by Edwina Fort
“Really, man?! You just gon’ sit here and not help me?” I kicked the asshole’s feet out of my way as I passed him with the box, carrying it into my bedroom for the next year.
Sh*t…what I was hoping was for the next year. Be just my luck this doctor is some asshole, egotistical bastard, whose Ph.D. has him thinking he’s too smart to get these hands laid on him.
Jackson put his feet back on the table when I passed and continued to thumb through the sports magazine.
“Yeah, buddy, I didn’t come here to do any physical labor. I’m on my lunch break…nobody works on their break, that completely defeats the purpose.”
I shook my head. “Mutha f*cka! You said I'm going to come over and help you get moved in on my lunch break.”
He chuckled as he turned the magazine to the side, getting a better look at the centerfold. “You’re welcome, you ungrateful bastard…”
After storing the box inside the walk-in closet with the others, I walked back to the kitchen and took two beers out of the fridge, handing one to Jackson.
“You know I can’t drink on duty,” he muttered as he opened the bottle and drained half of it in one gulp.
I exhaled, taking the seat opposite him at the table. I really wasn’t feeling this civilian sh*t. My captain thought I needed time to heal or some crazy bullsh*t like that. He thought two years of being undercover in the New York branch of the Carlota Cartel messed me up in some way. If he knew how troubled my soul really was, it would scare the hell out of him. The darkness that existed inside of me has been there for as long as I could remember. I joined the agency f*cked up. Nothing I saw in my two years with the cartel shocked me or moved me one way or the other. Each night, I went to sleep with no problem.
The captain didn’t understand that this dark energy inside of me needed to be fed. And by him grounding me, he’d just made me more dangerous than I’ve been in a while. At least before, I was able to expend this energy on bad guys. Now, he’d placed me back amongst civilians and expected me to behave like a f*cking lap dog.
I know what I’m saying sounds a little wild to a few of you out there listening to my tale, but I don’t know how else to explain this side of me. I needed violence. I needed to do damage with my hands, to crush, to smash…to destroy. And there were only two things in my life that have ever calmed that need in me.
One was the girl in the yellow dress, Free Spirit Robinson. I don’t know what it was about her, but whenever I was around her, I felt peace. She was like cool water to my burning soul. The sound of her voice, the smell of her skin…her taste.
Her taste was so damn good, that although I only sampled it once, it still lingers in my memory like a sweet dream or my first car. Yeah… Free was so sweet. Hmmm… I wonder if she still in the Detroit area. Maybe I’ll look her up while I’m here in town.
And as for the second thing that quieted the beast inside of me, why, it’s the very thing the captain wanted to take away. Speaking of which, I patted my pocket, looking for the blunt I’d rolled earlier for after I got settled in.
I smiled when I felt it and eased it out of my pocket like it was a rare diamond. Very carefully, I lit it, taking a nice deep pull from the brown beauty, letting its essence soothe the rage. Son-of-a-b*tch captain, made me walk away from the best weed man in North America. Now, I was going to have to try and find someone that can compete here in Detroit.
Jackson slammed the magazine on the table. “Hey, asshole, you can’t smoke that sh*t in front of me, I’m the f*cking sheriff!”
I chuckled, trying to hand the blunt to him. “Hmmm, taste that, Sheriff and step into my world.”
Waving it away, he picked the magazine back up, opening it. “Get that sh*t away from me. That’s why they fired your dumb ass. Daaaamn!” he said, turning the magazine to get a better look at page 26. I already know what got his attention. It was the same thing that made me buy the magazine.
“Is that Serena Williams??? My God, this woman looks good in a swimming suit! Maaan, if I ever got a hold of her thick ass, I swear, she’d be ready to marry me. I wouldn’t rest until I made her come apart back-to-back, screaming my name at the top of her lungs… She’d be like, Jackson! Oh, Jackson! I can't take anymore, Jackson! Pleaaase, let me co—”
The sound of me choking cut him off midsentence. See, it was never good for somebody to say corny sh*t like this while I’m smoking because now, I was about to die from laughing at him with a mouth full of smoke. Pounding my chest, I had to put my blunt out to get myself together.
“What’s so funny?” Jackson asked offended. And yeah, that sh*t just made me laugh harder.
“First of all,” I said when I could finally catch my breath, “You wouldn’t do sh*t for Serena Williams but end up being her b*tch ‘cause she’d put that thang on you and have your pu**y ass sprung. And second of all, I didn’t get fired, bastard, I’m on vacation.”
And with that, I relit my brown beauty to continue to enjoy my favorite pastime. Don’t mind the way I talk to Jackson. He and I have been best friends since first grade, when we get together, we talk sh*t… always been that way.
“Vacation?!” he asked sitting up in the chair, planting his feet on the floor. “Is that what your delusional ass is calling that? Mutha f*cka, you got fired! Wake up, bro and face reality.”
I looked at the tip of the blunt as I held that sweet smoke in my lungs. F*ck Jackson, he didn’t know what he was talking about. The captain wanted the doctor to tell him I was clean and that there was no problem, and that f*cking doctor was going to tell him I was clean and that there was no f*cking problem. I grinned, we can do this sh*t two ways, him signing that report the way I tell him voluntarily, or me crushing his broken hand between mine as I force him to sign the report the way I tell him.
