Turning back toward the room once more, I begin searching it like a madman. Opening every drawer, the closet, ripping the sheets off the bed, looking under the bed, checking by the hotel phone, even doing what I’ve seen in the movies – using the pen to etch the pad sitting here in case she wrote anything down, but all I’ve managed to make is an inky mess. She’s left nothing behind. Not a hint or clue as to what she’s thinking, her whereabouts, itinerary, a note, nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to find.
Defeated, I run my hands down my face, sigh and absently sit on the stripped bed. Placing my elbows on my knees, I drop my head, unsure of how to feel or what to think. With burning eyes, I grab the pillow lying at my feet off of the floor and bring it to my face and inhale. Her scent still lingers. I inhale again, flowery, yet sweet, it’s intoxicating and completely her. It feels as if my heart cracks in my chest, the absence of her once again almost impossible to contemplate. Just like years ago, all I have is bed linen to hold onto as a reminder - a merged mockery of our past and present. Walking out of the hotel, I take the damn pillow with me, unable to let it go.
Hours later I find myself hitting the bag at the gym. I tried to keep myself distracted. I ran errands I put off during the week, but then I found myself at the airport. All I did was take a couple laps around every terminal perimeter, hoping maybe Tatum would be sitting on a bench, or just walking by, I don’t know what I thought but it was stupid. I wasn’t above desperate acts. I even went by the gallery before hitting the airport in case she had stopped there. The worst part was when I went home. As I got closer, a crazy thought took hold in my mind – what if she was there waiting for me? My hands tightened on the steering wheel and my foot pressed down on the gas pedal, anxious to get there as fast as I could. When I parked, I jumped out of my car and ran to my apartment door, only to find the doorway as empty as it was when I left it that morning.
Letting myself inside, I tried to nap. Having not slept much the night before, I was certainly tired. I curled up with my new pillow and closed my eyes, willing myself to shut out the nightmare of my reality at least for a little while. The funny thing about dreams though is that sometimes reality finds a way to follow you there too – albeit in twisted ways. In my dream we were mountain climbing. Tatum used to like to climb Camelback Mountain sometimes on the weekend when we were in college. In my dream she was ahead of me on the path, but no matter how hard I dug my feet into the ground and pushed myself I couldn’t catch up. I couldn’t get to her. I picked up the pace, running harder, but just as I was about to catch up to her, she would somehow slip through my fingers, until she fell off the mountain all together. I woke up gasping and sweating and screaming her name. After that, I decided to try to work out these feelings with my fists. Besides, I needed something to do.
The gym is quiet. It’s late for a weekend night and I’m guessing most people are home with their families or out with their friends. There’s a couple people working the front desk and that’s it. It’s just me, the pounding of the music they have playing through the speakers, and the bag in front of me.
As I pound into it, ire and despair battle it out inside of me. I’ve replayed our time together so many times that through the cracks of remembrance another thought seeps through. Tatum’s revelation from the night before finally resonates. I’ve been so caught up in her leaving, that I hadn’t let myself think about anything else. But now that she’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about it, my thoughts turn to Jerry, and how he’s been playing me all this time. It’s no great surprise really. I had no idea that Tatum switched schools, no idea that she wasn’t exactly where Jerry had told me she was all that time. I have no one to blame but myself. He would give me small updates on things, offer supposed evidence, and I would simply believe him. Talking about her or seeing the proof shoved in my face that she was gone and living her life without me was something I was unwilling to focus on too much – I couldn’t. So I never delved deeper, never asked him to expand on any detail, never looked closely at any receipt he gave me. I just nodded my head and kept working toward wrapping up our deal. Always trying to become a stronger, faster, smarter fighter so I could end my tie to the man.
The more I think about it, how he’s lied, taken advantage, manipulated and used me for his own benefit, plus the amount of money he’s taken from me over the years, the more furious I become. My jabs come faster, harder, my breaths rapid. Sweat pours down my face and chest in rivers.
