In the Nick of Time (98 page)

N
ick pulled up
the place, maneuvered his car against the curb, and placed it in park. Barely getting the engine good and off, he slammed his door and marched inside the joint.

“Hey.” He shot a half-cocked grin at the bartender. “Let me get a square off of you.”

“Pretty-Boy Vitale!!!” the woman squealed as she grinned wide at him.

Did I fuck her back in the day? Probably…

He believed it highly probable, especially the way her eyes kept roving over him in a suggestive way. He simply couldn’t recall such a thing without a shadow of a doubt, but he had neither the time nor the desire to lament about the shit. Spotting an empty seat at the bar, he slid right onto the reddish brown stool. Familiarity grabbed him by the neck, gave him a hug and smoky kiss across the cheek.

“I haven’t seen you here in
forever
.” She winked at him and passed him a cigarette and a lighter. He quickly placed it in his mouth and lit that joker up like an arsonist. Tossing the lighter down on the counter, he blew out thick circles of smoke and leaned forward, loving the fuckery he was falling into. It was time to feed that goddamn monster; it was damn near starving, and he knew just what it craved.

“Where have you been?” she asked as she turned away and pulled out several empty beer mugs.

“Oh, you know, here and there.” He winked at her, talking that shit, loving the pulsating red lights and the way people talked amongst themselves, sharing secrets, telling lies, stealing kisses, and plotting fuck sessions.

“You want to see the dinner menu?” she offered.

“Nope, not even a little bit.” A curl of smoke escaped the side of his mouth.

“Okay, what can I get you?”

“A salty dog…”

“We’ve only got pink grapefruit juice. Is that fine?”

“Yeah… and bring me out a shot of patron, too.”

“You got it.”

She turned her back, leaving him there with the music, the smoke, the pussy swaying women, the heavily-made up whores all hot and bothered—not for stiff cock but to get paid. He took another puff of the cigarette and caught his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, the glass fractured, ugly, covered in golden veins. He bit into his lower lip, slightly piercing the flesh; pain emitted, but he paid it no mind. He casually turned away from himself, and looked around the place.

It seemed different from what he last remembered. In his foggy state, he recalled memories of hedonistic electricity and a slice of heaven dipped in rum and coke. Now, the place looked more polished, and the clientele, though definitely the partying kind, a bit classier. The men wore sporty glasses and the ladies held tablets and iPads, their smiles wide, the semblance of intelligence yet to be confirmed, yet still could not be denied. He grunted and turned back around, now facing two drinks set before him.

The grapefruit and vodka mixture called to him, an oh so familiar flavor that used to give him all sorts of happiness and life. The cocktail to the left, the patron tequila to the right. Back in his days of drinking motherfuckers under the goddamn table, he would’ve kicked both of these back, and proceeded to swallow three more rounds without getting the least bit tipsy.

The bartender returned and leaned forward, showing her ample cleavage, undoubtedly trying to tempt him as she swam in long-gone memories of him fucking her in the back of her car.

…Yeah, that’s where it happened…

Her tittie display meant nothing; he didn’t care. He looked back at the glasses, now viewing his weak reflection in the liquid…

“Why do you look so sad?” she asked with a slight grin, no doubt prepared for him to say something preposterous.

He looked her in the eye.

“…Found out my father died.” He circled the rim of the shot glass with his fingertip.

“Oh, Vitale.” She patted his shoulder. “I’m so sorry! What happened?!”

“Some guy robbed and killed him.”

She gasped, placed her hand over her mouth.

“No biggie.” He shrugged, took another drag of his cigarette. “People die everyday, right?”

“But… oh my God. You’re not alright .You
couldn’t
be. Look, those drinks are on the house!” She threw up her hands.

“Nah.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Ain’t nothing in this life free.”

“Damn,” she murmured, shaking her head the way a sympathetic friend would. “So, where was it at?”

“Here, in Brooklyn.” He smiled nervously. “Over there at the Happy Go Lucky store…”

“HGL?” Her brows dipped in confusion. “You sure? That place has been closed forever.”

“Yeah… time is relative I suppose.” He sucked his teeth and gingerly placed the cigarette butt in the ashtray. “You know what?”

“What?” She crossed her arms and listened intently… making him feel important, like a big fucking man, when inside, he felt small and completely useless. Insignificant.

“When I was a little boy, I used to love playing hide-and-seek.”

