“I will pay you fifty bucks not to finish this story.” I say, and she suddenly starts laughing her ass off.
“I’m sorry!” she says, “I’m so stupid. I’m such an awkward moron sometimes.”
Her laugh is slightly contagious. I laugh too. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Much like with Max, the two of us wind up spending a considerable amount of time talking about Eddie and life in general. She turns out to be a pretty nice woman, and I feel like an asshole for just now having met her.
41
While the actual factory is still shut down, the office is slowly starting to get back up and running. The police have finally brought me back my office material and my computer that they had taken away as evidence, so I am able to start getting some actual work done. My files have been returned as well. A very small part of me had started to miss actually working. I focus on what I can do to get paychecks to my employees. After my conversation with my driver, I’m feeling an extra layer of guilt. My lawyer, Lillian, had managed to get some of my accounts unfrozen. If I have to loan some of my personal money to the company until this shit gets straightened out so that my employees can get their paychecks, then so be it.
I wind up getting a call about an old shipment, something Eddie had had his hands in. I wind up having to place the client on hold as I go down into the factory to rummage through Eddie’s files that have thankfully been returned. There are still police all over the factory, and it makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder if this shit is ever going to end.
I sit behind Eddie’s desk, feeling incredibly uncomfortable to be here. For one thing, the large glass windows allow the cops to stare in at me as they pass by. I prefer the privacy of my office. Another thing is that this is Eddie’s desk, not mine. Eddie should be sitting here, not me. I cringe because it makes me think of Eddie lying in that hospital bed, and that makes me wonder why the hell I’m even here. The doctors said he had been doing a little better, but whether or not he would actually be able to be taken off life support is still up in the air. I’d give anything to talk to him right now. Trying to do his job and mine is a nightmare; this is probably how he felt all the time –I can’t even handle both jobs while the factory is closed and nothing is going on. Eddie took over my shit all the time; I can’t imagine being him. No wonder he was always acting like he had a stick up his ass.
After about thirty minute of being unable to find the appropriate paperwork, I grab the desk phone off of Eddie’s desk to talk to the client. I apologize profusely and explain to them the situation. The guy on the other line is fairly understandable, but I can still sense the annoyance in his tone. He says he’s seen the news coverage, so he cuts me a break and says he will call back next week to give me time to riffle through some paperwork. Since the cops have returned everything, nothing is where it is supposed to be. It’s driving me crazy.
I keep digging through Eddie’s files, grumbling and cussing under my breath the entire time. I finally get to the point that I am so frustrated that I stand up and kick the shit out of his desk, stubbing my toe and making the middle drawer pop open. “Fuck!” I shout and drop back down into my seat; I notice a cop snicker as he walks by the office. I have to resist flicking him off. I got to close the drawer that popped open when I notice an envelope with Eddie’s name scribbled on the outside in a familiar handwriting. It’s my dad’s handwriting.
A part of me knows that I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. I pick it up, close the drawer, and lean back in my seat. I open up the envelope and pull out a handwritten letter. It does not take me long to figure out that it’s not just any letter –it’s the letter. The letter our dad, my dad, left Eddie after he died. The one Eddie never let me read. I tell myself to put it away, but I wind up reading it anyways like a complete idiot.