I’m so engrossed in my efforts that I don’t hear anyone approach, until his voice is in my ear. “Where was this shit at the fight last night, you bastard? Maybe if you had put in this kind of effort, you wouldn’t have gotten your ass kicked. Instead you looked like a pussy that could barely stand up and block a jab. The least you could have done was try to look worthy of being in the ring while you took a beating.” He laughs and my whole body stiffens at the sound. My arms drop, I turn around slowly to face him, my breaths rapid before, now come in heaves. He keeps laughing, no idea that he’s poking a bear.
“What are you looking at?” He slurs, clearly as drunk as always. He never changes. “Get back to work. Clearly you need some more training, so don’t let me stop you.”
“Shut up. Don’t talk to me like that,” I tell him.
“What was that?” He asks half turned away from me.
“I’m not your punching bag, so shut up,” I state firmly.
“What did you say to me, boy?”
“I said, shut the fuck up.” I practically yell this time, enunciating each word. From my periphery someone at the front desk looks our way.
“Where do you get off talking to me like that? Clearly I’m right, the bruises on your face are evidence enough. It’s more training you need. Not only on your fighting, but now you’re also forgetting who’s in charge here.”
This time, it’s me that laughs, and Jerry’s eyes bulge. I’ve never back talked him, not once in five years. I never wanted to do anything to jeopardize Tatum’s situation, her scholarship, or her financial security. When I knew she should have graduated, it was my outstanding debt that called me to alignment with our agreement. So, I kept my mouth closed, and my head down, because what was the point? A deal was a deal. I may be lacking in several ways, but I’ve always prided myself on being a man of my word. In my mind, I was still doing what I agreed to do in order to put my girl through school, whether she had finished her studies or not. So instead, I counted down the days until our contract was up. He may have milked me for far more money than I owed, but the amount kept dwindling on the invoices so I just focused on that. But now…now I know that our deal has long since been over. And the way it feels to be free of him for the first time in five years? The feeling I felt when I finally confessed everything I’ve been holding in for so long? Well, it starts spreading through me again, and the feeling makes me laugh outright.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jerry asks confusion all over his face and I fucking love it.
“I’m done.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m so done, with all of this. I’m not fighting another day for you as long as I live.”
Suddenly, Jerry seems to have sobered up a bit. “I have a contract that says differently.”
“You can take that contract and shove it up your ass, Jerry.” I lean in close to his face, and smirk, “You see, you have nothing to hang over me anymore. I know.”
“Know…what? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know that I paid you in full long ago and all this time, you’ve been milking me, taking advantage of me. My debt is paid. It’s over. And so, I’m telling you, I’m done. You’ve used me for the last time.”
“I will take your ass to court. I have a contract that says you will pay me back every dime I spent to send that bitch of yours to school.”
“And I’m telling you again that you can take that contract and shove it up your ass because you know, as well as I do, that all
it will take is one call to the Institute of Art to find out that Tatum left that school after two years, not four. I’ve been paying you for five long years. My payments to you have amounted to thousands upon thousands. I’ve long since paid you back. So go ahead, I dare you to try. Please – I beg you. Give me a reason to prove what you’ve done and then it will be you that has to pay me back. Go ahead and take me to court, see what happens.”
He holds my stare for a moment before he does something I’m not expecting. I thought he’d rant, rave, deny, yell, scream, deal out more insults like usual, but instead he laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs. Tears stream down his face, and he’s bent over, hands on his knees. I should walk away, end this now, but instead I find myself staring at him in utter confusion and curiosity. I have no idea what’s so funny. “Oh god, I can’t catch my breath,” he says while wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “You’re right. The contract, which I never filed with the court or got notarized by the way, couldn’t hold a candle in court. You never even looked at the copy you received did you? You’re fucking stupid, so naïve, so stupid and were so butt hurt over a stupid whore, that I milked it for as long as I could. I sure as hell did get away with it for a long time. I thought for sure I’d still get a couple of more years yet.”
