Rotten (4 page)

“Thank you for everything. I need to do this. I will see you around. I have to go to the club later, but right now, I don’t think I am ready. I’m sure you have it under control.”

He looked at my hand hesitantly before reaching out. My head stayed low as the tears kept falling to the ground.

“Toni, where are you staying at tonight? You shouldn’t stay here.”

Looking back at the house, I knew he was right. Even though my room was intact, my emotional stability was not.

“I will probably go into town. I’ll find a place – don’t worry about me.”

As I turned to walk towards the house, David called out for me to stop.

“Toni…never mind. See ya.”

I was almost certain he was going to offer another evening at his house; he knew I would choose this over him. Civility was a step in a direction I thought I would never go. Feeling his eyes on my back the entire way up, I observed that the GT sat in the driveway for a bit before leaving. My concern over David was short lived as I decided which room to clear out first. Luckily, my father still had a vacuum or else this would have been a lost cause. I just hoped it was able to do the job.

Four hours into the day and the living room was empty. My legs had grown tired from crushing all of the beer cans and dragging the couch into the yard. Hearing tires turn onto the gravel driveway, I hoped it was the dumpster being delivered. To my surprise, the silver GT pulled up to the house. As David hopped out shirtless, wearing a pair of khaki cargo shorts that exposed matching tribal tattoos on his hips, work boots, and a bandana, I looked up to the sky and gave a middle finger behind my back.

“What are you doing here, Stark? I told you I was fine.”

I tied a knot into the millionth garbage bag as he walked up the steps, giving a dangerous smile.

“I said I would help, so here I am. I can just stop by the club later to shut it down; it’s a slow night.”

“Don’t you have your own house to clean?”

He picked up the box of bags and pulled a few off the roll. Snapping one open a few times full of air, he began to help me pick up the crushed cans.

“I just did.”

Not giving a response, I kept picking up the aluminum discs until the pile was gone. There were still some strewn throughout the house that I would get to later. For as bad a shape the house was in, the fridge still hummed quietly, full of beer that was not yet expired. Grabbing a couple, I settled on the stoop of the porch and handed one to David.

“You drink, Toni? I thought you were all Holy Roller or some shit now.”

Not bothering to correct his misassumption about the Catholic faith, I just shook my head.

“No clean cups.”

When I caught his eyes again, they were focused on my chest and not the beer can in my hand. I didn’t know why, but the urge to fuck with him seemed to never cease. Using my free hand, I gently tugged the shirt lower, exposing more cleavage while looking away. Setting the beer can between my legs, I slacked my knees out a little each way while arching my back. To anyone else, it would appear as if I were just relaxing. His breathing grew heavier while taking in my subtle movements. His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth and licked his lips hungrily. While he lost himself in whatever thoughts were starting to grow, I picked up a beer can and aimed it at his head. Purposefully missing, I got his attention.

“I’m surprised with all the tits you see that mine are even on your radar.”

“Toni, your tits will always be on my radar, along with your ass, your legs, your mouth…”

“Good to know someone is still looking.” I shrugged while getting up to walk back into the house as David eyed me curiously. Outside of a few texts, Andrew and I had not really spoken since I left. I told him I didn’t know when I was coming back, and he just told me to do whatever I needed to do. He never said much when it came to my dad; there was never much to say. He knew I hated this town and had already put down roots out east. It made holidays a lot easier without having to shuttle back and forth between in-laws. Andrew was sweet enough to ask my father’s permission for my hand before proposing. My daddy only agreed under one condition – that he take care of me – and for a while he did.

“So your old man…what does he do?”

David had followed me into the house and started to gather the musty laundry into garbage bags.

“He’s a shrink like me, except he works with kids – mostly ones in the system. Helps them adjust with foster parents.”

“Sounds like a smart guy. Who do you help?”

That was a good question. Who did I help? Could I name one person who benefited from the years of education I trudged my way through? A single face could not be recalled. There were hundreds of people I counseled, but knowing without a doubt I helped them was uncertain.

“I don’t know if I ever helped anyone. I work for the juvenile detention center. I do placement assessments. It’s up to me where the kids go after a Judge sentences them.”

Grabbing another couple beers, David held one up to me. I nodded in agreement as he cracked the tab, a small amount of foam coming out of the top.

“So what’s that like? Playing God?”

Huffing out in disgust, I said, “That’s not playing God. That’s trying to figure out what part of an imperfect system will do the most good for these kids. It’s the worst job in the world because I know what they really need, and they aren’t going to get it.”

He was getting a little closer than I was comfortable with, his tall stature looking down at me intimidatingly.

“What is it that they need, Toni?”

Without pause I replied, “Love.”

He remained staring at me for a long while before leaning down and kissing the top of my forehead. It struck a nerve. David thrived because my dad loved him. His own anger at the circumstances he couldn’t change overwhelmed that act. Why didn’t his own parents love him like my daddy did? Why did another person who wasn’t even blood have to step in and show him how to be a man?

Unfortunately, he also picked up some of my father’s more unsavory habits. The hormonal boy was out of control, even when my dad would offer advice. He couldn’t keep his pants pulled up or his mouth shut. Somehow I could see in his eyes the one thing he failed to find in between the sheets.

Another two hours later, the dumpster arrived. Dusk was starting to settle over the mountains, painting the landscape in rich pinks and oranges. I had forgotten how quickly night made the air cool in the desert. David suggested we head back to his house so I could take a shower, and then we’d go spend some time at the hospital. Although daddy was in a coma, I could still hold his hand and talk to him.

