Hard Redemption: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy

by Emily J. Wright

  I believed he might have lost his motor function temporally; it was more of flapping of arms actually. He was intentionally taking a jab at me—trying to make me feel bad as if I was doing something wrong. At least, I was much better than him.

  And somehow, what was on my mind, slipped out of my mouth, and I mumbled, “At least, I am not fucking someone else’s wife.”

  “Hey—language. You have already taught enough curse words to Casey in the last two days.”

  Amber again shouted at me in front of Walter. Which I didn’t like it a bit. She still didn’t seem to be over the fact that Casey called his grandfather ass hat the other day. But it was not my fault that she absorbed curse words faster.

  “Sorry,” I apologized and shut my mouth when I saw Amber infuriated.

  Amber took Walter’s face in her hands and said, “Hey—look at me. This date is just a silly thing to make him sign the divorce papers. After that, we will be together forever. . . . Don’t you trust me?”

  “I trust you more than anything in this world,” Walter said with a deep sigh.

  “I love you.” A big smile lit up Amber’s face, and she leaned closer and began kissing Walter.

  I couldn’t take it.

  Not anymore.

  And I shouted. “Would you stop kissing him already?”

  I could have tolerated a gentle kiss—but it was a full-blown smooch. If I hadn’t stopped them, my teeth would have turned to dust from all the teeth grinding.

  They stopped kissing and gave me a lousy stare. And I awkwardly chuckled, “I mean, come on, guys. Casey is standing right over here. You may want to keep it to PG.”

  “Duke is right.”—Amber cleaned the slop off her lips—“Casey is very observant. I don’t want her running around kissing boys. She is too young to be exposed to this.”

  “Exactly!” I agreed with Amber even though I wanted to experience her fuller lips myself right there, right then.

  I was proud of myself and patted my shoulders when nobody was looking. Despite the great difficulty, I did manage to break their lip lock. I was rejoicing my success, but it was short-lived. They were still using their mouth.

  But for talking.

  Endless and useless chatting.

  I wondered if Amber was intentionally doing it to spend less time with me. I waited for a while but then was really fed up and interjected, “We are getting late. I think you can continue with whatever you guys are talking at some other time.”

  Amber was very annoyed with me and furiously picked up her clutch. And then, she gave me the taste of her bitter tone. “Come on, let’s go. Let’s get this over with.”

  I was expecting a lot from that date, but it got off to a rocky start. So what that I blackmailed Amber into going on a date with me. I hadn’t hung a sword over her head. She could have said no. But when she had agreed for her own selfish reason, she could have at least been polite to my face—or shown a little bit of enthusiasm.

  Nonetheless, I was excited for both of us. Although she had asked me to send paparazzi away, nowhere did it mean that we wouldn’t click our picture before going on a date. I even tried to give her cue for the same. “Just like that? I mean, come on”.

  But Amber wasn’t good at guessing cues and surprisingly asked, “What? Do I have to sit in a Roman litter from here to the car?”

  Shoot! It would surely have been a nice royal touch to the date if I had thought of arranging a Roman litter. But I did have some other exciting surprises lined up for that evening.

  And then I reminded, “I mean—no picture? I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s a memorable day,” I said staring her like a man stung with her love which further infuriated her.

  “What nonsense? Where are we going to? Prom?”

  Amber ridiculed me for my idea to click a picture. She could kiss her boyfriend ignoring everybody in the room, but the thought of posing with her husband in front of the camera was giving her the jitters.

  Mary-Louise tried to talk some sense into Amber and said, “Just let him have his moment.”

  “Fine!” Amber almost yelled.

  Contrary to my expectation, Amber agreed with Mary-Louise instantly without giving any fight. I should have already known then that something was seriously fishy.

  Amber then strolled towards me with her head down as if she was bound with shackles and I was a cruel human trafficker dragging her. She stood beside me with the look of sadness of the entire world on her face.

  “Could one of you do the honors please?” I said while waving my phone and looking for a volunteer in the room.

  Amber scoffed. “Ever heard of something called selfie?”

  “I am not a teenager, Amber. I need a proper picture at a good angle—not with my one arm extended out like a scarecrow.”

  “I’ll do it.” My good daughter Casey took the phone out of my hand to snap a pic and started giving instructions. “Move closer, Daddy. . . . A little bit more. . . . You are not getting in the frame.”

  Casey was doing a fabulous job in physically bringing me close to her mother. Amber and my fingers were grazing together—that close she made us stand.

  I had to take advantage of that opportunity—or else I would have been a complete fool. I gently tangled my fingers with hers and gave her a smile. To my surprise—she smiled back and tucked her hair behind her ear. And then, not sure how she untangled her fingers from mine and delivered a swift punch to my back.

  I groaned in pain and clutched my fist to power through that powerful hit. I then whispered, “That must have compressed my spin. You have become stronger over the years. It must be doing of your father.”

  “Well—somebody had to train me to make me strong enough so that I won’t have to go through the same pain twice,” she whispered back to me and reminded me of my shortcomings.