I’m struck speechless, not sure at all what to say, so I voice the first thing that comes to me, “Why? Why did you do that?”
“Why not? I’ll never forget the day that I overheard you talking in the gym locker room to Ryder. You were crying like a girl and going on like a damn idiot about your piece of ass. How sad you were that she wasn’t being herself, and that she was never happy, that nothing you said or did was enough, that you were worried about her health. You were a sad sack of shit. Pathetic. The longer I listened, the more I knew that I had walked in on the perfect opportunity. I mean, my god, what good luck! Finally!”
“I’m not listening to anymore of this. I changed my mind, I don’t care why.”
“Too fucking bad, I’m not finished.”
“Yes, you are.” I tell him and I turn toward the entrance, ready to leave and get far away from him and this godforsaken place.
“NO!” Jerry screams and I ignore him. “No son of mine is going to walk away from me again. Get your ass back here.” At that, I stop. My stomach drops to my feet and I’m sure I misheard. “That’s right. You heard me. Son. Worst mistake I ever made was getting that bitch mother of yours pregnant. But it’s okay, I got mine.”
Turning slowly, I face him again, my mind turning so fast I’m not sure I can voice any one thought quite yet.
“Shocked, are you? You know I wasn’t sure if maybe you knew. Part of me thought maybe that was the reason you stayed and dealt with my shit for so long. I thought maybe your mom had broken her word and ended up telling you after all, but I can see by the look on your face that she didn’t. I guess maybe she was good for something, because let me tell you, she sure as hell wasn’t worth the risk I took. And she was just as naïve as you. Guess it runs in the genes.”
He and my mother. My mother and Jerry. I can’t make sense of it. My head is spinning wicked fast and I swallow constantly because I’m confident I’m going to throw up.
“I sent your mother money. Every month, like clockwork. I told her I would help support you and watch out for you over the years if she would keep her damn mouth shut. I didn’t want her running to my wife and making shit impossible with her or my father. She agreed, more concerned with taking care of you than any misguided feelings she thought she had for me, so I kept up my end of the deal. The day I heard you in the locker room, it was so perfect I couldn’t even believe it. Making my son pay me back for all the money I had to spend on him over the years when he was younger? Sweet fucking justice.”
My mom. He treated her like a piece of garbage. I should be angry with her for doing this, angry she never told me the truth, but somehow through the chaos in my mind, I’m able to understand. I know that being a single mom was hard for her. I remember her always trying to compensate for the fact that I didn’t have a father to teach me to change a tire, hit or catch a ball, or even throw a punch when I developed a love for fighting. My mom did what she could and encouraged me to participate in activities, no matter how much they would cost, or the time they required. She was everything I needed. It was hard to miss something you never had to begin with anyway. So, I didn’t. I went through a stage where I asked questions and wondered about my father, sure, but she wasn’t willing to answer, so I finally quit asking.
Never, not once, would I ever have thought that this disgusting excuse for a human being in front of me could be my father. Looking into his eyes, I can’t find a shred of decency. Not one fleck of humanity. The thought that I come from him… I can’t even go there right now.
He starts to laugh again. I don’t know if it’s the look on my face that amuses him, or what, but before I think twice I have the front of his shirt in my left fist and my right one flies against his face. He falls and I go down with him. I feel deep satisfaction when I see blood in the corner of his mouth and I cock my fist back to hit him again. I want to beat the shit out of him. He has no heart, so there’s only one way he can feel part of the pain he’s caused me over the years, and that’s physically. But something stops me. I’m not sure what. But looking into his face, I suddenly feel so fucking tired. Exhaustion weighs down on my shoulders and somehow I’m able to let go of him, and stand.
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” he begins to taunt me, but I ignore him. I turn and with him screaming at me to get back there, I walk out of the gym. I calmly walk to my car, get inside, and after a minute, know exactly where I need to go.
