by R. R. Banks
The woman straightens up and looks down at Pops, a small smile on her lips. I can see the affection between the two of them, and honestly, it’s adorable.
“No, it can’t, and you know it,” she says.
“She's a slave driver, this one,” Pops grumbles. “I best get a sponge bath out of it this time.”
“You wish, old man,” she says. “I don't even do that for my husband.”
She stands up and laughs as she leaves the room. They have such an easy rapport, and it's easy to see the camaraderie, and care that exists between them. It makes me smile.
“So,” he says, turning back to me. “What brings you by to see an old man like me? Come here to ask for my blessing to marry the kid?”
I give him a small rueful smile. “Hardly.”
“No? Then what can I do for you?” he asks. “Not that I need a reason to have a beautiful young woman stop by to see me, mind you.”
He laughs, and I can't help but join him. He's just so – jovial. Nice. I have a hard time believing the man sitting in front of me, so full of good nature and joy, could be the cold-blooded killer my brother thinks he is. He's way more of a gregarious grandfather than ruthless mobster.
Time changes people sure, but I have a hard time believing that somebody who was, according to my brother, a cold-blooded murderer twenty years ago, could be this kind and jovial today. It seems like such a radical, even unrealistic, personality shift to me.
Sitting there with Pops, seeing him interact with his nurse – it makes me want to believe that Carter is telling me the truth about him. That he's right. And if he's telling me the truth about Pops, is he telling me the truth about everything else?
“I actually did want to talk to you,” I say. “About Carter.”
“I figured as much,” he says.
“Did he – tell you?”
He cocks his head as he looks at me. “Don't even tell me he did somethin' to fuck this up already,” he says. “I'll slap that kid upside the head so fast, it'll make his head spin. I told him. I fuckin' told him –”
A small smile touches my lips. “He didn't mess anything up. Actually, I – I don't know what to think about a recent situation,” I admit. “I was hoping that since you know him better than anybody – including me – that you might have some insight. Some insight I can use – that I need – to make some decisions.”
“First off, I wouldn't say I know him better than you. I just know him different than you,” Pops says. “But, there are certain parts of his life he don't share with me. Shit he knows would bore me to tears – and he's probably right.”
We laugh together until Pops breaks down into a coughing fit. He gasps and wheezes and holds up a finger for me to wait as he takes a deep pull on an inhaler. A few moments later, he's breathing a lot easier.
“This getting' old shit is for the birds,” he says. “Avoid it at all costs if you can.”
“I'll do my best,” I say.
“Anyway,” he says, “he told me all about you, don't you worry about that. Ten years ago, I'd never seen him happier. Kid was walking on sunshine and had his head in the clouds all day. I'd never seen him so happy to be honest. That was because of you. All you.”
“Thank you, but I –”
“When you and he stopped seeing each other,” he continues, “it was like somebody had extinguished the light inside of him. He just went flat and dark. I guess they call it depression today. Whatever it was, I've never seen him more miserable. Not even when he was fresh outta that orphanage. It was like somebody reached inside of him and ripped out his heart. It killed me to see it.”
My lips compress into a tight line, and I look down as a familiar pain sears my heart. Somehow, knowing that Carter went through a lot of the same feelings and emotions I did, makes me feel better. As shitty as that sounds. But, I can't help it. Hearing, from a third party that Carter was just as miserable without me as I was without him, makes me feel better.
“But, lemme tell you,” he says. “Ever since you two got back together, that light came back. Twice as bright. Three times, maybe. It's just shinin' outta every orifice on the kid. It's good to see, honestly. That kid needed somethin' good in his life.”
I let out a wry chuckle. “As if countless millions of dollars, living a debaucherously playboy lifestyle, and being the most eligible bachelor in Manhattan wasn’t good enough?”
He shrugs. “Oh, he enjoys life, don't get me wrong,” he says. “He's young and does stupid things – and by stupid, I mean things I wish I'd been able to do when I was his age –”
I laugh and shake my head. Pops' personality is infectious. It's warm and delightful. He's a sweet old man and I find myself growing very fond of him, very quickly.
“– but what he needed all along was somebody like you,” he continues. “Somebody who gets rid of that darkness that consumes him sometimes. Not to be too fuckin' poetic, but he's always needed somebody to fill that missing piece inside of him. He's needed you, Darby. He's always needed you.”
I sit back and let what he just said wash over me. On the one hand, it makes my heart swell with unfettered joy. On the other, it makes the pain already throbbing in my heart even more vibrant. I really don't know what to think or to believe right now.
Pops looks at me and I can see the questions in his eyes. He cocks his head, letting those wise, kind eyes pierce me. Look straight through me. I can tell that he's trying to understand the reason behind my visit.
“Might as well spit it out, Darby,” he coaxes. “It's what you came here for, after all. Let's get it all out and see if we can't figure it out together, huh?”
He's right – I know he’s right – so I spill the story. I tell him everything about finding the woman in his house – all of it. When I finish speaking, Pops runs a hand through his hair, and fixes his eyes on me again.
