RECKLESS — Bad Boy Criminal Romance (34 page)

At the last second he tried to duck and I grazed the side of his head, knocking him off-balance and onto his back on the pavement.

I pounced on him and threw another right punch which partially connected with his jaw, though he blocked it with left hand.  With his right hand he reached for his gun.  As he drew it from the holster I grabbed the barrel of the gun with my left hand.  We both furiously gripped the gun, tugging hard to pull it away from the other.  When he removed his left hand from his face, trying to grip the gun with both hands and yank it from me, I cracked him in the eye with my right elbow.  I cracked him in the nose and then again and again in the eye.  With my left hand I wrenched the gun out of his grip.  Holding the barrel, I hit him bluntly with the butt of the gun square in the forehead twice.

The police officer lay unconscious and I stood over him and cocked the gun and aimed it at his face.  Before I could fire, the shine of headlights momentarily blinded me.  I looked up and saw a pickup truck.  Terrell jumped out and walked toward me.  “Don’t do anything.  Give me the gun.”

I shook my head and kept the gun aimed at the officer. 

“C’mon, let’s go, man.  We’ll be fine.  We have to go now though.”

“I don’t want to.  I’m going to shoot him and myself.”

“You’re going to do that to me?”

I looked at him.

“You’re going to make me live the rest of my life with the memory of my best friend killing himself in front of me?  C’mon, you can’t do that.  This situation is bad enough.  Don’t make it worse.”

“Just go then.”

              “I’m not going to leave you here.”  Terrell stepped toward me and took the gun and I didn’t resist.  Using his shirt, he wiped both my and his fingerprints from the gun and dropped it to the ground.  He pulled me toward his truck and I got in the passenger seat and he sped away.  He drove to the parking lot of the strip club, now deserted.  Ariel’s and my car, the Toyota, was still parked there.

              We both stepped out of his truck and Terrell took out his wallet.  He took the cash out and counted it – two-thousand dollars.  He handed it to me.  “You’ve got to go.  You have to disappear.  Leave Memphis.  No one around here can see you.  No one can know where you are.”

“Where do I go?”

“Doesn’t matter.   Just go far, far away from here.  Keep going and going until you’re long gone and you maybe find a place you can settle a while and be happy.”

“When do I come back?”

“Not for a long time.  You have to stay away.  But someday, when it feels right, come back.”

I nodded.  I felt like crying but no tears would come.

Terrell hugged me.  “C’mon, boy, you’ll be fine.  I love you.  You can handle yourself out there.  And one day I’ll see you again.”

I hugged him back but had no words.  I got in my car and left Memphis.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Angela goes to bed early.

My mother sits on the couch and watches the ten o’clock news.

I walk into the living room.  “Hey, can we talk?” I ask.

“About what?”

“Can we turn off the TV?”

She doesn’t say anything.

I turn it off and sit on the edge of the coffee table.  “I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” she says.  “It’s been nice seeing you.  You can come back any time.”

“Before I go, I want to talk about Ariel.”

“What about her?”

“I don’t know … I literally think about her every day.  And it still hurts.  My skin aches and I feel sick.  I feel like putting my head through a wall sometimes.  It’s overwhelming.  I really can’t stand it.  I don’t know what to do.”

Perfectly composed, my mother listens to everything I say.  “Well, you can’t live for your sister,” she responds.  “She’s gone and you have to think about the future.  You have to live for yourself.”

“I do.  I have fun and live my life and I feel good at times.  But, even then, I still carry her in the back of my mind.  I can’t shake those feelings.  Aren’t you sad about her?”

“Sure, it made me sad.  She was my daughter.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s okay.  I didn’t need you.  I’ve dealt with hard situations my entire life without any help.  I’ve gotten through them all and I’ll keep getting through any more that come my way.”

“I’m still sorry that I just disappeared.  Terrell said he would tell you I was okay, but –”

“I knew, if you left, there was a reason.  I know you’re a smart boy and always have been.  Terrell told me you were alright.  So whatever the reason – it didn’t matter – I knew you were doing whatever you had to.  I made it through just fine.”

“You always taught us to fend for ourselves.  That came in handy when I had to go.  But, at that time when I left, I felt totally raw.  My nerves were numb.  I couldn’t even think straight.  You must’ve felt something like that when you heard.”

“Ariel was my daughter and I loved her,” she says plainly.  “Losing her was awful.”

I nod, hoping she continues and says more, but she doesn’t say another word.  “I’m not sure why I’m talking to you about this,” I say.  “I just have this bottled up inside me and there’s never anyone to talk to.  I just want to get these feelings out, because they’re just tearing up my insides and eating me away.”

“Like I said, you can’t live for your sister.  She’s gone and you’re alive.  You have the right to be happy.”

“Yeah, I know, but it doesn’t seem that simple to me.  After she died, I went a long time without having much desire
to
live.”

“Losing you too wouldn’t do anybody any good.”

“I know, Mom.  I’m just … I’m trying to tell you how I feel and how much it hurts me.  I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved Ariel.  I don’t think I ever will.  And she’s dead.”

My mother shakes her head.  “I really don’t see any point in talking about it.”

I stare at her, my eyes water a bit.  “Why are you being like this?”  I ask.  “Are you upset with me?”

“No,” she says.

“Do you blame me for Ariel dying?” I ask.

“Of course not.  She was a grown girl.  She put herself in a bad situation and she didn’t survive it.  You’ve always been a good son and I don’t blame you for anything.”

We sit together in silence a moment and I say, “I don’t know how to be close to you, Mom.”

Surprised she says, “I thought we were close.”

