Misty (3 page)

“Misty's no daughter of mine. Not anymore. She stabbed me in the back for the last time. And by the way, let her know that her social worker called me about her moving back home and I told her that Misty is no longer welcome here. I suppose she's going to end up in one of those facilities because I know you won't be able to take care of her—not the way I did.”

“She's not going into any facility.”

Thomasina smirked. “Hmph. Where else is she gonna go? Do you plan on moving her into that hotel with you?”

“I'm not sure about our living arrangements, yet, but we'll figure it out,” Brick said.

“Good luck with that. Taking care of a disabled person is a lot of work.”

“I'll manage.” Brick reached in his pocket and withdrew some cash and handed it to Thomasina. “Buy my little man some new clothes.”

As if disappointed that she had nothing else to complain about, Thomasina looked at the money and frowned, and then went into the kitchen.

As Brick played with his son on the floor, he could hear Thomasina opening cabinets, the fridge, and then he heard the rattling sounds of pots and pans. Soon, a delicious aroma began to drift into the living room. Brick felt his stomach rumble; he couldn't
remember the last time he'd had a homecooked meal. Forty minutes later, Thomasina returned to the living room and announced it was dinnertime.

“You're welcome to stay and eat with your son if you'd like,” she offered.

Thomasina could throw down in the kitchen and Brick was tempted, but his gut instinct told him to decline. Sharing a meal could be mistaken as an attempt to patch up their relationship and he wasn't trying to do that.

“No, I'm good,” he told her, though his growling stomach begged to differ.

Disappointment flickered across Thomasina's face, and Brick was confused about her intentions. Was she merely trying to be civil or was she plotting on a way to cause problems between him and Misty?

He picked up Little Baron and kissed him on the cheek. “Daddy has to go, but I'll see you in a couple of days.”

“Oh, no you won't,” Thomasina interjected in a hostile tone. “You can't drop by whenever it suits you. You have visitation once a week until you get stable housing,” she reminded Brick.

Obviously, Thomasina wasn't going to make it easy for Brick and his son to have a healthy relationship. She was lashing out and trying to hurt him the only way she knew how. Realizing it would be a long time before Thomasina got over her bitterness, he decided not to argue with her. He lowered Little Baron to the floor, and said, “I'll see you next week, man. Okay? Are we good?”

“We're good,” Little Baron replied.

“High-five!” Brick slapped palms with his son. “Be good, and I'll see you later, man.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

“Have a good evening, Thomasina,” Brick said respectfully, and then sauntered toward the door.

He drove straight to a neighborhood bar on Lancaster Avenue that served food that tasted homemade. He had a newspaper in front of him and was eager to check the classified ads to look for a place for Misty and him. His face was buried in the paper when the waitress came over to take his order. He looked up, noticing that she was a big-boned chick, coffee-colored with sultry, full lips that glistened with cherry red lip gloss. Those lips looked like they could do things that would relieve a lot of stress. She gave him a ready smile that was unmistakably flirtatious.

“What's good?” Brick asked, without looking at the menu.

“I am,” the flirty waitress replied with a hand on her hip.

Her body language and the way her lips spread into a sexy smile informed him that she was either a dick tease or she was hot in the ass and looking for a good time. Whatever the case, he hadn't come here to hook up; he'd come to get something to eat.

“In all seriousness, what do you recommend from the menu?” He had too much on his mind; too many pressing obligations to play games with the waitress, who was clearly hitting on him.

Disappointed that her attempt at seduction had failed, her hand fell away from her hip. Mirroring Brick's serious demeanor, the waitress spoke in a more professional tone. “I like the grilled salmon and the crabmeat mashed potatoes. The green beans are good, too,” she said without a trace of the smile she'd previously displayed.

“That's what I'll have, then,” Brick said.

“What're you drinking?”

“Heineken.”

“You look a little down, like maybe you need more than a beer. Will my phone number cheer you up?” she added, making another flagrant attempt to hook up.

Emotionally preparing himself for the hard life with Misty that Thomasina had predicted, he didn't have it in him to start fucking around and getting phone numbers from random chicks. “No, I'm good,” Brick responded with an apologetic smile.

The waitress shrugged as if to say, “your loss,” and then grabbed the menu and trotted off toward the kitchen.

Left with his thoughts, Brick attempted to make a mental list of Misty's home care needs. She was going to need visiting nurse services, physical therapy, a wheelchair, and a host of adaptive equipment for disabled people. It was a lot to deal with, but he was in for the long haul.

He wondered what the long haul involved.
Not a sex life!
He winced at the idea of giving up sex completely, and wondered if he was capable. It wasn't likely; he was too young to live the rest of his life jacking off to porn for sexual release. Having a side chick seemed like the reasonable alternative, but he'd learned a valuable lesson after being in a relationship with his former lover and partner in crime, Anya. No matter how much a person believed they could be in a sexual relationship with no strings attached, emotions had a way of creeping into the picture.

Truth be told, Anya wasn't the only one who had caught feelings. Brick had strong feelings for her too, but he'd never admitted how much he cared for her. Believing that he was headed for jail, he didn't want to involve Anya in his chaotic life. One of the hardest things he'd ever done was to part ways with her when she pleaded with him to stay.