Either way, after this year was up, I’ll be back on the force and I will still be enjoying my favorite pastime.
Period…
“What is your parents saying about your vacation?”
I shrugged. “Sh*t. Of course, my mom is happy I’m home. Tried to get me to stay at the house since they’ll be leaving soon for their European tour and are going to be gone for half the year. My dad tried to get me to go and see a psychiatrist he’d heard was the best. He still thinks I’m on leave to recoup from being undercover in the cartel for two years.”
Jackson chuckled. “I can’t believe you have to go to rehab.”
I shook my head. “That’s f*cked up, ain’t it? You ever heard of somebody going to rehab for weed?”
“Stop b*tching,” he grumbled, continuing to look through the magazine. “Rehab for you rich kids is just another day at the county club. Which one are they sending you to? Palm Springs?”
“Psss! Yeah right! Them cheap bastards sending me to some sh*thole called the Endurance Clinic in the heart of the f*cking hood.”
The smile left Jackson’s face as he finally looked up from the pages in front of him. “Wait, the Endurance Clinic in Oakwood Heights?”
I nodded as I exhaled a mouth full of smoke. “Yeah…why?”
The asshole stared at me looking dumb for a minute before he held his head back and barked with laughter, slapping my damn table as he did it.
I kicked his chair nearly sending him toppling backward. “What’s wrong with you, mutha f*cka?! Hitting my sh*t like that…”
This f*cking house was costing me a grip. I paid extra to get it fully furnished. Nothing in this b*tch was cheap. And he was banging on the table like he was crazy. After about a minute of gut-wrenching laughter, he finally got himself together.
“Nap, what’s your doctor’s name, man?” he said, wiping away tears.
I frowned at that dumb bastard. What the hell did it matter to him? “Dr. Kimble? Why?”
He didn’t respond, just shook his head as he drained the rest of his beer, that knowing grin still on his face.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why, J?”
“No reason, just curious, that’s all.” His phone
went off at his waist, after checking the number, he stood. “Time for me to make my way back to the station.”
“Jackson!” I called after him. “Why you ask?” This bastard knew something that he wasn’t telling me.
He opened the door, but before he exited, he turned and looked at me in a thoughtful way. I was instantly suspicious. Jackson didn’t do thoughtful.
“I’ve always wanted to ask you a question. You remember that girl you use to obsess over in school? The pretty little shy one with the glasses?” He snapped his fingers. “What was her name?”
“Free,” I said as I studied him through the smoke I exhaled.
“Yeah, Free…” He smiled thoughtfully. “What was it about her that did it for you? She was shy and used to wear those big, ugly glasses with the duct tape on them. Yet, anytime she was around, she had your complete attention. I could never figure it out.”
“That’s ‘cause it wasn’t meant for you to figure it out. It’s none of your business. Now I got a question for you? What makes you bring up Free? Is she still in Detroit? Is she married?”
The bastard grinned evilly at me. “You know, I’ve been thinking, one of the things that helps drug addicts on their road to recovery is support from their friends,” he continued without answering any of my questions. “And since I’m your best friend, I think I’ll try and make my way to the Endurance Clinic from time to time to check on your progress and support you any way I can."
Leaning back in my chair completely relaxed, I pointed at him. “That would be great, buddy, but when you leave Mayberry, can you take the Andy Griffith getup off? It can’t be helping you with the ladies.”
He looked down at his sheriff uniform. “What the sh*t are you talking? The ladies find this uniform irresistible. My refrigerator is full of casseroles and dishes from all the little mommies with fantasies of f*cking the sheriff.”
You see what I mean? This bastard was so damn corny. He left out of the door to the sound of my laughter.
Free
“Free, don't hang up! Please! Just let me explai—” Rolling my eyes, I hung up the phone before pressing the intercom button.
“How can I help you, boss lady?” Oaklee’s chirpy southern voice came from the other end.
“Didn’t I tell you I was not accepting any calls from Dillion?”
“Yes ma’am…” she responded, the sound of her typing away at her computer bleeding through the line as well.
“And yet, I just hung up on him for the tenth time this week.”
“Wha—” The line went dead before the click clunk of her red cowboy boots crossing the wooden floor came seconds before my door flew in. With an astonished look on her beautiful face, she plopped down in the chair on the other side of my desk.
“Are you kidding me?! What the hell is wrong with that man? How in the hell is he going to stalk you after proposing to your sister? I swear, a young lady called and asked to speak with Dr. Robinson. He must have had her call and then took the phone from her. You know damn well if I knew it was that scum, I would not have pushed the call through.”
I shook my head as I continued to read through the file of yet another one of Dr. Kimbell’s patients. I only had seven minutes to study it before said patient was due in my office.
“Why does he keep calling you?”
My gaze met hers. “I have no idea. Do you know he tried to come by my house last night?”
Her mouth dropped. “Noooo! What did he say?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t answer the door. Please! As if I would…”
“I told you, he’s going to try and have his cake and cookies too.”
