Without his normal confidence and joking banter, this tough guy looked lost—more like the boy I remembered. Fully acknowledging the situation of what he was dealing with, there was no way I could continue to be distant.
I laid a hand on his shoulder resisting the urge to shake some sense into him. “You’re not useless. You support her in many ways, and more importantly, you make her smile,” I told him. “Your mom is an amazing person and much stronger than you think.”
“Yeah, she’s a tough one. But I don’t know. This time around the cancer seems to be kicking her ass.” The last few words came out with a crushing weight, and blowing out a shaken breath, he turned his face away from me.
My need to offer comfort was strong. I thought I should probably hug him. Although I swayed towards him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. For some reason, getting that close to him scared me.
In the end, he was the one to lean the last few inches into me. I automatically responded by putting my arms around him. My cheek met his hard, warm shoulder, and his face rested against the crook of my neck. His breath fanned my skin, and musky aftershave invaded my nostrils. I tentatively patted his back in attempt to comfort him, but the intoxicating scent coupled with our contact made my body respond in a vexing way. I released him from the embrace and forced myself to look at him while trying to conceal my body’s muddled reaction.
“You’ll both get through this.”
He was quiet for a few moments before he let his eyes meet mine.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you.”
“It’s fine,” I replied, trying to steady my pulse. “Talking about things helps you through them.”
“Thanks, but it’s not my M.O. to be so open about my troubles.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair again. “Anyway, I should go say goodnight to the old lady. I’ll see you Wednesday?” He gave me a half-hearted, lopsided grin.
My stomach fluttered. “Yes. Wednesday.”
7. Toby
On Wednesday, I had to deliver a refrigerator to an older couple’s house. Hauling out their ancient one, some slimy water spilled on me. The smell was so foul I nearly hurled.
Abe Bernbaum just shrugged when he heard.
“That’s the job. If you want to do something different, use your brains.”
Pissed off, I couldn’t wait to get home and into the shower to scrub the nasty off me.
Freshly showered and dressed, I slipped in across the hall to check on Julia. She was sitting up, reading in bed when I came in. I was relieved to see that she looked rested.
“What’s on the agenda tonight, Ma? Strip poker, male dancers, and Jell-O shots?”
She laughed. “Oh, no, something even more exciting. Claudia’s making me soup!”
“Soup! I love soup. Maybe I should stay home, too.”
Her laughter was strong. “No, no. Go out and have some fun. Give me a hug and then get out of here. I’m in good hands.”
My stomach growled when I smelled the sautéed onions and garlic in the kitchen. At the table, Claudia was busy chopping carrots. Stopping at the doorway, I put my palms on either side of the opening. I had stepped up my weight training, and I knew my arms looked powerful. Flexing, I leaned forward into the room.
“What are you making?” I asked, willing her to look at me.
“I found a recipe for this soup loaded with cancer-fighting antioxidants.” Claudia glanced up, but only briefly. “It’s going to kick your mother’s immune system into high gear.” This made her smile and, in turn, made me smile.
Focused on her chopping, she appeared uninterested in my presence. I don’t know how she managed to be so sexy and so damn cute while making Julia ‘cancer-fighting’ soup, but she was.
I wanted to keep talking to her.
“Listen, a guy who graduated with me, Jim Ryan, is having a party this Saturday,” I said.
“My friend April mentioned it,” she replied.
“April DeOro?”
“You remember April?”
“Sure. We were good friends in high school.”
“Good friends?” she asked doubtfully.
“After Ray and Dev, I understand your shock.”
“I’m not shocked. She just never mentioned you two were friends.”
“Well, ask her. We had some good times together.” I leaned against the doorway. “She still with Dario?”
“Yes. In fact, he and I go to Stony Brook together.”
“I should give him a call.”
“You should. He’s a good guy.”
“Unlike my other friends.”
Claudia simply smiled.
“So.” I crossed my arms over my chest and flexed again. “You going?”
“Maybe. If April wants to,” she shrugged. “Are you?”
“Oh yeah. It wouldn’t be much of a party without me.”
“Too much,” she giggled and shook her head. “I guess I’ll see you there.”
“Definitely.” I hoped the party would be an opportunity to impress her. So far, she wasn’t giving me anything to work with.
* * *
I spent another night looking for a quick thrill with Dev and Ray. I took a few pulls from the bottle Ray offered, but it wasn’t long before I was feeling out of sorts. I wanted to go home and try to make a little more headway with Claudia.
Dev pulled into an unbranded gas station the next town over. I was planning on cutting out when the gas station attendant came out to pump the gas. The Hispanic attendant’s English was limited, his speech broken and choppy.
Dev lasered in. “Yo, speaka da English, man.”
It was sort of funny and at first, I laughed. But then Ray joined in, rolling his window down. Both of them started hassling the guy.
“Hey, you,” Ray called out. "Go back to M-mexico.”
I grunted aloud. The guy didn’t even look Mexican. He was too dark.
“Where’s your legalization papers, Paco?” Dev cackled.
The guy was smart enough to ignore them, but I could tell he was uncomfortable and probably intimidated by us.
