She studied him, her eyes searching his face. “You’re serious?” she asked.
“Completely and totally serious.”
Her expression brightened and she placed her hands over her cheeks. “Do you know what that would do for the kids and me?”
“Then let’s do it. When can you start classes?”
“September, but what about you going back to LA?”
“Let’s figure out your schedule and I can work mine around your classes. It’s what? An hour by plane? No problem.”
She gave a laugh, her eyes swimming with tears. “Really? You really think we can do this?”
He smiled. “I know we can. I know it.”
She clapped her hands together, then she rose, leaning over the table to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”
He nodded and some of the ache eased in his chest. Finally, a decision that felt right for a change.
CHAPTER 11
Jaguar set up the cell phone on the desk in his room, bracing it against a stack of books, then he positioned the guitar on his thigh and drew a deep breath, trying to relax. Finally, he reached over and pressed the button on the display, beginning the video recording. His fingers ran over the strings, then he started playing the song he’d written for Nancy. He was calling it Shadow Eyes for his daughter, their daughter, the child that had linked them for eternity.
His voice sounded husky and worn to his own ears, but he sang on, hoping the emotions he felt would convey across the electronic medium, hoping someone would hear the turmoil inside of him.
When he finished, he pushed the button to end the video and sat, staring at the guitar. He ran his finger across the top of it, feeling a rush of doubt. The song felt natural, but he hadn’t written anything in so long. What if it wasn’t as solid as he thought it was? What if people thought it was too sentimental?
He reached for the phone and pulled up the video, his finger hovering over the trashcan icon. He could feel his heart pounding. He didn’t remember getting this worked up before, but he was usually a little stoned or drunk when he recorded songs. Being sober was hard on his self-confidence.
He forced himself to put the phone face-down on the desk, then he went and put the guitar on the stand. He wasn’t going to listen to anything tonight. He wasn’t going to make any decisions. He’d reassess the situation in the cold light of dawn.
Climbing to his feet, he went to the bedroom door and opened it. He could see the flicker of light from the television, hear the sound of people talking over one another. His father liked to watch the news at night.
He walked into the room and found Henry just sitting in his recliner, staring at the ground. He wasn’t watching TV.
Jaguar wasn’t sure what to do, so he walked into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. Grief was a private experience and sometimes a person just needed to grapple with it alone. He didn’t know what would comfort a man like Henry anyway.
As he carried the water back into the living room, Henry looked up at him. “You know, we could clear out your mother’s craft room and make it into a bedroom for Sophia,” he said, surprising Jaguar.
Jaguar paused and stared at him, unblinking, then he walked over and took a seat on the couch. The television showed two anchors – one male and African American, one female and Latino – sitting behind a counter, talking in that nondescript way of American journalists.
“Pam changed her mind,” he said.
Henry looked over. “She changed her mind?”
“She doesn’t want Sophia to come live with me anymore.”
“How can she do that? She said she wanted you to take her or she was putting her in foster care, now she changes her mind.”
“She said she didn’t mean it. She said she was feeling overwhelmed when she said it.”
“You can fight her in court. Fathers have rights now.”
Jaguar met Henry’s gaze. Fathers have rights now. The irony of that sentence wasn’t lost on him. Fathers having rights implied that they were also raising their kids now. That certainly hadn’t been Henry’s philosophy when he was growing up. He rubbed at his forehead with his left hand and then sipped the water. When was he going to stop being bitter about the father Henry hadn’t been?
“I don’t want to fight her. She’s right. Sophia’s been through enough. She doesn’t need her world torn apart anymore than it is. Besides, Pam said we could work up to Sophia coming here for the weekends over time.”
“Then we could still do up the room. I’ll start going through the stuff in there.” He gave a laugh. “Your mother called it the craft room, but it was really a junk room.”
Jaguar smiled. “I don’t even open the door, it gives me anxiety.”