Edward,
I realize I should have told you this before now, but I promised your mother I would not. I feel that it is unfair to you to bring this secret to the grave. You are not my son. There was a brief period in mine and your mother’s marriage in which we were separated –and I do mean brief. In fact, for the longest time I had assumed that you were, in fact, my child. Not long after James was born, your mother told me the truth about your lineage. Your real father’s name is Ricardo Smith. He lives in LA. I do believe you have some various other siblings through him, but I honestly could not tell you. It’s not your fault, and I realize that. I did my best to raise you as my own, but at the end of the day I always felt differently towards you than I know I should have. I suppose you could call it indifference or sometimes even a hint of anger or hatred. You were and still are a good person, so I hope that this news does not change that, but I felt that you should know the truth. As I’m sure you have found out by the time this letter is reaching you, as my only biological child I am leaving most everything to James. This is not meant as a jab at you, but in my last days I have had to think about where my priorities lay, and after careful consideration I realize that you are not one of them. I have set aside more than enough for you to live comfortably; besides, you are smart, so I am sure you will prosper on your own. I truly am sorry that this is how you are finding out about all of this. Take care of my son for me. Best of luck to you,
-Howard Mont
Best of luck to you? There is literally so much in this letter that makes me want to scream. It’s not outright hateful, sure, but it’s so damn cold. There was so much in it that was just unnecessarily cruel. Why tell Eddie that he felt indifferent towards him? Saying he felt anger and hatred –was that necessary? Saying that he wasn’t a priority? He didn’t even bother signing it Dad or your father or anything! He signed it Howard Mont! He couldn’t have even said I love you? This, this bullshit, is what our father left behind for Eddie? I try to imagine what it must have been like when Eddie had first read this letter just a few years ago.
Our mom had passed away a few years before. Our dad was dead, and we were still in mourning about that. I can’t imagine the emotion of still being broken about the loss of a parent and then getting this! It makes me so angry that I’m almost feeling sick. I am sick. My throat tightens, and I fight back any tears. How could my father be so damn cruel? He really couldn’t have even said I love you? Even if it would have been a lie –he couldn’t tell him something like he always thought of him as a son or some cheesy line like that? No, he was too proud. He had to be an asshole even in his final moments. Take care of my son for me. Best of luck to you…. That’s how he ended things with Eddie? Take care of my son –as if Eddie had not spent his entire childhood and most of his adult life believing that he too was this man’s son?
It’s all too much. I feel tears stream down my face, and I am really wishing that this damn office was more closed off. I lean forward and rest my forehead on the end of the desk so that I can just stare down at the floor until I can get a hold of myself. I have never been so hurt and so angry in my life.
42
I am waiting outside of the hospital for Kate and her kids. I am going to make sure that she is put on the approval guest list of visitors for Eddie. If she wants to see her brother, I shouldn’t be able to stop her. I guess I realize now that she and his other half-siblings are just as much Eddie’s family as I am.
“No, stop!” I hear Kate’s voice shouting, “I said hold my hand!”
I chuckle; she’s in mom mode. I turn around to look towards the walkway that leads away from the parking deck, and I feel a slight discomfort in my stomach. There is a whole damn pack of them coming my way. Damn! She only showed me pictures of three kids –how many of them are there? I count nine. Nine fucking kids, and I swear, they all look like they have different daddies. This stripper mom could not possibly be any more of a stereotype.
She is pushing a stroller, holding one kids hand, and shooing the other seven into a line behind her. Holy hell, woman! Single mom? How does she manage that pack of animals? The oldest one, Bobby, is carrying one of the younger ones on his hip and holding
another one’s hand. “James!” Kate smiles a smile of relief when she sees me standing out front, and I wave her and the kids over.
Much to my surprise, the kids all seem fairly well behaved as they stand around my feet with their hands crossed in front of them nice and quietly. They all seem a bit uncomfortable meeting me for the first time. “James, this is Bobby, Lana, and Jack,” she points to the oldest of the three kids who all are giving me this eat-shit look with their arms crossed, “I showed you their pictures,” she then introduces the younger ones: a nine-year-old named Tommy, seven year old twin girls Julie and Jamie, another set of twins –boys this time named William and Jacob who are five, and the young and sleeping baby named Eddie who is in the stroller.
Once the introductions are over, the oldest boy Bobby gives me this angry stare and asks, “How come they would let you in to see Uncle Eddie but not us?”
“I’m his brother.” I say.
“He’s my uncle,” Bobby says, “But I guess that don’t mean shit.”
