No More Mr. Nice Guy (11 page)

“Congratulations, Mr. Monroe.” The director of the Suffolk County Alcohol and Drug outpatient treatment facility shook my hand after I'd completed all of the paperwork and fully enrolled in their ninety-day program.

I liked this guy already. I had come into the place really nervous, but when he shared the story of his own struggle with alcoholism and how he'd managed to turn his life around to help others get sober, it put me at ease. In his words, “When it comes to sobriety, you can't keep it if you don't give it away.”

“So, I will be here on Monday morning for my first session,” I agreed. That was the plan he'd laid out for me.

“And you will attend thirty meetings in your first thirty days, where you will get that form signed by the secretary of the meeting. This includes a random breathalyzer test three times a week to make sure that you are staying sober.”

I shook my head. “Yes, sir. I'm really looking forward to a new life as a clean and sober person.”

“It works if you work it. Like I said earlier, this program isn't magic. You will get out of it exactly what you put into it. People come in here and make all kinds of excuses, but the ones who succeed are the people that take complete responsibility for their sobriety, and that includes all of their past actions. Cleaning up the wreckage of your past is the only way an addict can stay sober and have a future. Mr. Monroe, I certainly hope that you are one of the people who can work this program.” He handed back my insurance card.

As I tucked it in my wallet, I felt like something had already changed in me. “Mr. Walker, I can assure you that I'm done drinking and using anything that gets in the way of me living my life. My nephew just returned home from the service, and I'm so proud of him, but I want to make him proud of me.”

“All right. Then I'll see you Monday at ten for our first group meeting,” he told me as I stood up to leave. “Oh, and Mr. Monroe, a lot of people leave after signing up, and then they immediately go out and have what they think will be their last drink, drug, or whatever. A lot of those people never make it back here.”

“Yeah, well, that's not going to be my story,” I promised him.

When I got to my car carrying the AA big book, a meeting list, and the agreement I'd signed, I really did intend to be one of the success stories, although I had to admit I was already feeling a bit shaky at the thought of an alcohol-free life.

I had been in there for a few hours, and it was close to six. Tanya would be home from work by now, and I had the urge to go see her. She always made me feel better without even knowing how bad I'd actually been feeling. Something about that girl just did it for me.

I sent her a text:
You around? I was thinking of stopping by. Maybe we can grab a bite
.

C'mon over was her immediate response.

I already felt a whole lot better as I drove over to her place. There was nothing better than a woman who wasn't afraid to let you know she was into you and didn't play games.

Her place was in a rougher part of Wyandanch, actually worse than the projects, but I knew it was all she could afford on her part-time salary. She was looking for another position, but it was hard out there, and she was grateful for the job she had.

I texted her again.
Need anything
?

I always wanted to be the gentleman, except when it came to the bedroom. Then I didn't play by anybody's rules.

Her response put a big smile on my face.
Bring yourself. You're all I need
.

By the time I arrived at her door, any semblance of worry I'd had about putting my life back together slipped away, and I was feeling like I could conquer the world. She opened the door wearing a huge smile and a sexy-ass baby doll dress. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, and I was more than happy to return the favor, holding onto her waist as we moved inside her apartment.

“Damn, girl, you're really making me miss you, and I just got here.”

“I'm glad you decided to stop by,” she said, grinning up at me.

“Not nearly as glad as I am,” I told her as I took her hand and led her over to the couch. I wanted to talk with her, connect, and not just get down to the sex business. I already knew we were good in bed, and now I wanted to make sure I was right and that we were good outside the bedroom.

As soon as she sat down, she popped back up. “Where did I put my manners? I have a bottle of red zin in the fridge. Let me pour us a couple of glasses. Shake off this Friday thing and get into the TGIF mode.”

As soon as she mentioned the wine, I felt myself salivating for a taste. Just a little taste. But then I started thinking about what Mr. Walker told me about that last drink, and I knew that if I let myself drink a glass, it would only be the first of many this weekend. Suddenly, I knew that I didn't want that. I wanted to show up to that place on Monday, and that meant not taking any risks.