“I remember saying to her, Ida, what’s with all the Christmas trees? There’s blue ones and pink ones and green ones with ugly yellow splats of crap on them that’s supposed to be snow.”
Jaguar laughed. “And the gnomes? What’s with the gnomes? I saw one that wore a Giants jersey. Did Mom ever watch baseball?”
“Never. She said they were funny. She planned a whole little scene with them in the backyard.”
“Then why are they in the spare room?” asked Jaguar.
“She didn’t want them to get buried in the snow. She was afraid it would damage them. I told her I’d build them a little hut and we could arrange them under it, but she wouldn’t hear of it.” Henry’s eyes drifted away and he sobered.
Jaguar didn’t press him. He let him have his moment, watching the people on the television talk. Finally Henry stirred.
“Anyway, we can clean it out, slap some paint on it, and make it into a room for Sophia.”
Jaguar didn’t want to tell him he didn’t plan on staying that long. He didn’t want to take this away from him. “Maybe Sophia wants to pick out her own colors?”
“Maybe.”
“I think it’s a good plan, Pops,” he said and settled back into the couch to watch television with his father since apparently neither one of them was able to sleep.
* * *
“This is the Y,” said Hakim, turning in his seat and laying an arm across the backrest.
Jaguar stared at the nondescript grey building with YMCA on the front in block letters. Pam had told him he could start coming to watch Sophia’s swim lessons, that it was a way for him to get to know her in a nonthreatening environment.
“Look, I need to say something,” said Hakim.
Jaguar’s attention moved back to the other man’s face. “Sure?”
“You’re spending a damn fortune on this cab. It’s just not practical. Why don’t you take that money and get a car?”
Jaguar considered what the cabdriver said. He was spending a fortune on this, but he’d thought he was spending it on the service that Hakim gave him. He wasn’t interested in driving. He hated driving. And he liked having Hakim with him. He’d been a grounding source for him these last few days.
“I hate to drive,” he said, “but getting my own car isn’t a bad idea. Maybe a Mercedes?”
“Or a BMW.”
“I’m not a BMW sort of guy.” He braced his forearms on his thighs. “Actually, what would you think about quitting the taxi gig and coming to work for me full time?”
Hakim’s eyes widened. “You mean just drive you around?”
“And do other things. Be my assistant.”
“Are you shitting me?”
Jaguar laughed. He appreciated Hakim’s honesty. “Not even a little.”
“Work for you full time?” Hakim said, turning to look out the front windshield.
“You’d have to come to LA with me when I go, but we’d be back here a lot. I’m thinking of splitting my time between both places.”
“That’s not a problem.” Hakim fingered his beard. “I could drive a Mercedes,” he mused.
Jaguar smiled. “Aren’t you going to ask about the salary? Benefits?”
Hakim looked back at him, his dark
eyes glittering. “I drive a taxi, man, in the age of Uber. Anything around minimum is an improvement.”
“It’ll be significantly more than minimum,” Jaguar said, laughing. “And my accountant can set up retirement and health benefits…”
“Yes!” said Hakim.
They both laughed.
“Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll quit today.”
“Sounds good.”
“And we can go buy the Mercedes tomorrow.”
“Sure thing,” said Jaguar.
Hakim’s face sobered. “This means a lot to me and my family.”
“It means a lot to me too. I need someone I trust at my back and you’ve shown I can trust you.”
Hakim looked down, a blush painting his cheeks. “I’ll do right by you, Mr. Jarvis,” he said.
“Never call me that again and you’ll do right by me,” said Jaguar, looking horrified.
Hakim laughed. “Got it. But the other Mr. Jarvis is okay with it, right?”
“Right.” Jaguar pushed open the car door. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
“No worries,” said Hakim, happily. “I’ve got a job to quit and then I’m gonna look up car dealerships because they’re gonna want this yellow piece of crap returned.”
“Now that’s a shame,” mocked Jaguar, climbing out of the yellow piece of crap. “I was growing so fond of it.”
