The Old Man in the Club (24 page)

“So, how do you know—what did you say his name is—Harold, Mr. Henry?” Daniel asked.

Lucy looked at her son with an I-can't-believe-you-asked-that-question look. Danielle looked down at her feet.

“He's also into real estate. Mortgages,” Henry said as casually as he could. “We send each other business all the time. He has clients that need homes. I have clients that need mortgages. So it has worked out.”

Before they could dissect that answer, the nurse came out to let them know Elliott had been moved into a room. He could have two visitors at a time and for a few minutes each.

“Go ahead, Mom, you and Danielle,” Daniel said. “Mr. Henry and I can go next.”

They made their way to the third floor and Danielle and Lucy went into the room. The sight of him laid up with his head bandaged, his midsection wrapped and an IV in his arm—in addition to the heart monitor and other machines going “beep…beep…beep” —scared the women. Lucy's eyes welled up.

“Oh, my God,” Danielle said when she walked in. “Daddy.”

Elliott was awake but groggy and in pain. “There goes our lunch,” he said to Lucy.

She smiled. “We just have to move it back a few days, that's all.”

“Daddy,” Danielle said. She couldn't say anything else; she was so emotional.

“Hey,” Elliott said in a low voice. “I'm fine. Give me a week. We'll be on the golf course.”

He was trying his best to minimize his condition while, at the same time, fending off immense pain to the head and ribs. So, he pushed the button in his right hand that delivered morphine into his bloodstream.

“I know you're sleepy and probably in pain,” Lucy said. “But do you know who did this?”

He lied. “No.”

There was only one possible culprit, he had deduced after officers explained what happened to him and where. Brian. He lied to police and Lucy because he had the contact info of the woman Brian was with, Yvette.

When he was told there was no attempt to steal his car, his wallet or even his iPhone, he knew it was all about hurting him, and that meant Brian. Having Yvette's business card was important because he was going to make sure the justice system played out on Brian.
His
justice system.

His time in prison at Lorton served him for this kind of payback. He had long been out of the prison system, but the prison system still resided in him. He became good at suppressing it. Elliot thought of getting Brian back as his ex-wife and daughter stood over him, and Danielle noticed his heart monitor rapidly increasing.

“Dad, what's going on? Your heart is beating so fast.”

He lied again. “Was thinking about how lucky I am to see you both at the same time again.”

“Just think about getting better,” Lucy said. “Listen, we're going
to go. The nurse said we shouldn't stay long and Henry and Daniel are down the hall and want to come in for a few minutes.”

Elliott nodded his head, but he was fading. The medication and painkiller were taking effect. He dozed off and awoke to Daniel leaning over and talking into his ear.

“You're going to be all right,” he said to his dad. “And we're going to find out who did this and get them.”

He said the right thing; Elliott opened his eyes. “You goddamn right we are,” he whispered to his son.

He looked over and noticed Henry. “How you get here?”

“Cops called me,” Henry said. “My number was one of the last numbers you called, so they called me. You don't put a lock on your phone?”

Elliott said, “No need.”

“Dad, this is messed up,” Daniel said.

“Come here,” Elliott said to his son. Daniel leaned his ear almost on Elliott's mouth. “I know who did this. We're going to get him.”

Daniel leaned back to look at his father, who had fallen asleep. Daniel's heartbeat raced. But he questioned:
Did his father really know who did it or was it the drugs speaking?

“What?” Henry said. “What did he say?”

Daniel did not know if he should trust Henry with his father's words.
If I tell him, he might tell the cops.

So, the son lied. “Dad said he loved me and to not worry.”

Henry knew of the strife between Elliott and his children, so he considered what Daniel said important and typical of someone in a traumatic position.

“This room is creeping me out,” he said. “Come on. Dad is asleep.”

As they took steps to rejoin Lucy and Danielle, Daniel told
Henry that he left his cell phone in his father's room and that he'd catch up to him.

Daniel went back in and woke his dad. When his eyes opened, Elliott said, “It takes me getting bashed to bring the family together.”

