The bartender stared at Love then at the twenty dollar bill for several seconds before picking it up and placing it in the cash register. Then he picked up the remote control, pointed it at the plasma TV hanging from the ceiling behind the bar and turned the volume up. Black hadn’t paid much attention to the TV before but when he heard his voice yelling no comment he looked up just in time to see himself kicking a dent in the rental. He grunted.
The bartender grimaced as he poured the drink and slid it in front of him. “You have that drink and you get on out of here and head back home. Don’t need no trouble round here.”
“Not looking for any, won’t be any.” Black downed his drink and slammed the empty glass on the counter. “Another,” he demanded never wavering eye contact.
The bartender poured the drink returning a stare just as hard and cold as Black’s.
“Not saying you are, counselor, but can’t say the same for them,” the bartender said nodding at the group of men playing pool behind Black.
He didn’t turn to look. He knew they were there and he knew it might get ugly once the men got a few drinks in them. Yet he wouldn’t leave. Running was not an option even when he knew it was a losing battle. It wasn’t that he was trying to be tough. Growing up in Chicago he’d learned that you have to face the school bully or neighborhood gangbangers sooner or later. There was no getting around that. Fight back or get your ass kicked every day. He learned that the hard way growing up and now he applied it to everything in life. He wasn’t too old to get his ass kicked but he was definitely too old to run from bullies.
He downed the drink in silence as he blocked out the rumblings of the men behind him. Staring intently at the news footage of him attacking his car that was playing every fifteen minutes, he sat silent as he felt the warmness in his chest. The effects of the alcohol were zeroing in. Ignoring the feeling, he ordered drink after drink until his vision was blurred and speech was slurred.
“You know she probably asked for it,” a voice from one of the men shooting pool behind him blurted out.
“Damn slut,” another chimed in.
Black removed a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and slammed it on the bar. He stood from his seat and headed for the door.
“It’s not safe out here after dark, Counselor. You might want to be careful what the whore claimed happened to her don’t happen to you.”
Black stopped in his tracks. Red flashed in his mind as he turned and faced the men with his hands balled into fists. He counted three; all cops from what he could tell. They weren’t wearing uniforms but after years of dealing with law enforcement, some while growing up in the streets of Chicago and being harassed and the rest prepping them on cases he had to try, with or without a uniform he could spot them without even trying.
“What? Huh?” The ringleader spat out walking around the pool table towards Black with the pool stick still in hand. “What the hell are you gonna do?”
“Not in here Billy,” the bartender yelled out calling the off duty officer by his first name.
“Quiet you! We got this!”
The old man retrieved a bat from underneath the counter. “The hell you do. Not in my place. Now out of here! All of you!”
Black stood his ground as the bartender came from behind the bar and stood side by side with Black. “I don’t care one way or the other how you fools settle this. It just won’t happen here. Not in my place.”
“I think it’s about time we see what the counselor here is made of,” the ringleader said as he rushed towards Black full speed with the pool stick raised over his head ready to bring it down across Black’s face.
Black didn’t hesitate or pause. He rushed towards his attacker and hunched low instead of dodging the pool stick. He threw himself into the blow at the same time throwing his shoulder into the cop like a defensive tackle. He lifted the man into the air and brought him down hard onto the pool table. The crunch of his back coming into contact with the pool balls rang out into the packed bar. As if on cue from a movie director, the bar became eerily silent. Black threw blow after blow into his opponent’s chest and rib cage until he was rushed by two others. Each slid their arms under his to scoop him off of their fellow officer and then slam him against the wall.
The bartender, coming to the rescue, swung the bat striking one of the men across the back. The assailant dropped to his knees in front of Black who then kicked him in the face. The other man, still holding Black against the wall, gripped his neck keeping him pinned to the wall. Stepping over the man on the floor, the bartender swung again going for the second perpetrator. The cop was no fool. He let go of Black seconds before impact. Black hunched over ready to vomit as the deadly swing hit him in the stomach. The bartender was embarrassed that he missed his target and had accidently hit Black. He dropped the bat and slowly eased back as the cop approached him with hate in his eyes. The bartender shook his head no nervously as he unknowingly backed into the guy that had started the fight who was now back on his feet.
“I told you to stay out of this,” the ringleader said as he shoved the old man to the ground. He looked around the bar as his cronies began getting back to their feet.
The other patrons stood quietly watching. They knew it was wrong. They knew that they should do something to intercept. But what could they do? Who could they call? The police? They were the police so they just watched as the wayward officers drug Black from the bar and out into the parking lot. Some laughed, some turned their heads from Black’s glance too ashamed to make eye contact, and others removed their cell phones and recorded the scene. A guy in the back of the bar recording with his cellphone could be heard yelling, “World Star, World Star!” He was referring to the content aggregating video blog where recorded content could be freely uploaded and was known mostly for regularly featuring public fighting caught on tape.
