by Louise, Tia
“You sprayed Brazilian Crush at Stephen Hastings?” She takes another, bigger chug of wine then drops to the couch beside me. “I need to lie down.”
“What I really think is it was cosmic karma.” I push the blanket back and get on my knees beside her. “All this bad stuff happened right as my dream was coming true. That weights the scale too far to one side. It had to be corrected!”
“You’ve been listening to your dad too much.”
“I need to check on Dad.” Walking to where I left my small bag of clothes, I drop the body spray inside. “I’m going to head back tonight. Please tell Sonny I’m so sorry for everything.”
“What will you do?”
“The only thing I can do.” I shrug. “Chase down my second chance.”
Driving back to the beach house, anxiety and optimism twist together in my stomach.
In front of me is the chance to reclaim what I’ve lost, but it’s not guaranteed. I have to decide if I can still see my dream, but see it in a way that has changed, at least locationally. It’s only a small change, right?
Sometimes in the waves of change, we find our true direction. I don’t know who said it, but could Monterey be my true direction? Dad says, if you really want something, don’t hold it too tightly. You have to believe in it, then let the universe take over.
It’s a terrifying concept.
The universe has not been very nice to me lately, and I’m not sure I trust it. Oh, God, I’m so afraid. Instead of Hope Eternal, I’m back to the Eternal Hill.
Blinking away the heat in my eyes, I park Metallicar in front of the beach house for the first time in weeks. I sit in the car studying the weathered wood boards, and I realize it’s not just my dream changing, I’ve changed.
The last time I was here, I was sad, discouraged, drunk… Now I’m awake, and I know what I want so clearly. Why does it have to be across this scary chasm?
Taking out my phone, I check the time before dialing his number. Not too late…
“Hey, sunshine, what’s on your mind?” My dad’s warm voice eases the fear in my chest.
“I’m back at the cottage.” Dropping the car keys on the island in the kitchen, I head out the back door to where the wooden porch overlooks the ocean far below. The sound of the waves is a soothing hush and the scent of salt water and brine takes me back to being a little girl here, safe with my father.
“I thought you were working with Yarnell?”
“I kind of decided that wasn’t for me. I’m a terrible housekeeper.”
He chuckles in my ear. “Housekeeping at a big hotel is not easy. People take it for granted.”
“I’m so lonely, Dad.” I haven’t told him about JR.
I should because if anyone would understand a broken heart, it would be my dad. Still, I’d be lonely here even if my heart weren’t broken.
“I know, sweetheart. It’s going to get better. Remember that saying about that which doesn’t kill us?”
“I remember.” My voice is quiet as I gaze up at the black-velvet sky.
The cottage is so far from any other homes or businesses, the stars are brilliantly visible at night. A million points of light against an inky black expanse.
“There’s no moon tonight.”
“How many stars can you see?”
It’s a question he used to ask me as a little girl, before I was big enough to understand estimation. “All of them.”
He chuckles in my ear, and it helps me smile. “The stars are our loved ones looking down on us when we can’t see them.”
“I know.” It doesn’t make me feel better. I want real loved ones, flesh and bone loved ones right here with me tonight.
“What’s troubling you, pumpkin?”
Exhaling softly, I sit on the top step. “Dad, how do you know when change is good and when it’s bad?”
“Hm…” I appreciate him not rushing to answer. “Change is inevitable…”
“What I mean is, how do you know when it’s time to make a change and when you’re going in the wrong direction?”
“That’s easy.” His smile drifts through the line. “You’ll know the change is good when you feel calm. You’ll know it’s right when you have peace in your heart.”
“There’s no way to know before?”
“Of course, but it’s a soft voice. Don’t ignore your instinct. Listen to it.”
Disconnecting from my dad, I close my eyes and picture JR, his sexy gaze and his full lips parting with a gorgeous smile. I think about him hugging his little boy, and looking at me with so much feeling in his eyes… Were the feelings love?
It warms me to my toes, and I know he’s a good change. I imagine him looking at the sky somewhere just like I’m doing right now.
Reaching up, I hold a pinpoint of light, a star between my fingers. I send my warmest wishes across the miles to wherever he is right now.
This one’s for you. To protect you…
Maybe I’ll find him again now that I’m home.
Maybe we’ll have the chance to try again, to see what a life would be like for a sunny girl and an angry boy with a scar.
Maybe we’ll fall in love.
Maybe we already have…
Jr
It took three days of sitting on the bench outside Ritual Coffee Roasters for me to find him. He appeared at the counter right at closing time, just as I was leaving to go to the bus stop to head home.
He stood there talking to one of the baristas, and my heart beat so hard in my chest, I had to grip the wood of the bench to keep from charging in there and grabbing him.
Calm.
Self-control.
Do it the right way, not the easy way.
Now I’m at my studio apartment, making my daily Facetime call to my son. Jesse is animated as ever, blue eyes bright as he tells me about his day.
Only today instead of happy, his lips press into a thin line and anger darkens his expression. “Hunter said only pirates could play on his team, and I was not a pirate.”
