The man looked him in the eye and held him there for a moment. Nothing else needed to be said, Alex felt that same way when two mobsters sprung him from the clutches of one of his corrupt brethren just several hours earlier.
How do you put a price on tomorrow?
You don’t care how you got it, you’re just happy that you have a tomorrow, today.
Jack once waxed philosophical with Alex, as he often did after a few drinks. The two of them were reclining back on some cheap lawn furniture, smoking cigars, while a woman Jack was dating and Charlotte were inside talking about the pregnancy. Alex just found out that it was going to be a girl, and Jack brought these cigars that were wrapped with a pink band that proclaimed, “It’s a girl!”
“How do you feel, old pal?” he asked as his eye caught a twinkle with the setting sun. His bushy eyebrows seemed to shade his eye just enough to keep it open and to reflect the light in a way that made Alex think Jack knew something he didn’t. It was often that way with the two of them.
“I feel alright. You know, I thought, for sure I thought, I would feel a bit down if it wasn’t a boy. But I just feel different. Instead of thinking football, I’m thinking dances and boyfriends I have to keep away. Different, but still really, really good.”
Alex felt a tranquil smile creep up and meld with the relaxing sun as it began its ritual downward slope. The warmth of it spread across his face and he closed his eyes, feeling the gentle heat.
“Well, if you have any trouble with the boys, you send them over to Uncle Jack for a talking to.” He put the cigar between his teeth and clasped his hands behind his head, taking a long look at the purple and red streaks sliding out from the center of the orange ball of flame. He puffed on the cigar sending bits of smoke trailing from the corner of his mouth. “Is it a funny thing?”
“Is what a funny thing?” Alex rolled his head over to better regard his friend.
Jack’s lips curled in a slight smile and he cocked his head to the side, as if he found it amusing that Alex hadn’t caught on yet.
“To realize that you’re living for someone else’s tomorrow rather than your own today?”
Vaughn studied his friend. Jack’s eyes were closed now and a half-smile splayed across his face. He raised a hand to his mouth, catching the cigar between his fingers and bringing it down to his side.
“I don’t know, I guess I hadn’t thought.”
“Well, you better start, old boy. You better start.”
For the first time, Alex Vaughn was thinking about what that meant. He looked at the road, his eyes alert now. The paperwork would have to wait.
Home beckoned.
He put the Crown Victoria in park and grabbed the holster and fedora and trudged up the walkway to Charlotte’s. He thought his heart would be heavier, that there would be more trepidation to confront her. He didn’t feel that sense of anxiety. Perhaps it was because he knew that all that stood in their way before was him.
A gust of wind almost knocked Alex over and he jogged the final steps to the door. It was after 2 a.m. again, but he didn’t feel bad about coming home this late. Better late than never.
Alex Vaughn pushed in the doorbell and heard the familiar chime behind the door. He pulled his tattered jacket taut with his free hand, trying to make himself look presentable and he brushed his hair back behind his ears. He noticed his shirt and the dried blood that caked it, and he glanced down wishing he changed it, or stopped off at his apartment first.
Before he could settle himself, she was easing the door open. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun and she had on that pink bathrobe again and Alex couldn’t help but smile at the shocked expression that leaped off of her soft features.
“It’s been a long day.”
She continued to look at him, her mouth agape. “Your clothes, your face! My God, what happened to you? Every time I see you there’s less of you!”
Alex couldn’t help it, he tried to hold it back but his lips trembled and he laughed. His eyes began to tear up, he was laughing so hard. Then it wasn’t laughing tears that began to stream down his cheeks.
”Baby, I want to come home.”
She moved across the threshold in that subtle and shifting way that Alex thought so perfect, it appeared mystical. She draped her arms across his shoulders, blood and sweat and tears and all, and she pulled him close.
“Oh Alex, don’t you know that’s all you ever had to do?”
The tears dropped off his cheeks and landed on the shoulder of her robe, and Alex tried to firm his jaw, but it just trembled all the more.
“What?”
She pulled him inside and shut the door.
“All you had to do was come home.”
The next morning Alex woke up just after noon, to a little girl waddling across his bedroom. She was all of two feet tall and every few feet she stumbled and grabbed a hold of something to keep herself upright, but she made her way over to the bed and put her face right next to Alex.
She looked him right in the eye and he looked at her and said, “Good morning beautiful.”