Black felt his insides shifting around as his legs went limp. Out in the parking lot two men held his arms as the third hit him with blow after blow to his face and abdomen. He felt the stickiness from the blood pouring from his mouth and face. Suddenly he felt the left side of his body being released as one of his attackers quickly let go. Black took that as an opportunity and quickly wrapped his free arm around the guy that was still holding him. He pulled him close and kneed him in the stomach. As the guy hunched over in pain Black brought another hard punch down onto his shoulder bone. He could hear the bone split as the man yelled out in agony. The man fell to his knees and squirmed in pain. Black kneed him in the face and he fell onto his back confused about whether to hold his bloody nose or his throbbing shoulder.
Before Black could re-act to the third attacker he was grabbed and lifted off of his feet only to be thrown head first into a car. He grunted and looking up from the ground blurrily as blood oozed into his eyes. He saw a familiar figure place his attacker in a choke hold. Black made his way to his feet as both men eased down to the ground. Black’s newfound savior gently laid the now sleeping man’s head onto the asphalt, stood to his feet, and eyed Black venomously.
Black stared back confused. He didn’t know if the fight was over or if it was just a continuation. He didn’t know if he had it in him to go another round. Neither spoke. The stare down lasted for several seconds before James turned and walked towards his car. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home,” he said.
Black was hesitant at first, but figured if he came to his rescue in this fight he could at the very least trust the man to give him a ride home. He just didn’t know why he was helping him. Black knew it wouldn’t be long before he found out and he probably wouldn’t like the answer.
***
Black led the way into his temporary home. James silently followed closing the door behind him. Black walked over to the sink and turned on the cold water. He ran his hands underneath the steady stream and splashed the icy water onto his face. Once done he dried his face with a nearby dish towel used for drying dishes.
“I told you it wasn’t necessary tha
t I come in,” James said with his arms folded across his chest.
Black opened the refrigerator and removed two bottles of beer handing one to James.
“We need to talk.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
Black smirked as he popped the cap off of his beer. “Why did you help me back there?”
James popped his cap and took a swallow before responding. “It was the right thing to do.”
“You always do the right thing?”
James paused. He dropped his head and shifted his view from Black’s. “I used to. Not so much anymore.”
“Then why the change of heart? Why help me?”
James turned and faced Black. “Forget about it alright?”
“Forget about it? I’m just curious given our track record together hasn’t been on the friendliest of terms.”
“I thought you’d be more appreciative. Should I have let those guys just kill you back there?”
Black didn’t respond. He guzzled his beer. James remained silent as well. Morena and Teresa both entered the kitchen from the living room wearing robes.
“Cariño!” Morena said in shock seeing Black’s bruised and bloody face.
Teresa froze in her tracks with her mouth agape, shocked to find both Black and James in the kitchen together. “James, what are you doing here?”
Morena looked to James. “You did this to him?” she spat out angrily moving towards him.
Black grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to him. “Simmer down, Champ. We didn’t fight.”
Teresa placed her hands on her hips angrily. “You didn’t fight? What happened to your face then, Black?”
“Correction, we didn’t fight each other. It’s a long story. I just want to shower and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“Black I—” Morena began to protest as Black cut her short kissing her sternly.
“In the morning,” he said.
She huffed and sighed. “A primera hora de la mañana su no conseguir lejos con no hablar de esto.”
“I know, I know,” Black said as he followed her towards the bedroom.
“With your black ass,” she said in an attempt to get the last word.
James and Teresa stood in the kitchen with neither saying a word. She looked at her feet, then up at his hands seeing the blood on them. Walking over she grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the sink. “You’re bleeding.” She turned the water on.
“No, it’s not my blood.”
She pulled his hands underneath the running water. “What happened with you two tonight?”
“Didn’t Black say he’ll tell you in the morning?”
Once his hands were free of the blood she turned the water off and handed him a towel. “Black is not my father and he’s not my man. I’m asking you, James. What happened tonight?”
“I’m not sure. He’ll have to tell you the specifics. I was just in the right place at the right time, saw an unfair fight, and stepped in to help.”
“Hmm…” she responded as she busied herself in the kitchen searching through cabinets until she found a plastic zip lock bag. She filled it with ice, closed it up, and then handed it to James.
He placed it on his swollen knuckles. “Thank you.”
“No need for thanks. That was an admirable thing you did for Black. You didn’t have to.”
“No, not for the ice… Thank you for talking to me.”
Teresa smiled sullenly.
He continued. “And I wasn’t just being a good guy when I helped Black.”
Teresa brushed the hair from her face. “No?”
“No. I helped him for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. I knew if he got hurt you would hurt.”
“James, there’s nothing going on between us.”
James cleared his throat. “I don’t know… you’re half naked, she’s half naked… you, him, her,” he said motioning with his hands. “Looks like a mini version of the playboy mansion around here.”