Walking into David’s house was like entering another world. The floors were polished and every nook and cranny was spotless. The faint smell of lemon cleaner was all around. Letting out a low whistle, I ran my finger down the edge of the banister.

“You didn’t do all this for me did you?” I gave him the smile of approval I could tell he so desperately wanted.

“There’s no need for you to stay at a hotel. That’s a lot of money for a place to sleep. I will stay out here on the couch, and you can have my bed.”

My lips instantly curled in horror. “No way – I don’t know what you have done in there.”

His long fingers grabbed my chin tightly, bringing my eyes up to his. “Listen, missy, I know I’m no angel, but I’m not like that anymore. I might flirt like the devil, but my bed’s been empty for a while. I don’t have time for it. And the rare times I do, I don’t bring ‘em here. This is the one place women aren’t allowed.”

I turned my head out of his grasp; he was only holding hard enough to make a point. “What makes me so special that garners an exception to the rules?”

Grabbing a beer out his fridge, he simply pointed down the hall after plopping on the couch. “Bathroom’s off to the left. A clean towel is on the counter. If you need another, well you’re shit out of luck.”

Pulling the bandana over his eyes, he rested his head back and folded his arms across his lap. This dynamic was exhausting to us both. It didn’t dawn on me until that moment that I hadn’t used the bathroom very often, a sign that I needed to increase my fluid intake with something other than beer. The small, tiled bathroom had been bleached and scoured. Rust stains leaked from below the faucets into the dingy, porcelain sink and bath tub. A fresh shower curtain that smelled like Barbie dolls hung from the old metal bar with those cheap plastic rings that snap into place. A few girly toiletries and a new sponge sat on the edge.

He stopped caring, too…

The sweet sentiment made me feel even worse for being so difficult. This was above and beyond what I expected. Rather than spinning my wheels, questioning his motives, I crawled under the soothing water and made myself enjoy the freesia-scented body wash and vanilla shampoo. Giggling at the thought of this big, brawny guy in the aisle smelling soaps or maybe just picking out the most feminine package he saw made me appreciate it more when I saw the ragged bar of soap sitting in the corner.

The water from the pipes failed to be as cold as I wanted. As I stepped out, it felt as if I wouldn’t dry because of the sweat coming to the surface. Tying my long blond hair into a knot in the towel, I pulled on some clean jeans and a t-shirt. David was asleep on the couch, snoring softly when I came out. Loosening my hair, I took a handful and tickled the damp strands under his nose. He slapped them lightly away. Then I ran it over his ears and down his neck.

“Stop it right now, woman. I’m warning you not to play with me.”

I had a moment of bravery and crawled onto his lap, where he lifted the bandana from his eyes and looked at me with sorrow.

Giving a resolved huff of breath, I cradled his cheeks in my hands, my wrists balanced on his shoulders. “I’m not ready to make peace with your ass, yet, but today was a good start. Thank you.”

I leaned against his chest and snuggled under his chin. He pulled me tighter and dropped his head, rubbing his cheek along the damp strands.

“You’re welcome.”

It was a straight shot up Interstate 15 to UMC hospital where the ICU held its local celebrity. Anyone who lived in Vegas knew my daddy, and that included the doctors who cared for him. Even when he was out cold, his ink-covered body and wild, pepper hair still frightened a few of the nurses. David didn’t realize I grabbed a few personal items from the house while cleaning and had taken them with me. Knowing how scrupulous he was about his appearance, I didn’t want him to wake up knowing he looked even worse. He may have let everything else go to hell, but the man’s boots were still impeccable.

The small, dapper case held everything I would need to tidy him up: a set of nail clippers, a comb, a pair of little scissors and other grooming items were carefully tucked inside. Starting with his fingers, I gently removed the excess edges. Holding my daddy’s hands, I remembered them out in the garage all summer long, tinkering on his beloved bike. Between him and his friends, I knew almost every part of a Harley and what made it unique. Before he bought the club, he spent years on the open road after Vietnam, chasing the wind and pretty girls. He would say all it took was one turn of the key and the roar of the engine to remind him he was free.

I laughed to myself, thinking about how he picked up my mama. She was on the strip, fresh in town with dreams of being a showgirl. Just like me, she was petite with long, blond hair, blue eyes and breasts too big for her body. The closest she ever came to a stage was The Spur…oh well.

He was in desperate need of a haircut. I wondered if there was a barber willing to come and take care of him and do a proper straight shave. The small, disposable razor would have to do for now. As I ran the towel under hot water, David continued to observe my ritual in silence.

“You don’t have to stay here. I’m going to try and stay as long as I can tonight. Hopefully he won’t have any tests.”

Standing to stretch his arms and legs, he walked to the bedside and looked down at the man I knew he loved just as much as I did. It wasn’t just my daddy lying in that bed, it was his, too – blood or not. David’s parents were alcoholics who didn’t give a rat’s ass what he did. He would come over to our house just to make sure he had a warm meal once a day. My daddy didn’t mind one bit that a boy was my playmate; he was the only one I had. David treated me like a boy because I certainly didn’t act like a girl. Even today, I could still feel the tightening in my stomach that had formed when he pinned me to the ground one day, wrestling. How I fought him harder on purpose just so he would have to keep touching me. How that knot turned into a rock when he started hanging out with girls who didn’t like me.