I head out onto the strip and wander into some of the other hotels to take in their restaurants and see how busy they are. They all seem as busy as each other really, just like the one I'm considering. As I walk into one of the casinos, I'm passing by a craps table, when I hear a voice I never thought I’d hear again. I stop dead, and my hands fly to my ears instinctively, covering them up until I realize what I've done and quickly put them down.
I look at the table, scanning each face to see if I recognize anyone. My eyes stop on him, and I know instantly it's my poppa. Fuck. I thought he might have died years ago because he never came looking for me. I stare straight at him. He must sense someone looking at him, and he looks straight into my eyes. His brow furrows slightly as if trying to register what he's seeing. He looks like a much older version of me. Very wrinkled, and leathery from this distance. His hair is different shades of yellow and white, and he has a cigarette hanging from his lips. He looks like someone who lives in a dingy trailer park.
Shit, I don't want to speak to him. I don't know the man, and I have no intention of getting to know him. When he picks up the few chips he has and walks towards me, I turn and start heading out of the casino the way I came in. “Casper, Casper, wait up, son,” he shouts out to me. Then keeps shouting my name. Fuck. I stop and wait for him to catch up to me. I don't turn to face him, and he has to come around the front of me. This close, he looks worse than I thought. The years have not been good to him. “Casp, son, is that really you? Fuck, fancy running into you after all these years.”
The fucking cheek of him. Running into me like some old lost pal of his. He neglected me. He didn't give a shit about me. How dare he call me son. He doesn't deserve to call me that. “Yeah, fancy, long time no see?” I say this with so much venom and sarcasm, he recoils slightly.
He runs his hand through his horrible yellowy hair. “Look, son, I know I should have come back for you, but I wasn't in a good place. I couldn't look after myself, never mind a kid.” “Yeah, well, it's all good. No worries there. Nice seeing you, but I got to run.”
I start to move around him to leave, but he reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me. “Look, can we talk, go for a coffee over in Starbucks?”
A coffee — is he for real? I shrug his hand off my arm. “You being serious, old man? You want to what? Catch up on old times or something? See how good life has been? What, a coffee and no liquor?” He reaches for his cigarettes in his pocket, looking nervous. I can see his hands shaking as he tries to take one out of the packet. “I don't drink, Casp, haven't done for fifteen years now. Been clean of drink and drugs, this is my only vice now,” he says holding up his packet of cigarettes. “Well, this, and I like a little flutter every now and then, but only when I'm in town, which isn't often.”
I take another good look at him. Although he has aged badly, he's smartly dressed, in a suit. My first instinct was that he was trailer trash, but now, I wouldn't say that. “Can we grab a coffee? I would love to speak to you, son.”
I run my hand over my face. Do I want to do this right now? Do I want to have a coffee with a complete stranger? A loser who let his kid be taken away from him —and who didn't give a fuck about his kid to begin with?
“Please, son.”
Fuck, I squeeze my eyes shut and rub the bridge of my nose. I'm at war with myself. On one hand, I want to hear his pathetic excuse for leaving me in the system, and on the other, I want to just walk away and never see him again. I mentally do the math. If he's been sober for fifteen years, that means I was twelve. The fucker could have come looking for me and taken me out of the system. That pisses me off no end. “No, fuck off.” I march away from him.
He's following me. I can sense him. Before I reach the exit, I turn abruptly, and he's right on my heels and almost slams into me. “Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone. Old man,” I grit out at him through clenched teeth. I don't want to cause a scene by shouting at him, that would draw attention to me, and god forbid this gets into the tabloids or on TMZ.
“Son, I just want to talk to you. Please let me just say what I need to say then the ball is in your court if you want me to leave.”
Is this the only way I'm going to shake him off me? He no doubt knows I'm a celebrity chef — does he want money? Is that what all this is about? But then it can't be. He has never contacted me for money, and he didn't know I would be here in this casino, in Vegas, at this exact time. What a fuck up this is. “Right you can have ten minutes, then we're through. If this is the only way to get rid of you.” That hurt him, and I see the pain in his eyes. He looks down for a second, then back up to me. “That's great, son, shall we go over to Starbucks?”
