Sinful Suspense Box Set (47 page)

“Interesting analogy.” I leaned back in the chair. “I guess that’s what it feels like.”

She flipped through the folder. “Let’s switch topics. Tell me about the accident where you broke your leg.”

“Wow, another fun topic.” I inadvertently rubbed my leg, something I did whenever I thought about it. It still pained me when the weather was cold or when I’d done some strenuous exercise. “Not much to tell. I was riding my dirt bike, having a good time, as always. You can really lose yourself when you’re flying on one of those bikes, you know? I took off and knew before I even hit that I was going down. Blacked out. When I woke there were a lot of strange faces peering down at me with tight mouths and creased brows. The pain was so fucking bad, I couldn’t actually pinpoint where it was coming from.” I looked back at the farm picture. Sugar was right. It would be cool. “I knew it had to be bad because the red lights of the ambulance were getting closer. I remember moving my toes because liquid was sloshing around in my riding boot. Then I felt something hard like a tree branch sticking into my leg and I thought, shit, I landed on a tree. Turned out to be the femur jutting through my skin.”

“Christ.” She sat back looking a few shades whiter and possibly regretting that she’d dug into this topic. “I guess anyone could forgive you for getting hooked on painkillers.”

“Forgive? Nah. My dad thought I was weak for needing them for so long.”

“They are highly addictive, Tommy. You have nothing to reproach yourself for there.”

“I don’t know about that, but they sure helped me get through it. The physical therapy was pure torture, but they got me walking again.”

“I occasionally catch a slight limp, but I have to say you’ve mended well. Compound fracture of the femur is a horrid injury.” She finished the juice and stared at the empty glass. “I’m not big on eating oranges, too much work, but I love the juice.” She put the glass down. “Tommy, tell me about the boy on your team, Alex Yardley.”

I stared at her across the desk. “Shit, my dad really didn’t leave out any details, did he?”

“Actually, he left out a lot.” She closed up the folder, and I wished it meant that we were done. “I was hoping you’d fill in some holes.”

“I beat the shit out of the guy. What’s there to say?”

“You were in the locker room at school, right? Did this fight happen before the broken leg?”

“Yeah, it was after practice. I was training after my knee injury, training reluctantly. My dad had basically told me I had to play again or he was shipping me off to some quasi-military school. It was one of those ‘tough love’ schools to straighten me out. My dad was good at one-sided negotiations. I guess that is why he’s so successful. Give your opponent options, just make sure the options suck.”

“You consider your dad an opponent?”

I sighed. “Look, I know you’re always looking for that magic ticket to treatment town and I know you think it’s my dad. Yeah, we had a pretty contentious relationship. He was pissed because he couldn’t control me like he had everything else in his life, and I was pissed that nothing I ever did was good enough. I was a shitty student, mostly because school bored me, and bad grades kept me out of the one thing I was good at, sports.”

“But you played football.”

“Yep. Sometimes, if you’re talented enough, grades can be overlooked or changed.”

“So, because of your abilities on the field, you passed all your classes?”

“C’mon, you know this happens all the time. Lots of shit gets overlooked when you’re the star quarterback.”

She stared down at my folder. “Like beating another kid to a pulp?”

Kirkendall was fueled with ammo today. It was as if she’d decided just to light all the fucking fuses at once and see which stick of dynamite went off first.

“Alex Yardley was a senior who outweighed me by fifty pounds. I was just barely sixteen. I’d basically screwed him out of his position on the team by being better, a lot better. The guy hated me, and I hated him. He knew I had a stutter, and he made a point of calling me T-T-Tommy. I ignored him most of the time but, you know, if you let things stew long enough, shit boils over. We were in the locker room. Coach Higgins was in his office. Alex started telling me that the only reason I was playing first string was because my dad had bought me the position.”

Kirkendall’s eyes widened. “Was that true?”

I shook my head. “Nah, Alex just wanted it to be true.”

“Of course, you have to understand where the guy was coming from. Someone much younger had outplayed him. That had to be a hit to his ego and being an athlete—”

“What are you trying to say, Doc? That we jocks have monstrous egos?” I laughed.

