Redemption Lost

by Marc Avery

  She finally let me hug her but continued to hit me in the chest as I held her.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered in her ear.

  “You could’ve been in an accident or worse—”

  I cut her off. “I made a mistake, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

  “You better not. Because I’ll kill you my damn self.”

  * * *

  That’s how my secret got out. I had an in-depth conversation with Mia and Paul. They didn’t judge me about my drinking problem. They agreed to help me get rid of my demons. The first step was admitting I had a problem, and I planned on getting the help I needed. When vodka starting effecting my life negatively, I knew trouble would be ahead.

  My driver’s license would be suspended for two months. For the time being, I would be back on public transportation. On top of that, I had to do 150 hours of community service.

  I turned my focus back on finding Tristan. I took the bus to Essence’s old neighborhood. When I got there, I noticed her mailbox overstuffed with mail.

  As I looked through her mail, her next-door neighbor came outside. When I saw him, I put the mail back in the mailbox.

  “Anthony? What are you doing here?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I need your help.”

  “Sure thing. What do you need?”

  “Essence been by here lately?”

  “I haven’t seen her. She up and left and hasn’t been back here since.”

  “Were you home when she moved out?”

  “Yes. She and some guy packed everything into a U-Haul van and disappeared.”

  All I could think about was Austin being around my son. I wanted to break his jaw on sight.

  “Did she say where they were going?”

  “No, she didn’t.” He paused like he had remembered something else. “But the man she was with had New Jersey license plates. I don’t know if that helps.”

  I nodded. “Actually, it does.”

  December

  When I wasn’t at work or looking for Tristan I was promoting my movie through the Internet and by handing out business cards. The promotion had a noticeable impact because every week, the viewership numbers jumped up several thousand. Now all I had to do was parlay that into getting me an agent.

  After work, I sat on the couch, on Mia’s laptop, searching for Essence’s address through a Web site called Findaperson.com. Five results popped up, but none in New Jersey. And her old address showed up too.

  Two of the people’s names had the wrong middle initial. The last two people had the right middle initial but had P.O. boxes for the address.

  When I Googled every address one by one, I came up with a bunch of disconnected numbers associated with them. On top of this, the people at the post office refused to help me. I know they were only doing their job, but I was still pissed off about it.

  I went down another dead end.

  Needing to get my mind off the nonsense, I called Mia’s cell phone.

  “Hey, mister.”

  “Hey, sugar mama.”

  “What were you up to?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “How was work?”

  “They still pay me, so it was beautiful.”

  “You are aware that there’s something wrong with you, right?”

  “But that’s why you love me.”

  “Maybe just a little.”

  “You want some company?”

  “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

  An hour later, Mia and I were eating extra butter microwave popcorn and watching a Lifetime movie. I hated watching love stories, but she loved romance, so I tolerated them because of her. I always appreciated quality time with her.

  Halfway through the movie, Mia rubbed my leg all the way up to my crotch. As soon as I rubbed on her breasts, my cell phone rang and interrupted our moment. I didn’t recognize the number, but I picked up anyway.

  “May I speak to Anthony Porter, please?” the caller asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “I’m Anderson Vegas with the Vegas film agency. You have a minute?”

  My heart beat sped up. “Absolutely.”

  “I bought a copy of your movie, and I was very impressed. I would very much like to represent you.”

  His words didn’t register with me right away. Somebody had to be playing a trick on me, right?

  “Anthony, you still there?” he asked.

  “I’m here, but I’m trying to figure out if you’re serious.”

  He laughed. “I’ll do you one better. In about five minutes check your e-mail. It will have a link to my Web site and a copy of the agent-screenwriter agreement. If you like what you see, give me a call back on this number. Cool?”

  “Cool.”

  “We’ll talk again soon,” he said confidently.

  I disconnected the call.

  “Who was that?” Mia asked.

  “It was an agent. He wants to represent me.”

  She smiled. “That’s good news, right?”

  “Somebody is playing a trick on me.” I was in utter disbelief.

  She shook her head. “Does the agent have a Web site?”

  “He does, and I’m going to check it out now.”

  I waited five minutes and checked the e-mail on my cell phone. I followed the link and looked through his client list and read the testimonials. His track record was solid, and his clients seemed to love him.

  Anderson also had a degree in marketing and communication. So far so good. Then I checked out the agent-screenwriter agreement. The agreement stated that he had ninety days to get me an offer. If in ninety days I didn’t have any offers on the table, I could terminate our partnership.

  I turned to Mia and smiled like the Cheshire cat. “He’s official!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  Mia and I hugged and kissed. “I knew you could do it. I’m so damn proud of you.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for being there and believing in me. Now I gotta tell Paul and my mom the good news.”

  “You have to tell them tomorrow,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to be busy for the rest of the night.”

  “With what?”

  “With me,” she said and pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra.