She didn’t say anything back, but Alex felt sure, just by looking into her eyes, that she knew what he was saying, that she knew him. Vaughn picked her up and walked down the stairs, feeling her tiny fingers grab his finger and hold on with a trust he hoped to earn over the years.
The smell of fresh coffee wafted up the stairs and entered his nose. Charlotte was up. He put Ella down on the carpet and held on to both of her hands. Her unsure legs wobbled towards the kitchen and she used Alex’s hands to guide her to her mother.
Charlotte was drinking a cup of coffee at the table and her rose colored cheeks turned upward and into a smile as Ella let go of Alex’s hands and ran forward. She scooped her up and gave her a bear hug while little Ella squealed in delight and buried her face in her mother’s neck.
“She was sleeping next to you when I came down stairs. She misses her Daddy.” She gave Ella a kiss on the cheek. “Would you mind grabbing the paper from outside?”
Alex Vaughn looked at his wife. His lips were helpless to do anything other than to smile at the two of them, his beautiful women. With a laugh and a wave, he turned around and walked towards the door. He felt more complete in this moment than since before he could remember. Last night, the end of it anyway, was as close to perfect as he could remember. He put on his shoes and walked outside. The cold whipped at him, but the sun fell on his body and kept the cool air from washing over him. The newspaper lay on top of the snow at the end of the driveway. He made his way towards it, as last night came more into focus.
Charlotte brought him upstairs and he dropped the gun holster and the fedora on the nightstand. She pulled him close and said over and again how glad she was that he decided to come home.
He held her in his arms and said, “I am done with this job. I need to be here, I need to be with you and Ella.”
He thought for sure she would be ecstatic with joy, but instead she pushed herself away from him, separating the two of them while he still held her in his locked arms.
“I want you home, but only if you are doing it for you.”
“Baby, I’m doing it for you and for Ella and for me. Don’t you want that?”
“Of course I do! But you have to do it because you want it. You can’t do it and then a week or a month from now decide I made you. I won’t have our child resented by her father.” She started to tear up and the little pools of brown threatened to spill over. “And I won’t have my husband resent me.” A single tear meandered down her cheek onto her chin.
“I’m doing it for me, Charlotte. I’m doing it for me.”
Alex Vaughn pulled her back in and kissed her lips. Rose colored, tender lips. His lips. He took his bruised and battered hands and wiped her tear off of her cheek and told her he loved her in every way he could imagine. They lay down together and she lay in his arms and they fell asleep together for the first time in a hundred years.
Alex picked
up the paper. The plastic that covered it was damp from the snow and he brushed the water off of it as he looked around. The driveway needed to be shoveled and the sidewalk needed salt. There was something on the street, just off of the curb.
Several somethings.
Vaughn worked his way over. They were tiny, but there were five or six of them. He edged closer. They were black. Vaughn knelt down and picked one of them up between his thumb and index finger and he almost threw up. He looked around left and right down the street. All sound seemed to stop and his eyes darted back and forth. There was nobody. He leapt up and sprinted up the walk, the cold air filled his lungs, but he didn’t notice. He ran into the house and locked the door. He ran into the kitchen and threw the newspaper down along with his new discovery and sprinted towards the stairs.
“Alex?” Charlotte called after him. “Alex!”
He bound up the stairway two steps at a time and ran into the bedroom. He looked at the nightstand and stopped. Images of the cabin flashed through his mind.
The soft sound of footfalls came up behind him and Charlotte asked, “What’s wrong Alex? Why did you bring this filthy cigarette butt in the house?”
Ignoring her question, Alex felt the blood drain from his face. The cold from outside clung to his bones and his heart seemed to stop beating.
“Charlotte, did you move the gun holster and the hat off of the nightstand?”
“No baby, why?”
Look out for the next Upstate New York Mafia Tale, coming soon.
About the Author
Nicholas Denmon studied English at the University of Florida. He started story telling from the moment he could talk and has spent a lifetime perfecting the art.
His life has been varied, giving him no shortage of material. Some of his unique experiences include growing up with a schizophrenic mother, having six brothers and sisters (of which he is the middle-younger child), a perfectionist father, an evil step-mother, a college life to rival Tucker Max, and working for politicians on the Presidential as well as local stage. He has been, at times, a devout Catholic, a closet atheist, and an honorary member of the Jewish tribe.
Nick’s joy of art knows little in the way of limitations, as he loves unique paintings, music, acting, film, and of course writing.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
About the Author
For Nothing Page 26