“Don't call me that.”
I storm off in the direction of Starbucks. I don't wait for him. I just want this over and done with. I want his explanation for my own sanity and for no other reason. Maybe it will curb the feelings of abandonment that I have? There's only one way to find out, then I'm getting the next flight back to New York. I need to sort out the shit with Macen, but most of all I can't wait to see her. Fuck, I'm screwed in all directions.
Macen
AFTER MY TALK with Francoise today, I went back to work, and I felt Reid's eyes on me all the time. He really loathes me. I asked Louis if Reid had wanted my job, but he didn't think so. I'm out of ideas.
I finish my shift, but this time, I hang back and wait for Louis to finish so I can head to the employee room with him, hoping to put Reid off. It doesn't work. As soon as the door shuts behind Louis and me, it opens again. Reid just stands by the door, looking at me, with his arms folded over his chest. I turn back to my locker to get my coat and bag.
“What the fuck is your problem, Reid? You've been a moody shit all week and what's with all the glares at Macen?”
Oh no, I didn't want Louis to say anything to him. I don't want any trouble.
Reid doesn't speak. I don't turn to see what he's doing, but I turn to look at Louis and shake my head slightly, trying to let him know not to do this. “Come on, you ready, Macen?” I nod my head.
Louis heads for the door, bumping Reid out of the way, “Watch it dipshit,” Reid grits out angrily.
“No, Reid, you watch it. Leave Macen alone and stop intimidating her. She's done nothing to you.”
Reid glares at him for a beat, then turns his head very slowly in my direction and glares at me, “Hasn't she?” he spits out with venom.
“Come on, Macen, let's get out of here.” Louis grabs hold of my elbow to get me past Reid. I avoid looking at Reid and rush out.
We walk out of the back door in silence. “I'm sorry, Louis. I didn't want you involved in all this. I know you’re leaving, but I don't want you in trouble before you leave.”
He stops walking and looks down at me. “Hey, I'm not having him treat you like that for no reason. You're with me in work, while I train you, so that makes you my responsibility.” He shrugs. “I don't know what his problem is, Macen, but I strongly recommend staying as far away from his as you can. He's bad news, and he has it in for you.”
I hang my head. “I know.”
We walk round to 5th Avenue. “Will you be okay now? I go the other way, but I can walk with you to the subway if you want?” Louis asks.
I’m going to walk home. I need to clear my head a bit. I'm exhausted, not just from work but from all this Reid business. A nice brisk walk will do me good. “No, that's fine, Louis, thank you. I'm going to walk home. You get going, and I'll see you tomorrow.”
He looks at me for a minute. “You sure you should be walking home? I'm not sure which direction Reid goes in?”
“I’ll be fine, honestly. There are a lot of people around, and I don't think Reid is out to hurt me.” If only I believed that myself. I hope Louis doesn't see through me. “Okay then, see you tomorrow, Macen.”
I start toward home. I have my ear pods in, listening to my latest audiobook, it’s the new one by E.L James called The Mister, and I’ve been waiting to start it. I walk fast,
so I should be home pretty quickly. I'm engrossed in the book, but suddenly I get an eerie feeling. I turn suddenly, expecting someone to be behind me, there's no one there. I swear I felt someone really close behind me — now I'm freaking myself out. Maybe it's all this Reid stuff making me jumpy. There aren't many people around this far up 5th Avenue, and I'm walking along the road that’s parallel with Central Park. I carry on walking but quicken my pace. I'm going to cross the street at the next crossing.
I feel like someone is following me, the feeling is making me jittery, but when I turn again, there isn't anyone there. I turn down a couple of streets doing a bit of a zigzag but still heading in the direction of home. I turn to look behind me a few times, but see no one, at least no one that looks suspicious. I can't shake the feeling though. The nearer I get to home, the better I feel. I can't get into the building and shut the door behind me quickly enough. I stand, with my back against the door, my eyes closed, just breathing.