“Somethin' about this stinks to high heaven,” he says. “There is absolutely no way Carter would ever two-time you like that. He'd never run around on you, Darby. I know the kid like the back of my hand, maybe even better than that, and I’m telling you, he wouldn't do you dirty like that.”
“I want to believe that, Pops,” I say. “But the evidence is pretty damning. I mean, she was in his house. Which means she had to have a key.”
“Unless somebody let her in,” he says. “Did you ask the doormen?”
I shake my head. “I didn't.”
“Might want to,” he says. “Might want to see who they let up and allowed in. I may not know much, but I know that kid is crazy in love with you. And that he'd never do anything to jeopardize that. Ever. He can be an asshole sometimes – believe me, nobody knows that better than me – but he's not stupid.”
My breath catches in my throat, and my eyes grow wide when I hear those words. I shake my head a little, desperately wanting to believe them, but denying the message all the same.
“H – he's never said that to me,” I say. “Those words. We've never –”
Pops laughs. “Doesn't make it any less true,” he says. “Whenever I see him now, he's got that look on his face again – the one he had when you were with him all those years ago. He's walkin’ on sunshine and has his head in the clouds all over again. I know this kid inside and out. I've seen him with lots of women and I know when something is real for him, and when something isn't. He doesn't need to say the words for me to know. And I think somewhere deep down inside, you know that too.”
I know what I've felt in my heart over the time I've been with Carter – how intense and powerful it is. How overwhelming and scary. And even though I've never said it out loud, I know that I love him. Which is what’s making this situation even more difficult and unbearable.
“He loves you, Darby,” Pops says gently. “Loves you more than life itself.”
“I – I love him too, Pops,” I say, surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth. “I honestly do.”
“I know. I can see it in your eyes,” he says. “Now, the que
stion is, what you're going to do about this fucked up situation?”
I shake my head. “I don't know yet. I still have so many unanswered questions. Things I'm still trying to reconcile inside of me.”
“Know what I think?”
I grin. “I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway.”
“Damn right. It's my right as an old man,” he says and chuckles. “You want answers, you should be askin’ that stupid brother of yours some questions.”
It's interesting to me that two people, completely independent of each other, both tagged my brother as a suspect in this situation. Yeah, he's a controlling asshole. He thinks he knows what I need better than I do. And he's more concerned about his political ambitions than me. I know all of this. Better than anybody else.
But, would he really stoop this low? Framing Carter? Would he really abuse his authority, just to tighten his grip on me?
To be honest and perfectly fair, I don't have an answer for that question any more than the ten thousand other questions firing through my mind right now.
“Carter told me your brother came back droppin' threats when he found out you two were back together again,” Pops says. “Says he'd set me up for murder if Carter didn't walk away from you – again.”
“Yeah, Carter and I talked about that. He believes that you didn't do what Mason is accusing you of,” I say. “He said you're the best, most honorable man he knows.”
“If your brother is willing to railroad me to prison for murders, he knows I didn't commit,” Pops goes on, “is it that far of a reach to think that he'd set Carter up with some fake sidepiece to fuck with you both? Just to get into your head and drive a wedge between you two? I mean, come on. That's pretty benign on the scale of bullshit your brother seems capable of pullin’.”
Put in terms that simple and stark, I can see his point. And it casts a hell of a lot of doubt on what I saw that night at Carter's place.
I don't know. I just don't know who to believe right now.
“My advice? Talk to your brother,” Pops says. “See if he can convince you of the truth.”
“My head is so clouded right now, I don't know that I'd know the truth if it walked up and smacked me across the face.”
His smile is warm and genuine.
“Carter is a good man, Darby,” Pops says, his voice earnest. “Don't let anything your brother says make you doubt that. Your brother has an agenda. Carter's only agenda is to love you.”
I can't stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I tried, but I just can't hold them back anymore. The last thing I want to do is blubber or slip into hysterics in front of Pops. He gives me a small, warm smile, and for all the world, it feels like a grandfather trying to console his favorite granddaughter.
“Oh no, Pops,” Adriana says as she walks back into the room, her face aghast. “What did you do? What did you say to her?”
He rolls his eyes and lets out a loud snort. “Christ,” he says. “I've been around the Terminator here so long, I almost forgot that people have emotions.”
I shake my head. “He didn't say anything,” I say. “If anything, he's helped me out. A lot.”
Adriana eyes me for a moment before frowning at Pops. “You sure you didn't do anything, old man?”
He laughs. “For once, no.”
She chuckles and looks over at me again. “You’re okay, though, honey?”
I nod and wipe at my eyes. “Yeah. I'm good, actually.”
I stand up and walk over to where Pops is sitting. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. He hugs me in return, softly patting my back. Eventually, I pull back and wipe away the last of the tears.
“Thank you, Pops,” I say. “You’re everything Carter said you were and more.”
“Oh boy,” Adriana says. “You pump up that ego on this old man anymore and he's going to be even more unbearable than usual.”
“Hey, maybe if I'm unbearable enough, you can give me a spanking,” he says.
“In your dreams, old man,” she laughs. “In your dreams.”