She smiled and shrugged. “Finish the story. So, you were in the locker room—”

“I was just getting dressed and he walked over from his locker and shoved me real hard. I smacked into the locker and that was it. I turned around and just started pounding him.” The words came out smoothly, as if I’d practiced this version in my head.

“And the coach?”

Another fuse. “What about him?”

“You said he was in his office.”

“I know he was there. He had this annoying habit of snapping the gum in his mouth. Always had a mouthful of it and he would chew it like a fucking cow with cud. He’d snap it over and over like some stupid kid.”

“He didn’t intervene?” she asked.

I looked over at the farm picture again and wondered what Sugar was up to and what Kirkendall and Julian had been talking about that had made him leave looking like a man turned to stone.

“Tommy?” she asked, bringing me back to the discussion.

“I t-t-told you,” the stutter made the chill in my tone seem almost laughable, “I was his sophomore prize. His gift from the fucking football gods.”

She knew the nerve had been struck. This session was over. The office walls were closing in on me, and I needed a smoke. Kirkendall stared at me across the desk for a second. “I think we got a lot done today, Tommy. You can go.”

Chapter 10

Sugar’s long legs
caught my attention, as they usually did. She was wearing jean cut offs that were so frayed, tufts of white thread dangled sensually around the tops of her thighs. She was leaned over a helium tank blowing up a red balloon. I stood behind her for a second, taking advantage of the view, until she sensed me there. She tied a knot in the balloon.

“Working on a new profession for when you break out of this place?” I asked.

She smiled. “Nope, they’re actually part of my escape plan. I’m not going to break out. I’m just going to float out under a cluster of helium balloons.”

Sugar was one of the few girls I knew who could match my sarcasm with her own.

She picked up a blue balloon and yanked the end over the spout. “Nurse Greene was given the task of filling hundreds of balloons for visitor’s day, and she was really stressing about getting it done along with her regular work.”

“Let me guess. You volunteered to help her.”

She turned the nozzle and the balloon inflated. “With the stipulation that I don’t inhale the helium.”

“Damn, there go my plans for a helium high.” I walked over to the counter. “Where is Nurse Greene?”

“At lunch, I think.”

I picked up a bunch of balloons from the pile on the counter. “This is a lot of friggin’ balloons.” I glanced through the front doors. The sun was blaring outside and heat was rolling up off the white cement paths. I grabbed a handful of balloons. “Follow me.”

“Tommy, I need those. Where are you going?” She followed as I headed outside and toward the garden.

There was a half decent sound system on the covered patio that was only turned on for special outdoor events. I walked over and turned on the radio, found a decent station and cranked it. I figured it would take people on the inside awhile to figure out that I’d switched it on. The music rolled across the neatly mowed grass and grounds.

I clutched the balloons in my fist and strolled across to the garden. I picked up the hose and pulled a balloon over the end. I filled it with water. Sugar grinned. She reached back and tied her hair up in a loose bun. She tied the balloons off as I filled them. Fifteen minutes later, we had a stockpile of colorful water balloons and a crowd gathered across the front window to watch. Nurse Greene must have still been eating lunch because she hadn’t come out to turn down the music. ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ blasted across the grounds.

“Hey, Sugar, I dropped a balloon on the way over here. Could you go get it?”

My beautiful accomplice spun around and walked across the lawn to the lone yellow balloon. She bent over to pick it up. As she turned back around I heaved a water balloon at her. It broke on her shoulder. Water dripped down her white t-shirt.

“Why, look at that,” I said. “You’re wearing a pink bra under that shirt.”

She looked down at her wet t-shirt and laughed. Then she lifted her blue smiling gaze to me and raced toward the pile of water balloons. She plucked up several and ran after me. One hit my hand and the other missed and bounced past me. It didn’t break, so I plucked it up like a football and heaved it at her. She screamed with laughter as it broke on her hip.

The first brave person out the door was Harold. I could have guessed he’d be the first out. But Jayleen and Mandy weren’t far behind. Everyone armed themselves and found strategic locations to stand where they could duck out of the way of flying balloons and still peg an opponent. Minutes later, Pete, Lawson and another ward assistant had joined us. Colorful water bombs were arcing through the air and being lobbed from behind benches and trees. At one point, Pete and I teamed together to corner Lawson. Then we both pelted him good. I high-fived Pete and, wearing a rare grin, he nodded to me. Residents who I barely ever saw, who kept mostly to their rooms, came out of hibernation. Music thrummed across the yard and mixed with the wild bouts of laughter and the splats of breaking balloons.