“You could almost identify the rank odor, right? Well, don’t let it fool you,” said Hakim. “I still can’t identify it and it’s been almost two years.”
Jaguar laughed and shut the door, then he faced the Y. Why had his stomach suddenly done a somersault? His daughter was five years old. She wasn’t going to judge him for not being part of her life before now. She didn’t even know who the hell he was.
And there’s why his stomach took a tumble, he thought, drawing a deep breath and heading for the interior. He was stopped at the front counter by a teenaged boy who had to be more than six feet tall with blond hair and blue eyes, the typical Californian according to Hollywood. The kid’s eyes grew enormous when he recognized Jaguar.
“No f-ing way!” he said, then he covered his mouth and looked around as if he were afraid someone had heard him. “You’re Jaguar.”
“Hey,” Jaguar said. “I’m here to see my…” He caught himself. This was still so new to him, so strange. “Um, I’m here to see my daughter in swim lessons.”
The kid pushed a ledger over to him. “You’ve got to sign in and I’ve got to take a copy of your driver’s license.”
Jaguar took out his wallet and removed his license, passing it to the kid. The kid picked it up and stared at it.
“No f-ing way,” he murmured again, stepping back and placing the license on the copier.
Jaguar grabbed the pen and signed in as the kid returned the license to him.
“I play guitar,” he said.
Jaguar looked up. “Yeah? That’s awesome.”
“I used to have a band, but Antwon got a girlfriend.”
“That’ll do it to you.” He put the license back in his wallet. “Can you direct me to the pool?”
The kid pointed to a hallway on Jaguar’s left. “It’s at the end there. Through that door.”
“Thanks.” Jaguar started to turn.
“You got another album coming out?”
Jaguar hesitated and looked back at him. “Um, I hope so. Soon. Maybe.”
The kid nodded. “A guy said he wanted to be our agent. When I had the band.”
“Right?”
“But then he didn’t call back.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a tough business.”
“Word,” said the kid, giving him a chin nod. “Word.”
Jaguar nodded back and continued to walk down the hallway. He could smell the chlorine already and it brought back memories of when his mother had taken him to the high school to learn how to swim. He’d caught on pretty quickly because his instructor, a teenager much like the kid he’d just left, had told him that he could go off the high dive if he learned to swim a whole lap. He’d really wanted to go off the high dive. That seemed like the ultimate test of bravery.
Pushing open the door, he felt himself jerked back to the present by a sharp whistle and the sound of voices echoing in the vast room. The floor was wet and the pool stretched out before him, pockets of children with their teachers scattered around the periphery. He searched for Sophia, but he didn’t immediately recognize her. He realized he’d only seen her once, so that might be a problem.
A row of benches was lined up against one wall and some mothers sat there, watching the pool or reading a book or messing on their phones. He walked over, but hesitated in sitting down because the bench looked a little wet. A woman in her late thirties reached into a bag by her feet and pulled out a beach towel, which she spread out on a spot near her.
“Here. You can sit here,” she said, patting the spot.
“Thank you,” he said, taking a seat on the towel. “I appreciate it.” He went back to searching the pool for Sophia.
“First time?”
“Yeah. I’m still trying to find her.”
“Your daughter?”
“Right.” He wondered when that wouldn’t sound weird. “My daughter.”
“Which one is she?”
“I’m not sure.”
“How old is she?”
“Five.”
The woman pointed to the shallow end. “The little ones are down there.”
Jaguar squinted in the hazy room and saw a group of very small children, standing with a teenage girl in a hot pink bathing suit. He wasn’t sure he could tell the difference between Sophia and her cousin at this distance, until he saw the small girl standing behind the others, her hands clasped under her chin.
“She looks cold,” he muttered, more to himself than the woman next to him.
“Probably nervous.” She held out her hand. “I’m Stephanie.”