“I see you're thinking just fine,” Daniel said. He moved in closer and spoke in a lower voice. “Did you tell me you know who did this?”

“I said that?” Elliott said, speaking softly. “I thought…I was…dreaming. Yeah, I know the punk-bitch-ass fool who did it.”

Daniel had not heard his father speak that way. It was like he had transformed into someone he did not recognize.

“Don't tell your sister or your mom. This is our project. They don't need to know.”

What Daniel knew was that his father was serious about getting his payback.

“We gonna get this fool, Dad,” he said. “Dad, Mr. Henry is here. His friend Harold is here, too.” He wanted to know if his father knew who Harold was. It would give him some insight into who his father was.

“Who's Harold?” he asked.

“He said you met at the funeral,” Daniel said.

Elliott nodded off without responding.

When they got back to the waiting room, Danielle was waiting; their mom was in the bathroom. “She said she'll meet us in the car,” Danielle said, and they hugged Henry and headed to the parking lot.

In the bathroom, Lucy encountered a young woman who was in the mirror, applying lip gloss. They spoke. Both women looked distressed.

“You okay?” the young woman asked.

“I don't know,” Lucy answered. “My ex-husband was admitted here. I think he's gonna be all right. But seeing him in that bed, hooked up to machines and in so much pain, it…”

“It scared you?” the woman asked.

“More than that, it confirmed that I'm still in love with him,” Lucy said. She looked at herself in the mirror. “I can't believe I said that, can't believe I'm feeling this way.”

“Wow,” the young lady said. “Do you think he still loves you?”

“He hasn't said it, but I think he does,” Lucy said. “I hope he does.”

“Well, good luck. I've got to go see a friend upstairs myself,” the woman said, extending her hand. “What's your name?”

“I'm Lucy Thomas,” she said, surprising the woman. “And your name is…?”

“I'm Tamara. Nice to meet you.”

T
amara flirted with a male nurse who walked her to Elliott's room, even though visiting hours were over and she was not immediate family. “He's my mentor,” she told the guy. “I won't be able to sleep if I don't see him… And maybe we could talk about it when you get off. When do you get off?”

“I'm just getting here, so I'm working through the night,” he said. “But maybe we could do dinner this week. I'm pretty open.”

“Me, too,” Tamara said. “You can put your number in my phone after you walk me to his room.”

Looking down at her breasts through the V-neck top she wore, the man said, “Definitely.”

They got to the room and she stepped back when she saw how Elliott looked all bandaged up. “Here,” she said, handing the guy her cell phone. He punched in his name and number.

“You can only stay about five minutes,” he said. “I'll come back to get you and walk you out.”

Tamara stared at Elliott and nodded her head. The guy left and she slowly approached his bed. She placed her purse in a chair and reached the railing of the bed.

As if he sensed her presence—or someone's presence—Elliott opened his eyes. Neither of them said anything for several seconds. Finally, Tamara said, “So you're not dead?”

“They let anyone in here, I guess,” he said.

She smiled. “I'm so sorry this happened to you. The nurse said you have bruised ribs and a concussion.”

“It could be worse.”

“How did you get hurt? Chasing some young girl?” she joked.

“Cute,” he said.

She looked down at his hand to see him pushing the button to provide morphine.

“You're in pain?”

“Take a guess,” Elliott replied.

“I'm your only visitor? When are you getting out of here?” Tamara said.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he answered. “My kids were here. And Lucy and—”

“Lucy?” Tamara said. “Who's Lucy?”

“Ex-wife.”

Tamara knew right away that Lucy was the woman she had met in the bathroom, and she immediately became jealous. Her first instinct was to tell him that they had met. But she decided more could come out of holding back that information. Besides, Lucy told her that she still loved Elliott and wanted him back. That was not information she wanted Elliott to know.

“Okay, good,” she said. “I can't stay long.”

“I'm sleepy,” Elliott said.

“Well, I won't come back since your family will be here tomorrow, I'm sure,” she said. “Will you call me?”

