Karma's a Bit*h

by Este Holland

  My back was to the armrest of the couch, and I’d wrapped my arms around my legs. I sat staring out the window at nothing in particular. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to go see my dad alone?”

  Archer blinked and gripped my hand. Disappointment darkened his eyes. “I get it. You haven’t seen him in a while, so you want to talk to him without the new boyfriend around.” He sighed. “I just want to be there for you.”

  “You’re not the new boyfriend. You’re the only boyfriend.”

  Archer cocked his head. “What about your junior prom, rock-star drummer?”

  I made a throwaway gesture. “That was high school. Dad never met him.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  I tried to organize my thoughts. “I don’t want it to be about you tomorrow. Like, for him.” I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.” I took a deep breath. “What I mean is, I don’t want him to focus on you and start down the road where his brain latches on to you as a potential source of income.”

  Archer smiled, pushed a lock of my hair off my forehead, and rubbed my temple with his thumb. “You want him to settle, find a job, go to his counseling, and then meet me.”

  “Yes! Exactly.”

  Archer’s smile turned into his cocky grin.

  “Oh, no. Not Cocky Archer. What are you thinking?”

  “Cocky Archer?” He laughed. “Look, I don’t think that’s going to do any good. Let him meet me. Let him see that we’re a united front. That I know where he’s been, what he’s done, and I won’t fall for any of his tricks.” He held up a hand. “But if you really don’t want me there, I’ll understand.”

  I remembered my speech to Phoenix the other day about living life and trying to not be so afraid all the time. I started to nod, and then I nodded harder. “No. You’re right. We’ll just be blunt. Put it all out there. We’ll tell him, ‘If you try and steal from my boyfriend, we’re done.’ ”

  “That’s my adorable snuggle bunny!”

  Horrific embarrassment swept over me. “What?” I mean, it was true; we slept snuggled together every night, but still…

  Archer laughed. “I wanted to see what you’d do if I called you that.”

  “Uh…now I’m rethinking this whole thing.” I smiled at Archer’s scowl.

  ***

  Brother Sam’s was an okay place. It was a redbrick townhouse with three stories and a sagging front porch. It had obviously been a grand home once upon a time. Now, there were two front doors, rusted mailboxes, and old porch furniture, but someone had made an effort to keep it tidy. No cigarette butts littered the steps, the walkway had been cleared of snow after the last storm, so there were no icy patches to navigate, and the porch had been swept.

  I rang the doorbell.

  “When’s the last time you saw your dad?” Archer asked as we waited.

  “Um, about a year ago. He didn’t like me to see him in there.”

  A man came before Archer could reply. He was in his sixties with gray hair and gray eyes. He wore a thin cardigan over tan trousers.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Jake Michelson. I’m here to see Roscoe.”

  His gray eyes switched to Archer.

  “Archer Ferraro. I’m with him.”

  He opened the screen door and extended his hand for us to shake. “Everyone calls me Sam. Come in. I screen visitors in my office.”

  “Thank you.”

  The house opened directly into a long hallway. A long, blue rug ran up the hardwood floor, and a few doorways showed where the other rooms were, but we went straight into the office left of the front door.

  Sam sat at a rail desk and lifted the glasses around his neck to his nose. “Let’s see. I have a log here for you to sign. And I’ll need to make copies of your IDs.”

  We handed over our cards. Mine my university ID, and Archer his driver’s license. I filled out the sheet.

  “Now, we have rules here, gentlemen. Roscoe can’t leave unless it’s for a job interview, work, or mandated counseling for one month. After that, he can go out to places other than those, but he has to tell me where he’s going and who he’s going to be with for six months. Visitors are allowed once a day between the hours of nine a.m. and eight p.m. Curfew is at nine p.m. unless strictly refuted by their employer. No alcohol, no drugs, no prostitutes or strippers, no gambling, no selling or buying of fenced goods.” He paused to consult a list taped to the wall behind his ancient computer. “Let’s see, what am I forgetting?”