  December

  Through an exhaustive Google search, I found a private investigator named William Dean out of Villanova, Pennsylvania. We had a phone conversation, and he laid everything out for me. He would cost me twenty-five hundred. He wanted half up front and the other half when he found Essence. I refused to play games with her anymore.

  I was short on the twenty-five hundred, and I didn’t get paid for another two weeks to cover the rest. I didn’t want to ask Mia, Paul, or my mother for the money, so I was forced to wait until I could pay.

  In the meantime, I still tried to find Essence on my own. I struck gold when I found a Web site that advocated for fathers’ rights. They even had an Android app I could use. From the testimonials posted on their Web site, they looked decent and they were free, so I gave them a try. I didn’t have much to lose at that point.

  I spoke with a man named Scott Taylor, and from the moment I got on the phone with him, I felt comforted. He told me to send him any personal information I had on Essence and all of our court paperwork. While we were on the phone, I scanned and e-mailed everything to him.

  Three weeks after we spoke, Scott had an address for Essence somewhere in South Philly. He was that good.

  I went out and bought Tristan new clothes, diapers, and baby toys. I put everything in the trunk of my truck and used my GPS to get to her apartment.

  As I pulled off, I called Mia on her cell phone.

  “The fathers’ advocate people gave me a working address on Essence somewhere in South Philly.”

  “Good, but don’t do anything that could come back to hurt you in court,” she said cautiously.

  “I’ll try, but I can’t make an
y promises. Especially if her little boyfriend is there,” I said truthfully.

  “Let’s hope he isn’t there and you can see Tristan.”

  “I’ll call you on my way back. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I got to Essence’s apartment building and parked across the street from the crappy-looking red brick building. Garbage lay on the sidewalk, and abandoned buildings made up most of both sides of the street.

  I shook my head and wondered why Essence lived there. I could care less about her, but I didn’t want Tristan living in a bad neighborhood.

  When I got out of my truck, I saw her car parked ahead of me on the same side of the street.

  As I got to the door of her apartment building, someone walked out. I slipped inside before the door closed. The overweight black woman looked at me funny but didn’t say anything.

  The hallway smelled like old cooking oil and Gain fabric softener sheets. I ran up two flights of stairs and went to apartment 301.

  My face felt hot, and my nerves were rattled as I knocked on the door.

  A few minutes passed, and nobody answered. I banged on the door until someone came out of another apartment.

  “Are you looking for Essence, young man?” an old woman in a raggedy pink housecoat asked me. A cigarette hung from her thin lips. She tapped the cigarette, and ash fell on the carpet.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.” Desperation coated my voice.

  She shook her head. “You’re that boy’s father, aren’t you?”

  “I am. How did you know?”

  She blew out a cloud of smoke. “He looks just like you,” she smiled.

  “Have you seen them lately? Him and his mother, I mean.”

  She let ash fall again and wore a look of sadness. “She sold her car to someone in the building and moved out about a week ago.”

  January

  Every day after I came home from work and doing my community service, I got on the laptop and searched the Internet trying to find Essence’s new address. I didn’t get very far. A couple of times I almost threw the laptop at the wall, I was so frustrated with the whole process.

  When I got my next paycheck, I met the private investigator, William Dean, at his Villanova office. The place wasn’t much to look at and was located on a nondescript side street. A suit-clad Mr. Dean greeted me at the door, and we went and sat in his small office.

  “How did you find her?” I asked eagerly.

  “I have a lot of helpful contacts. The most important being at the DMV and the Social Security office. Ms. Dwyer registered her Mercedes-Benz in the state of New Jersey, and she got a replacement copy of her Social Security card. Her previous address and place of employment really helped me too. I also have some other methods I can’t divulge to you.”

  “As long as you got the job done I don’t care.” I smiled and handed him the rest of the money I owed him.

  * * *

  I decided to pay Essence a surprise visit and used GPS on my phone to get to her house.

  She lived in Moorestown, New Jersey. I couldn’t front on how nice the three-story red brick single-family home looked. The tree-lined neighborhood was low-key with a few luxury cars parked in front of a bunch of modest-looking homes. I parked across the street a few doors down so she wouldn’t see me.

  She came outside holding Tristan around 8:00 a.m. that morning. Seeing him up close for the first time in a while warmed my heart.

  I watched her strap him in his car seat, get in the car, and pull off. I hoped we would be in court soon so the court could put an end to her nonsense.

  She drove past me, and I followed her. Her first stop was a day care not too far from her house. I typed the address into my cell phone and saved the information.

  She came back outside quickly, hopped back into her car, and got on the highway. I followed her all the way to her job and parked in her parking lot. Then I waited for her to walk inside the office building before I started the truck back up.

  Since I had her work and home address, I could finally file paperwork for us to go back to court. What would happen from there was anybody’s guess.

  “Got you, bitch,” I said to myself and peeled off out of her parking lot.

