URBAN: Chosen By A Kingpin (79 page)

Michael seemed a bit dumbfounded and out of breath. He grabbed his knees, and then sat on the ground before speaking.

“Yes, you did! But I’ll get you next time!”

“Nope, never Michael! This is my course and I am the best at it. Sorry dude, but this is not college track, this is the big leagues!”

“Aw, you are going to go there?” He laughed. “I got to give it to you Tara, you are Superbad! Hail to the queen!”

She was amused. She was ecstatic that she had won, but most importantly she was just happy.

“Water?” She offered him her bottle.

“Thanks! That is the one thing I forgot!” He swallowed hard and long. “Ah, thank you!”

“You know you really need to stand up and stretch before your muscles tighten up.”

“I guess you forgot, I did run track in college, but, Ohhhh,” He said as he stood up. “These old legs aren’t what they used to be.”

“I didn’t know you ran track. You should have wiped me out man! You are getting old.”

“Insults, oh my, you are something else.”

Tara laughed. “No, I’m not. I was just kidding with you. I am beat, really. It’s been weeks since I’ve tackled this course, so this being your first time was quite impressive.”

She took a seat next to Michael and took a swig from her water bottle.

“Can I ask you something Tara?

“Yeah, sure.”

“Why no kids? You’re young and in great shape and Blake seems to be able to hold his own.”

Tara thought inwardly, deeply and wondered if she really should reveal to this man, this stranger what she hated to admit to herself. She had told no one of her and Blake’s agreement; she pretty much blocked it out of her mind to save herself from the heartbreak. Now he was asking her the one thing that she never could conceive.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m okay with that.”

“No, it’s cool. It’s not something I have talked about with anyone, not even my family and don’t get me wrong…it’s not so bad that I can’t talk about it. I just think people wouldn’t understand.”

‘Understand what?”

“Why we didn’t have children…why we won’t.”

“Won’t. You mean to tell me you and Blake have made a conscious decision not to have children or is there a problem where you all can’t?”

Tara thought before she answered. She didn’t want to betray her husband or his feelings, nor did she want to put her business on front street.

“When we got married Blake expressed to me that he didn’t want children. He didn’t want his kids to go through what he went through. I listened, and I took in what he said because at the time I didn’t know what I wanted. I was too young to think about children. I was a child myself, but now I think about it all the time. I think I want it, but it’s something that is a deal breaker for us and I think that because his mom doesn’t want any bi-racial grandkids inheriting the family fortune.”

“Wow!”

Silence.

“It’s all good. I’m happy. I have everything I want or need at my asking. I refuse to be depressed or long for anything, especially with all that I have been blessed with.”

“You Tara are an angel and I mean it in the most sincere way, but your mother-in-law is a bitch and sorry, Blake is a punk!”

She pushed him.

“Stop! How can you say that about your supposedly best friend?”

“It’s the truth. Nobody wants to hear the truth. Nobody pays attention to it. But no matter what you do or don’t do, the truth always rises to the top.”

It’s not what she wanted to hear and a far cry of what she needed to hear but she appreciated his frankness and honesty.

“How about you? Kids, wife?”

“Yes, but such a long time ago. So long ago I have to remind myself that I had that connection once.”

“What happened? Ya’ll divorced?”

“No, not at all. We were just beginning. Everything was good…you know the best. I married not too long after college to a hometown girl that stole my heart. I didn’t have anything and she didn’t have anything so there was no expectation. We built our brickhouse on love. A year later our son was born, Miles. I was a big Jazz lover, so we named him after Miles Davis. I know strange. Miles was 6 months old and we were traveling to Ohio to visit family for the holidays when we….”

Tara reached over and touched his leg.

