Trick

by Laramie Briscoe

  “Are you his girlfriend?”

  What the fuck does it matter? “We’re friends,” I keep my tone cool.

  “He knows my mom, ya know?” He pauses for some kind of effect, and then he hits me where I guess he thinks it hurts. “He’s known her for a lot of years. For a long time the word on the street was he coulda been my dad.”

  “Well given the way he’s taken to my daughter, I definitely think he’d claim you if that were true, honey.” Could I be any more of a bitch? Obviously he’s thought it to be true before, otherwise he wouldn’t have brought it up now.

  “Trick normally doesn’t keep them around long,” he sneers. “They’re around for a couple of weeks, he fucks ‘em, and then he’s done. Don’t let him having to be there for your daughter think he’s gonna be there for you.”

  I’m surprised this little shit knows about the probation deal.

  “If you’re done, you can leave. I’ll let him know you showed up. Is there a name I need to give him?” I pick at my nails, acting like I don’t care. I don’t, because there’s nothing I’ve seen, nothing that remotely even supports the venom coming out of his mouth. It’s pretty obvious, at least from someone who’s been alone a long time, that Trick’s been alone too.

  “G. You can remember it and scream it when he’s making you come.”

  The foul taste that rolls up my throat makes me gag. He needs his ass whooped and some manners coaching. If I were his mother, I’d be ashamed. “G. Got it. Thanks. See you around, kid.”

  I close the door, hoping the kid jab will make him go away, but something tells me he’s not going away that easily.

  Trick

  “How’s it going?” Matt asks as I have a seat.

  “Not too bad, except for traffic being a bitch.”

  I was almost late for this meeting and that’s the last thing I need, especially when I’m trying to get my shit together.

  “You did cut it a little close,” he gives me an ironic smile.

  “I was on time though, wasn’t I?”

  He coughs. “Barely, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I didn’t have to wait on you. How’s Riley? I see you’ve been spending a good amount of time with her. Hadley’s doing a good job of keeping track of the hours.”

  Suddenly my blood runs cold. I hadn’t realized they were keeping track of my hours. Well, that’s a lie. I did know they were keeping track of them, but I always seem to forget, my time with Sprite would be finite. How many hours were left? How much time did I have to make my dream last night a reality? Everything comes into focus, and I think maybe I’ve been playing life too safe. What if I never get the chance to do the things I want to do? What if our time ends before I take my opportunity?

  “You okay?” he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  Maybe I have, a little. So much of my life passed me by when I was in jail, and this whole time I’ve said I don’t want to go back there. In reality, if I’m being honest, I’ve not been living either. I’ve been biding my time, hoping like hell eventually Hadley will telepathically know what I want from her. That shit’s not gonna work.

  “I’m good,” I nod, folding my ankle over my knee. I will be good. Starting today things were going to change, they’d have to.

  “It looks like you have around eight hundred more hours, and if you’re good, then I’m good. There’s been no complaints. You and Hadley getting along okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s a great mother,” I answer automatically. Because she is. She’s the type of mother I would have loved to have as a child. The type I’d pick for my kids if I ever decide to have them.

  “Alright, let’s make another appointment for two weeks from today. Did you give your urine sample already?”

  “Yes,” I roll my eyes. “You know I’m gonna piss clean.”

  “Technicality, Trick. No bullshittin’ though. I’m really happy with how you’ve embraced this and how well you’re doing. You could have thrown a middle finger to this whole program and decided to go to jail. I’m glad you didn’t.”

  I blow out a breath, because what he’s saying is heavy stuff. Words I never thought would mean much to me and definitely words I never thought I’d hear. “I’m glad I didn’t, either.”

  As I leave the office and hop on my bike, I can’t wait to get back across the bridge. This time, for different reasons than before.

  16

  Hadley

  I’ve been working for almost two hours and I’m not sure you can tell. The amount of paper this man has is insane. By the time I’m done, we’ll be filling the city landfill, I’m almost positive of it. Turning my phone over, I don’t see a text from him, not after the question I asked.

  It bothers me he hasn’t answered. I thought we were close enough to share at least that much with one another. Finally, I see a flash of brown. Could it be? Am I almost to the wood grain of the desk? I want to get up and dance a little jig, but I’m also trying to be halfway professional.

  A bike cutting through the back alley grabs my attention. I think it’s Trick, but I’m not completely sure. I figure if I spend enough time here, enough time with him, I’ll know for sure. There’s something intimate about being able to distinguish the sound of his bike from the sound of others. Like a teenage girl, I hope we get to that point in our relationship. When the backdoor opens and I hear his boots hit the concrete, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “You still here, Hadley?”

  “Buried under all the paper in your office,” I answer, a grin on my face.

  “You’ve got wood!” He laughs as he comes in and sees I’ve unearthed a bare patch on the desk.

  “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” I wink, giving him a saucy smile.

  “If you only knew.” His eyes turn a shade darker than they normally are, and I wonder what’s brought on the change. What’s he imagining? I want to ask, but after G was here, I worry maybe it’s some other woman.