“Ha, ha. Is that supposed to be funny?”
“I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I don’t know anything right now. I’m sorry for how I behaved and I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Teresa I…”
“You what?” she asked looking up into his eyes.
He stared back looking as if he was on the brink of tears. “I...nothing… I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
She lowered her head disappointedly and spoke in almost a whisper. “I’d prefer if we talked now, but if you feel you must go….then go.”
He paused with his back turned to her. He fought back the tears and forced the lump in his throat back down. Taking a breath he turned and faced her only to find that her back was now to him. He wondered what was on her mind. He questioned whether staying would be a good idea; if trying to patch something up with a fractured woman he wanted so desperately in the home of her ex with him and his new woman up stairs was really what he should do. He approached Teresa and stood behind her placing his left hand on the small of her back and sliding his right hand into hers. Their fingers together and he smiled inwardly as the classic Spinner’s song “It Takes a Fool” began playing in his head. If there was an occasion more fitting than this for that song to be in his head he couldn’t think of it. He silently followed behind as she led him into the living room where they sat on the couch and talked until they fell asleep.
***
The water in the tub almost reached the top as Morena turned the faucet off, scooped a handful of bubbles, and blew them in Black’s face. He smiled with bubbles now sitting on his nose and mustache. The hot water felt good to him as he soaked his sore body in the tub while watching her light the candles she had placed around the bathroom. The mood music was the melodic sounds of Kem. He was one of Black’s favorite artists.
After she was done lighting the candles Morena turned off the bathroom light and knelt down on the floor next to the tub. “How do you feel Cariño?” she asked as she wrung the washcloth out over his chest.
He closed his eyes as the steaming hot water soothed his aching flesh. “A whole lot better now, Baby Love.”
“Ayen Papi. Mami gonna take care of you, mi amor.” She kissed his neck. “So what now, Cariño?”
“I won’t lie to you. It’s not going be easy. We have no physical evidence. It’s just her word against theirs.”
“Will they at least stay in jail?”
“I doubt it. They’re probably already out.”
“That poor girl.”
“Thank you, baby. I appreciate what you’re doing for Teresa.”
“Hmmm.”
“Really I do. You didn’t have to be so cool about Teresa or give a damn at all about her situation.”
“Umm hmm.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her as she wrung the washcloth out and let the water rain down onto his bald head. His face scrunched in pain as the hot water hit the fresh sores on the top of his skull.
“Lo siento, mi amor,” she whispered softly as she held his head to her chest. Her robe got wet as she kissed his face and head where the sores were. “Ah, my Cariño.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
She smiled and began washing his chest.
“Tell me, Baby Love, how did you get Teresa to talk to you about the rape?”
“Really, Black?”
“What?”
“I’m a counselor for rape victims and you ask me how?”
“No, I don’t mean that. I mean… well given the circumstances of the situation wouldn’t you say you were sort of too emotionally involved to get her to open up to you?”
“Evidently not. She opened up to me before she did to you which is shocking since you seem to think you two have this magical connection.”
Black sighed. “Morena—”
“I’m cool. Just stating th
e facts, that’s all. When I saw that dick head in the hall at her apartment I knew something was wrong. There was no way I was leaving her alone with him. Him being the rapist was nowhere in my mind. I just thought he was an ex acting a fool. She seems to have them popping up everywhere around her.”
Black ignored the jab at him and James. He had learned to pick his battles and this one wasn’t worth it.
She continued. “So after asshole left we went inside and it didn’t take much for the house of cards to come falling down. She told me everything. The hard part was convincing her to tell you. She was worried about me telling you. After I convinced her that my oath of patient/client confidentiality was more important to me than my relationship with you she decided to just tell you herself.”
Black felt a bit hurt. The fact that she didn’t want to tell him made him feel like maybe what he thought they shared was all in his mind. “Why didn’t she want to tell me?”
“I don’t know, Black. I can only guess. Most rape victims feel so many different emotions. She may have felt as though you thought she caused this or, since she feels dirty all of the time from being violated, she may think that you view her as being dirty… as though she asked for this to happen to her. Shit, maybe she didn’t want you to view her differently.”
“Well I don’t. I would never.”
“Really, Black?”
He angled his body so that he was facing her. “You think I would?”
“I might be the wrong person to be asking this…but…yeah…I see how you look at her… like she’s your teenage daughter who has had her heart broken by her boyfriend and you’re ready to beat the boy up.”
He turned back around and closed his eyes.
She laughed. “Don’t pout.”
“I’m not. Maybe you’re right. How am I supposed to behave?”
“I’m not telling you not to be angry. Anger is a natural response, but be mindful of your boundaries and give her time. If you two are as close as you think you are she will open up to you when she is ready.”
Piece Keeper Page 5