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. I do. There are not many people I am able to share this with, not many people I want to. Like I said we were heading to Ohio, Miles was strapped up in his car seat, Dot was riding shot gun and we were just happy, you know singing Christmas songs, enjoying the drive when we hit what I think was a sheet of ice. I think I lost control of the car, and we spinned and the car accelerated. There was nothing I could do to stop it or slow it down. Dot was screaming, Miles was screaming…I was screaming, but no amount of screaming could stop what was happening. Then there was silence and next booms, screeching and more booms. I woke up in a ditch surrounded by darkness and the sound of wheels reverberating. I couldn’t see the car, but I could hear it. I couldn’t see anything because my eyes were covered in my own blood and I could only see through the very small slits of my eyes. It was a struggle to get off the ground, to get moving at all, but all I could think about was my wife and Miles. Where were they? Were they okay?”

“Stop.” Tara said. “You don’t have to say anymore.”

“I do. I do Tara, because if I don’t get this out right now I swear I’m going to die. I crawled on all fours to the edge of the highway, near the car. Snow was falling hard, and if it wasn’t the site of the most devastating scene in my life, I may have considered it quite peaceful. As I reached the car I feared the worst. The car was on its side and on the pavement laid my son. Dot was still in the car, both dead. I was supposed to save them. I was supposed to protect him. I should have died too!”

Tara was overwhelmed with emotion and did what only she knew to do. She hugged him as he cried.

“I’m sorry, so sorry Michael, but you must believe, it’s wasn’t your fault.”

***

Michael waved goodbye to Tara. This had been quite the emotional debacle, something he hadn’t planned and yet it seemed to play right into his hands. She was like an angel of mercy, and appeared far more beautiful than he had ever seen. The moment they shared would never be forgotten, in fact every chance he got he would thank her and remind her of her kindness. He liked when she said it wasn’t his fault. She couldn’t be more right
.

It wasn’t his fault, that belonged to someone else and he would surely make them pay, perhaps with their own lives.

***

Back at the house Eleanor was waiting on her daughter-in-law. Blake had convinced her to use Tara for the annual New Year’s Eve Fashion Show. Tara had the experience and could probably help them out with new ideas. Eleanor reluctantly agreed. As much as she wanted to prove her son wrong, she knew if she didn’t play nice at least some of the time, that little bitch would win.

“Kati! Where did she say she was going? I’ve been waiting here for nearly an hour now!”

“She is running, exercising Ma’am that is what she does daily. Can I get you something Mrs. Fitzgerald?”

“No,” she waved Kati off. “It’s disrespectful and I really don’t think I’m going to have her work for me at all. Keeping people waiting like we have nothing else to do.” She labored on when the door finally opened and Tara entered.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald! What are you doing here?”

The shock on Tara’s face was very real, knowing the Mrs. the way she does and that situation earlier with Michael wasn’t something she could readily explain nor defend.

Mrs. Fitzgerald wrinkled up her nose and placed her gloved hand beneath it. “Perhaps you should go cleanup first. That is an awful odor you are wearing and not fit for human or beast. I can’t understand for the life of me how you so-called pretty girls want to be just like men, sweaty and dirty in the name of fit bodies. If you want a fit body, stop eating!”

“Ah, there she go…” Tara was thinking. Hitting below the belt again, this woman who stank regularly of mothballs and stale perfume, something somebody probably died in. She was as close to the grave as most of her friends and yet she seemed to be the one always pointing fingers.

“That could be good advice for some, but I prefer to eat, keep toned, work out as much as possible, thus creating a healthy mind and spirit, you know for that day when I get pregnant.”

Tara watched in amusement as Eleanor’s face shriveled up into a grimace that would rival the Grinch.

“You will not! That has been taken care of and you know that you ungrateful wench! I don’t need you for the fashion show or any other thing. God! Being in the presence of such filth makes me ill to my stomach. Kati!”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Call my driver. I’m ready to go. Now!”

She turned on her heels much like the evil witch of the west and out the door she was, but not before issuing one more insult.

“You my dear are so far beneath me I stomped you while you were in your mother’s womb. How my son could ever desire to be with you, let along marry you is still baffling and insulting. I promise you this; your reign here will be short lived and done before you know it.”

Tara laughed hard. Despite the hurtful words, she found this to be such an act, a complete dramedy.

She rushed to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She needed more than just her wit to shut down Blake’s mother.

