The Fall of the Prodigal

by Michelle Lindo-Rice

  Michael leaned on the counter and rested his chin on his hand. He strove to remember if his father ever smiled. If Vincent ever laughed, it was because of Keith. “I’m proud of you, son,” his father would puff out his chest and say.

  With effort, Michael shrugged away the past. Why he bothered to drudge up those memories was beyond him. He strode outside to the balcony to look down at the crowds of people moving about their business.

  It was October and Halloween was two days away. He thought of John and Olivia. His children were named for Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta, the lead actors from Lauren’s favorite movie, Grease. He wondered what costumes they would be wearing and smiled.

  Reality returned. His smile wavered. He was a potential convicted rapist. Yet here he was daydreaming when his life hung in the balance. Michael flashed back to Keith putting him through the wringer with questions about Mindy.

  When he first met Mindy, she was a tall, gawky seventeen-year-old with braces and pimples. Then overnight, she blossomed into a swan, with a crush. On him. Michael humored Mindy, seeing her as sweet and shy. Until that day in September.

  It was the same night Verona delivered the bombshell about Lauren being deceased. Grief-stricken, he drank himself into a stupor. He had never been a big drinker. The last time he overindulged he had ended up in a fight with his brother. When would he learn to leave the bottle alone?

  Granted, Keith had deserved to be sucker punched for sleeping with Gina. But that was not the point. This time his drinking precipitated the most serious consequence of all. Michael faced possible life imprisonment, or death on the streets, for a crime he had not committed. The evidence, though circumstantial, condemned him.

  Michael rubbed his bald head and groaned. He left the balcony and wandered into his office. Switching his MacBook Pro on, he liked how fast it sprung to life. With quick taps, he read the e-mail dated September 10.

  Her: Hi, Michael. I’m here all by my lonesome. Would you like to come over? Better yet, why don’t you give me your number? I’ll make it worth your time.

  When he read the text, Michael had been rip-roaring drunk. So when Mindy signed her name, all he saw was her e-mail address: Laurelton.m@LE.com. One person sprang to mind. Lauren.

  Michael’s heart leapt. Lauren was finally reaching out to him. His fingers flew across the keyboard. I can’t believe you’re e-mailing me. What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for this moment, and now, I intend to get what I want: you. He hit send.

  Her: You want me? How do you want me? Ooh, I’m feeling giddy with excitement right now. I can’t believe it! This is the best night of my life.

  He was in full flirt mode. Baby, I want you, and when I want something I’m not above taking it by force.

  Her: Come meet me at the Ritz-Carlton.

  Michael pumped his fists. He was in. Be there in one hour.

  Still in a daze, Michael hailed a cab and met “Lauren” at their designated spot. He whistled.

  Or, was he singing? Michael shook his head. Whatever. He had been happy, happy enough to tip the taxi driver well. He did remember that.

  Once Michael arrived in the suite, the sight he saw made him stone-cold sober. Red blood. White sheets. Mindy dressed in sexy gear, wailing. Her body writhing in pain.

  “Mindy? What are you doing here?” Michael asked. The answer slapped him in the face. He hadn’t been e-mailing Lauren.

  Michael paused. He scrunched his nose in thought. He remembered being caught off guard by Mindy’s brash words in the e-mail. She appeared unassuming. Her written words, however, showed a daring woman.

  He flashed back to the scene. If he closed his eyes, he could see the pain.

  There was pain in Mindy’s eyes. “Help,” she whimpered. Her fingers stretched toward him.

  Michael called 911, sped to her side, and grabbed her hand to offer comfort. Then he called Bill. Once the cops and Bill arrived, mayhem ensued.

  Inconsolable, Mindy moaned. “Michael, Michael. I was meeting Michael,” she said, implicating him.

  Michael’s gut wrenched. His blood chilled.

  Thrashing about, she asked, “Why? Why did you do it? You hurt me and all I did was love you.”

  Frozen with horror, Michael’s mouth hung open. Wide-eyed, he shook his head at the eyes pinned on him. The words, “I didn’t do it,” were stuck in his mouth.