I bowed my head and avoided looking at him. “You sound like assholes,” I grumbled.
“If he lives here, he should speak the fucking language,” Dev shot back.
Another attendant came out. He must have been watching from the kiosk.
“Listen, guys, we don’t want any problems. I’ll finish taking care of your gas, and if you need anything else, you deal with me.”
He took over the transaction, filling Dev’s gas tank and handling the money, wrapping up the exchange quickly.
Dev took his change, but instead of turning back toward town, he pulled into a dark lot across the street and parked the car with the lights off.
“What are you doing? Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“I told you my old man got laid off from the roofing company last year. Those wetbacks are the reason he can’t find any work. He says, ‘Ain’t nobody want to pay an American a decent wage when he can get three illegals for the same price.’ Now he sits in his damn recliner, chain-smoking two packs a day.”
I turned to Dev. “You have no idea if the guy’s here legally or not. Just because his English sucks doesn’t automatically mean he’s illegal.”
“Ah, your d-d-dad’s better off staying home collecting unemployment,” Ray threw in.
“Shut up, Ray,” Dev snapped, then eyed me. “There is no way that guy is legal. Immigrants like him are stealing all our jobs and getting the benefits of our taxes for free. Who do you think pays for that guy’s hospital stay or his little enchiladas’ education?” Dev sounded just like his old man. “My father is a miserable bastard since he got laid off—yells at me as soon as I walk in the door. I’m so fucking done with it.”
The gas station’s lights blinked, then went dark. We watched as the two attendants left, the manager in a car and the other guy on foot.
Dev got out of the car and cro
ssed the street.
Some shit was about to go down. A quick rush of excitement began to uncurl inside me as I watched from the car.
Dev approached the attendant from behind and, even from a distance, we could hear him mouthing off. Rushing ahead, further down the street, Dev got in the guy’s face. The little dude seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid a fight, but Dev wouldn't be ignored. He shoved his shoulder into the guy as he tried to get past. Before long, Dev had the guy cornered against the brick wall of a closed shop.
Ray and I looked at each other and hustled out of the car to catch up with Dev.
As Ray and I came upon the scene, the dark-skinned attendant was clearly anxious. Baring his teeth like a feral dog, he weaved side to side looking for a route past Dev.
Dev was too quick. He blocked every path to escape. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a quick flash of metal. The attendant had pulled a knife and was clutching it in his fist.
Given the growing hostility from locals against immigrants' right to work, it didn’t surprise me that this guy would be prepared to defend himself. None of us made to leave, but we backed up a step. The attendant tried to take advantage of our hesitation by charging past us, but Dev twisted and hit him with high kick to the stomach. The little Hispanic careened backwards against the brick.
The road next to us was quiet, and no cars were coming, but I still looked around, trying to figure out what the hell to do.
“Come on, man. I know some girls,” I threw out, trying to persuade Dev to cool it and leave the guy alone. I didn’t want to get into a scrap with the pint-sized gas attendant, but even as I thought it, I instinctively clenched and unclenched my fists.
Dev glanced over his shoulder at me. At the same moment, the guy sprung forward and jabbed the knife in his direction.
“Ah, shit!” Dev clutched his side.
The guy shrank backwards holding out the bloodied knife, seeming almost as shocked as we were.
“Son of a bitch!” Darkness took over, and I stepped up to the guy. Seeing me, his eyes went wide with fear, and he dropped the knife just as I grabbed him and hit him in the stomach. He grunted and crumbled to the ground as if a wrecking ball hit him. Satisfied, I turned back to Dev. He was gritting his teeth as Ray inspected the wound.
“It’s not that bad,” Ray said. “But we need something to stop the bleeding.”
I quickly yanked off my shirt, and bunching it up, I pressed it against the slice in Dev’s side.
“Shit. He’s getting away!” Dev swore.
I looked back over my shoulder and watched the terrified guy scamper away as fast as he could.
“Forget him!” I said. “We have to get you back to the house and see how bad this is.”
“I’m fine,” Dev snapped and shoved me away. He stooped to pick up the knife, gave it the once over, and stuck it in his pocket. “Let’s get the car. He can’t get too far before we catch up with him.”
It had been close to eight thirty when we’d first hopped out of the car. I was torn. The darkness inside me was howling to go on the chase with the guys, but I knew I needed to let this go. To keep my promise to Julia.
I made a decision.
“I’m not going.”
“Are you shitting me?” Dev snapped, and without waiting for me to answer, he yelled, “Find another way home. I gotta get this guy.” Grunting and holding his side, he hurried to his car. Ray glanced over his shoulder at me, but followed Dev. Ray barely shut the passenger door before Dev gunned the engine, and the car shot off. I stood alone, panting in the dark.
I started the walk home, taking Middle Road towards town. The two-lane road that wound through the south side of town had very little traffic. I wasn’t bothered by the cold as much as I was worried that I looked like a shiftless loser walking around shirtless, at night.
As I got closer to town, I passed streets with big, pricey homes and wondered what the people inside were doing.