Well, he’s a little fucking charmer. He looks like a little punk, and I kind of want to punch him in the face –not that I would. “I’m sure there was just a misunderstanding at the hospital,” I say, “But I’m here to fix it.”
“Be nice, Bobby,” Kate warns her eldest son.
He’s trying to act like a little badass in front of me, but it’s coming off as ridiculous with one of the five-year-old twins on his hip. He has riding gloves on with the fingers torn off and a stupid green streak through his hair. “Whatever.” He says, and I feel a weird parental instinct in me that wants to shout at him not to be rude to his mother, but it’s not my place. He just looks like a kid that would drop out of school.
We head inside the hospital together and I am quick to realize I’m not going to get on the good side of the older kids too easily, so I talk and joke around with the younger kids. Both sets of twins really seem to like me. So does the nine-year-old, Tommy. Kate smiles to see that I am talking to her kids.
Once we’re inside we take the elevator to the floor where the coma patients are, and I speak to the woman at the desk about Kate and have her put on a sort of approved guest list. The nurse points down at the children, “How old are all of they? They can’t come back there if they’re under fourteen.”
I see this absolute look of hate on Bobby’s face, and I worry that he is about to say something and smart off to the nurse. I cut him off and pull the nurse aside to talk. “Look, they came a long way to see their uncle,” I say, “And you’ve seen Eddie. We don’t know what’s going to happen to him. Are you telling me you’re not going to let them back there?”
The nurse presses her lips together, poking them out as she makes this duck-like face and contemplates her next move. “Fine, but so you know, Mr. Mont, but only because you’re here. There is no way I would let someone back there by themselves with that many underage kids. Understand? Make sure she knows that before she tries to come back here.”
I nod, and we wind up heading back to the room where Eddie is being kept. The children all become very quiet when they see Eddie. I have to admit that it’s a scary scene with that bruised and swollen face, the tube down his throat, the bandages, the IV, and the loud beeping machines that are keeping him alive. Kate looks almost ghostly as she approaches Eddies’ bedside and kisses his forehead.
I study each of the children’s faces. The younger ones look sketched out –like they’re afraid of Eddie all of a sudden. That comes from a lack of understanding I’m sure. Lana and Jack are mostly uncomfortable as they put on brave faces and shift their weight from one foot to the other. It’s Bobby’s face that surprises me the most. There is a whole mix of emotions under that natural scowl of his. “So,” Kate turns and looks at me, “what have the doctors been saying about Eddie”
Before I have a chance to answer the question, Bobby suddenly bolts out of the room. Kate jolts, but then she hesitates, obviously not wanting to leave me alone with eight kids while she chased after one. “I got him,” I say in the most reassuring tone that I can muster. I am not very confident in that statement, but she lets me chase after him. I dart out into the hall, but Bobby didn’t go far.
The kid is standing in the hallways, his hands on the back of his head –pulling at his hair. His face is covered in tears, and he seems to be almost hyperventilating over what he had just seen. “I’m not going back in there,” he says, his voice gurgling slightly from his attempt to stifle his sobs.
“Okay,” I say, “But I’m staying out here with you.”
One of his hands come out from behind his head and does an awkward wave towards the door of the room, “is he gonna die?”
I say honestly, “I don’t know.”
His hands are practically shaking when they come down off his head, “This is bullshit, man.” His voice is just as shaky as his hands. “Why is this happening to Eddie? Who the fuck did this? Who would do this?”
“I don’t know,” I say, “But we’re going to find out who.” I stare at the kid. He looks completely broken. “Your mom tells me you and Eddie are close.”
He nods. “I never really had a dad, but Eddie-” his voice trails off.
“What about your stepdad?” I ask curiously, “Your mom told me he passed away five years ago-”
Eddie grunts, “Who? Tony? That drunk asshole beat the shit out of me, and he and mom were only together for like a year before he got himself killed fighting at the club.”