I put my hand on her arm, slowing her down. “Nah, you have a drink. Actually, I made the decision today that if I'm going to be the man I need to be for myself, for my family, and for you, I'm gonna need to stop drinking. I want to get my job back, and one of the conditions is I have to complete this alcohol program for three months. Truth is, I want to stop drinking 'cause it hasn't led to anything positive for me.”

Tanya looked down at me and gave me the sweetest smile. “Cool. If you're not drinking, then I'm not drinking.”

“Really? You don't have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to,” she said as she sat down beside me again. “Besides, there are a whole lot of other things we can do together that are much better.”

I found myself looking deeply into her eyes and thanking God.

“How did I get so lucky? Already you're make this decision a lot less hard.” This girl was almost too good to be true. She was making me feel things I hadn't felt in a long time.

“Maybe I'm the lucky one.” Tanya turned serious. “Look, I'm not some naïve little girl. I been out there, and most guys I meet are full of shit. They got all kinds of other women and way too much baby mama drama. Soon as they start talking, I can tell everything out of they mouths is just secrets and lies. Or they want to control me and tell me what to do, like I'm twelve and ain't been running my own life for all these years. I mean, it's rare to meet a nice guy. The other stuff is extra if you have a nice guy who ain't screwing everything that moves or try'na take advantage of you.

“Willie, you make me feel good about myself, and that's important. When I call you, I know you're happy to hear my voice, and when you say you're going to do something, you follow through.”

I swear her words made me puff up with pride, something I hadn't felt in a long time.

I took her hands in mine. “We're both lucky.”

The kiss she laid on me only confirmed what I already knew: This girl was a keeper.

Niles had passed almost every test we'd given him with flying colors, proving to many that he was better than most of our agents before he'd even taken on an assignment in the field. However, I wasn't training him to be better than most agents; I was training him to be the best agent, so it was time to show him how the job really worked, or better yet, how I expected it to work. That lesson was never easy.

I'd brought Niles to the Shops at Columbus Circle, intent on killing two birds with one stone. First, a lesson on sub-diversion, and then another kind of social lesson would follow. However watching him struggle with his first assignment had me quickly running out of patience. I hung back and watched him attempt to do it again. Fail. Fail again. Epic fucking failure! Did I mention that patience was not my strong suit?

“Shit!” He seethed under his breath, rubbing his neck after a woman smacked him upside the head for touching her inappropriately.

“See, you're not paying attention.” I actually laughed out loud when he walked back over to me, which only made him angrier. Like him, no one would ever accuse me of playing well with others, probably because I found most people inept. “Perfect opportunity to get that runaway temper under control, Niles. You have to stop caring what other people think of you.”

“That's easy for you to say. You didn't just bomb a simple test for the twentieth time today,” he snapped, though I knew he was more pissed off by his own ineptitude than by my teasing.

“Easy? Is that what you think? None of this is easy. For your information, it took me three months to master that simple task consistently, and that was after I worked at it every fucking day,” I admitted. “So if you think you're supposed to be perfect in two and a half weeks, then you need to check your ego.”

“Three months? Nah, you're messing with me.”

I supposed I was flattered that he considered me so talented, but he needed a reality check so he would stop getting frustrated every time he didn't get something right the first time. “Do I really look like I'm messing with you? Mr. Monroe, I intend to ride you hard, and I'm not going to show any mercy, so if I were you, I would grow a tougher skin. Hell, I thought you project kids were tough.”

“Oh, fuck you! I'm not from the projects,” he protested. “I grew up in a house just like you. And I promise that if it took you three months to do it, then it'll take me a month. You got that?” he said, stepping up to the challenge just like I wanted him to.

“I hear you. Now let me show you how to do it,” I told him in a not so pleasant tone. This wasn't friendship; it was business, and nothing bothered me more than anyone getting in the way of me handling mine.

“Let me try again. I can do it!” he said, his eyes blazing. Obviously this boy did not like to fail at anything. I really was going to have to teach my new associate how to handle his emotions. “Bridget, I can do it,” he said again when I didn't step out of his way.