“Shit!” I shout and jump out of my skin, banging the back of my head on the door, when I feel someone touch my arm,. “Sorry, Macen love, you seemed miles away. I called your name, but you didn't hear me. I didn't mean to startle you.”
It's Mrs. Klamenski from across the hallway. “Oh, Mrs. Klamenski. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I didn't hear you. I was miles away.”
“Are you okay, Macen, you look a little pasty?”
Do I? I'm not surprised the way I'm scaring myself. “Yes, I'm fine. It was just a long day at work. Good night, Mrs. Klamenski.” I say smiling at her and head to my apartment.
As I enter my apartment, Dixon comes running to me, almost sending me flying. “Whoa there, Dix, where's the fire?” I crouch down to his level and give him a big hug. I miss my boy so much. “Mommy, I've been waiting for you to get home. I wanted to tell you that I had an invite to a party. It's my friend from school, Rory. His poppa is very rich, Rory says. I don't know his job, but he has a lot of money and Rory is having the best party, and he invited me. Can I go, mommy? Please? Grandma said I had to wait and ask you first. Can I, mommy?”
I pull back to look at his face, wondering why Grandma said he had to ask me first because how can I deny my little man anything? “Well, as long as we don't have anything else on at the same time, I don't see why not.” I see his face light up as I move the hair on his forehead away from his eyes. I get up and hold Dixon's hand as we walk into the kitchen where Grandma is.
I walk over and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Grandma, how was your day today? Dixon is very excited about a party invite. Do you know when the party is so I can check my schedule?” I bring up the diary on my phone then look at Grandma because she hasn't spoken yet. She's looking at me funnily, then grabs the invite. “It's a week this Sunday. But you need to…”
I interrupt her. “Yes, Dixon, you can go to that, we don't have any plans. I will see if I can get a late shift so I can take you.”
He jumps up and down “Yay, thank you, mommy, you’re the best. It will be so much fun.” He's hugging my lower half again.
I look at Grandma because she’s staring at me with a strange look on her face. “You might want to read the invitation,” she says handing it to me.
Before I have a chance to read it, Dixon takes it from me, trying to read what it says. He’s good at reading, but I can see him struggle. He starts jumping about again, making T-Rex roaring noises. “You sound really excited about this party, Dixon. Where is it? Can Mommy read the invitation, please?”
He walks over to me. “We are going somewhere to eat first, for burgers and milkshake, and then we are going to a dinosaur park where the dinosaurs are alive.”
He hands me the invitation, and I gasp at where they are all going to eat. Casper's. Oh no. How and why? I didn't realize we did children's parties, but then I haven't even been there a week yet. I look at Grandma, who is giving me a knowing look because I've already said Dixon can go.
I read the rest of the invitation, which sounds great. It's just the Casper's bit. I'm done for. If I'm not working, or on a late shift, then Dixon will want me to take him, and if I'm on an early shift I will be working while he's there. How am I going to get out of this? Caspian or Francois will be there, and there is no way I can pretend that Dixon isn’t mine. Shit.
I mouth, “What do I do?” to Grandma.
“Right, Dixon, let's get you ready for bed while your mommy eats her dinner, then she can read you a story.” She gives me the look to say we will talk about it when Dixon’s in bed.
Dixon falls asleep while I’m reading to him. I head into the kitchen, where Grandma’s making some coffee. “What do I do about the party? I had no idea Casper's did children's parties. I'm going to have to come clean with Caspian and Francois. There is no way they won't find out now.” I'm deflated. “Well, Macen, I would say it's for the best. They should know you have a son. You shouldn't hide it.”
I feel terrible now. “I know, I just wanted Caspian to know that even with a son I can work hard and give 100% commitment.”
I have one more week to prove myself to him, and he will still want to address the Reid situation. I guess I will cross the party bridge when we come to it.
Caspian
I'M SITTING AT a table in Starbucks. My poppa is being served at the counter — if you can call him that. How did this happen — of all the places in the USA, we came to be in the same place at exactly the same time? You couldn't write about this shit.
