Another time, another place, and that fantasy would be a reality, one I’d greatly look forward to. I’d ask her out on a date, serve her champagne and caviar, the best money could buy. I’d act like a complete gentleman, open all her doors and hold out her chair, just so I could impress her enough to ask for a good night kiss. After our date, I’d hold her hand and walk her safely to her front door and wait until the time was right. Just when she was about to go inside, I would frame her beautiful face in my hands and kiss her softly on her pouty lips. “Until next time,” I’d say, then casually walk back to my car and drive away without looking back. Our relationship would blossom over time into a romance that rivaled the greatest of fairytales, and she would love me, but more importantly, I would love her.
Buck had wanted that dream for all his boys, to fall in love with their soul mates and live happily ever after. Odd, considering his own personal circumstances with the so-called love of his life. One would have thought him opposed to such an undertaking, since his wife up and left his ass high and dry, but Buck had thought just the opposite. “Nothin’ better in this world than the love of a good woman,” he often told me during our talks about the future. We constantly argued over the possibility that a man like me, a sexual deviant, could ever find someone willing to love me. He hated when I reminded him that my “tastes” were frowned upon in mainstream society. “Ain’t nobody’s business how you like to fuck, long as you ain’t forcing the bitch; it’s fucking private.” Buck had been wrong then, and I knew that now. A woman like Heaven could never be mine, and I was glad for that. Love was more than I could ever hope for from someone like her.
My time alone with the senator was just what I’d needed to ease some of the pressure I’d felt since I fainted outside this morning. I’d kept those feelings of hatred bottled up inside me for so long, it had felt like I carried an extra person inside my chest. The fucked-up part about it was that he couldn’t even respond, or at the very least, offer an apology for his neglect. That small victory was hollow, yet I believed wholeheartedly that he still held enough awareness in that dying body of his to have heard my decree. Loosing Buck had left me shattered into a million pieces; his loss was more than I could bear. There would be no great hardship when the senator died, no tears shed or promises made to meet again in the afterlife. He was a stranger to me, and strangers died every day.
“Oh, Maxwell, there you are. Antonia sent me to find you. She’d like to see you in her office and wasn’t sure if you knew the way.” Jeremy the asshole stopped me just as I reached the bottom of the staircase. It was a bitch thing to do, but I actually rolled my eyes at him.
“Afraid I got other plans, shit stain. Now, run along and tell my mother I’ll speak with her later.” He had the balls to step in front of me and block my path.
“I’m afraid I must insist. She is the boss. Please follow me to the study, Maxell.”
He took one step to the side and waived his hand in the direction I assumed where my mother waited. The way I figured it, I had two options: beat this asshole within an inch of his life, leave, and hope I could get out of town before the cops showed up, or entertain his request and see what my mother had up her sleeve and possibly get the answers I’d come here for. My fear of tight spaces forced me to choose the latter. Jail was one hell of a deterrent to murdering this fool.
“Since you…insist. Lead the way.” Two steps into the journey, and he stopped short.
“Before we go, I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings regarding what you heard this morning in the senator’s room. Haven takes her job as caretaker very seriously. I merely wanted to…lighten her mood and ease some of the stress.”
“I see, so you weren’t sexually harassing her, it was just a joke, like Comedy Central?” I played along, fuck it. This guy was as slick as a can of oil and evidently thought I was a new kind of fool he could talk into falling for his bullshit. Not fucking likely.
“Yes, exactly! I just wanted to make her smile considering her position and its impending outcome. She’s always so kind whenever I visit with the senator, and laughter is the best medicine in my book.”
Fake sympathy, a fake-ass smile, and a fake fucking excuse for getting his hand caught in the cookie jar. I decided at that moment that I should have chosen option one and beat the breaks out of his motherfucking ass. Pity he wasn’t worth the time or the effort.
“Next time, try flashing her your dick if you really want her to laugh.” I leaned into him. “Guaranteed show stopper, you pathetic piece of shit. Now, take me to my mother and save the bullshit for someone who gives a fuck.” The sneer on my face said it all. Wrong man, motherfucker, wrong man.
We stopped in front of a closed door that I immediately recognized it as my father’s office, where he’d spent most of his time hiding when I was a child. Jeremy knocked lightly and waited for an invitation before entering. Just like the rest of the mansion, this room had also been remodeled. Gone was the oversized mahogany desk that previously sat on the opposite side of the wall, replaced with a smaller, daintier model; a woman’s choice. Light shades of pink adorned the walls, complete with matching drapes and fresh-cut flowers. This place was more like a sitting parlor than a functioning politician’s office. The woman in charge sat formally behind the desk, engrossed in the stack of documents piled high in front of her. She didn’t bother looking up when we entered.
“Leave us, Jeremy, close the door behind you.” Jeremy balked at the order but left without saying a word. She scribbled something on the last document, laid the pen beside it, and then sat back in the chair with her arms crossed.
“Where were you, Maxie? I instructed you to meet me for lunch in the solarium, and you never showed up. That’s not the way mature adults are supposed to behave. I expected more from you, son.” Was she fucking serious right now, scolding me like a child who forgot to clean his room? Fuck that, I didn’t need her mothering bullshit. That ship had sailed long ago.