Nurse Greene walked out and put her hands on her hips. “What the heck is going on?” We ignored her and continued with the water balloon fight. The sun was hot, but most everyone was soaked, making it, suddenly, not so unbearable. Greene marched out on her petite little nurse shoes, dropped the shoes next to the pile of balloons and picked up a water bomb. She looked straight at me. I ran. At the ball game, she’d proven to have a damn good arm. She raced after me on bare feet. I’d managed to stay completely out of the way of any balloons. I ran a fast weaving pattern across the grass and then turned around to taunt her. She hurled the balloon at me and I ducked. It flew over my head. I heard it splat behind me. Nurse Greene’s eyes went wide, and everyone stopped. I turned around. Dr. Kirkendall was standing behind me. One side of her blouse was soaking wet. She blinked at me.

“You were looking for a way to get everyone outside,” I said.

She nodded and twisted her bottom lip as if she was trying to figure out what to do next. Then she slipped off her shoes and leaned down to pick them up. “You are going down, Tommy Jameson.” She glanced around at everyone else who still held their balloons waiting to see if the fun was over. “Look at all of you,” she said. “You’re all soaking wet. Anyone else notice that Tommy is completely dry?”

Sugar was standing nearby, drenched from head to toe. She tossed a balloon back and forth in her hands. “Now that you mention it.”

There was a mass migration to the ammo pile. Seconds later, I was running across the grass dodging balloons. A twinge of pain shot through my bad leg, but no one could catch me. I still had it, that speed and agility that’d made me skilled on the football field. I circled around the yard with a parade of residents and staff dripping and laughing and yelling maneuvers to each other.

“We’ve got to corner him,” Kirkendall yelled.

I ran for the giant mulberry. Its trunk was wide enough to duck behind, while I caught my breath. I slid behind it and poked my head around the trunk. They were all descending upon me with colorful ammo and determined expressions. I glanced back toward the building. It was my only chance.

“Suckers!” I yelled at them, and was just about to make a dash for the building when a water balloon dropped directly on my head. Everyone laughed. Water dripped down my face and hair. I peered up at the branches above.

Julian was sitting on one of the thick branches, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Dude, you’re supposed to have my back,” I said.

“I’ve got it, Tommy. But that was just too tempting.”

I was pelted with water balloons from every direction. Smacking me with the balloons seemed to make everyone’s smiles widen even more.

We spent the next thirty minutes picking up the broken balloon pieces. No one turned down the music, and the laughter lasted way past the clean-up. Kirkendall walked up next to me.

“I can see why you were a star quarterback. You are fast. Thank you for that, Tommy.”

“Sometimes the best therapy is just doing the stuff that makes you smile, the stuff that reminds you why it’s good to be alive.”

She stopped. Her proper white blouse, which was no doubt dry clean only, was soaking wet and her expensive shoes were clutched in her hands along with the collected balloon pieces. “Maybe you should sit on the other side of my desk next time.”

“Nah, that’s all right. But next time you need an idea to get everyone outside, let me know.”

Chapter 11

While we’d shrunk
the balloon supply some, there were still plenty of them hovering in clusters around the yard and in the dining hall, where a spread of food and cakes had been set up. Some of the residents seemed pleased to have visitors, and others, like Sugar, seemed uptight about it. She’d taken her mom outside to sit on the benches and eat their plates of food. Her mom was, like Sugar had mentioned, pretty. But she didn’t have that same quality that Sugar had. No doubt the woman could turn heads in a crowded room, but Sugar could turn heads and stop conversations.

Julian and I were about the only two people who had no visitors. He had taken a small plate to his room, letting me know with just a shake of his head that he didn’t really feel like company. I’d seen his father twice. He had enough clout to visit whenever he pleased, and he’d shown up two times since I’d been at Green Willow. His father looked all business, not a humorous or charming bone in his body. The kind of man who would consider laughter and fun a complete waste of time. Not the type of guy you would ever sit down and just have a beer and chat with. He was thin and fastidiously dressed, not a hair out of place. Both times, I remembered watching Julian with his dad, thinking they looked like two complete strangers together, awkward and uncomfortable, as if they’d just been introduced as father and son.