Do I even want to hear his pathetic excuses for leaving me in the system? Leaving me to be bullied, and to fend for myself most of the time. All I ever dreamt about was he or my mother coming to find me and us being a family. It was all I ever wanted.
It never happened.
I watch him amble over to the condiments counter and grab some sugars and a couple of stirrers, then head in my direction with two coffees on a tray. He lays the tray on the table and hands me a coffee. “I wasn't sure how you took it, so I got it black with a pot of half-and-half and some sugars.”
Yeah well, fucker, if you had been around you would know how I take my coffee. “Thanks,” is all I say as I take some sugar from him. I have my coffee black but sweet. He finishes faffing about, then he sits opposite me. He messes with the sugars and cream for a bit, neither of us speaking. I'm not going to speak. He wanted to come in here for a chat and coffee.
He looks at me straight in the eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't come to find you, son.”
I put the mug down a little too hard and coffee spills on the table. He takes some of the napkins and starts wiping it. “Leave it,” I grit out.
He stops and looks up at me. I just glare at him.
“Look, son, I know you don't want to hear this, but I need to tell you.” Here we go with some pathetic excuses. “When you were with me, it was hard. Your momma had died and…” What did he just say? “Died, what do you mean my momma died? She left us?”
He looks at me quizzically, “Yes, she did leave us. She died, son. She was taken from us, killed by an intruder, a home invasion while you were both asleep, and I was working nights. I thought you knew that?”
No! How the fuck would I know that? I was five years old.
“No, I didn't know she was killed. I remember I was a bit older and, in a home, and they told me there that my momma left me. That she didn't want me, and neither did you. It destroyed me, growing up thinking no one wanted me, I…”
“No, wait, God we wanted you, son. We were both elated when you came along. I ended up working more because we didn't have a lot, but we wanted to make our home nice for us as a family.” I can’t believe what he’s telling me.
“I took more shifts at night so I could spend a bit of time with you both in the daytime. It was one night while I was working that it happened. You were nearly four. I wasn't sure if you’d remembered any of it. You were taken from your bed, son. They took you, and they killed your momma, it…” He hangs his head and rubs at his eyes. I'm not sure if he's crying or
if it's just tension and him remembering what happened.
“I was taken? Who took me?” He looks back up at me, and he looks broken — like he is at war with himself if he should tell me or not. “I came home and found your momma de…” He chokes up, composes himself then carries on. “She was dead on our bed. There was blood everywhere. They slit her throat, son. I won't and can’t go into the details. You can find out on your own if you want to. I just… I still struggle talking about it. Anyway, I ran to your room, screaming for you, but you weren't there. I ran around frantically looking for you. I phoned 911 and then searched everywhere for you. I couldn't find you. I was screaming, and running all over the place — inside and outside. It was only 5 a.m., so I woke the neighborhood up that morning. The sheriff arrived, then, when they realized it was a homicide and child abduction, they called in the FBI. The place was swarming with law enforcement and soon, the media. I was numb, son; I was in a daze, not sure what was happening or why it was happening.” He takes his coffee and starts sipping it, giving himself a break. He looks up at me, and I can see the turmoil on his face. I can see how hard this is for him.
I mirror him by sipping my coffee. I don't know what to think. I can see he’s hurting talking about this, but this is my life. This is something that happened to me, and I had no idea about any of it. I feel my life has just been one complete lying fuck up. This man is sitting here, talking to me, this stranger telling me shit I knew nothing about — about things that happened to me. “Son, did you hear me?”
I shake my head “No, what did you say?”
“I just said that I was in your bedroom. I was sitting on your bed when a female police officer walked in with you. She was holding your hand. You were still in your PJ's, and you didn't have anything on your feet, which were all black from dirt. I remember running to you and kneeling down in front of you. I grabbed you gently, looking you over, making sure you weren't hurt anywhere. You looked okay, but you were crying, I asked if you were okay and you said you that you hurt, and you were scared. I looked at the officer for answers, wondering why you hurt, but she shrugged, shaking her head, saying she didn't know. Just then, the paramedics came in to take you so they could check you out. I wouldn't let you leave my side, so I went with you. They examined you, and…”
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