Up ahead, a thin old man was walking a little, fluffy white dog on a leash. I gave him a wide berth, intending to walk by him quietly, but then he looked up at me. Too late, I realized I knew him.
“Mr. Faye?” he called, and I turned to face Abe Bernbaum. I could hardly meet his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Walking home.”
“Where’s your shirt?”
Felt like I was on trial, but still, I answered. “My friend needed to borrow it.”
“Where is this friend?” Abe looked over his shoulder, back in the direction I’d been walking. The dog jumped up on my leg and licked my hand.
I shrugged and reached down to pat the dog’s head. “He had to leave.”
Abe eyed my tattooed shoulder, then snapped the leash, pulling his dog off me. “You kids today, running around looking the way you look and getting your bodies branded and pierced.” His mouth turned down, which made his face look like it was made of clay. He hastily waved a hand at me. “Ah, don’t get me started.”
I stood there looking at him. He’d not said anything that I could add to, so I asked, “You live around here?”
Abe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked me over as he’d done the day he hired me. I was sure he was considering why I’d want that information.
“Yes,” he finally said. “Around the corner.” He didn’t point or suggest which corner, and I knew then, he didn’t trust me to know.
It was clear that he, in his expensive loafers, and I, shirtless like a thug in the hood, lived on opposite sides of town. Whatever. He was my boss; I needed the job. There was nothing nice I could say, except, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, don’t be late,” he said, then called to his dog.
* * *
At work the next morning, I wheeled air conditioners on a rolling cart to the delivery truck. Devlin pulled up in the back parking lot across from the truck. Holding his side, he slowly got out.
“Crazy night,” he said. “We found the guy.”
I kept working. “Yeah, what happened?”
“Messed him up a little. The little bastard deserved it after slicing me. My side is fucking killing me.”
Squinting in the sun, I turned to eye him. “How bad?”
“Not deep, but probably should’ve had stitches,” he said, lifting his shirt to show me his bandaged stomach.
“No. How bad did you hurt him?”
“Ah, he’ll live. But maybe now he’ll know not to mess with the working man.”
He reached behind him and withdrew an item from his back pocket.
“Check this out,” he said, tossing it to me. He snickered when I caught it, and I realized it was the gas attendant's knife in my hands, the blade folded away.
I depressed the release button on the black handle. The switchblade popped open, and I could see dried blood on the blade. It was a serious weapon.
“Why the hell are you carrying this around?” I folded the blade down and tossed it back to him.
“It makes me feel bad ass. And it’s a cool souvenir of the evening’s festivities,” he said, tucking the knife back in his pocket. “We on for that party Saturday night?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Asshole, you left me standing at that goddamned gas station last night.”
“Don’t be so fucking sensitive, man.”
“Dude, you’re a psycho,” I said. “You’re all over the place. Spitting fire one moment, planning parties the next.”
“You’d be bored with any other friend,” he smiled. “I keep it exciting.”
I looked at my unpredictable friend and realized he was probably right. During high school, Devlin could twist even the smallest event into all out chaos—and I had eaten it up with a spoon because it made me forget the shit happening at home.
He slapped my back. “I’ll make it up to you at the party.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” I said. “Now get the hell out of here. Some of us have to work.”
8. Toby
It
was raining when I got home from work Friday. The vinegar scent of window cleaner hit me when I walked in the door. Claudia was in the living room wiping down the front bay window. Sheeting rain poured down the other side of the glass, obscuring the neighborhood from view. Loud thumps of pelting rain hit the window and muffled our greeting. She smiled as she worked, and I wondered, what would it be like to live a day in her positive little world?
I pulled on a clean shirt after my shower when I heard the squeal of brakes out front. Checking out my bedroom window, I caught a glimpse of a police cruiser stopped in front of the house. For a quick moment, I thought maybe Claudia’s father was stopping over until two cops in bright rain slickers got out.
I didn’t hear them knock, but I heard the muffled sound of Claudia talking to them at the door. I opened the bedroom door to listen.
“Claudia, I didn’t expect to find you here,” one of the officers said, sounding surprised.
“I work here,” she answered. “What brings you here, Officer Perelli?”
“We’re looking for Tobias Faye,” the other officer said. “Is he here?”
“Yes, yes he is. Come in.”
Damn, she was letting them inside. Aggravated, I smacked the molding. I had to get down there and head this off before Julia found out. Passing her room, I saw that she was napping. I pulled her door shut.
All sets of eyes locked on me as I came down the staircase. I braced myself.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m Officer Perelli, and this is Officer Cassidy. We need you to come down to the station to answer some questions and look at some photos in regards to an incident that occurred Wednesday night.”
Perelli was dark-haired and serious looking. The other, Cassidy, looked as bloated as a cream-filled donut. The dude was fat.
Cassidy’s police radio bleared loudly.
“Hey, can you turn that down?” I growled. “My sick mother is upstairs resting.”
Both policemen regarded me warily as Cassidy adjusted the knob on the radio.
“Can we expect your cooperation?” Perelli asked, clearly expecting nothing but my cooperation.
Saving Toby Page 5