She smiled at him. “Pleasant childhood memory with your dad?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, plucked the salty dog from the table and peered at it from various angles. “With my mom… but…” He shook his finger at her, “My Dad did play hide-and-seek, too!” He laughed mirthlessly. “He was a damn pro at it. You see, the object of the game is for someone to run off, go hide. Then, the other person goes out to find them. I would always volunteer to be the seeker.” He inhaled, back straight, then slumped back down in his seat on the exhale, melting like heated wax right there on the stool.

“I’d find
every
fuckin’ body!” He waved his hand around, causing the drink to slosh about. “I was so good at the shit, my friends didn’t want to play that shit with me anymore. I wasn’t much good at the hiding part though… you’d think I’d be, considering it’s in my blood. My dad hid… shit.” He laughed, resisting the urge to get up and throw something hard and fast at the goddamn mirror that continued to toss his image back at him.

“I didn’t look for him too hard, but he showed up at various times in his own little way, anyway. He hid from my mother, from his family, from his responsibility. What kinda son of a bitch makes two kids and just walks the fuck out, huh?!”

“I don’t know, Vitale, but not a very good person…”

“And now, here I sit, trying to find myself again.” He burst out laughing. “Hey, hand me a big empty glass, like a water glass, would you?”

“Yes, hold on just a second.” She turned around, grabbed a tumbler then set it down before him.

“Like, if I pour this salty dog in this glass, right… it doesn’t look like much. It looked much better in the smaller glass you had it in.” Confusion settled on her face. “Then, if I add in this patron,” he said, pouring the tequila inside of the glass too, “I just made a mess, you know? All that mixture; no one would order a drink with all of that shit in there.”

“What… what are you doing Vitale?”

“What am I doing?” He smiled. “Yes… what
am
I doing? Damn good question. What I’m doing, Gina, is making this drink, well, undrinkable. You see, I
already
found myself. I didn’t need anyone coming for me, hunting my ass down. I hate that. I’m the hunter, not the hunted. You asked me where I’ve been, I’ll tell you were I’ve been, Gina—in a goddamn, motherfucking drug rehab program.”

For a split second, she looked somewhat surprised, and then, she simply smiled at him and nodded.

“Yup… drug rehab for alcohol and cocaine. You want to hear something wild?” He pushed the drink away in disgust, almost making it tumble over.

She gently plucked it from the table, tossed the contents in a sink behind her, and turned back towards him, eager for what he had to say. “What?”

“I fell in love.”

“You… you fell in love?” Her brow arched, and knowing the ladies the way he did, he could tell the woman was intrigued, yet slightly jealous. He could dig it… respect that.

“Yeah, I fell in love with a beautiful lady. She’s a professional model.”

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “What happened? You two still together?”

“Yeah, we’re together… I just asked her to marry me a few weeks ago. She was crazy enough to say yes.” He chuckled. “Had it all planned out, you know? Proposed just right. Real romantic ’nd shit… did it the way you ladies like it done. I made it into a big ass production, totally not my style, but I wanted to do it. It was fun… and she deserved that.”

“Congratulations, Vitale. What a lucky girl…”

He rose from his seat. “I’m the lucky one. Anyway, I’m going home, Gina. I need…” He caught his reflection in the mirror once more. “I need to just… go home.”

“I understand. It was nice seeing you, Vitale, and I’m sorry about your father.”

“Nah, don’t be.”

She looked at him as if she wanted to say a bit more, to offer something to make him feel good, perhaps to stand taller, prouder. There was no need. He had it covered.

Almost fell there, boy…

He turned to walk away, dusted off his shoulder, and smirked.

Almost got lost, didn’t you? Almost got caught slippin’. Nah, baby… you’re stronger than that! Ma didn’t raise no punk. She raised an Outlaw, and now she’s smiling down on Brooklyn’s Finest.

“Nick, can I get you something? Maybe a water or Coca Cola, something for your ride home?” the lady called out over the roar of the music and babble.

“Gina, I’m fine.” He threw her a big smile over his shoulder. “We just poured a little liquor out for my father is all.”

Sorry sack of shit…

“He’s been dead my whole damn life, you know? We just had his funeral, right here, right now. That’s it.” He nodded, working through the process. “All is well, Gina,” he said with a wink in her direction. “Time is precious, baby! Never waste it on the shit in life that just doesn’t matter. What matters is waiting for me at home right now and I can’t wait to hold her in my arms. Yeah, I got
everything
I need, right at home…”