“I think what you meant to say is, he’s going to try and have his cake and eat it too.” I corrected her, chuckling. Oaklee was always quoting sayings, but she never got them right. No, not once… However, I think she may be right about Dillion’s motives. He’d not stopped calling me since he and Laureen announced their engagement last week.
The first time he called, I’d foolishly answered the phone. Honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe because I needed closure. But what I got was him apologizing profusely and begging me to allow him to come over so that he could explain to me face to face about what happened.
Of course, I said no, I didn’t want to see him. I only wanted to know why he’d lied to me all that time and was seeing my sister behind my back. God! How low can you go?
Amazingly, he blamed it all on me. Accused me of being cold to him, while she was loving and welcoming. I couldn’t help but laugh in his ear. Laureen was many things, loving and welcoming were not one of them.
In the end, I told him he was entitled to his opinion of me. But I’ll be honest and admit for most of that conversation, I had more important things on my mind, like the fact that Rasheeda had told me that Mean Tuck was back in Aldshore.
My goodness! I’ve never ran so fast. I practically snatched Oaklee, threw her in my car, and hightailed it back to the city without looking back. No way I wanted to risk running into him. I tried to tell myself I was being ridiculous and no longer had to run from my old bully, but some habits were hard to break. Not only did I run, I told Oaklee, who lives right outside of Aldshore not too far from Rachel's mom's place, that she was going to have to find another way home that night because it was no way I was risking going back there.
However, the part that bothered me most was that I still couldn’t get Tuck off my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d changed after nearly fifteen years. Was he still deadly handsome or had age uglied him? Was he still mean? Tucker the boy had been intimidating as hell. What was Tucker the man like? And although I hated it, I couldn’t get that night he and I shared on that beach off my mind either. He’d been so gentle with me, touching my body in a way that made me feel like a piece of silk.
When I hung up with Dillion that day, those tears I’d been trying to squeeze out finally flowed. Whether I was crying because my boyfriend had left me for my sister or because my bully was back in town, I couldn’t tell you. All the hate, rage, and although I really hated to admit it, lust I felt for Tucker resurfaced. But I did cry, and when I got home that night, I baked a pound cake, because I bake when I’m emotional. And then as I ate a salad, I cried again, because although I’d baked that delicious smelling cake, I couldn’t eat it. Thanks to the fact that I am twenty pounds overweight; I’m on a stupid diet.
I exhaled as I looked back at the file in my hand. “Like I said, I don’t know why he keeps calling me, but outside of telling me where he and his fiancée are registered, he has nothing else to say to me.”
Oaklee chuckled, shaking her head. “Is that witch really asking you to be in her wedding?”
I nodded… “Yep, it’s going to be held in Vegas in three months, the bridesmaids’ dresses are peach and cream. Mine has a great big ugly bow just above my butt.”
She snagged one of the apples I kept in a bowl on my desk for my patients, taking a loud bite out of it. “I can’t believe you’re going to go through with that. I would tell that b*tch to kiss my ass.”
“You already know I looked for a way out. But Angie threatened to close her checkbook permanently if I so much as hinted to the fact that I couldn’t be in my precious sister’s wedding, bringing eternal shame and embarrassment to the family.”
By the time I was finished talking, Oaklee’s mouth was hanging open, showing off her bite of half-chewed apple.
“What the hell?! Is she even real? That heffa is a reptile! Rach has been saying that since day one.”
That made me laugh. Rachel has been saying that about Angie. She was convinced my stepmother was of the devil.
“How in the hell does she expect you to stand there while that baby iguana marries your man? God, Free, why do you put up with their abuse?!”
I sighed. “You don’t know how much I wish I didn’t have to. Sometimes, I feel like walking away from all of this, just so that I can truly be Free.”
Although it shamed me to sa
y those words, they were true. After my mom died of an overdose, I became obsessed with the notion that I would never let another beautiful soul die from the evil clutches of opioids. I really had good intentions when I started this whole thing, but now, it was beginning to feel like a noose around my neck. The burden of carrying this clinic was heavier than I’d expected.
It was killing me… and yet, I was too far in to stop now.
Oaklee reached over and took my hand. “You’re always sacrificing for everybody else, but nobody’s doing anything for you.”
Once again, her ability to read me had taken me by surprise. It was one of the things that drew me to her two years ago when she showed up on the clinic doorstep looking for a job. Well, that and the fact that although she was my secretary and one of my best friends, she was also what we in the industry called an off the record patient. She was a patient that didn’t know she was a patient.
No, she didn’t do drugs or anything like that. Oak’s an adrenaline junky. She suffered some things in her childhood that made her feel powerless, so now, she seeks to take her power back through protest. I know that sounds strange, but it is a thing. Oaklee is addicted to the rush she feels in the heart of a good protest. It’s her way of taking back control, and the more violent the protest is, the better.
I would go into detail, but I hear Oak is going to be telling you guys her story, so I don’t want to spoil anything. But trust me when I tell you, you’re going to laugh and cry…and yes, you’re going to want to rage against the system…just like Oaklee.
“Damn, you even have to come and get me from jail all the time,” she continued. I gently squeezed her hand, the last thing in the world she needed to feel is guilt.