Jaguar took it. “I’m Jag…” He stopped. He was sitting at the Y, watching his five-year-old daughter take swim lessons. It was the most adult thing he’d ever done. “I’m Jerome,” he said.
She smiled at him, her eyes taking in his piercings and his tattoos. Maybe he should wear long sleeves in here, except it was humid and he’d burn up. She pointed to the deep end where two boys were leaping off the side, trying to do a cannonball.
“Those are mine.”
“Both?”
“Both.” She sighed, heavily. “We spend two hours a day here taking back to back lessons, but it just takes the edge off.”
Jaguar laughed, relaxing on the bench.
“I haven’t seen you here before.”
“No, that’s right, but I’m trying to be more involved.” He gave her a shrug.
“Good for you,” she said. “Good for you.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a baggie filled with goldfish shaped crackers. “Have a snack.”
He took it because he didn’t know what else to do. “Thank you,” he said, a little bewildered, then he turned back to watching the tiny figure in the pool.
Throughout the next half-hour, he munched goldfish and kept an anxious eye on Sophia. The young teacher had finally gotten her to try a few strokes, but she was back to huddling against the wall, her hands clasped below her chin.
Someone stopped in front of him, blocking his view of her.
“You came?” said a voice.
He glanced up into Pam’s face. She looked a bit better today. Her eyes and nose weren’t so red and she’d combed her hair.
He immediately felt defensive, glancing at Stephanie beside him. “You said I could.”
“Relax, Jaguar. I was just making an observation.” She went to his other side and nudged him. “Move over.”
He made room for her on the towel Stephanie had provided and held out the baggie of goldfish. “Want some?”
She shook her head and settled a large bag between her feet. Pulling out a plush beach towel, she handed it to him.
“They’ll be done anytime now.”
Sure enough, the teenager lifted each of the little ones out of the pool. As soon as they were free, they ran to their parents arranged around the periphery of the room. A lifeguard shouted for them to stop running.
Amanda appeared in front of her mother and Pam wrapped her in a towel. “How did it go?” she said, kissing her daughter’s wet temple.
“Did you see me? I almost made it across the pool,” Amanda said, bouncing up and down.
She hadn’t come close to making it across the pool, but Jaguar wasn’t going to contradict her. His eyes went past her to the tiny figure walking over to them, her eyes lowered, her hands clasped tightly under her chin. She shivered and Jaguar instinctively shook out the towel. He hated seeing Sophia acting so shy.
She stopped in front of him and lifted her big blue eyes, her hair tangled in the goggles she’d shoved up on her head. Jaguar wrapped the towel around her, rubbing her arms, hoping to get her warm again.
“Hey, Sophia,” said Pam, kissing the little one’s cheek. “How was swim lessons?”
Sophia leaned into Jaguar’s leg as he wrapped the towel tighter around her. He wondered if she even realized what she was doing. “‘Kay,” she said in a tiny voice.
Jaguar exchanged a worried look with Pam. Pam reached into her bag and pulled out a baggie filled with apple slices. She handed it to Sophia, then got a second one for Amanda. Amanda tore into hers immediately, but Sophia just held it in her towel covered hand.
Jaguar reached for it and pulled it open. “You must be hungry with all that swimming,” he said, forcing his voice to be bright.
She looked up at him, but she didn’t take an apple.
Pam pulled her closer, rubbing the towel over her arms. “You remember Jaguar, right, Sophia? Your daddy?”
Sophia nodded.
Jaguar didn’t know what to do. This little girl was either extremely shy or afraid. He reached in and snatched an apple slice, popping it in his mouth.
“Hey, that’s Sophia’s!” scolded Amanda.
In response, he snagged one from Amanda’s bag, giving her googily eyes as he popped it in his mouth too. Amanda giggled and a tiny giggle burst from Sophia. She ducked her head and covered her mouth with her towel-covered hands, but a moment later, she reached for an apple slice for herself and placed it in her mouth, her eyes lifting to him curiously.
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