“Do you want to be on his team?” I do my best to be a thoughtful, calm dad and not call the little punk excluding my kid a bad name. “Why don’t you make a team with Jimmy?”
“He picked Jimmy first. He said I could be on the team with all the girls.”
My hackles are up, and I’m ready to violate parole again. “Where’s Uncle Scout?”
“He’s here.” Jesse hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “He said he’s going to call Hunter’s dad, but Hunter doesn’t have a dad. I told him that.”
Lifting my chin, I start to see what’s going on. “You know, sometimes missing a dad can make kids act like bullies.”
I’m not sure my son is old enough to understand the concept of self-loathing.
His brow furrows just like a little man’s as he thinks. It makes me smile. “When you were gone, I didn’t act like that.”
“That’s because you’re a smart guy, J. You knew I was coming back. And you had GA and people around who loved you taking care of you.”
His face scrunches. He’s reluctant, but trying. “Poppy would take me to the park and throw the ball.”
My jaw tightens at the mention of my dad, but I don’t want my son to see my anger. “Is Uncle Scout doing that with you now?”
“Yeah!” His eyes brighten. “Every day after school. And he taught me to skateboard. I’m the only kid at school who has a longboard.”
“That’s really cool. Send me a picture.”
“We’ll send you a video!” He’s talking loud again, and I’m glad he seems to have forgotten his anger.
“I can’t wait to see it.” I’m smiling, and damn, I want to be there with him. “Hey, little man, you know I love you?”
“I love you too, Dad.”
“I’m working on getting home, but I need to talk to Uncle Scout now. I need him to help me with something.”
“Okay! He’s right here.” The video zig-zags as he bounces on the bed then runs to find my brother. “
Here he is!”
“Hey, J?”
“Yeah?”
“Think about tomorrow, maybe starting your own team first with Jimmy. Then pick Hunter to be on it.”
He’s quiet a bit, frowning. He’s breathing fast from running, but I can see in his blue eyes he’s thinking about what I’m saying. “I’ll try.”
Pride swells in my chest at my boy. “Let me know how it goes.”
My brother’s smiling face appears on the screen. “What’s the latest, bro?”
“Hey, I need your help.”
“Shoot.”
“I need to record a confession on my phone, but I don’t see a voice recorder or anything.” I frown, turning the device side to side. “How can I do that?”
“Damn, sometimes I forget you were in the joint the last two years. Technology has come a long way, old one.”
“Can you focus? It’s important.”
He laughs, walking me through how to make a voice memo on my phone.
“What would be even better is if you did video, then there’s no question who’s talking.”
“I don’t know how I could hold up a phone and get him to confess…”
“Put it face up on the table.” I don’t know how that’s better, but he walks me through the steps for that as well. “Just be sure you don’t accidentally delete it once you’re done.”
“How the hell would I do that?” Panic tightens my lungs.
“Not save it, hit the delete button, lots of ways.”
“Mother…” I don’t say the rest, because Jesse could be in the room, but motherfucker. My jaw tightens, still I’m not backing down this close to the goal. “I’ll have to be careful.”
“Call me as soon as you’re done.”
“Okay. Thanks, bro.” I’m ready to say goodnight, but I hesitate. I want to ask him one more thing, even if he’ll give me shit for it. He’s going to gloat, but I don’t care.
“What?”
“Do you know how to get in touch with Hope? Like did she give you her number or anything?”
“About time you got your head out of your ass.”
“Just tell it to me.”
“I wish I could. She didn’t give it to me. She was into you, not me, remember?”
I remember it so well.
Disappointment sinks in my chest. “I just thought you might—”
“Don’t worry, bro. You get that video, and we’ll find her. It’s going to work out. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
I wish I did. I’m worried and alone out here, and damn this technology. I’ve got to get that confession.
Sunrise finds me on the bench outside Ritual Roasters waiting for Clyde Shaw to reappear. Today is the day.
My phone is in my pocket ready to record, and my heart beats hard in my chest. Freedom is within my grasp. I’m going to meet this guy, and he’s going to tell me what I need to know. It ends today.
An hour later, my confidence is less strong.
I leave the bench to enter the minimalistic coffee shop. It’s a spare, wide-open beige room with a black granite counter in the center. Behind it is a massive, stainless steel mechanism of coffee roasters and brewers.
I order a regular coffee and an egg sandwich. I’ll give it to them, it’s probably the best damn coffee I’ve ever tasted. If I cared about that right now.
Two hours later, and the rat still hasn’t come out of his hole.
I’m restless, and as I shift on the bench, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Taking it out, I’ve got a text from my brother. Did it work?
Groaning, I swipe open the phone and tap a reply. He still hasn’t appeared.
Are you texting with your fingers? Text with your thumbs, Grandpa.
Asshole. I don’t have time for this.
Stay calm. Inhale for five, exhale for six.
Shaking my head, I tap back, What kind of bullshit…
Basic meditation. Let me know when you’ve got it. Gran’s got the prayer chain going.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, I glance towards the horizon. I never felt like the Big Guy was on my side, especially when I got thrown in fucking prison for a crime I didn’t commit.
Still…
“I could use a little help if you’re up there.”