  Mary-Louise saw Amber fighting with me and suggested a wonderful picture idea. She found a way due to which Amber had to behave like a mature adult. “All right, why don’t I take the picture? And Casey—you go and stand with your daddy. Let’s turn it into a family picture, shall we?”

  “All right, Granny.” Casey handed over my phone to Mary-Louise and came running to stand beside me.

  Casey and I were ready for the family picture, but Amber was still making horrendous and sulking faces in front of the camera. She was testing my patience, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to resist but ended up taunting her. “I can see my phone camera almost choking itself to death after looking at your face.”

  I had to say something; she was ruining the photo. She was all tensed, nostrils flaring, fist clutching—like I was forcing her into an illegal street fight. I even made a hand gesture for a smile, hoping that she would take pity on me and stop with that utter nonsense. “Geez, smile a bit. I am not taking you to a funeral.”

  “How does this one look?” She made her eyes crossed and stuck her tongue out which made Casey burst into laughter.

  I just simply responded, “It’s unorthodox, but I don’t think it can get any better than this.” I then wrapped my arm around Casey and nodded, “Mrs. McCarran—hit it.”

  I had by then lost all hopes to get a perfect picture of Amber—should that be my last night there. Beggars can’t be choosers. I somehow convinced myself to be happy with whatever I was getting.

  Mary-Louise clicked the picture and gave my phone back with an advise. “You might want to photoshop Amber’s face.”

  “No, it’s perfect. We look like a dysfunctional family.” I thanked Mary-Louise for capturing our family moment but couldn’t stop myself from hysterically laughing after seeing Amber’s face in that picture.

  We were finally ready to leave for our date.

  “All right, Amber, let’s go.” I offered her my arm, but as expected she turned down my offer with a growl. It didn’t stop me from behaving like a perfect gentleman; I opened the door and rolled down the red carpet from her doorstep to the limo parked on the street.

&n
bsp; “You hired a limo!”

  “I have to. It’s a memorable day, remember?”

  Amber stepped on the red carpet and started walking towards the limo and so do I—except I was walking backward facing her and showering rose petals at her face like a devoted husband madly in love with his wife.

  “I apologize if you find the petals a little damp. I have been carrying them in my pockets for quite long,” I said while I continued to shower her with rose petals.

  The rose petals were more fortunate than me; it could touch and feel Amber. I even felt jealous with the luck of some of the highly blessed petals that made its way into her rosy lips.

  She spat on the ground and whisper-yelled at me as she looked around. “What are you doing?”

  As Frank feared, the neighbors had started to come out of their houses to see my romantic gesture.

  “Don’t worry about the neighbors. They will get used to this and so will you because every day for the rest of my life”—I took a spin and threw the handful of petals high in the air—“I’ll treat you just like this.”

  “You have quite unrealistic expectations. Our date hasn’t even begun yet, and you are daydreaming of winning me over.”

  “I have lost plenty in my life, and I think I better start winning now before someone gets his hand on my goddess and take my life away with her. So, yeah, I do have high enthusiasm and expectations from this date; stakes can’t get any higher when you are fighting for the love of a woman.”

  “You might want to check with the woman what she wants.”

  “Right now—I think my woman just wants to have the rose petals stuck in her hair removed.” And I reached my hand out and started plucking the petals out.

  But out of the blue, she shoved my hands away. “Stop it—stop it! You are ruining my hair.” She ran her fingers through her hair and said, “I’ll do it myself.”

  She was ready to get in the limo. I opened the door for her and bent down to grab the train of her dress.

  “What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously—probably wondering what kind of risqué thoughts might be running in my mind.

  “Before you slap my hand away, hear me out please. . . . I don’t need to tell you that extravagant dresses like these are often delicate. If the train of this dress gets caught in the car door or anywhere else while you are getting into the limo . . . um, do I really need to say that out loud to you?

  “Well, you’re intelligent enough to know that a tear is enough to destroy this whole dress. And there is a good chance that you would inadvertently expose yourself to the entire neighborhood—which I wish you do only for me. So tell me, what it’s going to be?”

  I was bluffing all along. I was not a fashion designer; I didn’t know anything about the lavish dresses—quality, durability or wearability. But I for one hadn’t seen a celebrity wearing the same outfit twice. And presumably neither did Amber.

  Yet I scared her to death with such conviction that she feared that her dress would be torn to shreds if not handled properly. She took a big gulp and nodded at me to take care of the train of the dress.

  “Thank you,” I said like I was doing Amber a favor for holding on to the train of her dress as she was getting in the limo.

  But the pleasure was all mine.

  I gave a flying kiss to Casey before getting in the limo and shut the door behind.

  And then we were off to our date location.

  Chapter 12

  We were sitting across each other in the limo. I was persistently staring at her with love and taking cold deep sighs in admiration of her beauty.

  She hadn’t uttered a word since we left the house around forty-five minutes ago. She was acting like a complete stranger and had her face turned away the whole time. But her occasional dangling of foot was inadvertently successful in teasing me.

  “Where are you taking me?” She finally said something to me—though still facing away—as she rolled down the windows and glanced outside.

  “To the city.”

  “Then, why are we still in the suburbs? We should have reached there by now.”

