And actually, hers too. Because, the more I think about it, the more I call bullshit on her being happy. She hides her disability, she is closed off from most people, she lives in a shitty apartment—who the fuck wants to live in a shitty, dangerous neighborhood? She is not happy. She may try to pretend she is, but that fortress around her heart says otherwise. She’s afraid of being judged and of being hurt so she pushes everyone away before they have a chance to hurt her. I may not be the smart one in this relationship but she’s being stupid by not realizing what she’s doing.
At least I’m willing to take risks. She should try having the surgery again. And damn it, she should give us a chance even when she leaves. People have long-distance relationships all the time.
I get more and more worked up because I want to not feel anything for her. It would be so much easier. Except that all of these feelings are making me reevaluate my own life. When I bought my car and my apartment I thought I was happy. I used the money from my brother’s investment to pay for the apartment and it felt like the biggest and greatest fuck-you to my father. But now, thinking back, I wasn’t happy. I never really wanted those things. I just felt as if I was supposed to have them, like it was the next logical step in proving my father wrong. After I had them, I didn’t feel complete. I didn’t feel any better. They were just more “things” that I owned. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my accomplishments, but I don’t feel the same contentment that someone would feel about having something they truly desired. So now, I’m sitting here questioning my entire fucking life thanks to Lola and her tirade about her happy little life.
And how can I even be angry with her. She’s been nothing but forthright from day one. We’re just sleeping together. I have plans and those plans are set in motion and I’ve worked too hard to change the course of my life right now. And she has her plans too. I’m not going to go and fuck with them either. At some point in the early morning I fall asleep and don’t wake up until it’s almost time to go to work.
I’m rushing to get ready for work when my phone rings with an unfamiliar number. I pause; I don’t want to be late but I pick up the phone anyway.
“Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Fox? William Fox?”
“Yes. Who’s this?” I ask, adjusting my tie in the mirror.
“This is Deputy Shillings calling from Detroit. Are you related to a Timothy Fox? He has you as his emergency contact on his phone. Actually, you are the only contact in his phone.”
I tense and turn away from the mirror. “That’s my father.” I haven’t heard from my dad in months and a cop calling me can’t be good news. “What did he do this time?”
“I regret to inform you that he had a seizure at a grocery store and was rushed to the hospital. He is currently in critical condition at Sinai-Grace. I would recommend you come to town.”
“Um…” I’m speechless.
“Mr. Fox?”
“Yes. Yes, okay. Thank you.”
I’m having an out-of-body experience of sorts.
My father is in critical condition. Is he dying? Do I even care?
An hour later I’m walking into Duality and I swear to God, I can’t recall how I got here. I’m on automatic pilot, unsure as to how I should take this news.
The staff greets me as I walk in. I nod and head straight to the office and close the door behind me.
Lola
In the time since I’ve known him, Fox has never walked by me without at least smiling. I guess we’re still fighting.
I was going to talk to him when he got in because texting is a shit way to converse and I prefer to do it in person. But he didn’t even look my way. I can’t believe he’s that upset at me because I won’t consider the cochlear implants.
I finish my side work and wipe the bar one last time, then go to find him. If this is over, he needs to man the hell up and tell me to my face.
I knock once and wait a moment before opening the door. I find him sitting behind the big, modern glass-and-chrome desk, his hands fisting his hair, his elbows on the table. “Fox?”
He looks up slowly. It’s as if he didn’t even hear me walk in. Hesitantly, I move closer. Something is wrong and my heart drops. I don’t want something to be wrong with kind, strong Fox. “Hey? You okay?”
His hair is unkempt and he’s not even wearing a tie. He swivels his chair, then stands up. “Yes. Fine.” Absently, he looks at his watch and I see his mouth move but I can’t see what he’s saying. Placing a hand on my lower back, he leads me outside but I turn around to stop him. “What’s wrong? What did you say?”
He looks up. “Oh, sorry. Nothing. Lot’s on my mind is all. Club’s about to open. You better get down there.” He is completely distracted.
I know he doesn’t owe me anything, most of all an explanation, but he’s still my friend and the way he’s acting worries me.
With an inexplicable feeling of dread, I go to the bar and start working. I glance around all night trying to find Fox but I barely see him. And the feeling that something is wrong heightens.
As soon as I have a moment, I’m going to find him and demand he tell me what’s wrong. I don’t think it has to do with our fight last night and whatever it is, I want to help. I hate seeing him this way.
Fox
Why do I feel so guilty? I don’t owe Timothy Fox one damn thing.
“There’s an issue upstairs,” I hear through the earpiece I have on. I hurry up the stairs and find a crowd of people around one of the topless female servers, Samantha. Keylan and Fritz, two of my security guys, are already there pushing the crowd away. Immediately I shoulder my way to the center of the chaos where there’s a tray on the floor, ice, glass, and liquid everywhere. Samantha is just standing there pissed off, looking as if she’s about to punch the man in front of her, who is now being pulled away by Fritz.
“What the hell happened here?” I yell. “Everyone, please be careful. There’s glass. Move away!”
