by Joan Mauch
Leon poured more bourbon into his glass and sat back down, twisting the antique ring his grandmother had given him when he turned sixteen. She’d told him to always wear it, that it’d bring him luck. Now it was wedged so tight on his left pinkie finger he’d never get it off. Some luck!
That guy he’d met earlier, what was his name? Jack? No, it was unusual. Leon was bad with names. He never forgot a face, but names, he always had a hard time with them. Zac, that’s right. His name was Zac. He hadn’t bothered asking his last name. Who names their kid Zac? Playground bullies must’ve had a ball with that.
Leon took another gulp and closed his eyes. It was nice being alone for a change. There was so much drama whenever the product was around. He had to deal with their needs and get them ready to sell. Sometimes Leon wondered if it was worth it. Oh, the money was good, especially since he wasn’t qualified to do anything, but, as his painful experience with Izzie proved, he couldn’t have a normal life.
It hadn’t bothered him until he met her, then everything changed. He’d fallen so hard, so quickly. In such a short time she’d made him see that life held possibilities he’d never dreamed of, then, just like that, it all went up in smoke and he was listening to music by himself…again.
He’d enjoyed this afternoon on the beach with Zac. The guy seemed all right. Said he was visiting his brother. Maybe, if he was careful, he could meet up with him for a drink before he left town. Leon was in between product and had time on his hands. He’d learned his lesson with Izzie, but surely meeting the guy for drinks and a few laughs would be all right. He’d just have to be careful. That shouldn’t be too hard. All he had to do was remember what happened with Izzie. He couldn’t make that mistake again.
Chapter 31
Zac was sitting in the car trying to figure out what to do next when his cellphone rang. He didn't have caller ID, so he had no idea who it might be. Maybe it was Mom checking to see if he and Jackson had killed each other yet.
"Yes?" he said. He'd never kicked the habit of refusing to identify himself when answering the phone for fear of who might be on the other end.
"Zac?"
"Yeah, who's this?"
"Leon. You know, from yesterday—at the beach and uh, the restaurant?"
Zac laughed. "Leon, you old dog. How're ya doin’?" He hoped he wasn't putting the old-boy routine on too thick.
"Fine. Hey, if you're not doing anything, wanna grab a bite? Then I’ll show you around Tampa, unless you have something better to do."
"Me? Like what?"
"I don' know, like maybe hangin' with your brother?"
"Naw, he's workin'. So yeah, I’m in. See you around twelve."
Zac smiled. Problem solved. How about that? Now he could stop turning himself into knots trying to come up with an excuse to get in touch with the guy.
Shortly before noon, Zac sauntered into the restaurant and spotted Leon at the bar in almost the exact same spot as the previous day. Bet he's been here at least half an hour. Like an overeager girl on her first date. Zac chuckled. Pathetic. And this loser's dangerous? Please.
Slipping onto the barstool, Zac said, "Hey Leon, what's up?"
For the next forty-five minutes or so, the two men made small talk between bites of Cubans and swigs of beer. Then it was time for that tour.
****
Although the afternoon was turning out to be pleasant, Zac had deep misgivings. He’d never been picky about his choice of companions, but having to cultivate Leon’s friendship hit a new low—even for him. Of course, he could be wrong. Maybe the man was simply lonely. Somehow Zac had to get Leon to open up. It wouldn’t be easy.
They were downtown, walking past the Port of Tampa. “Cruise ships like that leave from here all the time,” Leon pointed in the direction of an ocean liner docked nearby. “I’d like to do that someday. It’d be a blast, don’cha think?”
Zac nodded. “So, go for it. What’s stopping you?”
Leon shrugged. “Now’s not the time. I got responsibilities.”
“What kind of responsibilities? Looks to me like you pretty much come and go as you please.” Zac held his breath. Maybe he’d finally got his foot in the door.
“Oh, you know, the usual.”
When Leon didn’t elaborate, Zac decided to push a little farther.