  “What will we do by getting there so early?”—I looked at my watch—“It’s five minutes shy of six; dinner reservation is at 8.”

  I finally got her attention, and she turned her face towards me—not with love, but anger.

  “What? Then why did we leave for the date so early?”

  “Do you realize it’s been three days since I got here, but I never got a chance to even look at you properly? I am always busy with Casey; you are always busy bitching about me to your father; and the little time we had together is spent on childish banters, insults and you slapping me. And then, of course, there is Walter—my nemesis. Now—I have you all to myself in this confide space where nobody will disturb us.”

  “Unbelievable! I am out of here. I am calling Walter.”

  “You can’t. I have the signal jammer on. As I said—nobody to disturb us. But if you really want to say hi to him, we are about to make a turn onto your street as we speak. Maybe you get lucky and catch him.”

  “What?” Amber was shocked—and the look on her face was hilarious. It literally looked as if she got electrocuted from the power grid.

  “Look—that’s Casey in the front yard. Say hi—”

  “Casey . . . Casey . . . ,” she shouted, sticking her head out of the window as the limo drove by her home.

  But, Casey didn’t hear her.

  “Oh, don’t worry. We will pass through this street a couple of times. Maybe, she will hear you the next time or after that . . . if she would still be out there.”

  Amber was really freaking out and started banging on the partition. “Hey, stop the car . . . stop the car.”

  “Hey, hey . . . calm down. You are not in danger,” I said holding her arms and tried to calm her down.

  But she jerked her hand away. “What kind of sick game are you playing? . . . Am I being kidnapped?”

  “Yes, Amber, you are being kidnapped. And what should I ask for ransom from your cheap father?”—I began stroking my chin pretending to think and decide—“That man wipes his butt from one-ply toilet paper. If I ask too much in ransom, he would have to wipe his ass from the newspaper for the rest of his life to compensate for that money.”

  I burst into laughter when the thought of Frank getting micro-cuts from newspaper crossed my mind. But after seeing Amber boiling in anger, I calmed my laugh down.

  I popped the champagne from the limo bar and began pouring a glass for Amber.

  “Look . . . the thing is . . . the restaurant is only forty minutes away from here. But this limo will keep wandering like a blind bird and reach our destination at eight o’clock sharp.” I then offered the champagne glass to Amber and said, “For the time being, just relax. You do so much around the house; you must be tired.”

  “That I am.” She took the glass of champagne from my hand, placed it on her lips but abruptly stopped. “Why are you not having one?” she asked suspiciously and had no reason to think otherwise. Besides, she was the daughter of a cop; suspicion was in her DNA.

  “I . . . probably . . . shouldn’t. . . . I learned a long time ago that I feel intoxicated enough when I am around you. And no amount of alcohol can match that rush.”

  “Drink it!” she said while extending the champagne glass back to me. “Unless . . . there is Rohypnol in it . . . and you want to . . . oh, my God.”

  Amber accused me of putting a date rape drug in the champagne and trying to take advantage of her. I wouldn’t blame her now; the situation was turning out to be quite creepy from her perspective.

  But I did blame her then.

  “Rohypnol! Where the hell is this coming from? . . . Ah . . . I get it now . . . Of course . . . It runs in your family. Your father has passed on his shoddy detective skills to you—as to him by his father.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about my family that way?”

  “What do you expect? Rohypnol in my own w
ife’s champagne?! It’s like robbing my own place.” I scoffed at how stupid it sounded. But I had a change of heart when I saw the red lipstick mark on the champagne glass. “Although . . . homeowners do rob their house for insurance. You can’t be too careful these days.”

  I snatched the champagne glass out of Amber’s hand, turned it around, took a sip from the spot grazed by Amber’s lips and handed her the glass back with a smile. “See—nothing to worry about.”

  “I’ll wait for a few minutes just to be sure.”

  She still hadn’t put her trust in me and waited for full five minutes to see if I was showing any sign of Rohypnol ingestion. And after that, she chugged it all in one go.

  “You were right! There was no Rohypnol in it, but this may very well be the best champagne I ever had.” She poured herself another glass and kept enjoying it while looking out the window.

  And we were back to square one. Again.

  There was silence—complete and utter pin drop silence.

  She was still ignoring me, and I was looking at her like a chump. I still had to learn how to blink when I look at her. I had so much to talk about—what led to my arrest, what did I do after I got out of prison, my struggles, the stroke of my luck—but I knew she wouldn’t be interested in knowing any of that. All she wanted was to get this date over with, have my signature, and be in her bed by eleven at night.

  She finally caught me staring at her like a pervert. “What are you looking at?”

  “Your eyes.”

  “Why? Do I have something in them?” She opened her clutch, pulled out a small foldable mirror and checked her eyes in the mirror. “There is nothing in them,” she said as she folded the mirror and put it back in her clutch.

  “It lied to you”—I leaned closer to look deep in her eyes—“or either it’s not capable of reflecting that my whole world resides in these two beautiful eyes. Don’t mind me if you see me taking deep sighs or gawking at you again. It’s so difficult to keep myself away from you. It’s like time has stopped for you. You didn’t change at all—same ravishing glow, same look, and not a hair out of place.”