a young man at the time, is now dead, Mr. Jones. He didn’t see me the way
you
do. He saw the potential in me. He didn’t see where I was, but where I could be going.”

The man’s chest rose and fell a bit faster now; he was clearly irritated.

Nick’s lips curved upward, pleased with his handiwork as he continued on.

Squirm, motherfucker…

“His name was Frederic. He was my mentor. He didn’t think I was trash because of where I grew up. He earned my respect in five minutes…” His eyes narrowed on the man as he pushed the fruity drink away, not wanting anything sweet to pair with such a sour mood. “He helped me, and was probably the closest thing to a father figure that I’d ever had. You know.” He shrugged. “People like you, Mr. Jones, hear this story, and instead of thinking, ‘That thief was resilient. What if he used those skills for something positive, he’d be unstoppable?!’, you’d think, ‘He’s sneaky, untrustworthy and will never amount to anything.’ Instead of seeing that I just needed someone to give a damn and show me a better way, you’d think, ‘He’s a bad seed.’ Instead of looking past where I grew up, the father I
didn’t
have—you see that as my fault, my ruination, and let it define me.

“I’m an alcoholic and a drug addict just like you said, Mr. Jones. I am those things because I never dealt with some of the stuff I just shared with you. It ate at me, festered. When you have that sort of stuff inside of you,” he said, pointing at his chest, “it builds up like vomit in your gut, but never comes out. You think you’re okay, but you’re not… and before you know it, your entire life is one big, stinking mess. I grew up in a place where boys didn’t cry. You didn’t complain, you acted hard and tough even if you were scared shitless. Because of people like
you
, Mr. Jones, a lot of boys like
me
back then didn’t make it. Luckily…” He widened his smile, forcing himself to feel his anger, but not let it control him. “Your opinion doesn’t matter because I’m a grown man and you’re no better or worse than me.” He got to his feet, slid his jacket on, and zipped it up.

“I’m a damn good cop, addict ’nd all, and I am a good boyfriend to your daughter, too. I treat this woman with respect.” He hitched his thumb in her direction. “I love her and would
never
do anything to hurt her and should I become that jerk that causes her a moment of pain, I’d leave her. That’s my promise to you and your wife. I love her
just
that much!”

Just then, the front door opened and a tall man with a dark green beanie hat entered the dwelling. His smile was whiter than freshly fallen snow, but soon faded like tiny leaves in the wilderness on a pitch-black night.

“Damn.” The guy burst out laughing, slowly slipping the hat off his head and clutching it with both hands over his crotch. “Did someone die in here? Why is everyone looking so serious?” The man drew closer, tugging at his thick black coat as he slipped it down his arm and removed it.

“Uh, this is my brother, Robert Jr., Nick. This is Bobby.”

Nick waved lazily at the guy. “Nice to meet you Bobby…”

“Robert,” their father barked. “Hold on, I was just having a conversation with this person… It’s almost over.” His tone grated, covered in layers of rudeness only the heartless could concoct.

Nick had heard enough. “You’re right, Mr. Jones, it
is
almost over. I don’t need your approval. I only care about what
one
person in this room thinks of me, and it’s
not
you. In case you’re still clueless, it’s this woman right here.” He pointed to Taryn. “I need to get out of here before I say something
you’ll
regret, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“I’m leaving too. It’s about time!” Taryn huffed, shooting a glare at her father. “We should have left after the first nasty comment. Dad, I will
never
forget this! How could you?!” she stated between gritted teeth.

“Taryn, I only—”

“Mom, I’ll call you later.”

The older woman nodded, kept a prim and proper demeanor, but something unspoken simmered under the surface, like a poisonous spider lying in wait beneath the folds of a cottony sleeping bag.

“But what about me? I just got here!” Bobby explained as he grabbed Nick’s arm while he marched past. The two paused, stared into one another’s eyes, and gave each other a quick shake. He looked over at Taryn who was now frantically moving about the place, tossing on her jacket and slinging her purse over her shoulder fast as could be.

“You and I will have time to talk later, I promise.”

“But what about brunch?” Mrs. Brown called out as she stood to her feet, seemingly wishing to salvage the tattered threads of the day. “Nick, please don’t go… seriously.”

“It’s best that I do, Mrs. Brown, and as far as brunch,” he said with a shrug, “I don’t have much of an appetite now.” He sneered at the older man before turning to walk towards the front door. “Something turned my stomach, and I just don’t like the taste of pompous pie…”

Score: 0 for the nasty, internal monster, 1 for Nick. Case closed…

H
e hated how
she looked at him. The woman he’d loved for over thirty years lay in the bed, her body rigid as if she were a damn corpse, gripping a hardbound copy of the latest Jackie Collins book. Her blood red nail polish gleamed in the dim lighting, while her pale pink frilly gown from some second rate catalog covered all of her secret, lovely assets. He called that getup the attire of death—the very same that held up a big, glaring stop sign to any physical advancements or sexual inclinations he may conjure. He sucked in air as he turned his back to her, only to hear her slam the book closed then place her eyeglasses down onto their thick, cream-of-wheat-colored sheets.

“Now that the doozy of a day is done,” she said with a sigh, “let’s talk about the events.” He heard her shift, and the sound of her glass of iced water being lifted from her nightstand. As always, the tumbler had two slices of fresh lime floating amongst the icy chunks. He kept turned away from her, not in the mood to hear the groundwork she laid for an argument of the Gladys kind. But nothing compared to the scowl across his daughter’s face earlier in the day. Taryn had given him such a horrid look, he’d never forget it, but he had to stick to his convictions! Who in their right mind would want such a thing for their child?

Finally, he faced her, slicking his hands in his navy and white pinstriped robe with nautical embellishments….but he was captain of a sinking ship.

“What do you want to talk about, Gladys?”

Yes, I’ll not acknowledge what she’s digging for. This never works, but I’m tired, not in the mood for any of this crap this evening. I did nothing wrong…

The woman dropped her head ever so slightly as her eyes drew dull like an old schoolroom chalkboard and narrowed into cobra like slits.

“Don’t mess with me, Robert.” Hers was the tone that snowcaps were formed upon. She set her glass down, faced him head on as she clasped her hands across her lap…the lap his head should have been lying on… Better yet, his lips should be nestled between her heated thighs. Even in her anger, she stoked his fire, made him ignite like spontaneous combustion of the passionate kind. But, his thoughts were yanked back like a dog on a leash as her voice cut through him, each vowel like a heated knife thrust into his mushy, soft dreams.

“You know
damn
well what I want to talk about! Why did you do that to that man?!”

“Oh, please! Someone had to say something.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s this turn around about, huh? Gladys, you felt the same way I did! We discussed this before he came over,” he yelled as he beat the backside of his right hand into his left palm. “Someone had to say something, damn it!”

“And thank Heavens you were there for the cause!” She sucked her teeth and turned away.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this! I defended our daughter, Gladys! What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it all and pretend like he is an upstanding member of the community?”

“Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘You get more bees with honey’?” She lulled back abruptly onto the bed, her head slumping down onto a fluffy pillow in exasperation. “Robert, you talked
down
to that man like he was some trash. Where’s your class? You sat there like you didn’t understand anything he said—not one word. It was hard to watch.” She briefly closed her eyes.

“And may I ask why?” He put his hand on his hip, barely holding onto his composure.