“Like the import business you’re in?” He clamped his mouth shut and waited for what would come next.
Leon hesitated as if trying to decide whether or not Zac could be trusted. “Yeah, that. If I’m not here, I lose money. How ’bout you? What do you do?”
Zac gave him a sheepish grin. “Not a whole hell of a lot. Back home I live with my mom and mostly just hang out. She’s always on my case to make something of myself, but I think she finally saw the writing on the wall and gave up. That’s why I’m visiting my little brother.”
He gave Leon a long look. “I know the big brother’s the one who’s supposed to be successful. Well, in my case it’s just the reverse. All my life, I’ve heard how smart and handsome he is. Got to the point I hated the sight of him.” He stopped talking as the truth of what he said sank in. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault he was a failure.
Leon appeared to listen with his heart instead of his ears. “I had older brothers who bullied me from the time I could walk. I don’t mean just the usual kid stuff either. I ended up with broken bones—cracked ribs and such.”
“So, what’d ya do to make them stop?”
“Joined a street gang, what else?”
“So you traded one bunch of bullies for another?”
“Got that right. But I toughened up to the point where I became the bully. Trust me it’s a lot more fun on that side of the fence.” They both chuckled.
Resuming his role of tour guide, Leon said, “We’re in the Channel District. That’s the Tampa Bay Times Forum where the Republican National Convention was held several years ago.”
Zac realized the moment had passed; he wouldn’t be getting any more information today. Might as well relax. Weaseling his way into the man’s confidence would be a long drawn-out affair. He just hoped Izzie wouldn’t run out of time before he got there.
Chapter 32
That night, Zac was uncharacteristically quiet, which made Jackson more than a little nervous. When his brother kept his mouth shut for any length of time, it generally meant he was up to no good.
“So, you get things squared away with the police?”
Zac nodded. “Yep, I’m a bona fide snitch. They’re even gonna toss a few bucks my way every now and then. How about that?”
“Seriously?”
“That’s what they said. I’ll believe it when I get the cash, but that’s not what this is about. I just want to find out what Leon’s up to and if he did anything to Izzie.”
“Really?” Jackson was having a hard time believing his brother had transformed from a layabout into an upstanding citizen practically overnight. What if this was all a ruse? What if his brother was really interested in Leon so he could get in on the action?
An involuntary shudder passed through his body. God, he hoped that wasn’t the case. This could turn out to be a disaster of monumental proportions. His mother would never forgive him; hell, he’d never forgive himself if Zac ended up in prison—or dead.
“What?” Zac scrutinized his younger brother. “Is it so hard to believe I’d do something worthwhile? You really think that little of me?” He got up and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
****
Jackson was getting worried. Several hours had past and Zac hadn’t returned. Finally, just before midnight, the key turned in the lock. His brother was home, hopefully not as angry as before.
“Hey,” Jackson said, looking up from a book he hadn’t really been reading.
“Hey back at ’cha.” Zac mumbled and plopped into the closest chair.
Neither spoke for several minutes. “Listen,” Jackson began. “I’m sorry if I upset you earlier. I didn’t mean…�
�
“I know ’xactly what you meant. Ya don’ have to pretend. I know,” Zach hiccupped, then continued, “I know what everone thinks a’ me. Think I don’?”
Several hours of serious drinking made itself known with the difficulty his brother had expressing himself. Not wanting to make things worse, Jackson bit his lip.
“Tha’s right, be the same good lil’ boy who sucked up to Mom ’n Dad while I was the screw-up. Well, lemme tell you sumpin’ kiddo: ’fore they went out and got you, I was the golden boy. Far as they were concerned, I was damn near perfec. Then they jus hadda get a brother fer me ’n ever thing change. It was ‘careful don’ wake the baby;’ ‘that new toy’s for the baby;’ ‘isn’ he jus’ the sweetes’ thing?’ Yeah right.”