“He grabbed my tits!” Samantha yells, her breasts swinging as she speaks, but she doesn’t cover them and she isn’t self-conscious about being half nude. She takes a step toward the man, who is clearly drunk, and I quickly get in the middle of them. “Take him downstairs and call the cops,” I instruct my guys. “You okay?” I ask Samantha.
“The cops?” the man exclaims in shock.
“We have rules. You can’t touch our staff. That’s battery. Downstairs now.” There’s nudity but this is a classy place and this is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a strip club.
“The cunt loved it,” he yells out, making an obscene gesture with his tongue and fingers.
“Get him out of here!” I bark.
“Fuck you, meathead.”
“Excuse me?” I’ve had a shit day and this asshole is the last thing I need.
“You stupid or something? I said: Fuck. You!” he spits out. Literally. He spits at me. And that’s it. Memories of my father calling me stupid come pouring back at me, and I’ve had just about all I can take. I pull my arm back and release my fist right to his face. Blood spurts out of his nose and I feel pain in my knuckles.
“Fox!” Samantha cries out, and Keylan holds me back before I’m able to throw a second punch.
“You broke my goddamn nose!” I hear him holler.
“Let’s go, bro. He ain’t worth it,” I hear Keylan say from behind me. I pull my arm free and stalk to my office, slamming the door behind me. I’m pacing back and forth when Samantha walks in followed by David and Iggy, both of whom were downstairs working tonight.
“Jesus Christ. What the hell happened, man?”
Samantha explains while I continue to pace, opening and closing my throbbing hand. A knock on the door interrupts us, and it’s Keylan asking what he should do with the asshole downstairs whose nose is
broken.
Iggy shakes his head. “Was it worth it?”
I wipe my forehead for the umpteenth time. “He spit at me and called one of our staff a cunt. He also grabbed her tits.” I reach for a club T-shirt from the cabinet and toss it at Samantha, who doesn’t seem at all concerned about her nudity, but puts it on anyway. “Yeah, it was worth it. I wish I would have gotten a second jab.”
Iggy chuckles. “I’ll take care of the asshole,” he assures David and walks out with Keylan.
I run my hand through my hair. “Fuck. How’s he going to take care of it?” I’ll probably spend the night in jail.
“Don’t worry about it,” David says. “If Iggy says he’s got it, you got nothin’ to worry about.”
I have no idea what that means, but for some reason I feel a little better. Samantha goes to the wet bar and fills a bucket with ice and hands it to me. Then she grabs my hand and sticks my fist into the ice. “Thanks for what you did. Guy was a real asshole!”
“You okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Used to work at Cookie’s, you know, the strip club? I’ve had worse. Lots worse. Don’t worry about me.”
“Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?” David says to her.
“I’m okay.”
“I insist. Take it off. Relax. I’ll pay you an average of your normal tips so you don’t lose any pay. That was intense. I’ll have one of the guys escort you to your car, okay?”
“ ’Kay. Thanks!” she says, as if she just got the best news, instead of a total shit show. “Thanks again for defending me, Fox. Hope you didn’t break anything.”
She waves at us and leaves.
Once we’re alone David glares at me as he sits down in my chair behind the desk. “You could’ve gotten arrested. He can sue the club, you know?”
I slump down on a chair in front of the desk. “I just…” My job is my priority and now that I’m finally at a place I want to be, I don’t want to fuck it up. This is the second time in about a month that something my father has done has directly impacted my job. First the anniversary of brother’s death, when I was late to work, and now tonight. There’s no excuse but the words just slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Right before I walked in tonight, I got a call. My father’s in critical care. I think…I think he’s dying. I’m sorry I fucked up. You have every right to fire me.”
“I’m not going to fire you, relax. Why the hell didn’t you call and take a few days off?”
“The sonofabitch doesn’t deserve my vacation leave.” David looks at me, confused. “We don’t have a great relationship.”
“I see,” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t really. “Your head may not be with your dad, but it’s not here either. You need a few days off.”
“No, I’m—”
“It’s not a request, Fox.”
My head shoots up, and I narrow my eyes.
“I already told you that you’re not fired. But you do need to go cool off. Come back next week. If you feel inclined to visit your old man, great. If you want to bury your sorrows in tequila and pussy, even better. Point is, I don’t want you here. You need a break. So I’m giving it to you. Look, I understand why you hit the guy. I think Nick would’ve done the same thing, but you’re usually not that hotheaded. You’re off your game and I need your head on right. Your employees can’t see you do that shit again, okay? You are supposed to be setting an example.”
Fuck. “Yeah. I’m sorry I let you down.”
“You didn’t. He was way outta line. But I still have to give it to you straight.”
I’m not sure whether this forced vacation is good or bad but I don’t have a choice in the matter. When your boss tells you to leave, you leave. Rubbing my face with the palm of my hand, I stand up.
“What about the guy I hit?”
“He assaulted one of our staff members. I’m sure that Iggy is going to convince him that it’s better to drop the charges in exchange for us dropping our charges. Iggy can be very convincing. So don’t worry about it.”
I let out a big breath, and feeling completely defeated, I leave the club through the back exit and go straight home.