  Clearing my throat, I hold up my phone. “I’ve been here almost two hours.”

  “I know, I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”

  He strides over to the only other chair in the office and throws everything on the floor. “As you can see, I’ve never really been the neat and orderly type when it comes to my business.”

  “Which is weird as hell because your apartment is so clean you could eat off the floor.”

  He shifts in the seat, and I wonder if I’ve hit on something with my words. I don’t push because I’ve learned most people close up when they’re backed into a corner. Instead, I keep cleaning. Eventually, maybe ten, or maybe it’s fifteen minutes later, Trick speaks.

  “Five years ago, I went to jail. And the reason you can eat off my floor is because how clean things had to be there.” His voice is soft, there’s possibly embarrassment there as he ducks his head, running a hand through his hair.

  “What did you go to jail for?” This is what I’ve wanted to know since they brought him up to me.

  “What I went to jail for, and what I’m in trouble for now are two separate things,” he clarifies, shifting again in the chair, pushing his legs further apart. “If I’m honest with you about this, Hadley, it’s going to change shit, and I think you know it. I’ve never been honest with a woman in my life. None of the other women ever wanted to know. I don’t want you to look at me differently, I don’t want you to take Sprite away,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks. “I’ve finally got some normalcy in my life, and it’s thanks to you and Riley. If you rip it out from under me, where the fuck am I going to be then?”

  My stomach hurts. I want to know, but I don’t want my feelings for him to change. I don’t want to meet the guy he was then; I want to know the guy he is now. Aren’t they the same my conscience argues? One’s older and wiser, while the younger was probably hot-headed and thought he had the world by the balls. My fingers flex against the desk and I realize I’ve been gripping the edge, trying to hold myself from going over and pulling him against me. If there’s one
thing being a mother has awakened in me, it’s my nurturing side. I never had it until I held Riley in my arms, and now I want to take care of everyone.

  This is where I get into trouble, wanting to help the world. Am I going to get in trouble wanting to help this man? Is he worth it? Can I keep Riley safe? Can I keep my heart safe? So many unanswered questions, and for once in my life, I find I don’t really gift a shit. For once, I kind of want what I want, and the consequences be damned.

  “Tell me,” I whisper. “Tell me what happened. I can’t promise you it won’t change how I look at you, but I do promise I won’t judge you. I want you to let me in, I want to know you, not the perfect guy who brings me Caramel Macchiatos. I wanna know the imperfect one who got himself into some shit he couldn’t get out of.”

  He’s quiet for long moments, almost long enough for me to think I’ve pushed too hard. When he speaks again, the words are ripped from his throat. “You could destroy me, you know?”

  I don’t know. I have no idea how I could destroy him and I honestly don’t even know how he’s come to the conclusion I can. “How?

  He runs a hand over his chin, before putting it up through his hair. “You and Riley. The two of you give me a glimpse of what I could have, what I could hope for. You give a man that kind of hope and he starts wishing for things he has no business wishing for.”

  I don’t know what to say, because I still don’t know what he’s done. “Maybe you should be honest with me, and then I’ll let you know what you have a chance in hell of hoping for.”

  Again, he quietens, so I begin to clean, acting like it doesn’t matter if he tells me what I want to know or not. This is his story, and I can't force it. Either he's ready, or he's not. I also know, before our time together is over, I'll have to tell him my story.

  “Can you hang out?” he asks after several minutes. “I know you have Riley to worry about, but once I start, I don’t want to stop, and if I tell you…I’m gonna want you to do the same for me.”

  My thoughts had been right on track. Slightly scary how well I already know this man and how he works. “I have a next door neighbor who watches Riley when I’m super busy with the planning business. Sometimes she takes her overnight and part of the next day, so I can work interrupted and then sleep some the next morning. I can call her, ask her to get Riley from school and keep her tonight. I can be here for as long as you need me to."

  There’s a light in his eyes I’ve not seen before, a hope for a future. I don't want to disappoint him, don’t want to make him wish for it, if there’s no chance in hell, so I ask him to wait a minute.

  “Let me go out and call Mrs. Oliver. I’ll let you know what she says, and we’ll go from there."

  He nods, and I realize if this works out, it completely changes our friendship to a relationship. One we'll have to figure out how to make work.

  Trick

  I wait for her to come back in, nervous as fuck she'll say she has to go home. I'm nervous she's going to stay, too. Either way it means I open my life up, my past, my future - it all fuckin' collides - to make a present I never dreamed could be possible.

  My hands shake as I reach into my pocket and fish out my zippo, grabbing a cigarette from the pack I keep in my jacket. I don't have a habit where I need to smoke constantly, but when I get nervous, I have to have something to calm me down; something to keep my hands busy if there’s not a bike around needing work.

  Hadley comes back in, cell phone in hand, eyeing me as she puts it back in her purse. "Mrs. Oliver is okay to watch Riley tonight and get her off to school in the morning." She bites her lip as she looks at me, her eyes are bright, and I wonder what the fuck I’m doing. "Don't make me regret this, Trick, make sure you're honest with me."