Jackson was still focused on Zac’s remark about his parents going out and ‘getting’ him. Odd. Even in his drunken state, wouldn’t he have said something like, ‘when you were born’?
“What did you mean they went out and got me?” Leaning in toward his brother, Jackson could smell liquor on his breath.
Zac laughed in only the way someone who’s had too much to drink would. “You don’ know, do you? They never got ’round to telling their very spechul child—one who’s so-o smart, so-o handsome, so-o ’complished; th’ one they love more ’n me—that he’s not really a Taylor uh t’all. That he was,” he let out a loud belch, “you know—adopted.”
The news crashed in on Jackson like a cement block to the head. The thought never entered his mind. Oh, from time to time, a neighbor had remarked on how very different the Taylor boys were from each other, but that was often the case in families. One child might be blond with blue eyes while another’s eyes and hair were dark; one short, the other tall enough to play professional basketball. Now, Zac was saying he’d been adopted. All these years he’d known and kept it a secret.
Unable to respond, Jackson just sat there staring at his older brother. Finally, he said, “That’s not true. You’re jealous, always have been. Well, this time you’ve hit a new low. It’s one thing to say something like that, but to suggest Mom and Dad lied all these years, it’s despicable, that’s what it is.”
Zac stood up and leaned over him, putting his hands on the back of Jackson’s chair for support. “Oh it is, is it? Call Mom and ask her, why don’ ya’? She might tell her precious baby boy the truth now that he’s all grow’d up.” Weaving uncertainly, Zac fell back into the chair.
By this time, anger had bubbled up inside Jackson to the point he had a choice between popping his brother in the chops or going to his room without another word. Not wanting to destroy his apartment, especially in a fistfight he was sure to lose, Jackson went to his room and locked the door. Then, going over to his desk, he began to compose an email:
Dear Mom,
How’re you doing? Me and Zac are…
Jackson fumbled around for several minutes. He didn’t want to worry her by giving the impression they weren’t getting along, even if that was the case. Still, for the most part, things had been relatively peaceful, especially after Zac had sunk his teeth into the whole Izzie/Leon situation. Finally he began typing again.
Zac told me something odd awhile ago. Admittedly, he’d had too much to drink and probably won’t remember telling me tomorrow, but I wanted to check it out with you all the same. He said I was adopted. Is that true? I mean, I have a hard time believing you and Dad would keep something like that from me all these years.
I love you, Mom, regardless of the truth nothing will change that. Despite Dad’s drinking, it’s been a privilege to be part of the Taylor family. But I have to know the truth.
Jackson hesitated a long moment as tears clouded his vision.
Are you my birth mother? And if you’re not, can you tell me who is?
I’m truly sorry if this email comes as a shock. Please don’t get mad at Zac. As I said, he was drunk when he told me and I’m sure didn’t do it out of spite.
Jackson bit his lip; he was pretty sure Zac fully intended to hurt him with that revelation despite being inebriated.
All I want to know is the truth and I’ll never mention it again.
Your loving and grateful son,
Jackson
After finishing the message, Jackson’s hand hovered over the “send” button, then, almost involuntarily, moved it to the right and pressed “delete”. No matter the truth of his birth, he couldn’t hurt the woman who’d shown him nothing but love all his life. When the time was right, he’d bring it up, but that time was not now, and most certainly not by means of an email.
The camaraderie he and his brother had cultivated over the past week was gone. In the morning he’d tell him to get out. Zac could go back home to his drinking buddies or stay in Tampa, Jackson didn’t care. As far as Izzie was concerned, he’d somehow manage to find her on his own.
After a sleepless night obsessing over how to tell his brother he was no longer welcome, Jackson got up and left his room expecting to see Zac asleep on the couch. He walked down the hall debating whether to wake him and demand that he leave immediately, or wait until he got home from work. His resolve weakening along with his anger, Jackson went into the living room to an unexpected sight: Zac, along with his belongings, was gone.