Yeah, I prayed.
People walk past, checking their phones, walking their dogs, ignoring the tense guy sitting on a bench with his whole future hanging in the balance. It feels like an eternity has passed when the wiry asshole finally appears.
He’s at the counter again, and I’m on my feet, crossing the street. I don’t know if he’ll recognize me, and if he does, I don’t know what he might do. I’m prepared for anything. If he takes off running, I’ll run right after him. Then I’ll beat a confession out of him.
But hopefully it won’t come to that.
Smoothing my hands down the front of my jeans, I grab a paper mask and reach for the door of the shop. A little bell dings when I enter, and Clyde turns to look.
He’s different than he was two years ago. Back then he had dreads like all his friends, and he dressed in their standard attire. Now he’s in jeans and a button-up oxford, and his hair is a short, light-brown afro, kind of like that guy who painted on television when we were kids.
Happy little trees.
He’s still wearing those magic beads, and when our eyes meet, my question is answered. He recognizes me.
My jaw sets, and I step to the side just as he tries to dodge. This motherfucker’s trying to run. Don’t do it, asshole.
“Clyde Shaw?” I plaster a smile on my face, acting like I’m so glad to see him. In a twisted way I am. “I haven’t seen you in two years. How’ve you been?”
“I’m sorry.” He looks towards the guy at the counter, who’s watching like he doesn’t suspect a thing. “I was just leaving.”
“Hang on a minute. Surely you have time for an old friend.” Reaching out, I grab his bicep in a death grip.
His eyes flinch, but he knows he can’t outmatch me. Dumbass better not try. At this point, I would enjoy beating a confession out of him.
The only thing holding me back is I don’t want to jeopardize my future. Jesse is waiting for me. I want to believe somewhere Hope is waiting for me. I won’t sacrifice them for this piece of shit.
He cocks his head to the side. “Do I know you? I think you might have me mixed up with somebody else.”
“Let’s have a seat and talk about it.”
Still holding his arm, I lead him to the back of the café, to a booth in the corner where we can talk.
We’ve got the place to ourselves, and he slides across the red velvet cushions. I take the seat across from him, taking out my phone and acting like I’m checking for a text. Instead, I touch the video button like Scout told me to do, say a quick prayer I turned it on, not off, and place it between us on the table.
“I don’t have much time.”
“You’ve got time for me.” I’m so casual. “Clyde Shaw, right?”
“That’s my name.”
“The Clyde Shaw who lived at Frederick and Clayton?” I have to establish his identity on the record.
“I lived there. It was a dump, so I moved. What of it?”
“You contacted my father, William Dunne two years ago about buying health supplements, specifically shilajit, to sell in our gym. You offered to be our supplier. Do you remember that?”
“I had several clients back then. You’re wasting your time, Mr. Dunne. I stopped selling supplements two years ago.”
“How come?”
“No money in it. That particular product was hard to get, and the profits were too small.” He’s looking around the room like he’s planning to bolt. “So I’m sorry you wasted your time—”
“I’m not here about shilajit.”
His brow furrows. “Then what is this about?”
“That day, two years ago, your guys loaded my trunk with illegal human growth hormone. I was stopped in a sting oper
ation, and I went to prison.”
He’s on his feet at once. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only sell legal CBD and cannabinoids now. I don’t do illegal shit. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
I block him, smiling with my eyes. “Cool out, Clyde. It’s all good. I’m not here to bust you.”
“Why are you here?” His eyes move around my face. “You’re that kid from South Carolina. Why don’t you go home?”
“I was home. I just rolled back into town yesterday specifically to see you.” My voice drops, and I lean closer. “Let’s make a deal, Clyde Shaw.”
He studies me with twitchy hazel eyes, then looking right to left, he slowly lowers to the seat again, and I do the same. “What kind of deal?”
We’re across from each other, and every muscle in my body is tense. At the same time, I’m acting so relaxed, I should hire Scout’s agent.
“You’re the man with the connections, right? You know where to go for everything.”
Clyde hasn’t relaxed, and I can tell he’s not buying my line. “I don’t know what you mean by everything.”
“I mean just like last time, only I’ll be in on the joke.”
“Last time wasn’t a joke.” He stops, like he knows he almost said too much.
“Good thing, because I wasn’t laughing when the judge hammered that gavel and sent me to prison. Not a lot of peace and love there.”
“That’s not what I’m about.” He has the nerve to act contrite. “I’m not part of an organization. I had to deliver a package to Charleston. A fellow at your gym said he could collect it and take it the rest of the way.”
“Hey, no hard feelings, I get it.” I hold up my hands. I’m so close to having him on record. “You didn’t think I’d get caught. It was a mistake.”
“It wasn’t a setup.” He looks over his shoulder towards the front of the store, almost like he’s expecting the police to enter.
“Don’t be nervous, man. It’s just me, JR Dunne.”
His eyes flicker up and down my face. “I don’t understand what you want.”
“I want a piece of the action. You say you’re not part of an organization, but maybe you are. I’ve got a kid back home, an ex-wife to support. Times are tough. The gyms are closed… I need money.”