  Taking a deep inhale on the cigarette, I hold it in, letting the smoke escape through my nostrils. If she has something to say about the smoking, she keeps it to herself. "I'll be as honest with you as I expect you to be with me."

  To my surprise, Hadley grabs the other chair and pulls it over to where I sit. She has a seat, gives me a look I feel to the marrow of my bones, reaches over and takes the cigarette out from between my fingers. Before I can say anything, she's put it up to her lips and taken a drag for herself. It's incredibly intimate and makes me groan as I realize her lips are right where mine were. They've finally touched, even if it isn't the way I envisioned they would.

  "I may need my own cigarette to get through my story," she gives me a grin.

  It's a grin that says she understands things maybe aren't always what they seem, maybe everyone has their own story and it's not as clear-cut as the world tries to make it out to be.

  "If we're gonna do this, let's go to the backyard. There's nothing I like more than a beer and a fire."

  She stands with me. "Do you want some clothes that aren’t completely covered in dust?"

  She hadn't planned on staying here, and after all the work she's done, she probably doesn't want to stay in those dusty, musky clothes any longer than she has to.

  "If you have something, I don’t want to put my work clothes back on."

  I know I'm playing with fire, but there’s still a piece of the bad boy who likes to get burned. If not burned, then singed. I’m not sure that part of me will ever change. “Then let’s close up shop here.”

  We’re both quiet as she gathers her stuff. I do my routine when I close the shop; making sure the doors are locked, things are clean and put away. It kinda makes me wonder how in the hell my office looks the way it does. I’m very careful with the way the workspace of the shop looks.

  “You ready?” I stick my head through the doorway of the office. My heart’s pounding and my palms are sweaty. This is another one of those moments that feels like it’s changing the course of my life. I hope it changes the destination, because I’ve never really known where it was going to end. Like a gypsy, I’ve flitted around from one thing to another, it wasn’t until my freedom was taken away that I realized how much I do want a destination I can be proud of. With everything I am, I believe Hadley and Riley are a part of the plan, they’re what’s going to put me on the right path, if I just fucking follow it.

  “Yeah,” she rubs her hands on her jeans, a nervous habit most people have.

  “You know if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” my soft words give her an out. If there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s her to feel as if she has to listen to me when she really doesn’t want to.

  “I know,” she looks up at me, her blonde hair spilling over her back, escaping the pencil she’s secured it with. “But I wanna know. I’ve wanted to know since you came strutting through the door of the center, with grease under your nails, late as all hell.”

  The embarrassment I still feel, causing me to laugh and duck my head. “Not my best moment.”

  “No,” she agrees. “But you made the best of the situation, and that probably says more about you than being on time.”

  “Riley’s lucky to have a mom with the ability to look at the big picture.”

  “I’m lucky to have a daughter who looks past my faults and loves me for what I can give her. She never asks for anything more than what I can afford. More than anything, that kid loves to hang out and do something with the people she cares about. You don’t know how excited she gets when we make popcorn and watch a movie. I’m thankful for it, because my time isn’t something I can always give her, but when I can, she’s so appreciative. We’ve had money before, but we never had her dad’s time.”

  The words I’m about to speak can change everything, but I have to speak them. “The one thing you can always count on having with me is time. Money isn’t everything to me; I don’t need much to live.”

  Her blue eyes bore into mine. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she’s damn near speechless.

  “Let’s get upstairs so we can both change.”

  As we get to the end of the stairs, I motion for her to go up in front of me, amazed in myself. I can st
ill be a gentleman, even when some of the most basic manners were lost while I went to prison. It’s a revelation – she makes me want to be someone better. I want to be the better person for Riley and Hadley. Can I sustain it? I have no fucking clue, but I’m willing to try.

  Neither one of us speaks as we enter the apartment. She follows me to the bedroom, and I have to tell myself to calm down. Just because she’s followed me back here, doesn’t mean we’re going to do all the things I’ve thought about.

  “It’s even neat here,” she eyes the bed.

  She and I could mess it up, stay in it for days at a time, only coming up for air and food before we climb back under the covers. “Yeah, one of the other holdovers I have.”

  Her lips purse as she nods. “Nobody’s askin’ you to change who you are Trick. Don’t feel so bad about where you come from.”

  Emotion clogs my throat. Instead of speaking, I dig through my dresser, grabbing the smallest pair of sweatpants and a hoodie I have. “Here you go,” I shove them towards her, pointing to the bathroom. “You can change in there.” I lean down, grabbing my own, if she’s gonna be comfortable, then I’m gonna be comfortable too.

  Eyes cutting to the side she looks like she wants to say something else but decides against it. “See you in a few.”

  “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

  Because I need fresh air. I need to get away from eyes that see too much, a heart that is way too big for people like me, and the sweet smell of coconut that follows her everywhere. Quickly changing my clothes, I burst through my front door panting, taking deep breaths into my lungs – reminding myself – for now I’m free, and the only person I owe anything to is myself. It’ll hopefully help when I break her heart about the kind of man I really am.

  17