by C. Michelle
He thinks I’m playing. The fact that he doesn’t take me serious only makes my blood boil to a scorching hot temperature. “Well, I’m going to look fuckin’ beautiful tonight when we talk! You’re in for a fuckin’ treat!” Asshole. He has a lot of explaining to do.
I should be angry with myself for giving into him so easily, but I find it’s much easier to place blame on others for my stupid actions.
“Hey, Cheesecake, so now that we’ve established that you’re a carpet muncher, are you or aren’t you going to make the lasagna you promised me for lunch? Last time I checked, lesbos like to cook too!” I hear Kade yell along with his thunderous, obnoxious laughter as I step outside. His inquiry doesn’t deserve a response.
After a restless night of tossing and turning, I decide to start my day with a run on Lucifer, my treadmill. I hit a steady speed of six miles per hour. Throughout my run, I try not to focus on Josh and his absence. I have work along with other things more worthy of my time and energy than to waste them on him. Unfortunately, somehow, some way, he still manages to overpower my thoughts.
Why didn’t he come over last night? Does he think I’m at his beckon call to fuck as he pleases wherever…whenever? Well, that’s the impression I gave him. People only treat you wrong or take advantage of you if you let them. I let him. I allowed him to get away with fucking me without an explanation for his lies, absence, and betrayal. Why should I expect him to keep me on a pedestal when I’ve shown him I don’t keep myself on one?
After my hour run, I still don’t feel better but decide to push forward and focus on my day. Before I leave the house for work, I prepare a ham and cheese stuffed croissant. I pop it in the oven for a few minutes and fantasize of stuffing my face with the buttery pastry and melted cheese. Mmmm…
“Yum. What smells so good?” Kade walks into the kitchen half asleep. He checks the oven then gives me a disappointing look.
“What? You can’t say anything. I ran six miles this morning so that means I can eat whatever I damn well please.”
Kade sighs loudly. “You’re defeating the whole purpose of your workout. Hello? You’re supposed to eat clean and be active to live a healthy life.”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, and some more blah. Yes, I probably shouldn’t be nourishing my body with this breakfast loaded in calories, but the truth is I only workout to eat whatever I want. The words ‘healthy’ and ‘active’ are bad words as far as I’m concerned. Well, unless we’re talking about being sexually active…then it’s fine.” I giggle.
“You’re a lost cause, but I won’t give up on you.” He swears.
“I won’t listen to you preaching about being healthy when you tend to chug bottles of liquor on the weekends. Josh works out daily but eats whatever he wants. That’s bullshit. I want to live the good life too!” I proclaim.
“Men are programmed differently. It’s easier for us to handle business. Speaking of your freaky man, are you still butt hurt that you gave up the chon chon so easily?”
I’m confused. “What the fuck is chon chon?”
“Oh, don’t play the role with me…you’re half beaner. All beaners have seen the movie, Blood In, Blood Out. Benjamin Bratt has never looked so good. Damn!”
“Oh, that’s right! I love that movie. You can’t go around saying racist comments, someone might get offended! But you’re right…I sure did give up the chon chon super quick. Ugh! Don’t remind me! “
Kade makes a face reflecting pure irritation. “I’m so sick of how society is full of ‘Sensitive Sallys.’ Hello? At least I have the balls to say whatever the fuck I want. I mean, these delicate flowers that get so easily offended are the biggest hypocrites always running their mouths about everything and everyone behind closed doors. Shit…I don’t give a fuck, I keep it real wherever the fuck I’m at. Well, except around Mama V because sometimes she gets violent with me and checks me, but that’s a different story. Besides, I’m your best friend! I can talk shit about Mexicans and Italians all day, every day because as your bestie, I have an all access pass…just like you can talk shit about us Irish men, bisexuals or gays…you’re linked to me so it’s all good. People need to understand that ‘talking shit’ has absolutely no validity…that’s why it’s referred to as ‘talking SHIT.’ Anyone who doesn’t like me or doesn’t respect me based on my honesty, choice of words, or values can just suck on my right nut and make my left one jealous.”