But everything happens for a reason. Back then, he had no idea that Misty would wake up. Once she came out of the coma, Brick realized his love for her was stronger than ever, despite her physical condition. What he felt for Misty couldn't be described as romantic love; it was love in the purest sense, and it was unconditional. At
least that's what he told himself, but he secretly wondered if he was allowing himself to be tied down with Misty out of a sense of obligation. He quickly shook that negative thought from his mind. Misty was the love of his life. Point blank. Period.

He supposed he'd have to get his carnal needs met by prostitutes. Feelings weren't involved when money was exchanged for sex. He knew that from personal experience, when he used to sell sexual favors back in the day.

Putting aside unpleasant thoughts of his past, he scanned the apartment listings of the newspaper that was spread open on the table. Most of the places that caught his eye were surprisingly expensive, and he was grateful that cash wasn't a problem. He had plenty of money in his pocket due to Anya's generosity. Recalling the many ways Anya had held him down, Brick felt a pang of guilt.

He had refused to accept her offer to give him a portion of her inheritance, telling her he'd be all right. Yet, she'd waited until he was distracted and slipped a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills into his travel bag, making sure he was straight until he got back on his feet.

Anya and her sexy-self had been ride or die while she and Brick were together. In another lifetime, their relationship would have worked perfectly. They had so much in common. Both had lost their mothers young, and they were both damaged by their losses, yet they maintained a huge capacity to love. Unfortunately, the timing hadn't been right for Brick and Anya, and he'd been unable to commit to her. He prayed that Anya was healing from all her past hurt and was finally living her life to the fullest in Trinidad. Hopefully, she'd found some clues from her family members that could lead to finding her pops who'd been missing for years. Most of all, Brick wanted Anya to find the true love a fine woman like her deserved.

By the time the waitress brought the food to the table, Brick had circled five apartments that were in his price range and had an extra bedroom for Little Baron when he stayed over. Once Brick was situated, Thomasina would not be calling the shots about how often he could see his son. He realized his relationship with Misty would be confusing for his son, but over time, Little Baron would adjust and learn to accept that his father and his sister were a couple.

When Brick's fork scraped against the ceramic plate, he looked down in surprise. The plate was empty; he'd practically inhaled the food the waitress had set before him. The meal had been so good, he was tempted to order an extra platter to take out and eat later, but decided against it. He wasn't burning calories like he did while working construction, and until he found a new job, he would have to watch what he ate and also start hitting the gym.

Brick chugged down a second beer, and then motioned for the check. The waitress was busy flirting with four male patrons who were sharing a table.

Brick wasn't in a hurry, and so he settled back in his seat and waited. Alone with his thoughts, he recalled Misty's excitement about starting a profession as a psychic. As far as he was concerned, Misty wasn't any more psychic than he was, but she believed that she'd gained the ability to predict the future. Looking on the bright side, it was good for Misty to feel useful, and he didn't think there was any harm in her trying to build up a clientele. People who sought out psychics did it strictly for entertainment, and if they were naïve enough to take a psychic's predictions seriously, then that was on them.

W
ord had gotten around the hospital that Misty could see the future, and various employees were finding reasons to peek in her room to get a look at her.

When Johanna McBride, the nurse whom Misty had given the reading, came to check on her, Misty complained, “My room has been like Grand Central Station all morning. People are acting like I'm a circus act or something. If one more person pokes their head in that door, I'm going to file a complaint with whoever runs this place.”

“You want to complain to the chief of staff?”

“Yeah, him.” Misty didn't want to deal with any underlings; she wanted to take her complaint straight to the top.

“That won't be possible; he's an important man.”

“And I'm an important woman,” Misty countered.

“Of course you are; what I meant was, most of the employees have never even met him. I'm sorry that hospital staff is invading your privacy. I only told one person, but apparently she couldn't keep the information to herself. I tried to be discreet, but I had to get permission from the nursing supervisor before Sharon was allowed to interview you.”

Misty sucked her teeth in disgust. “I can't wait to get discharged; I don't like people staring at me like I'm some kind of a freak show.”

“The curiosity is going to increase when the story comes out on Friday,” Johanna warned.

“I can't deal with all these damn voyeurs who work in this hospital. Can you please put a
Do Not Disturb
sign on my door? I have a right to privacy, you know.”

Johanna laughed. “This isn't a hotel, so I can't keep the staff out, but I can make sure that no one comes in here that isn't supposed to.”

“Great. Can you take care of that, please?”

“I sure can. By the way, I have some good news,” Johanna said, peering over her glasses at Misty.

“Oh, yeah? What's the news?”

Johanna clasped her hands together in delight and broke into a huge smile. “I got approved for the beach home you saw in your vision. I called Sharon, and told her to add that fact to the piece she's writing about you. Even though the story focuses on the horrible assault that paralyzed you and injured your face, I'm sure you're not only going to get inundated with donations for cosmetic surgery, but you'll also get requests from people who want personal readings. Are you prepared for that?”

“As long as they're willing to pay for my services, I'm more than prepared for it.”

“Speaking of payment, I have something for you.” Johanna opened a drawer of her med cart, and withdrew a sleek iPad. “It's time to connect with the world again, and swiping the screen with a finger is much easier than trying to operate the keyboard on a laptop.”

Aw, shit; it's on, bitches,
Misty thought to herself. Being paralyzed had robbed her of the will to live, but now she was ready to rebuild her life, piece by piece. She was eager to get the wheels in motion for an exciting new career, and having some use of her right hand, she'd be able to work with the iPad.