“So, is this where you honed your forgery skills, Mother? Be sure to send me a postcard from jail when you get locked the fuck up.” She smiled at my wise crack but didn’t take the bait.
“We have things to discuss, Maxie. I want to know how you plan on helping me with maintaining the senator’s seat in office. I planned to hire your firm due to its stellar reputation and discretion. I assume you are well versed in working with someone of our obvious status.”
I’d met some real bottom feeders in my life, sociopaths with more money than they knew what to do with, but this woman was the cream of the crop. I’d come here hoping for some clarity, direction on how to finally put the past behind me and live again. As naïve as it might have been, I thought my visit would spark some sort of maternal instincts, a sixth sense that women felt when their kids were in trouble and they jump in to help. I dreamt that my mother would take one look at me standing in her doorway, drop to her knees, and beg my forgiveness for all the shit that happened to me. Instead, I found the very thing that made me run away from here in the first place: a selfish bitch who only cared about what she could take from people, including her only son. I owed it to myself to give her one last piece of me, a piece of my own choosing, my last-ditch effort for family loyalty. I might not have been raised with a mother, but I did have a father, and Buck had taught us to always look out for your family; they were most important. It had to be on my terms with my rules.
“I’ll give you one week, Mother. Forget about me helping you deceive the public. I’ll leave that up to you and the bitch boy. I’ll draft some press releases for when the senator dies that you can use to preserve his good name and legacy within the senate. Outside of that, you are on your own. I won’t risk my freedom, nor my company’s reputation by getting involved with this ridiculous plan of yours. Once that’s all finished…I’m finished.”
She stood from her seat behind the desk and approached me cautiously. I was standing near the window of the office, as far away from her as physically possible. The c
loser she came, the broader she smiled, until she stood right in front of me.
“Do you have any idea how much I missed you when you were gone, Maxie?” She reached up and began to lightly stoke my hair. I recoiled, but not enough to escape her grasp.
“I told you not to call me that.” My jaw clenched as I sneered at her in warning.
“You’re right, son. Maxie is a boy’s name, and you are all man.”
Leaning in, she kissed me softly on the edge of my mouth and cheek, and God forgive me, but I leaned into it before I knew what I was doing. It felt so comforting, natural even. I accepted my mother’s languid movements as she stroked my hair, like we’d done that a million times before. I remembered everything about this sensation, the calming effect it had had on me just before it was time to face the shadow again. She’d conditioned me like one of Pavlov’s dogs to accept and yield without struggle. All these years later, and it still worked so easily. I felt sick with disgust, but I was powerless to stop her.
“There you are… my beautiful, beautiful boy. Oh, how I’ve missed you in my arms.”
The hand that was stroking my hair slid downward, first to my neck, then my shoulder, and finally across my chest. All at once, she stepped away and returned to her seat behind the office desk and resumed her perusal of the documents as if nothing had happened.
“There’s a party tomorrow night to welcome you home from boarding school. I expect you to be here promptly at eight o’clock, shaved and dressed appropriately.”
I was being dismissed from her presence, and I was grateful for it. I felt the darkness invading my senses, and I had to find what I needed to keep it at bay. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I needed the song. I summoned all the strength I had left in me just to make it to the door before the pressure bought me to my knees. Buck would know what to do, how to stop it and make it go away. I needed him to tell me what to do. Unexpected tears welled in my eyes and blurred my vision as I made my way to the door. I fought to keep them from falling. I heard Buck’s voice beckon me, “Beat it back, boy, fight it.” But it was too late for that. It had won.
PAST
I followed Buck along a narrow path which led away from the front entrance of the junkyard and the closed fencing that protected it. He didn’t ask questions or walked within five feet of me as we made the short trek. He hadn’t changed over the years, still sported broad muscular shoulders, colorful tattoos, and the rubber bands around his beard just the way I remembered. He watched, cautiously, as I struggled to walk on heavy legs toward wherever he was leading us. The energy crash made it hard to keep up. Just past the clearing was a beautiful cabin-like house that sat far away from the confines of the junkyard so you couldn’t see it if you were standing inside. I wasn’t afraid. The place was magical with huge glass windows and a wraparound porch with a rocking chair out front. I wondered for the first time if Buck had a family, a wife and children inside that perfect home. I took in as much as I could, standing just inside the doorway, when Buck noticed my perusal on his way toward the kitchen.
“You hungry, boy? Thirsty?” He pointed to the refrigerator, but I had no appetite.
“No. No, thank you, sir, I’m just tired,” I squeaked out my response. The events of the evening had finally caught up to me, and I barely had enough energy to keep my eyes open.
“None of that ‘sir’ shit. Just Buck. That’s it, that’s all.”
“I’m Maxie,” I answered quietly, still unsure if he remembered me.
“Know who you are, boy. Got a room for you to wash up and lie down. Tomorrow, we talk.”