I grabbed a plate of food and headed back to my room with it. I set the plate on my nightstand and flopped down on my bed. My phone rang. Visitor days, holidays and birthdays were the days when they allowed us phone privileges. The rooms were equipped with an intercom to the nurse’s station and a red button to push for emergencies, but that was it. I guess they figured, for most of us, family and relationship issues were at the heart of a lot of our problems and addictions. No phones helped control possible problems.

It was my dad. I considered not answering it for the first three rings and then picked it up.

“Hey, Dad.”

There was a pause. “How are you, Tommy?”

“I’m good. What’s new out on the sunny west coast?”

“Not too much. Your sisters both came into town with their families. A little reunion of sorts.” A reunion that of course didn’t include me, the black ink spot on the sparkling Jameson family. My two sisters, Katherine and Marilyn, were older than me. They’d been close with each other growing up, and they’d both been the shining examples of kids that my dad had expected, honor students, college graduates and married to even more shining examples of spouses. Although, I personally thought Marilyn’s husband, Raymond, was a creep. But he made big money and they lived in a giant house in Texas. So, he was all right in my dad’s eyes.

“Everyone doing all right?” I asked. This was our usual conversation. Shallow shit that I really couldn’t care less about. While Kirkendall liked to dig deep, my dad and I liked to stay above the surface, where the waters were smooth, non-committal. I cared that everyone was well and happy, but I didn’t have much interest in their lives. Just as my sisters had sort of written me off too. Katherine had worried for a long while about me and had spent a good amount of time trying, in her own way, to lead me on a better path with sisterly advice. But most of it had fallen on deaf ears. After a point, she’d given up on me. About the same time I’d given up on myself.

“Great. Everyone is great. Kyle and Jenny are growing tall.” Silence dropped in between us as if that was it. We’d covered sisters and grandkids, and now, we were without a topic. He cleared his throat. “Listen, Tommy, I’m sorry that I didn’t get out there for visitor’s day.” My dad sounding contrite happened about as often as a snowstorm in Los Angeles.

“No problem. I didn’t expect it, so nothing to be sorry about.” As hard as I tried to keep the edge of anger from my tone, it came out anyhow.

“Tom, really, I had meant to come out. I had the ticket and everything, but I had this little episode.”

“Episode? What do you mean?”

“It turned out to be nothing. I’m fine.”

“Dad, what fucking episode?”

“Some unexplained weakness on my right side. Doctors thought it might be my heart, but I had tests and everything is still ticking inside.” He chuckled, but I could tell it had him worried.

“But everything is all right?” This time, I couldn’t keep the worry from my tone and that’s when it hit me. I was worried. My dad and I had been battling each other for years, always straining to get along to the point that sometimes I’d convinced myself that I hated the man. But then he brought up his episode, and doctors and his heart, and it scared the shit out of me.

“It’s all good, Tommy.” He was silent again, and my heart raced, afraid that he might drop another bomb on me. “We just need to focus on getting you well and home, son. We need to straighten out all these problems. I won’t be around forever.” I won’t be around forever. The words circled my head. They were words every parent or grandparent told the kids, just to remind them that death waited for everyone.

“I’m working on it, Dad. I’m working on getting my head straight.” This time it was my half-sad chuckle bouncing through the phone. “It’s pretty twisted up, though. I managed to tangle myself up pretty good.”

“I take some blame for that.” Contrite twice in the same conversation. That
episode
had really nailed my old man to the wall. “I needed to listen more when you needed me to pay attention. I was just always so preoccupied with business and . . . ” He paused. “No, I won’t give excuses. I need to stop the excuses. I’ve been seeing a therapist too.” This was turning out to be one hell of a phone call.

“Yeah? That’s good, I guess.”

“Listen, Tommy, I’ve got a call on the other line. I’ll be out there to visit next time. Get your head clear and start thinking about a future.” I knew he meant a future with his company, but I ignored that for now. His tone was different, and I hadn’t minded talking to him for these last few seconds. Something that was rare. I wasn’t going to let his final reminder that I had no real future at the moment ruin that.