  Police swooped in, threw him to the floor and smashed his face into the carpet. That was the beginning of his out-of-body experience.

  Handcuffs clamped his wrists. Miranda rights recited. He was shoved into the police car. Questioned at the station. The charges. The arraignment. Numerous indictments.

  Michael barely recalled any of it. His mind was stuck on that repulsive accusation. No matter how he explained he thought he was talking to Lauren, no one listened.

  He walked that road to the jail cell alone.

  As Michael reminisced, his mother, Gerry, sprang to his mind. She had died the year before. Michael had not gone to her funeral. He had been submerged in a huge business deal in Singapore when the news of Gerry’s stroke reached him.

  “She’s in stable condition,” the nurse told him when he called long distance.

  “We’re certain she’ll recover,” the doctor reassured him.

  Upon hearing that, Michael had finished his business. “I’ll be home in a week,” Michael said to himself. “I’ll go see her then.”

  He would regret that decision for the rest of his life. Guilt ate at him and tore at his being. He had pushed everyone away except for his mother. Gerry had been his rock, standing by his side. Now she was gone. All he had left were memories and pain.

  Keith never broached the topic of their mother, which surprised him. He suspected his brother wanted to know why he had not attended Gerry’s funeral. Michael had tensed when Keith said, “Michael, before you go, I need to talk with you.”

  He had removed his hand from the doorknob and turned to face Keith, fighting the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers.

  “This situation needs the ultimate advocate. One who’s well equipped to handle the case,” Keith said.

  Keith’s quiet, confident tone made Michael ask, “Who?”

  “Jesus. Pray with me, brother.” Keith extended his hand in Michael’s direction. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

  Michael stiffened his spine. “Do me a favor. Keep your prayers and your ‘come to Jesus’ speeches to yourself. I know the real you.”

  Keith dropped his hand.

  Michael turned up his nose. “I know you. Underneath that holier-than-thou exterior lies a cheat. I do need your help but I won’t be subjected to your hypocrisy. Let’s keep this strictly business.”

  Keith chose not to argue, to Michael’s surprise. “Fair enough. I won’t preach at you, but God has done too much for me for me not to talk about Him. I refuse to eliminate Him from my conversations. I won’t deny Him.”

  A chill swept over him, but Michael was stubborn. He made sure to have the last word. “Well, I’m not God.”

  Chapter Five

  “Are you telling me you had that man up in my house? Why didn’t you go to his place or even the church? Why’d you have to bring him here?” Gina’s chest heaved. “I mean I almost fainted when Josie asked if Michael Ward was coming back for dinner.”

  Gina had not even taken off her jacket. She must have stormed right into his office once Josie told her about Michael’s visit.

  A soft answer turns away wrath.

  Keith held up his hand to get a word in.. “I thought it would make it less impersonal if Michael came here. So he would know he had family.”

  “Family?” Her head swung left and right as she scanned the office. “If this is about family, where are all the pictures? Huh? Why did you move them?”

  Keith snapped his fingers. He had forgotten to put them back. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and took out the three pictures of him and Gina with the children. He pla
ced them back in their rightful place. “I didn’t want Michael feeling uncomfortable so I put them out of sight.”

  Gina placed one hand on her hip. “Are you ashamed of me and your children?”

  Keith moved to her side and held her stiff body close to his. “Of course I’m not ashamed. How can you even think such a thing? You, Trey, and Epiphany are my life. I love you all, more than anything in this world.”

  When Gina gave a little nod against his chest, he relaxed. In a moment of panic, Keith had packed the pictures away. He had not wanted Michael making any offhanded remarks that would have them at each other’s throats.

  To be honest, a small part of him sometimes felt he had stolen Michael’s happiness.

  Gina pulled out of his arms and looked into his eyes. “I know you were protecting us, but you don’t have to. We’ve come too far with our love and with God to fall under your brother’s thumb. I know Michael feels betrayed because of our affair. But we were destined to be together, and he didn’t love me the way you do.”