Buck left the kitchen with a nod of his head, then showed me to a closed door I assumed was the spare bedroom I would use for the night. He turned on the light as he stepped inside. To my surprise, it wasn’t a spare room; it belonged to someone else, a young boy’s room. There was a twin bed with shelving that housed a baseball mitt, a bat, and a pair of cleats. The bedding had racing cars on it with a stuffed bear nestled on top of the pillow. The room had everything a little boy could want right down to the sports posters that lined the walls. I recognized a few of the players and concluded that Buck’s son must be a baseball fan. I didn’t want him to be angry with me for sleeping in his room without permission, so I told Buck this was some sort of mistake.
“No mistake, boy. Shower is that way.” He pointed to another closed door. “Clothes in the drawers to sleep in. We’ll talk in the morning.” He hadn’t explained about the room, so I asked.
“I don’t want your son to be mad at me for sleeping here. Is there somewhere else I can sleep?”
“He won’t be mad. He’s dead. Now get some rest.” He left without saying another word, closed the door behind him on his way out. I stood in the same spot in the middle of that room for at least a half an hour before I made my way into the bathroom. The shower curtain was bright blue with a large size baseball right in the middle of it. I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped upon seeing how much Buck’s son must have been loved, and I felt such sadness that he was no longer alive. My parents never gave a rat’s ass about me, certainly not enough to decorate my room with my favorite sports teams. I doubted they even knew if I liked sports. That man, that so-called biker scum, knew his son well, and it was clear that he loved him more than anything else in this world. I envied them; their connection was alive and well, evident by the upkeep to this room. No one loved me or cared if I lived or died. I was alone in this world with no family or friends, as dead as the little boy who’d once lived inside this wondrous home.
I never gave in to the sleep that arrived to take me under, too many thoughts running through my mind about what was to become of me. I couldn’t return home, not after what I had done, and I had no other family to think of. My only hope was asking, no, begging, Buck to allow me to stay here for a few days until I could decide my next move. I just had to keep running, so the police wouldn’t catch up to me and throw me in jail. The money I’d stolen to get away should be enough to convince a dangerous biker to help me with my plan. If not, I was screwed. I was sure by now my crime had been reported and it was just a matter of time before my parents called in a few favors and they were all out on the hunt for a knife-wielding fugitive. I felt so hopeless, so alone. There had to be a way out. The smell of bacon frying caused a grumble deep within my belly and I realized hours had passed since my arrival. I eased my way from the bedroom and peeked around the corner to see Buck standing in the kitchen by the stove preparing breakfast. He was shirtless, and in the light of day, his colorful tattoos were intimidating to the eye. Skulls, crossbones, and intricate writing adorned his entire back and arms, and he appeared much larger, if that was even possible.
“Park you little ass in that seat, boy. Time for breakfast.” Holy shit. How did he know I was standing there? I tiptoed my way across the kitchen floor and sat quietly at the table that already had plates, silverware, and a ketchup bottle placed on top.Buck served a heaping helping of scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes on each plate then took a seat directly across from me and dug in. My mouth started to water, and it didn’t take long for me to forget all of my meal etiquette and attack my helping with both hands. Everything tasted so good. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a home-cooked meal. Buck finished before I did and waited patiently until the last piece of bacon was gone from my plate.
“You had blood on your hands when you got here. Did you kill someone, boy?” Buck didn’t mince words, and the food I had consumed minutes prior was threatening to make a re-appearance.
“No…At least, I don’t think so. I think I just cut them…across the chest.” I used my greasy hand to indicate the position.
“Good. That’s good. Why’d you come here?” He didn’t sound angry, just curious.
“I…I had nowhere else to go, Buck. I remembered you from years ago, so I tracked you down by breaking into my father’s office files. I just need a place to stay for a few days until I can figure out what to do.”
/> “Hmm,” was his only reply as he contemplated my answer. He used his hand to stroke the hairs on his beard, deep in thought but not agreeing to allow me to stay.
“Tell me what happened. The whole story. Don’t bullshit me. The truth from beginning to the end. Don’t leave anything out.”
He wanted me to trust him with my life, and for some reason I did. If I told him my story and he still sent me away, at least someone else in this world would know it and remember me. Buck was a stranger, yet he’d already given me more than my parents ever did. He gave me his time. It was easier than I thought to replay the horrors of the past few years to him. He listened without interrupting, allowed me to take breaks when I needed, just to get past some of the more horrific points. I was grateful for his strong presence and understanding head nods, his encouragement without having to say a word.
I gave it all to him, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The kitchen was so thick with tension I could hardly breathe; yet I waited. Buck was silent, but I could see the muscles in his neck twitching and the hard line of his jaw as he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared one too many times and he was squeezing the shit out of the dinner napkin he was holding in his lap. He was angry with me and wanted me to leave; it was written all over his face. He thought I was a freak. I stood from my chair to do just that when the front door opened unexpectedly and a boy walked in. He took one look at Buck, then me, and just walked to the stove to grab himself some food. His clothes were too small and his shoes ratty enough to have been thrown away long before today. He was about my age with a crew cut. Who was this kid?
“Wash your hands before you dug into my food, boy!” Buck yelled from the table.
“Sorry, Buck, I was so hungry I just forgot.”
Salvaging Max Page 6