“You’re so vulgar! Stop it! Just once can you speak to me with a filter on? Dang! Did you forget that you’re in the presence of a lady?” I try desperately to contain my laugh.
“Okay, okay. Hey, Beaner…remember when you got fucked in prison?”
I chuckle so hard, I accidentally snort. “You’re such an ass.”
“Yes, I am. That’s one of the many reasons you love me.”
Work is so hectic today I didn’t have a chance to take my full lunch break. I decide to run across the parking lot to the roach coach for a quick bite before it takes off. As I’m standing in line, I get tapped on the shoulder. On reflex, I turn around. With pure disgust radiating off me, I stare at him.
“Remember me, pretty girl? I remember you.” He says with a lewd sneer; a defendant from a previous caseload who I can’t stand has the audacity to speak to me.
“I have nothing to say to you. Leave me alone.” I turn around and thank God for allowing my order to be ready. I snatch my meal and walk away hastily.
“You people think you’re so smart, you’re not! I’m the smart one!” I can hear the dirty bastard yell.
Goosebumps instantly rise throughout my body. This man is an evil, conniving, narcissistic sex offender with no remorse for the pain and suffering he caused his seven-year-old niece due to his perverted and malicious actions upon her. I’ve kept in touch with the victim and her mother for the past two years. As I walk back to my office, my mind goes into overdrive. Once I reach my desk, I immediately call the victim’s mom who is also the defendant’s sister. No answer. I hang up and contact the probation officer handling his case. Luckily, he responds.
Our conversation lasts about half an hour. The P.O. informs me the defendant hasn’t paid any restitution, was allowed by the Court to work as a truck driver that consists of him driving through various states, isn’t attending his mandated weekly counseling sessions, and hasn’t reported bi-weekly as ordered by the judge. To make matters worse, the defendant moved to southern California without the authorization from probation and is claiming to be transient. The violation submitted for all the offenses was denied. According to probation, the defendant may have either the judge or public defender in his pocket. Instances like this from our judicial system make me lose hope in its purpose.
Sex offenders supervised by parole or probation are supposed to get approval from the Interstate Compact Division. This division is supposed to inform any state that a known registered sex offender is requesting permission to enter their state. The Interstate Compact Division from that state is to decide if permission on their end is granted. Sex offenders under state or local supervision are not allowed to roam the nation freely…it’s a violation of federal law. Yet, this sick bastard is allowed to do as he pleases? Where’s the sense in that? And now, he’s here, wanting to speak with me? Where’s my security and protection as a law abiding citizen? Where’s the justice to the victim and her family?
My supervisor advises me to write an informational incident report just to be on the safe side…to err on the side of caution is an unwritten rule within our office. Before I head home in the late afternoon, I leave a voicemail message to the defendant’s sister. The victim is entitled to know everything regarding her sex offense case, especially the denied violation of probation and that the whereabouts of the defendant are unknown.
As I’m walking to my car from my office, I get an eerie feeling. I look around to see if anything or anyone out of the norm looks suspicious. No. Everything seems normal. Nonetheless, I decide to power walk a bit faster. For whate
ver reason, I feel like I’m being watched or followed, but I know it’s just my paranoia kicking in after seeing that sick bastard earlier today during lunch. As soon as I reach Betty, I immediately turn on the ignition and take off with my heart beating a mile a minute.
When I arrive home, Kade is in our home office working on a new website. Since he’s in the zone, I leave him alone to work. I shower and prepare to watch the shows on my DVR. Once I get situated on the couch with my Breaking Dawn fleece blanket, I hear a knock at the door. Ugh. I’m so not in the mood to talk right now.
Regardless, I get up to open the door. He’s here? Hmm…I wasn’t expecting to see him, but I’ll have to admit, it’s a nice surprise.
Michael.