  Keith nodded. She was right about that. He cradled Gina in his arms, contented to remain there forever. Then there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” he yelled. Gina stepped out of his arms.

  The door cracked wide open and Epiphany “E.J.” bounced in the room. At six, she was already a beauty. She had twin dimples and a light in her eyes that melted Keith’s heart every time he looked at her. She had him wrapped around her finger and she probably knew it.

  Imagine that for the first three years of her life, Keith had not known Epiphany existed. Now he could not imagine his life before her.

  “What’s up, pumpkin?” he asked, pulling her curls.

  “Did you do your homework?” Gina wanted to know.

  E.J.’s little head tilted up to look at Gina. “Yes, Mommy. I colored inside the lines, too, as you said.” His daughter turned to him. “Daddy, are we still going to have ice cream?”

  Ignoring Gina’s arched brow, Keith bent down to whisper to his daughter. “That was supposed to be our secret, remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” E.J. replied, with wide-eyed innocence. She faced Gina and with a loud whisper, said, “Mommy, could you please cover your ears?”

  In spite of himself, Keith laughed. “It’s okay, E.J., we’ll have a small scoop another time. For now, get ready for your bath. Where’s your brother?”

  “Trey’s playing video games and it’s a school night,” E.J. announced.

  Gina scooted her daughter to the door. “E.J., let’s go. Daddy has to work.”

  Grateful, Keith threw Gina an air kiss. “I’ll be up to pray with you and Trey in a few minutes.”

  E.J. poked her lip. “What about my ice cream?”

  Gina spoke up. “None for you, missy. Your daddy didn’t know you didn’t eat your broccoli and carrots at dinner. So, no treat.”

  Keith could hear his daughter’s entreaties as they went down the hallway. He smiled. Epiphany was going to make a good attorney or politician one day.

  He gathered the papers for Michael’s case and sank into the small plush couch in the corner of the room. He needed a character witness. Someone, besides him, who knew Michael on an intimate level. Someone who knew his brother’s generous, softer side. Someone like Gina, his brother’s ex-wife.

  “Are you serious?” Gina punched him in the chest after he’d posed the question to her as they lay in bed. “You’re asking me to take the stand to defend that creep? You have a lot of nerve even voicing those words. I don’t even have to think about it. My answer is no.”

  Keith turned on his side. “Gina, I hate to remind you, but you loved Michael enough to marry him at one point. For the first seven years of his life, Trey thought he was his dad. Michael was a rock when Trey was ill, remember?”

  “Yes, I know. I was there.” Gina rolled her eyes. “I was there when he treated Epiphany like dirt.”

  Since Michael knew Epiphany was not his biological child, he shunned her. He barely spoke to her. He even made Trey choose between him and Epiphany.

  “That may be true but Michael’s not all bad,” Keith said. “You have to forgive him as God has forgiven you.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Keith chuckled at her childish pout. “I understand, but you know we must forgive others, especially those who don’t deserve it.”

  “You’re right. There are those who don’t deserve it,” she returned, twisting his words. “I’m not going to testify on Michael’s behalf. You can’t make me.”

  “I’ll pray on it.” He patted her hand.

  Gina snickered. “Go ahead, set God on me. I’m still not going to testify.”

  Chapter Six

  “Mousie! Mousie!”

  Mousie listened to the cheers of the crowd and gave them a knowing smile. Like a cat, she crawled up the pole and arched her back with the grace of a ballerina dancer. Her white bloomers elicited an even greater roar.

  She opened her legs, waiting for the precise moment when her audience saw the gaping hole and registered she might not be wearing any underwear.

  As expected, a crescendo ensued. Bills were tossed in every direction. Mousie flipped her body in a deft move and executed a split.

  More bills.

  Her burgundy, spiced lips widened with approval. She twitched her ears causing her signature super-sized ears to wiggle up and down. Then she lowered the top half of her frame and wiggled. Her red and black tassels jiggled suggestively.

  More bills.