“Just relax. I want you to watch and learn,” I whispered as I moved away from him and walked through the doors of Sephora. The makeup and beauty emporium proved to be the perfect place for this lesson. There were lots of customers, and the place was full of mirrors, with people poised to catch everything. Picking up a tube of Bobbi Brown mascara, I held it next to my eye, as if I were checking for the color. Then I walked over to three women who were basically playing with lipstick. I slid past them, leaving something behind for each one of them. I turned to Niles and headed out of the store, but only after I was sure he had seen my handiwork. Each of the three women had a tiny red dot of paper stuck dead center on the back of her neck, and not one of them had noticed a thing. Niles gave me a look like he refused to be impressed, but I knew he was.

“You have to concentrate and use an easy touch. Not everything is about brute force,” I chastised.

“I could have done that,” he said, pouting. Such a man. They always hate to be outdone by a woman. Well, he would have to get used to that, because I was so much better at my work than most boys.

“No, you couldn't and you didn't, but you will before I am done with you,” I assured him, expecting another smart-ass reply.

“Hopefully that will be soon,” he said.

“Well, if you keep fucking up, then I won't have any need for you and you can go back to jail and live out the rest of your life. I hear you can get a degree and everything Upstate.” I knew I shouldn't have said it, but I needed to motivate him.

“You think you know so much about me? Well, you don't. Jail doesn't scare me,” he said, his voice full of bravado.

“Maybe not, but your mother spending the rest of her days in Creedmoor sure as hell does. And as far as what I know; I know that you don't belong in Wyandanch any more than I belong in Arkansas on that little farm. I get that you're not happy with how this went down, but I don't have time or interest in any more excuses or apologies. If you want the life and the freedom that this job is going to afford you, then you have to let go of this piss-ass bitterness and be willing to learn from me. What I can promise is that you will not be disappointed. You will be prepared in every way possible for the job at hand.”

I stepped away to give him—well, truthfully, to give me a moment. I really needed this guy, but there was no way I could do this without him wanting to be a part of it. He needed to commit fully so that I could help him get to the next level.

“Okay. What's next?” Niles asked as he came to stand next to me.

“Right this way,” I told him, concealing just how relieved I was.

He trailed me up the escalator to the fourth floor. I stopped at the doorway to Thomas Keller's Per Se, one of the highest rated restaurants in New York. It was a foodie paradise, and this was where I planned to help refine Niles's palate. I stepped back and allowed him to open the door, and we went inside.

“Ms. St. John, welcome back. Right this way.” The hostess led us through the restaurant and into the private dining room. It was here that I planned to help Niles prepare for his work with me. “Mr. Flaubert will be with you shortly.”

After she left, Niles turned to me, looking confused. “You're taking me out to eat? I thought you had more work for me to do. Why are we wasting time at lunch?”

“In this position, you will be entertaining and entertained by world-traveled individuals. If you use the wrong fork or suggest the incorrect wine with a meal, it will blow your cover, and that slip could cost you your life. Those are not chances we are going to take. Mr. Flaubert is one of the best etiquette specialists in the world. He has been a butler for some of the royal families in Europe, but with all the nouveau riche in America, he does quite well here. Afterward, Andre, the sommelier, will teach you everything you need to know about wine.”

“Are you kidding?” He seemed to think I was playing some kind of joke on him.

“The people that we deal with are not just common criminals. Many of them are well-bred, international criminal masterminds. In order for you to infiltrate these businesses, you need to appear as worldly and untouchable as one of them—like James Fucking Bond, if you need a visual. That means you will learn to eat, drink, and live as if you were born with a twenty-four-karat golden spoon in your mouth. Learning to love certain delicacies may prove harder than you ever imagined. Trust me. Try eating cow balls with a smile on your face. I know it sounds disgusting, and it was, but I did it. I hadn't even tried sushi when I got this job, and now, the rarer or the rawer the better.”

“You're serious?”

“Yes, you weren't hired simply because you know how to kill people, Mr. Monroe. Lots of people know how to kill, and they're not as hard to convince. Your IQ test numbers qualify you to join Mensa, and your aptitude to read people beat mine, which is off the charts. So you see, some would say that you were firing on all pistons.”

He didn't say anything, but I noticed an immediate change in his body language. He sat up straighter, as if he were mentally preparing to do this. I'd spent the day wondering if I had made the right choice, but something told me that Niles Monroe was born for this position, and once he accepted it, his potential would be limitless.