Chapter 33
Leon had finished his second cup of coffee when he heard a tapping on the door. Who the hell is that? His question was directed at Tiny, who had been reclining on the cool tile floor. At the sound of the knock, the dog sprang to his feet, began to bark and growl, and then dashed across the room toward the front of the house. No one ever came around except for a pickup or drop off, making Leon that much more concerned.
Was it the police? Had they finally caught up with me? Will I be hauled into court to face those whiny bitches? Sweat poured in rivulets down his face and back, making dark circles under his arms. The breakfast he so recently enjoyed now sat like a lump in the pit of his stomach. Whoever it was, rapped again.
Should he answer it—or follow his impulse and hightail it out the back? Glancing around, he concluded there was nothing lying around. There had been no deliveries for several weeks now. What the hell, might as well open the door and see what whoever it was wanted.
Squelching the urge to greet his visitor with a bullet through the door, Leon swallowed hard and joined his spastic watchdog. He opened the door a crack—just enough to see who it was that had so rudely disrupted his morning.
There, standing on the stoop, his arms folded over his chest, foot tapping as if waiting for a bus, stood his newfound friend, Zac. What the hell was he doing here? Had Leon forgotten he’d agreed to do something with him? How did Zac even know where he lived? Oh yeah, the other day he’d made the mistake of pointing the house out when he went to get the car. When would he learn?
“Zac,” he exclaimed, grabbing hold of Tiny’s collar as he opened the door. “How ya’ doin’?” He put on his most welcoming expression, which wasn’t all that much of a stretch. He really did like the guy.
“Hey, Leon.” Zac appeared bedraggled: He wore a badly wrinkled shirt; there were dark circles under his eyes; his strong body odor broadcast the need for a shower.
For a moment neither one spoke, each waiting for the other to begin. Finally, Zac said, “I didn’t mean to just show up like this, but me and my brother had this big fight, see, and he kicked me out. You’re the only one I know around here.”
He stopped talking and gave Leon a lost puppy-dog look, then added, “I wondered if you’d let me stay with you a few days ’till I figure out what to do?”
Leon, who’d never had someone to hang with let alone a friend who needed him, was momentarily speechless. Here’s this guy he barely knew asking if he could move in with him. What should he do? The guy was obviously in a bind: no money, no place to stay, no food. Boy could Leon relate to that. He’d been in the same spot more than once and knew what sleeping on a park bench was like. Not only was it cold and often wet, but next to impossible to sleep for
fear of being mugged or even murdered.
“C’mon in,” he said.
For the next hour the two men sat around the kitchen table drinking coffee and sorting out their options.
“The other day you said you were in the import business, right? I wondered if there was any way I could get in on the action.”
Leon, who’d grown weary of shouldering the responsibility for this part of the operation, perked up at the suggestion. Then he realized what it was the man suggested: let him in on a situation so dangerous that any revelation to the wrong people could result in their being arrested—or murdered. That’s what he dealt with on a daily basis.
But this here guy might be the key to a better life. Hell, look at him: family turned their backs on him, no job. Couldn’t be more perfect. He was a short step up from the product they snatched off the street.
Leon scratched the day-old stubble on his chin. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said and cleared his throat as if pondering Zac’s suggestion. “The business I’m in tends to be dangerous. You up for that?”
“Danger’s my middle name,” Zac said and leaned in toward Leon with a hopeful look.
“Yeah, well, there’s danger and then there’s danger, if you get my drift.” Was this guy for real? Did he have any idea what he was dealing with? “I mean, you look like an upstanding kinda guy. You ever find yourself on the wrong side of the law?”
Zac guffawed. “Hell yes, all the time. Back home the cops’d come get me the minute there was any trouble. Figured one way or another I was behind it.” He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms.
“I’m not talking ’bout small-town crap teenage boys pull, drunk driving or getting busted for drugs, that’s not what this is about.”