  February

  I believed my agent when he said he was still putting feelers out for my work, but the results weren’t there. I wasn’t the most patient person in the world, and I wanted things quicker than the average person. On top of that, Essence still hadn’t been served with the court paperwork. I wanted to hit the liquor bottle so badly.

  The monkey clawed at my back as I thought about the familiar tingling sensation on my taste buds when I drank vodka. When I closed my eyes, I could smell the liquor. I searched all through my cabinets and all my hiding spots and came up empty. I moved so fast throughout my apartment that I started sweating. When I didn’t find anything, I kicked the dresser in my bedroom in frustration.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and came away disappointed. Here I was, acting like a junkie looking for my next fix. Memories of being in jail for two days flooded my mind and how I would look to my peoples falling off the wagon. I couldn’t disappoint them again. I wouldn’t disappoint them again. Even though the temptation grabbed ahold of me, I broke free because I had to be the man Mia needed me to be. Being weak wasn’t an option.

  To keep my mind off of drinking vodka, I set up a romantic evening with Mia. I made dry rubbed rib-eye steaks, sautéed asparagus, Caesar salad, and crab-stuffed shrimp.

  I cleaned my entire apartment, lit some lavender-scented candles, and put on some old-school R&B. I wanted the night to be perfect.

  After digging through my bedroom closet, I picked out a white dress shirt, black slacks, square-toed shoes, tie, and a stylish belt.

  Then I put a tablecloth on the table with plates, glasses, and silverware.

  Mia walked in the house, and I hugged her and inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume.

  “What are you up to?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Just a little something for my lady.”

  I grabbed her hand and went into the dining room.

  “Everything looks beautiful, Anthony.”

  “It’s all for you,” I smiled. “Just wait until you taste the food.”

  I pulled out her chair at the dining-room table.

  “Thank you, mister,” she said and smiled.

  “My pleasure.”

  I poured us each a glass of iced tea and started the microwave. Once the microwave stopped, I put the plates on the table and sat down with Mia.

  “I made this dinner just to say I love you and I appreciate you.” I touched her hand.

  “I love and appreciate you too.”

  “Now let’s dig in,” I said and grabbed my fork.

  “Let’s.”

  After dinner, I ran Mia a bubble bath and put lit candles around the bathroom.

  Seeing her naked in bathwater up to her breasts, I almost jumped in the water with my clothes on.

  Her shadow played on the tiles behind her. She was sexy without trying.

  On my knees, I washed her from her neck to her feet. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Seeing her excited made me excited.

  After I finished bathing her, I helped her out of the water and gave her a towel to dry off with. The candlelight in the bathroom made her skin glow.

  From the doorway of the bedroom, I watched her get dressed after she dried off. She slipped on a black negligée and a pair of black high heels. She kept a few sets of clothes at my apartment, and I was glad she did.

  She looked amazing.

  Before she could say anything, I kissed her on the mouth.

  With her back to me, I massaged her shoulders. I loved how her skin felt against mine.

  “Lie on your stomach,” I whispered in her ear and licked her earlobe.

  She did as she was told.

  I took my clothes off and joined her.

  February


  When I got home from work, the first thing I did was check my mailbox. I had two pieces of mail. One envelope was from a payday loan place they just built near my apartment building. The other envelope was from the family court.

  I rushed upstairs into my apartment and opened the other envelope. Once I read over the letter, I laughed.

  Once again, she filed paperwork before me and had me summoned to court for sole custody. Even when I was proactive, she still beat me to the punch. Despite that, I was more than ready to battle with her in court. I missed Tristan so much, and I didn’t want to waste any more time.

  My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and interrupted my thoughts.

  “Hey, Anderson, what’s up?” I said as I paced around my living room. I hoped he had good news for me because I damn sure needed to hear some.

  “I’m calling to tell you I’m a man of my word. I got some good news for you.”

  My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “I spoke with Paula Stevens at Dynamite Entertainment, and—” I cut him off in midsentence.

  “Did you just say Dynamite Entertainment?” I was in total disbelief. They were only the biggest independent film company in the movie business.

  “Yes, I did, and I’ll cut right to the chase. I negotiated a deal for them to buy Compromised for $150,000,” he said excitedly.

  “A hundred and fifty thousand dollars?” I repeated to make sure I heard him correctly.

  “Yup.”

  I broke out into a silly dance and screamed “Yes” at the top of my lungs. “Do I get all the money at once?” I asked when I put the phone back to my ear. My heart was beating double time.

  He laughed. “No. You’ll get the money divided up into four payments. Once you sign the paperwork, I’ll e-mail you a notarized copy, and have the first check mailed to you.”

  “Thank you so much for your hard work. I really appreciate it.”

  “When I said I believed in you, I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass. I was dead serious, and Hollywood obviously believes in you too. We’ll talk soon. Have a good night.”

  I finally made it. Through all the bullshit I went through, I gained Hollywood’s attention.