She's smiling and rests a hand on Pops' shoulder. The affection between them is palpable and heartwarming.
“Thank you, Pops,” I say. “Thanks for talking to me. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime, doll,” he says. “I mean that. Come by anytime. It'd be nice to see a beautiful smiling face once in a while, instead of this beautiful scowling face I usually see. Somethin' to break up the monotony is always appreciated.”
Adriana playfully slaps him on the shoulder and laughs. I bid them both a good day and turn, leaving his apartment. As I exit the building and hail a cab, a cold gust of wind hits me, making me pull my sweater a little tighter around me, reminding me that winter is upon us.
All the while I'm standing there, waiting for my cab, my head is spinning in a million different directions, and I'm honestly not sure where it's going to stop.
At least I have a little more information to work with, which makes my next step a little bit easier.
19
Carter
I'm standing by the front door of my place, waiting for the elevator doors to open. Exactly where I’ve been since I got the call from the desk that Darby was downstairs and wanted to come up. After what seems like an eternity, I hear the soft chime of the elevator, followed by the sounds of the doors opening. And when Darby steps out into the hall, I feel my heart stutter drunkenly inside of me.
Just seeing her again makes my heart swell and infuses me with a sense of hope. Seeing her face makes me believe that there's nothing we that can't overcome together. I want to believe in that so much.
“Hey,” I say when she approaches.
“Hey,” she replies, avoiding my eyes.
I step forward to pull her into an embrace, but she steps back, recoiling from me, so I raise my hands in surrender. I don’t blame her – I’ll respect her boundaries.
For now, I need to be patient and let her play this out on her terms.
“Come in,” I say.
I follow her in and close the door behind us. She folds her arms over her midsection, almost protectively, and walks immediately over to the windows, gazing out at the city beyond. The sky is slate gray, and the forecast is promising our first snow in the next few days. It certainly feels cold enough out there to do it.
Standing there, looking at her from behind, the urge to take her in my arms is almost overpowering. It's all I can do to stop myself from going to her. But, I know I can't. She's obviously not ready for that yet. And until she is, I need to keep my distance. Being near her is too tempting, and the last thing I want to do is scare her off or give her a reason to run.
“Wine?” I ask.
She nods, but doesn't say anything, so I walk to the bar and take a bottle out of the refrigerator. I pour her a glass and get myself a drink while I'm at it. The lights in the main room are dim, most of the illumination coming from the fireplace. Soft jazz plays over the sound system, and as I look around, I realize how unintentionally romantic the setting is. Talk about sending the wrong fucking signal.
I reach over to flip the light switch, but Darby's voice stops me.
“No, leave it,” she says, obviously watching me in the reflection of the window. “It's fine. I'd rather it not be too bright in here anyway.”
“Okay,” I say and carry her wine over to her.
She accepts the glass with a small smile, and then turns away. Her tone is clipped, her body tense, and there is a wariness in her eyes I've never seen before. The distance between us – a chasm really – is killing me. I'm dying to do something – anything – to bridge that gap and get back to being us again. There's nothing I can do at the moment though, so I retreat a few steps back and sit on one of the stools at the bar.
“I talked to Pops,” she says.
“Yeah, he mentioned you'd stopped by,” I reply. “I'm glad you met him. He seemed really fond of you.”
I was curious whe
n I heard she dropped by his place. I'd forgotten that I told her where he was living. Her mind though, is apparently like Eddie's – a steel fuckin' trap. I honestly don't know what they had to talk about, or why it prompted her to finally contact me after days of radio silence. Not that I care, honestly. I'm just glad she finally contacted me.
“Pops loves you a lot,” she says and takes a sip of her wine.
“And I love that old man a lot too.”
She nods. “I know,” she says. “He's a good man. Just like you said.”
“He is.”
I want to tell her about everything that happened after she left. Want to tell her what a piece of shit her brother is. But, she's dipping her toes in the waters right now and I don't want to force her hand by pushing her into the deep end just yet. We'll get there eventually, but right now, this is her show.
“I've missed you,” she says, which surprises me – but heartens me at the same time.
“I've missed you too, Darby,” I say. “More than I can even begin to tell you.”
There's a faint smile on her lips, but a strange look in her eye that I can't interpret. She turns and walks toward me. I feel my heart beat harder with every step she takes, and when she's standing before me, and I catch a faint whiff of her perfume, of her, I feel like it’s going to explode.
Her eyes fixed to mine, she takes a long drink of her wine and sets the glass down on the bar next to me. Next, she takes the glass out of my hands and sets it next to hers. Her eyes are so direct. So penetrating. And I know the next words out of her mouth are going to be important.
“Do you love me, Carter?”
I rock backward, the breath leaving my lungs, as if she'd just punched me. It's not the question I was expecting. Not even close. It takes me a minute to get my bearings, and I sit there gaping at her for a few seconds, my head a swirling mass of confusion at the sudden change in conversation – what little conversation there was, anyway. Slowly, I start to gather myself and nod.
“With all of my heart and everything in me,” I say. “I love you, Darby White. Always have. Always will.”