  I could tell Archer was dying to make a smart remark, so I stepped on his foot. “We get it. I promise. Nothing but good old-fashioned father-son time.”

  “With son’s boyfriend along,” Archer added.

  Sam’s lips pressed together at that. “And no pornography.”

  “Of course.”

  Sam nodded and stood. “Come with me.”

  He led us farther along the hallway and to the right. The living room had two couches, an old TV, a card table, and bookshelves full of old DVDs, some books, and board games.

  “Have a seat. I’ll let Roscoe know you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I pressed a hand to my stomach.

  Archer watched me from where he’d perched on a window seat, with his hands fisted his jacket pockets. He gave me a wink for courage. God, he was gorgeous. Staring at him, the world and all my problems melted away until it was only him and me.

  “Jake!”

  The spell broken, I yanked my gaze away from Archer and swung it toward my father’s voice. “Hi, Dad.” He rushed forward and lifted me in a bear hug. “Whoa. You got bigger.”

  “Nothing much to do when you’re locked up. Figured I’d at least take care of myself.” Dad set me on my feet and held on to my shoulders as he studied me. He’d always been taller than me, and at forty-nine, he wasn’t ready to start shrinking. “You look good, son.”

  “So do you, Dad.”

  His biceps were huge. His dark-brown hair had a little more silver in it than I remembered, and his brown eyes weren’t as open and friendly as they used to be. But I guess that wasn’t exactly surprising. He hadn’t been in Sing Sing, but prison was prison.

  “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Archer Ferraro.”

  Archer had stood by, letting us have a moment, and now he stepped forward with his hand out.

  Dad paused before he shook it. “Roscoe. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too. You must be happy to be out.”

  Dad led us over to the couch. “There’re still a lot of rules to follow and curfew, but it’s paradise in comparison.” He studied me for a moment again, as if he couldn’t believe I was really there. “It’s so good to see you. What have you been up to? How’s school?”

  “School’s good. I graduate in May. I, uh, lost my job at Dinkin’s, but I’m working for Archer now.”

  “With,” Archer corrected.

  I rolled my eyes. “With, even though he pays me.”

  Dad glanced back and forth between us. “And what do you do, Archer?”

  Archer’s expression was closed off, but a polite smile curved his lips. “I own my own consulting business.”

  “What do you consult on?”

  “Oh, a little bit of interior design. A little bit of relationship advice. It’s a strange business model, actually.”

  My heart swelled at Archer’s attempt to include my dad without giving us away.

  “I see,” Dad said, though it was clear he didn’t. “What do you do, Jake?”

  “I help with research. Logistics, raw data, that sort of thing.”

  This was more familiar ground for him. “Ah. That’s good. And you’re okay for money? Tuition? Rent?”

  “Yes. I’m good.”

  Dad smiled. I hated to make that smile disappear, but…I stared at Archer with wide eyes. He nodded, and I swallowed. “Dad. How, um, how’s the counseling going?” Dad’s eyes darted to Archer. “He knows everything.”

  “Oh.”
Dad shifted to a more comfortable position. “It’s been good. It was hard to really get deep into it with the therapist in there. It was mostly group therapy, and most of us couldn’t open up a whole hell of a lot. You know?”

  “Sure.”

  “But I’ve got some private sessions for free, and then I can go to gambling addicts anonymous, and some group sessions I can go to for free.”

  “That’s great, Dad. I really want you to stick with it. I can’t…” I took a deep breath. “I won’t tolerate any stealing. Not from anyone.” I glanced pointedly at Archer.

  Dad stayed quiet.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but I want to put it all out there. I don’t want to be one of those families that hides behind safe conversation. And I told Archer not to give you any money. If we’re going to have a relationship, I can’t spot you money. I mean not after you’re on your feet.”

  “And neither will I,” Archer said. “And I think you’ll find I’m not an easy mark, in case the thought entered your mind.”

  Dad lowered his head. Alarm shot through me as he lifted his hand and wiped at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “No, you’re right, Jake. I need to be able to talk about it, in case I start to slip. And the thought did enter my mind,” he said to Archer. “But not in the way I was planning on following through. It’s just a hard habit to break, measuring people up.”