“Geeze, kid.” I say, “You’ve had it rough, haven’t you?”
“Man, shut the hell up. I don’t need your damn sympathy.” He says, his fists suddenly forming at his sides.
“Kid, put those away before you hurt yourself,” I say, “And stop cussing at me, you little brat.” I take a calming breath. “Eddie’s my brother. Don’t think you’re the only one who’s upset about all of this.”
“I know who you are.” He says, “Trust me. Eddie would talk about you like you were something so great. You seem like you’re just a washed up playboy to me.”
Damn. That one hit home. “Fine,” I say, “Think of me what you want. But just so you know, I do care, Bobby. And I’m doing everything in my power to find out what happened to Eddie. Whoever did this is going to pay for it. And I got to tell you, the bastard who hurt Eddie better hope the cops find him instead of me because I just might kill him.”
“Get in line,” Bobby said and let out a loud grunt.
“You don’t have to act like a tough guy with me, you know? Something tells me you didn’t act that way with Eddie.” I offer him a gentle smile, and he sort of half-heartedly nods at me. After some coaxing, I talked Bobby into coming back into the room to continue his uncomfortable visit with his uncle.
43
I tell Sylvia all about Kate and her family, particularly about Bobby and his close relationship he had developed with Eddie after only a few years. As always, she is undeniably supportive and kind. The two of us wind up going to a bar as a minor celebration of my account being opened up again. I at least have my personal account, so I can finally take Sylvia on a date. It’s nothing too lavish; it had actually been her idea to go to some sleazy bar to drink and listen to some music by a shitty local band while stuffing our faces with fattening bar food. As athletes, we rarely treat ourselves to such foods.
Dinner is kind of depressing despite the upbeat music. I have too much to complain about, and the beer is cheap. Halfway through dinner Sylvia’s phone starts going off. It’s her boss. She tries shrugging it off, but it keeps ringing. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I got to answer this.” She steps out of the bar and returns just a few minutes later with this pout on her face. “James, I’m so sorry, I have to go.”
I understand, and I tell her I’ll see her later. Now I just have one more excuse to be bummed out, so I drink even more. A lot more. As a matter of fact, I think I’m already drunk. I switch from beer to margarita to scotch to vodka…to hell if I know what. I’m mixing my drinks like
a dumbass. Soon I’m so drunk that I can hardly keep up with what is going on. I black out for a minute, and the next thing I know I’m in an unfamiliar car.
“What?” I groan loudly, trying to recall how I got here. I am so wasted it’s stupid. There are just literally too many troubles I’m trying to drown all at once.
“Oh just shut up,” I hear a woman say, and I focus and realize my lawyer is driving the car.
“Lillian?” I slur. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my car, you idiot,” She says and pops me in the ear, making my head spin even worse than before.
I don’t remember what happens next. Suddenly I’m in someone house. Am I at Lillian’s house? Geeze, how much did I drink? How did I get here? Oh yeah, the car… why did she come get me? Did I call Lillian?
“Just be glad you drunk dialed me, you dumbass.” I hear Lillian say, “This would have hurt your case if anyone saw you, you realize that, right?” Suddenly there is a gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I can’t focus enough to actually see Lillian, but I can hear her voice. “No! Hell no! You are not throwing up on my new carpet!”
Somehow this small trash bin appears in my lap, so I make use of it. Oh, tomorrow is really going to suck. Why would I do this to myself? I hear a door open. I look up, and I am able to focus just enough to see another woman entering through what appears to be a front door. Holy hell; she’s gorgeous. She’s tall and thin, and she has short choppy hair that is styled shorted on one side than the other. She’s wearing a white suit jacket and matching tight skirt. “Who’s your friend, Lilly?” she sings as she enters.
“One of my stupid clients,” Lillian says, talking as though I am not even in the room. Am I that far gone?
“Should I call for an ambulance? He looks pretty fucked up.” The woman says.
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 65