It takes me no time at all to get there. I’m not even sure if anyone will be there, but I pray to god they are. Walking inside X-Treme Fitness Center, I stop in the doorway for a minute and look around. Some of the guys are fighting in the octagon and lifting weights and I immediately calm at seeing them. I want to tell all of them the truth; I feel like I owe that to them. They’ve all been worried, have all asked me together, or individually what’s going on, but there’s someone that deserves to talk to me alone first.
Heading towards Jax’s office, I take several deep breaths. I hope he’s inside yet dread it at the same time. As I approach I can see the door is open, and as I get a view of the interior. I see he’s there, behind his desk, buried in paperwork. “I wasn’t sure if you would still be here this late,” I say by way of greeting.
“Cole,” he says when his head pops up at my voice, “I’m surprised to see you here so late. On a Friday. This is unusual.” I nod, swallowing hard, trying to decide where to begin. “I told Rowan I would be late tonight because I have some end of month paperwork to finish up, otherwise you’re right, I’d be home by now.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, I can talk to you later,” I tell him slightly backing out of the doorway while half hoping he will take me up on it but knowing he won’t, because he’s too kind.
“No, it’s fine. What’s going on? There’s got to be a reason you’re here this late. It’s not the norm.”
“I…there’s something I have to tell you, but man, I have to be honest and tell you I’m not sure how. I’m still trying to process everything myself. I just…got in my car and found myself here.”
“Okay. Is this about Tatum? Why she’s here?”
“Yes. And no. I guess,” I swallow and before I can try to put my thoughts into words, we’re interrupted.
“Jax, you need to put in an order for some more-” Ryder begins but stops when he sees me sitting here. “Cole, what are you doing here?”
Their reactions to my presence makes me feel guilty that I haven’t been here in a while. And when I have, it’s never for long, not the last few months anyway. “I…I need to talk to Jax.”
Ryder’s brow lowers and he frowns. His arms cross over his chest and I can tell he’s worried and there’s no way in hell he’s going to le
ave. “What’s going on?”
I look at Jax and hesitate knowing what I have to tell him and feeling unsure how to proceed. So, I just blurt out, “I punched Jerry,” which is not at all what I intend to say.
Ryder smiles and Jax looks concerned, and not for his dad. “What did he do?” Jax asks.
Rubbing my temples, I sigh, “Ryder?”
“Yeah?”
“Close the door. And you’re going to want to sit down.”
Ryder obeys without a word and with both of their eyes on me, I take a deep breath and begin, “Five years ago, Jerry approached me with a deal.” I tell them everything. Remind them how bad Tatum was after we lost the baby, about the talk Ryder and I had in the locker room, which he remembers. Tell them how Jerry overheard and how he approached me, that I agreed, the stipulations, how I broke Tatum, and myself in the process. I tell them why I’ve been putting up with Jerry’s shit. That I felt like it was the only way to take care of Tatum. That I’ve had no say in anything fighting related, that I signed a contract. Ryder begins pacing the floor, unable to stay seated. Jax’s face never changes, he sits still and watches me closely taking it all in.
“I can’t believe you’ve been dealing with this bastard all this time and you’ve never said a word,” Jax says. “I could have told you that half of everything he says and does is a lie. Hell, I could have helped you through this. If you had only said something.”
“I couldn’t. I felt like it was the right thing at the time. And when things got bad, there was no way I could bring myself to ask for help. Admitting that I fucked up? Not exactly an easy thing to do.” I hesitate, “But, there’s something else…something Jerry said, and while I know he’s a cheat and a liar, I don’t think he was lying about this.”
“Oh god, I can’t wait to hear this,” Ryder says.
“He…” I look at Jax, really look at him, and for the first time, I can find some similarities. The shape of our eyes is similar, our chins. It’s funny that given what I know about Jerry, I’m not questioning this. “He’s my father,” I practically whisper, the prospect feeling strange and the words foreign on my tongue.
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