  “Sure,” Archer said.

  “I’ll help you, Dad. If you need me to go with you to a meeting or something.”

  “Same here.” Archer reached out to take my hand and I smiled at my boyfriend, trying hard to keep the tears at bay.

  “Thank you both,” Dad said. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’m sorry for losing your college money. I’m sorry that I left you alone and you had to go into state care. I’m sorry you’ve been on your own all these years.”

  “Well, I had Marri.”

  “I’m glad, but the last year of high school and going to college are important times in a person’s life, and I wasn’t there to help you through it. I made it harder than it should’ve been.”

  I sniffed, squeezing the life out of Archer’s hand. I loosened my grip and gave Dad a watery smile. “I forgive you.”

  Dad pulled me into a hug. “I want to be better, so I can be there for you from now on.”

  “That makes me happy to hear.”

  Dad slapped my back a few times and blinked until his eyes cleared. “So, how long have you two been together? It’s recent, yes?”

  “It is.” Archer explained things in a way that skirted the line of telling the truth about his karma business. He had Dad in stitches when he talked about the Valentine’s Day Massacre, as he called it, only he left out a bit about why Brett had been there. Archer was an excellent storyteller, but then, he had been doing it for years with his family and friends, so it wasn’t a surprise.

  Archer

  I waited on the sidewalk as Jake said good-bye to his father. It had gone better than I’d expected. Roscoe was a bear of a man. I’d seen the picture in Jake’s apartment, but it hadn’t given a lot of detail from the neck down. If we ever had a problem, I hoped Roscoe never resorted to a physical confrontation, because he’d kick my ass.

  I had to keep Jake happy. Not a hardship. He was quickly becoming my priority in all things. I’d slipped a bit when inviting him to live with me, but in my defense, he’d said it first. He’d said it jokingly, but I always believed there was a kernel of truth to jokes.

  I’d have to be sneakier from here on out.

  “Hey.” I kissed his lips lightly as we headed out. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a lot of feelings.”

  I hugged him to my side, which made walking difficult, but we didn’t care.

  “Thank you for coming with me,” Jake said. “You were right about putting everything out there like that.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad I came. It’s obvious how much he loves you.”

  Jake smiled, and I opened the car door for him. His words planted a tiny seed in my brain, and I watered it while we drove home.

  “Hey,” I said, breaking our mutual silence. “Want to grab your computer and set it up in my office? You said you work better on it, didn’t you?”

  He hadn’t spoken those exact words, but it’d been implied. Step one of Operation Move Jake In, commencing in three, two, one…

  “Yeah, that would be good. I wouldn’t have to worry about it being stolen as much. And you can have your Mac back.”

  I tapped the steering wheel and sang (to annoy him, of course), “I get my baby back, baby back, bay back, riiiibsss.”

  Jake laughed. “You’re so weird.”

  “But you’re laughing.”

  “I love you.”

  Time stopped, and I had to fight to keep my eyes on the road as I found a place to pull over. I threw the car in park, turned to Jake, and grabbed his face.

  Jake’s eyes rounded in horror. “I’m sorry. It just blurted out of me.”

  His jaw moved up and down between my palms as he babbled an apology. An apology for saying he loved me. I slammed my mouth on his to silence that shit. Jake froze, then moaned and returned my kiss. It couldn’t even be described as a kiss. More like a melding of souls. A promise.

  “Oh, fuck it!” I cried, startling a blissed-out Jake. “I love you, Jake. I want you to move in with me. I was going to be all sneaky and do it little by little, but I don’t want to waste time. Please, move in. Be with me.”

  Jake’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He licked his lips and blinked. “It’s a little soon, but I say…yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes!”

  Grinning so hard my face hurt, I pulled Jake into a hug. “I love you, my sweet Jakey poo.”

  “I love you, too, Arturo.”

  “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?” I asked.

  Jake’s laughter in that moment would stay with me for years to come.