“Hi, Michael. I wasn’t expecting you.” Panic quickly hits me. “Is everything okay? Is my da…Diego okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. He wanted me to check on you and see if there was anything you needed?”
Relief washes over me instantly. “Oh, okay. No, I don’t need anything, but please come in. Are you hungry? I have some left over lasagna I made yesterday, you’re more than welcome to join me.” I’m actually not that hungry, but I figure I can pick his brain and get insight on Diego while he eats.
“No, that’s quite all right, I didn’t mean to bother you during dinner.”
“Oh, stop it. Come in. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but my lasagna is kind of a big deal around here.” I laugh.
Michael seems to relax a bit. I offer to take his coat. As he takes it off, I notice his broad shoulders. Stop checking out your dad’s attorney, bitch! You’re still with Josh! Well, sort of, kind of, not really…oh, shut up! It’s just dinner over a casual conversation. Lighten the fuck up!
I heat up our meal in the microwave, add some salad then grab two beers. His tie is now loose and his sleeves are rolled up. Michael doesn’t seem as tense as he did the first time we met. He analyzes me just as much if not more as I analyze him. He’s handsome, in a bad ass Marine sort of way.
I decide to break our silence during dinner afraid he might catch me drooling. “How’s Diego doing?” As an afterthought, I decide to ask, “Does he talk about me much?”
He takes a sip of his beer. “Your dad is a very strong man. He’s a fighter. He’s determined. Nothing can hold him down…but you. You’re his reason for living and wanting to be a better man. You’re the reason he’s now fighting his case. Does he talk about you? Well, he mentions your name, but never says anything about you. It’s as if it’s his way of protecting you, by keeping you a secret…a secret he wants known to the world, but can’t.”
“Oh. I understand. Umm…Michael? I know we don’t know each other, but would you mind talking to me about Diego from your perspective? How did you guys meet? How did you become part of his ‘trusted’ circle?” Oh, what the hell. It doesn’t hurt to ask.
Michael goes from being semi-relaxed to being tense once again. His facial expression and posture don’t change much, but something about his aura feels strained. Regardless of his inner battle, he decides to fill me in on his relationship with my dad. “Since your dad has indicated I can speak to you freely about him, I’ll answer your questions.”
“Thanks.” I give him a hint of a smile, but inwardly I’m ecstatic to hear about Diego from someone else other than my mom.
“Your dad used to date my mom.” Michael begins.
“Oh.” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but that definitely wasn’t something I was anticipating to hear.
He continues. “They dated years ago while I was in high school. He was in and out of her life even though they never actually broke up. He was just never a constant presence in her life, but regardless, she always welcomed him back.”
“Hmm…that sounds familiar.” I mumble. He did the same thing to my mom! Ugh. Nina! Let the man continue with his story.
“Excuse me?” He stops his conversation, but seems amused by me.
“Nothing, nothing…please, continue.”
“Well, during his absence my mom found out she had a brain tumor and due to its size was now inoperable. She used to complain of severe migraines. Sometimes even the light caused her pain to increase. It had been sometime since my mom had heard from Diego, I could tell she missed him. I decided to go through her things and contact him. Once I was finally able to get ahold of him, I informed him of my mom’s health crisis. The next day, he arrived to our house and that’s when I met him for the first time.” Michael takes a minute for himself.
After a moment of silence, he continues with his story. “My mom didn’t have medical insurance at the time, so bills quickly started to overtake our lives. I quit school and worked two jobs just to make ends meet disregarding every single debt collector who contacted us on a daily basis. When your dad found out about our financial situation, he made me return back to school and paid off all our debt, our house, and put my mom’s medical bills under his name. He was only in town for two days since he had pending business to take care of, but he made sure my mom was under the best medical care at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center.”
“Where’s that hospital located?” I interrupt.
“In New York. That’s where I’m from.” He adds.
“Oh. Sorry for interrupting, please continue.”