As soon as I’m in my apartment, I rip off my suit and take a shower, hoping that it’ll make me feel better. I let the hot water run down my body until it turns cold. All I can think about is how my father always called me “stupid” and how he used to beat me when I didn’t do well in school. Then the image of my brother comes to my mind and before I know it, I’m throwing a hairbrush across the bathroom. It hits the mirror, which cracks.
“Fuck!”
I know instinctively that if I don’t go I will regret it until the day I die. I also realize that the brush I threw is not mine. It’s white and girly and fuck, I miss the hell out of Lola. But she’s not mine and this is not something she signed up for. This is heavy and we’re not heavy. She’s made it clear that’s not what she wants. We’re sex without strings so I can’t text her and unload all this shit on her. I’ll talk to her when I get back or text her when I get to Detroit.
Without much thought, I throw a bunch of clothes into a duffel bag, grab my keys and wallet, and call up a cab to come get me. On my way to the airport, I purchase a ticket to Detroit from my phone. I am glad the next flight is leaving within the hour because if I have too much time to think about it, I’ll probably change my mind.
I haven’t been back home in twenty years and I’m dreading it, even though I know in the pit of my soul that I need to go one final time and see the motherfucker who fucked up my life and killed my brother.
Lola
After I finish cleaning up my station, I look around but I don’t see Fox anywhere. I wander around for a little longer, waiting for him.
“Have you seen Fox?” I ask one of the security guys.
“Went home early.”
Damn, I’m starting to get concerned. Something really is wrong with Fox. On the bus ride home I send him a text. I know things are weird between us but I’m worried about you. Everything okay?
I shower, then check my phone a dozen times before I finally fall asleep without any response from Fox.
The next day I’m working at the clinic, which keeps me busy all day, but not busy enough because I still check my phone every hour. Nothing.
After work, I take the bus home, microwave some canned soup, and eat quickly before getting dressed to head back to Duality.
Fox’s car is not in his parking space and I wonder if he’s running late. I am getting ready for the doors to open for the night when I notice that Keylan is working tonight instead of Fox, which is odd. What the hell is going on?
I try to put Fox out of mind and focus on work, but at some point during the evening, I turn around to find Iggy standing behind me with Keylan. I think they’ve been trying to get my attention. When I acknowledge them and apologize, they both start speaking at once but I can’t focus on both lips at the same time. Normally, with a few words I can get the gist of the conversation but between the lights, the small crowd that has already started to form, and the vibrations from the music, I can’t understand anything they’re saying.
I shake my head in confusion and decide to just focus on Iggy, who is closest. “I’m sorry. What?” I ask, motioning to my ear. He must think the music is too loud so he leans close and now I have a clear view of his lips.
“Have you talked to Fox? Keylan told me what happened and we’re worried. He hasn’t answered his phone.”
Worried? When he sees my look of surprise, he turns his head to Keylan who then says to me, “I thought you two were dating. That’s the rumor.”
“Uh…” I clear my voice. “Yeah. Yes.” They’re watching me expectantly. “But no, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him or heard from him. I was worried. He
sort of disappeared.”
“Do you know if his dad passed?” Iggy asks.
Passed? Dad? “What? No. I don’t…what?”
“He didn’t tell you? Maybe we shouldn’t—” he starts, turning his head toward Keylan. I grab Iggy’s chin, forcing him to look at me. He must think I’m completely crazy but I don’t care. “No, tell me. I need to know.”
He hesitates but then shrugs. “His father—and David forced him to take time off. We weren’t sure if he’d go to Detroit or—but after the fight yesterday, he needed to cool off. Nick and Matt have been calling him all day to see if he’s okay.” I don’t get the entire thing because he keeps moving around and looking at Keylan but I think I got the gist of it.
“Fight? What fight?”
“Woman, where have you been? Yesterday? He almost got arrested?” Damn. How did I not know any of this? Oh yeah…I can’t hear so whispering and gossip go over my head. I pull out my phone. There are no messages, so I quickly text him. Where are you? I heard about your dad. Can I help? Are you in town?
I look up and shrug. “Nothing. He hasn’t called me.”
“Do you know where he lives?” Iggy asks.
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you take the rest of the night off and go check on him?”
I’m already taking off my apron. “Okay. I’ll let you know.”
I haul ass to the bus stop and to his house, which is a shit-ton of buses away. I wonder what happened with his dad. All he’s told me was that his dad was an asshole but he never elaborated. Oh—and I know his dad lives in Detroit but I don’t know where.
The entire ordeal takes me two hours, and it’s well into the middle of the night by the time I get to my own apartment. I must’ve taken four different buses since he lives across town and there’s not as many at this late hour. He didn’t answer the door, and he still hasn’t returned my texts. Now I’m worried. “You’re really worrying me, Fox. Not answering my texts makes you a shitty friend because I am worried about you. So are Keylan and Iggy and Matt and Nick. Just send me something to let me know you’re alive.” It’s the first voicemail I’ve ever left since losing my hearing and I don’t know if I even did it right since I can’t hear the fucking ringing or the beep or anything. Ugh. I text him again.
Kiss Me Back Page 14