  Chapter 23

  Archer

  Jake’s comment after seeing his father had given me an idea. I’d told Jake first, and he’d turned it over in his big, beautiful brain until he’d approved. Then, I’d called Tamsin, Greg, and Phen, asking for permission, help, and advice respectively.

  Then came the moment of truth.

  I called Brian, Stephanie, Amy, and Jasmine. Yes, Jasmine. Jake had uncovered yet another dating app Brian had been using and another woman he had on the hook. Amy and Jasmine were still unfamiliar players, but I wanted Brian to feel surrounded. I gave them each a time and place, and they agreed to meet me. Stephanie and Brian wanted the jewelry returned, Amy and Jasmine were curious. We might not get the exact results we wanted, but we’d get closure. Hopefully.

  Jake and I stood with Greg in the closed gym. Greg’s friend owned the business. I’d expected sweat and BO to be the overpowering aroma, but disinfectant won out. It was an inclusive type of place where women and teens could take self-defense classes and kickboxing.

  I had on loose workout clothes, in case I had to move quickly, but that was where Greg came in handy. His badge and gun were clearly visible. I stood in the middle of the boxing ring with the lights on low and a spotlight trained on me to guide them in.

  I didn’t have to wait long. Jake had Tamsin out of sight for now. I told her to listen and decide if she wanted to step in at some point or wait and see what happened.

  Brian and Stephanie crept inside holding hands. The track lighting flashed over Brian’s sweaty forehead as they made their way closer. I didn’t know if Brian was attempting to intimidate me, but someone should tell him a brown leather jacket didn’t give off the vibe he’d been hoping for. Stephanie had on high heels that she toed off as I gestured them into the ring. Brian helped her but seemed annoyed when she clung to his arm.

  “Who are you?” Brian asked.

  Stephanie puffed her chest out, amplifying her cleavage under her low-cut blouse. “Yeah, and where’s my jewelry?”
r />   “This is a mediation session, and I’ll be your guide.”

  Brian’s large forehead wrinkled. “Mediation? Like what I did with the divorce lawyers?”

  “No, the divorce is over. This is much more of an informal thing. I’m not keeping you here.”

  “Except you stole my jewelry,” Stephanie said.

  “Brian, care to take this one?” I raised a pointed brow and waited.

  Brian remained mute, so I sighed and held the burner phone aloft with the video of Brian sneaking into her bedroom playing.

  Stephanie’s face changed from indignant, to confused, to outraged. “Bri-Bri, what the hell!”

  “Yeah, Bri-Bri,” I couldn’t help interjecting.

  “Fuck you!” he spat at me. “It’s my jewelry, I needed it back. You were just a thief!”

  “You have no room to talk,” Amy said, swooping out of the shadows. “You were going to steal it from your girlfriend to give it to your mistress? You promised me the diamond bracelet, remember?”

  “You also promised me the pearl earrings for my birthday,” Jasmine said, following Amy.

  “Only they weren’t really yours to give, were they, Brian? Or in your case, steal.” Tamsin stepped out, followed by Jake.

  I held the ropes open for each woman as she climbed into the ring. Brian’s face reddened as he assessed his precarious situation.

  “Calm down before you have a stroke,” I advised. “This is Detective Porter with the NYPD. He’ll make sure things don’t get out of hand.” Greg stood on the sidelines, leaning on the ropes as he watched Brian. Jake walked over to his side, giving me a private smile on the way.

  “How could you steal my great-grandmother’s jewelry, Brian?” Tamsin asked. “You know I was going to give those to the kids when they got married!”

  Stephanie gasped and stepped back, looking at Tamsin, then Brian. “You’ve got kids? Those were family heirlooms?”

  “Yeah,” Amy answered. “And he was going to steal it from you and give it to me.”

  “And me,” Jasmine said.

  “You asshole!”

  “I can’t believe you lied!”

  “You’re scum!”

  The women’s voices rose, and I wondered if maybe I’d bitten off more than I could chew, but Greg let out a sharp whistle, cutting the voices off. “He can’t understand if you’re all talking at once.”