“Take care of yourself, Dad. Give Mom a kiss for me. Bye.” I stared at the phone for a moment. He’d had one of those scares that made you suddenly realize that your time on Earth is finite. And from the way he was talking, it’d kicked him hard enough in the ass to make him rethink some things. Don’t pull a Kirkendall and over think this, I reminded myself. Once the shock of his health scare waned, he’d be right back to his old self.

My food was cold now. I picked up the plate. What I needed more than anything was a smoke. I returned my untouched plate to the dining room and stepped out into the yard. A wispy carpet of clouds had drifted in, blotting out some of the sun but managing to trap the moist heat left behind from the morning.

Jayleen was sitting with her parents under the shade of the mulberry, and Harold was on his usual bench with an older woman, a sister maybe or a girlfriend. He’d told me he had never gotten married or had kids. Sugar sat with her mother on the bench near the garden. Her mother’s hair was dark coffee brown and she’d stuck on big round sunglasses. Sugar had her arms crossed, and her shoulders looked small as if she was curling them into a sulky posture. She was facing away from me, so I couldn’t see her face, which was probably good because I hated seeing Sugar upset.

I headed out to my rubber mat island. As expected, it was empty of visitors. There was a small retaining wall on one side to keep the grass and the rubber separate. I leaned against it and lit my cigarette. Jayleen and her family had given up on the humid heat and walked inside. Harold and his friend remained deep in conversation, and Sugar and her mom seemed to have stopped talking. Or, at least, Sugar seemed to have taken herself out of the chat. She was leaning against the back of the bench staring absently around the yard as her mom held up her end of the visit by talking.

I wondered, briefly, what Julian was up to alone in his room. I knew that when he wasn’t in the mood to talk, there was no way to jolly him into a conversation. He would snap out of his funk eventually.

I looked over at Sugar again. She looked miserable. She hadn’t looked my direction once, and I wasn’t completely sure she knew I was outside.

The paper-thin clouds had thickened into a stormy looking sky. The wind had picked up, and the tang of electricity filled the air. A summer thunderstorm seemed inevitable.

From the angle I sat, I could see into the parking lot. It was filled today because of all the visitors, but I could see Frank standing near his yellow car talking on his cell phone. Just as I noticed him, he seemed to notice me as well. He turned away from me as if I could read lips or as if I was the slightest bit interested in his conversation. He looked like the kind of guy who people stayed friends with just because they were too afraid not to. And Jayleen thought I looked menacing. The guy looked as if he could throw a fist through a brick wall and then eat the broken chunks for lunch. He finished his call and swiped his card through the security box on the gate. He headed my direction.

I put the cigarette to my mouth and watched him lumber across the yard.

He stopped a few feet away and stared at me. “Put out the smoke, now.” If we’d been standing in a bar or at a football game, the cloud of tension hanging between us would have morphed into a full on fist fight. But he was one of those guys who wouldn’t even be worth the trouble of a brawl. One thing was definite— Julian sure as hell was right about the guy.

“Yep.” I took another slow hit before extinguishing the cigarette on the wall.

He continued to watch me, his scarred chin jutting just enough to try and coax me to hit him.

“Anything else?” I asked. The first crack of thunder broke the silence of the yard.

He turned and walked away without answering. Sugar’s mom stood from the bench, but Sugar remained sitting, crossed arms and all. Her mom struggled across the lawn in her spiky heels. She said something to Frank. He turned and walked her to the gate to let her out.

Frank walked toward Sugar, but she jumped up from the bench and strode past him as if he was invisible. He watched for a second as she walked toward me. Then he turned and headed back to the building.

Drops of warm rain pelted my head. Sugar’s face was turned down. Then she lifted it and looked at me across the yard. Her walk turned to a run. I didn’t see the tears until she was right in front of me. Without a word, she pressed herself against me. My arms went around her.

“Anything you need to talk about?” My words were nearly drowned out by the heavy drops plinking off the rubber mats.

She shook her head without pulling her face away from my chest. “Nope. This is all I need, the rain and the thunder and your arms and everything will be fine.”

I tightened my hold on her. Group sessions, one-on-one therapy, prescription drugs, half-hearted apologies from my dad—fuck them all. All I needed to make things right was the girl tucked inside my arms.