I chuckle and a couple tears roll down my cheeks.  The glands behind my eyes ache.  “Um … I mean, I guess we are in that I love you.  And I would do anything for you.  But I don’t … I don’t know how to talk to you.”

“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

I stare at the floor.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know what else I can say.”

“Well, I think we’ve already said everything we possibly could.”

“I guess so.”  I sit, staring the floor some more.  Suddenly, without wanting to, I start crying hard.

“What’s wrong with you?” my mother asks.

I cover my face with my hand.  “Nothing,” I barely manage to say through tears and mucus.

“Christ,” she says, startled at how out of control I appear.  “Why are you getting so upset?”

“I just … I … I don’t … I don’t ever cry … ever.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You may think life is hard, but it can be harder,” she says.  “Your sister passing away is no reason for you to be walking around miserable every day.”

My face still covered, I say, “I know.  I’m not miserable.  I just … I think I wanted something else by talking to you.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” I say in between sobs.  “I think … I think I need to be alone.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” she recommends.  “Whatever is wrong with you, you’ll probably feel better tomorrow morning.”

              I walk to the guest room where Angela sleeps.  She is curled up on the left side of the bed under the covers.  I curl up on the right side, on top of the covers, and fall asleep surprisingly fast.

Early in the morning, Angela and I wake up and pack our belongings into my Toyota.  In the kitchen she eats a bowl of cereal and asks, “Are you going to eat anything?”

“No, I’m too anxious to.”

“Do you think he’s going to try anything?”

“I have no idea.  But hey, listen to me.  Seriously.  If cops are there, don’t do anything.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t try to get away, don’t make a move other than what they tell you to do.  Just let them arrest you and don’t say a word.  I’m serious.”

“Okay, alright.  I get it.”

We drive to Pinnacle Christian and arrive at seven-thirty, an hour and a half early.  I drive around the parking lot and the surrounding neighborhood, scouting to see if anything looks unusual.  The sky is overcast and a cold breeze blows the limbs of the barren trees.  The lot and neighborhood appear peaceful, all perfectly normal, so I park in the lot and we sit and wait.

Reverend Donald Boyd shows up early himself, driving into the lot in his black Hummer at eight-thirty.  He parks in front of my Toyota, removes the keys from the ignition and steps out.  Angela and I meet him between the two vehicles.  Reverend Boyd holds a duffel bag stuffed with cash.

“How do I know you won’t come back and ask for more?” he asks, holding the bag firmly at his chest.

I shrug.  “How does your congregation know you tell them the truth?”

He stares at me.

“I guess you’ve got to have faith.”

“Did you end your relationship Britney?” he asks.

“Yeah.  I gave her a reason.  She thinks I was a great boyfriend.  And she thinks you’re a great father.  Everything and everyone’s going to be fine as long as you don’t do something stupid and fuck it up.”

He blinks a few times, then says, “You have to take this and I don’t want to ever see or hear from you again.”  He extends his right hand for me to shake it.

I hastily shake his hand with my right and grab the duffel bag from him with my left.

He jumps back in his Hummer and drives out of the parking lot and out of sight.

Angela and I get back in the Toyota and drive out of the lot and to the parking lot of a nearby Wal-Mart.  We quickly count the money from the bag, which rightfully totals sixty-thousand.

I drive onto the interstate and head east.

“What did you tell Britney to break up with her?” Angela asks me.

I tell her the fabricated story about our supposed father being sick.

“That’s so great.”  Angela laughs.  “So you, the guy she swore she wouldn’t sleep with, then gave into because he was
special
, ends up dumping her.  That should sour her on men for the next decade or so.”

“I don’t think it’s like that at all,” I say.  “She doesn’t feel like she got dumped.  I had to leave because of a noble purpose.  I was the greatest boyfriend ever and only because of tragic circumstances did our relationship get cut short of a storybook ending.  I’m sure she’ll go through some sadness over it, but it’ll also mean a lot to her.”

“But it’s all bullshit!”  Angela laughs.

“I’m not sure if it matters.  She believes it’s true.  Who knows what’s going to happen to her.  For all we know, the next several guys she dates may all treat her like shit.  But she can think back to her first boyfriend who was a really great guy who really loved her, who had to leave her because he was such a great guy.  That’ll be real to her.  Even if we know it’s bullshit, maybe that can mean something to her, bring her some happiness, or make her a little more optimistic about life.”

             
Chapter Twenty-Three

MEMPHIS, Tn. — Once we cross over the Memphis Bridge, I park downtown.   We visit Mud Island before wandering aimlessly around Beale Street, stopping in some shops and bars.  Daylight dwindles and soon it’s very cold and very dark and we check into an old, decrepit -looking hotel without an elevator.

              “Not to sound like a slut,” Angela says, “but I’m about to go crazy.  I haven’t gotten laid in so long.  I mean, in Fayetteville, you were sleeping with Britney.  What did I have?”

              “Whatever pain you’re going through is self-inflicted,” I tell her.  “I wanted to sleep with you way back in New Orleans.  You didn’t seem too into it, remember?”

              Angela sits in a chair beside a window overlooking downtown and doesn’t say anything.

              “We’ll go out tonight,” I say, placing my suitcase on the bed and opening it.  “Maybe you can find some guy you like… I’m kind of curious to find out what type of guy you’re into.”

              “Or, instead of going out, we could just stay in.”

              “Why?  You
just
said you wanted to get laid.”  I laugh and pick some clothes from my suitcase and set up an ironing board.  “I think you really are losing your mind.  You don’t know what you want.”

              Down the street is a blues bar.  A few guys approach Angela but she acts disinterested and brushes them off.  A pretty, semi-drunk brunette with mid-length hair and glitter on her face starts talking to me.  “What’s your name?” she asks.