“I will. Tamara. Thank you,” he said before again dozing off.

She rubbed his hand and stared at him as he slept. It was in that moment that she believed she had feelings for Elliott. She wanted him to get better and was sorry he was in distress. She concluded that meant she cared for him, not just about him.

When he got better, she was going to profess her interests in being more than a fuck-buddy. Their age difference was significant and it was real. But she enjoyed her time with him and she learned something each time they were together and that's all she could ask for in a man.

Taking him around her family would be an issue. She knew that. So would introducing him around her coworkers and most of her friends. They would wonder if she had lost her mind. But she left the hospital saying to herself that she would figure that out later.

Elliott, meanwhile, woke up in the middle of the night scared. He dreamed he was back in prison, in the “hole,” which was solitary confinement in a space that was small, dingy, filthy and lonely. He had done three months in the hole in Lorton, and was traumatized by the isolation.

He told Henry once, “Three months in the hole is torture. Not like water boarding or sliding bamboo sticks under your fingernails. It's mental. You lose some of who you are each day. You count the minutes, and the minutes move slower than any other time in your life. Getting out of the hole is like winning the prison lottery. A regular cell seems like a room at the Four Seasons.”

Dreaming of being in the hole and waking up with a busted head and ribs in a hospital room messed with Elliott. He got cold to the point of shivers, but was too foolishly proud to call a nurse for more covers.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but feared his previous dream would resume. So he lay there thinking of fun events in his life, with the hope that they would influence his dreams.

Elliott thought about dancing with Lucy at a New Year's Eve party to bring in 2008. She wore a black dress accented with chiffon and he was distinguished in a tuxedo for the first time. The ballroom at the Mandarin Oriental in Buckhead was adorned with
black and silver balloons. Champagne flowed. And around three hundred people—mostly couples—partied in high style.

He brought that night to the forefront of his mind because it was one of their most fun times together. The kids were at Lucy's sister's home, and he and Lucy had a room at the hotel, meaning they could get sloppy drunk if they wanted and stumble their way to the elevator and go to their room.

When midnight came, he kissed Lucy with such passion and love that she was astonished. “You either love me or you're glad it's a new year,” she said.

“I love you,” Elliott told her.

They shut down the party, dancing so hard that they both left the ballroom with their shoes in their hands. Before they hit the elevator button, he grabbed his wife by her arm and led her to the men's room.

“Are you serious?” she said. “Elliott. What are you doing?”

He made sure the room was empty and he turned Lucy around and pulled up her dress. She went with the flow and pulled down her thong and he unfastened his pants and let them fall to his ankles.

She leaned over so he could enter her and they had deep, passionate sex in the men's bathroom of the hotel. They could have waited another three minutes to do so in their room upstairs. But the adventure provided a sexy edge that was far more memorable.

He almost managed a smile while reminiscing, and then fell back to sleep. It would be nearly 7 a.m. when he awoke, as the nurse took his blood pressure and the doctor came in to examine him.

Elliott's head still hurt, but the pain was less intense. His ribs were really sore, making getting out of bed a chore.

“Doc, how long before the pain subsides in my ribs?” he said. “I'm scared to take a big breath.”

“It's going to be that way for another day or so,” he said. “You'll
feel some gradual relief. But stay on top of the pain medicine to manage it as best you can.”

The doctor told him he could go home in the afternoon.

“What?” he said. “Doc, I have insurance. I'm not feeling like I'm ready to go home just yet. This isn't a plush hotel, but with the pain I have, I'd rather be where I can be treated than at home.”

“Never heard of someone wanting to stay in the hospital,” he said.

Elliott was taken aback…and angry.

“Doc, forgive my French, but I don't give a rat's ass what you ever heard of,” he said. “I know I don't have to go home when I don't feel ready and you can't rush me out. I know that's what y'all do now. A woman has a baby at seven a.m. and you want her out of the hospital by seven p.m. Guy has hip replacement surgery and you try to get him out in two days. Bullshit like that.