  With superior adeptness, she stood from her split. The men knew what that meant. She reveled in the cries, “Don’t go, Mousie! Show us the cheese!”

  Finn Morrison, the announcer and owner of the joint, prompted them. “Cheese, please. Cheese, please.”

  Mousie grinned. Imagine that when she had approached Finn with the idea, he had said, “They’ll laugh you to scorn.” But, she had persisted.

  And, oh how right she had been. Her act had been a rousing success. Mousie was in big demand. So big in fact that she could afford to be eclectic. She came when she pleased, whenever the mood struck. Men flocked, not knowing when she would show up.

  Finn basked in the rewards of having a packed house. “Sheer genius,” he said when she got offthe stage that first night, right before he smacked her on the lips.

  Mousie had grabbed the front of his pants and squeezed until he jumped back with a yelp.

  “Never touch me again.” She took the stack of bills in her hand and threw them at him. “Here’s your money.”

  Finn’s mouth popped open. “You don’t want it?”

  “No, it’s dirty,” Mousie spat. “I don’t want it.”

  He squinted his eyes. “Then, why are you doing this?” This he asked while scooping up the cash. She watched him flick the bills as he counted. Then he looked at her wide-eyed. “Do you know how much this is?”

  “Like I said, I don’t care.”

  Finn grabbed his head. “Three thousand dollars! Who makes three thousand dollars their first night? And, an amateur at that.”

  Mousie shrugged and turned to leave the room. She wanted to go home. Her tail swished hitting his leg. “Ouch!”

  He did not see her vicious smile. She had done it on purpose of course on her way to the door. Mousie intended to practice using it as a whip. So many needed a spanking, and she was happy to oblige. With a mouse-like voice, she said, “I’ll be back,” before slipping through the door.

  “When? When?” Finn asked.

  “Whenever.”

  That had been a year ago.

  Mousie zoned in on the crowd and spoke into the microphone attached to her ear. Another perk. She used her signature voice to ask, “You want a slice of my cheese?”

  “Yes! Yes!” the men chanted.

  More bills.

  She sighed. Really this was getting old. It did not take much for her to get paid—well Finn. She still didn’t want the money.

  She counted to three before she tore o
ff the special-made bloomers with a big swoop. Her gold-encrusted scrap underwear sparkled. She arched her back bending her body until both her hands and feet were flat on the floor.

  Even more bills.

  The lights went out. The bouncers gathered the cash. Mousie retreated.

  “They keep paying me!” she screamed at Finn. “Why are they paying me?”

  Finn pushed a bottled water into her hands and wiped her face with a hand towel. Mousie lifted her face and allowed him to perform the father-like task. It’d been six months before she’d taken water, and another two before she had permitted him to wipe her face.

  “Mousie, please calm down.”

  She grabbed the towel and threw it to the floor. Then, she stomped on it as a child would when throwing a tantrum.

  “Gentle,” Finn stated. “I’ll count to three. One, two, three.”

  Mousie relaxed and plastered a cherubic smile on her face. Her hand gave his paw-sized hand a pat. “Thanks, Finn, you take such good care of me.” Then, she straightened her spine. “I’ll be back.”

  “When?”

  “Whenever.” With a flick of the wrist, she was gone.

  Until next time.

  Chapter Seven

  How dare she look at him like he had no right to be in his own establishment?

  Inside the MJW Conglomerate, located in Midtown, blocks away from the Empire State Building, Michael met the front desk clerk stare for stare. She had the good sense to look away. His company signed her check. She had better keep her censure to herself.

  Michael adjusted the top button of his Brioni navy pinstripe suit and walked across the marble floor to the elevator. He glanced at his Jorg Gray 6500 watch. He had bought one when he learned it was among President Obama’s watches of choice. Michael had chosen his outfit with care. He wanted his board of directors to see he was very much the boss. In charge.

  Twelve committee members, nine men and three women, waited for him. Some faces held frowns and others pity. He squared his shoulders and took his position at the head of the table. “Let’s have it,” he dared.