“It’s so sad that you left your broom, you could have been home by now dear mother, you and your flying monkeys.”

Kati interrupted. “Tara…don’t.”

When Tara turned to address Kati, Mother Eleanor had already departed and the last thought on Tara’s mind was
good riddance.

“You need to be careful Miss Tara. The madam was at the window when you returned she saw you with the man who calls himself a friend, as did I.

“Kati, it’s nothing Blake invited him here and I was just consoling him, nothing more.”

“That doesn’t make it right Miss Tara; he is not your husband, so therefore he is not to be consoled by you.”

“Stop Kati, you’re sounding like her now.”

“No Miss Tara, the difference between me and Madam, is that I care. Remember that.”

Michael sat in a corner at the back of the upscale restaurant, far away from the crowd yet near enough to see the comings and goings of patrons. He was so concentrated on the door that he didn’t see her approach.

“More coffee sir?” The waitress asked.

“No, thank you Christine.” He said after he read her badge.

Christine couldn’t have been more than eighteen at most, but carried herself like an older woman, one whose smile revealed a lifetime of struggle and disappointment. Her dirty blond hair was piled atop her head like loose spaghetti. She could have been pretty, once, but not now. Something or someone had sucked the life out of her. He could make her day; in fact he had already decided that he would.

He watched as she moved from table to table, offering up that same contorted smile, hoping for a generous tip, perhaps to feed her babies or buy a hit of something. Michael was no clairvoyant but he knew an addict when he saw one and little Miss Christine was one of them.

Laboissere was only a few doors down from Tara’s design studio. She had mentioned the studio so he took it upon himself to look it up and check it out, but the shop wasn’t open yet so he found Laboissere, The French Pastry shop instead. He wondered if Tara would stop by to grab a cup of coffee and a croissant. For the most part he hoped so, but surprise, surprise the person who walked through the doors was none other than Mrs. Eleanor Fitzgerald.

She appeared out of place in dress and demeanor as she meandered away through the busy morning business crowd. It was not very cold, but she still chose to wear a full length black mink which only made her seem whiter and almost ghost like. Mrs. Eleanor proceeded to bark orders at her driver, then the waitress as if she was the only one who deserved their fullest attention. No joke, Michael thought Mrs. Eleanor was a piece of work, one worthy of his attention. This would be the perfect opportunity to pick her brains.

“Do you understand English young lady, I said I wanted a croissant, lightly buttered with a cup of tea and yet you still bring me coffee!” Miss Eleanor could be heard saying.

Poor Christine
, Michael thought.
She got the mother load of bitches.

Eleanor kept at it which made other patrons turn around and pay attention to her constant babble. This was one lonely woman who seemed to bathe in the attention whether good or bad. The next time Christine passed his way, he asked for the check and handed her a $100 bill. She smiled so hard her cheeks trembled. His good deed for today. Michael stood up, straightening his Polo thermal over his jeans and made his way towards Eleanor.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald, how are you?”

She turned to greet him with a frown at first, but then it magically melted into half a smile. Eleanor was regal, determined and a force to be reckoned with, this he knew just by observing her.

“Do I know you?”

“Why yes, I believe you do. I went to Harvard with Blake, and I was just at your Christmas party... which I must say was one of the most extravagant events I’ve been to in the last two years. Your party was better than Prince Williams.”

Her smile grew wider.

“You were at Prince William’s party. Please have a seat and tell me more.”

The early morning crowd had thinned out and it appeared that it was only him and Eleanor holding court. She seemed to come to life with every tale and adventure.”

“You traveled the Serengeti? Oh my. I wished Blake was more like you. Don’t get me wrong Michael. I love my son with all my heart, but his mediocrity is so annoying. Sometimes I am not really sure if he is my son. He is nothing like the Fitzgerald men.”

“Blake is a good guy.”

“Oh yes, that he is, but he is weak, and strangely attached to strays.”

“Strays?”

“Yes, like his wife. She is no more than another one of his strays. Someone he can pick up, clean up and take care of. I despise this behavior.”