“No problem. Well, as the next few weeks passed, Diego would stop by to check in on my mom from time to time. He explained to me that he was a very busy man and couldn’t stay. I understood. I was thankful for his help and never made an issue of his absence. A few short weeks after my mom’s tumor diagnosis, her life came to an end. I was there during her last breath. She died peacefully knowing I would be okay. I called Diego to inform him of my mom’s passing. Although my mom’s family is small and extremely poor, they wanted to contribute financially whatever they could. Diego refused their money and paid for everything himself. After my mother’s funeral, Diego asked me what my plans were after high school. I wanted to say my dream was to be a doctor in honor of my mom, but instead, I responded with…a criminal defense attorney.”
I’m confused. “Why didn’t you say you wanted to be a doctor?”
“I’m not dumb. I knew what business your dad was in, but I was also well aware of everything he had done for my mom and me. His financial support and his presence during my mom’s last few weeks allowed her to die in peace. I will forever be grateful and indebted to your dad. I wanted him to understand my loyalty to him. He insisted on paying for my education. After high school, without a second thought I moved to Connecticut. After graduating from Yale Law, I immediately began working for him.”
“Wow.” Is all I can say. The array of emotions running through me is too much to handle. I try to gather my thoughts to better comprehend my feelings. I know my heart aches for Michael, the loss of a mother is an inconceivable pain no one should have to endure, yet too many of us do. Admiration…his devotion to my father is commendable. But, I also feel uneasy, sort of. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear jealousy was also at the forefront of my thoughts.
Jealousy? No. Why?
“Michael?”
“Yes?”
“Did my father attend your high school and law school graduations?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
Ouch. And there it is. My dad was there for Michael during special moments in his life. For me? Umm…not so much.
“No reason.” I lie, but immediately shake the stupid feeling off.
I change the subject to a general one. We instantly become comfortable with one another once the topic of my dad is switched to a much more casual one. As he speaks, I unconsciously begin comparing him to Josh. Although they’re very different, they’re both extremely manly in their own right.
Once we finish our meal, Michael states it’s time for him to leave, but first we agree to meet towards the end of the week to visit Diego.
“Well, thanks for stopping by. I appreciate you sharing your past with me. Since we’ll be seeing eac
h other often, I hope we can become good friends.” I smile warmly at him. Now that I’ve gotten to know him a tiny bit, he’s earned my respect.
As I walk Michael to the door, I give him a hug goodbye. Although my intention was for a brief hug, I notice Michael’s hold on me remains a bit longer on my waist than expected. I look up at him and maintain my eyes fixated on his. Just then, the loud slam of my front door along with a deep voice yelling, “Get your fuckin’ hands off my lady!” Immediately snaps me out of my reverie.
Shit.
Chapter 7 (Josh)
Breakfast
As I walk into the threshold of Nina’s house, a barbaric rage overcomes me when I witness another man’s arms embracing my woman. I don’t feel my legs as I purposely stride forward toward this asshole.
“Josh! What are you doing here? You can’t just barge into my house whenever you fuckin’ please!” Nina yells.
I hear her words, but comprehension evades me. All I want is to punish this dick for touching what belongs to me. Vaguely I realize Nina is standing right before me. Without a second thought, I push Nina out of the way and land a right hook on this motherfucker’s left eye. He falls back, but gets up and rushes me striking me hard on the side of my rib. Immediately, I manage to get him in a choke hold. Somehow, we end up on the ground with me having the advantage.
“Stop it! Fuckin’ stop fighting! Josh, leave Michael alone! We weren’t doing anything!” Nina gets on top of me to stop me from throwing punches at the motherfucker beneath me. Soon, I feel a much stronger body assist Nina in getting me off this guy.
I don’t fight back afraid of accidentally hitting my lady. Instead, I give up willingly. The asshole on the ground gets up, but doesn’t rush me even though he has the opportunity to do so.
Nina addresses her punk ass new friend. “Michael, I’m so sorry. I’ll see you at the end of the week. We’ll talk then.” Then she does the unthinkable and gives him a hug.