Dead Man's Bluff (6 page)

“Shh,
John, Drew can hear…” She choked out, sobbing hysterical. “Please, don’t do
this! I’m sorry! I just need a little help… the drugs… I just can’t function
without them!” 

“Get
your shit and get out!” He yelled thrusting her away from him like a piece of stinking
garbage.

She
pleaded with him, “What about my son? Can I at least visit him? Don’t force me
out of his life… he needs me.”

“He
doesn’t need you.” He laughed out. “You heard what the judge said. No contact! You’re
no good for anybody! Everyone knows that! Just look at you! One day I’ll find a
woman worthy of my love and devotion and she’ll fill the role of wife… and
mother.”

Her
expression turned to steel. “Yes, you may, but you’ll only manage to tear her
down until she is nothing worth keeping around. One day Drew will see you for
what you truly are and he’ll despise you… you reap what you sow.”

“Come
on, Clarissa, quoting the bible, don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical
considering your list of sins. You need someone to blame… take a good look in
the mirror, sweetheart.”

(Present)This
memory was too much! Mackenzie didn’t need or want to see anymore. Clyde could
take his little walk-down-memory-lane and shove it up his hairy tight ass.
“Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing if you caught your wife cheating?
I don’t recall this as the worst mistake I ever made… It was the day I finally
received some clarification.”

Clyde
clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Ah, but you’re forgetting you’re the
one that persuaded Clarissa into doing drugs in the first place.”

“No
one forces you into doing something. She made her decision.”

“Yes,
you’re right, but she was happy being a mother and a wife… it was you that
encouraged her to hire babysitters, so you two could ‘mingle’, rubbing elbows with
the wealthy. You were the one who told her drugs were perfectly acceptable for
recreational purposes…” He settled his hat on his head. “You wouldn’t let it
go, Mack. You know how persistent you are. She loved you. She would have done
anything you asked her to. You’re forgetting I knew Clarissa before her dark
period. There wasn’t a sweeter woman...”

“Okay!
Enough! She’s the one who decided to become addicted to the stuff. I had my
shit under control! I still do!”

“Do
you?” Clyde cocked his head, “Mack, that’s not the

some
people are more vulnerable than others.”

“So,
Ghost of Christmas Past… Are we done yet?

“Not
quite. Do you remember where your son was when you finally bothered yourself
with searching for him?”

One
of Mackenzie’s brows shot up. “Is this a trick question?”

“I
wish it was… do you remember what he looked like huddled on the floor of that
closet?”

“Of
course I remember, you smartass! I was the only one there! I did the best I
could, Dammit! I’m sure you’ve done some things you’re not too proud of in your
lifetime or do you categorize yourself as a saint?”

“This
isn’t about me…it’s about you. I’ll have to answer for my sins one day… right
now, focus on Drew hiding, scared and alone.”

“Is
she gone?” Drew asked as a crack in the door lit the dark corner he’d found
refuge in.

“Yes.”

“When
will she be back?” he sniffed.

“She
won’t. Your mother is never coming back, son, you might as well accept it.”

“Why?
Did I do something to make her mad?”

“No.
She’s a whore. We don’t have room in our life for whores. We’re better off
without her if she’s not going to love us like we deserve to be loved, don’t
you agree?”

Drew’s
chin jutted out, trembling. He didn’t answer; only cast his brown eyes at the
floor showing between his crossed legs.

“Dammit,
she doesn’t deserve your tears, so stop crying…stop it this instant! Look at
me, NO. MORE. CRYING! Do I need to get the belt?”

Drew
flinched, murmuring, “No, sir.”

Mackenzie
held out a hand to his son. “Then, come on; let’s start our new life without
her.”

Drew
didn’t know much, but he knew enough, he knew about heaven and hell and that
there was a difference in the two. He eyed the hand extend down to him as if it
were Satan’s hand luring him over to the wrong side.

(Present)
Mackenzie woke the next morning face down in the sofa. He groaned lifting his
head, a head that felt like it weighed two hundred pounds. He glanced down at
his wrinkled dress shirt that had pulled free from his tailor dress slacks. One
of his arms hung off the side of the couch, his long fingers still curled
around the neck of a bottle of Grey Goose. His eyes slammed shut against the
sunlight, his face going back into a crack in the cushions. 

What
a fucking nightmare!

Mack.
No one had called him that in years.

After
it became obvious he was eventually going to have to move, he pushed up into a
sitting position and ran both hands through his messy hair. He didn’t need a
mirror to know what he looked like: he could smell the stench coming off him
and taste the thick paste coating his
tongue. He brought his wrist up
close to his eyes to see what time his watch had. Skin several shades lighter
than the rest of him showed where his watch used to be. “Somebody stole my damn
Rolex!”

His
head thumped against the back of the couch and he sighed staring up at the
ceiling. Then it hit him, he started searching his rumpled pockets to see what
else the bastards stole off of him. He slid out his silver money clip (empty) and
his cell phone.

He
scooped up the cell and scrolled through his contacts, his finger hovering over
one contact in particular—the one he usually felt the urge to call several
times a day. The urge had never been this strong. Pressing deeper into the
couch he leaned to where he had sight of a clock hanging on a wall. 10:30 AM.

What
the hell, it was a phone call, nothing more! He hit send.

“Hello?”

Her
voice had always excited him, his heart responded.
He opened his mouth,
but couldn’t speak past the sudden dryness.

“Jonathan?”
Lillian whispered making his name sound like a forbidden pleasure.

“You
held onto my number? That’s a shocker,” his voice was deep and masculine with a
hint of teasing.

She
didn’t reply for the longest time. He thought she’d hung up until he heard her
sigh. “What is it you need?”

“You.”

“I’m
hanging up now,” she threatened.

“Wait!
Do you ever wish you would have chosen me over Stratford?”

“Never.”

He
chuckled, “You were always brutally honest. It’s a shame… You know… you’re the
only woman I think I could have ever been happy with, Lilly. God knows I’ve
tried many.” He chuckled. “Can’t seem to find a wife that fits my lifestyle.”

Movement
came from the other end, the sound of a door closing. 10:30AM she’d be at the
office and closing the door would ensure no one would over hear and start
gossiping about what was none of their damn business. “Jonathan, have you tried
to contact her?”

“No.”
He stiffened. “It’s been too many years…”

“You
should go see her.”

He
mulled it over in his mind. Should he? “What are you wearing? Is it the red bra
and panties I bought for you?”

She
softly laughed. “You’re hopeless. Go see her. I need to get off here… I have a
meeting in five minutes. Take care of yourself…”

“Wait,”
rushed out, “Lilly?”

“I’m
still here.”

His
voice cracked with emotion that was foreign to him. “I’m glad you didn’t choose
me… I would have only tore you down and made you feel worthless.”

“I
wouldn’t have let you.”

“You
couldn’t have stopped me. I would have found a way. You should know I’m a
persistent fucker.”

“Do
yourself a favor and go see her. What can it hurt?”

Me,
a little voice in the back of his mind screamed. ♠

Eight

“How
about seeing if there is a 5/8 socket somewhere in that tool box,” Drew called
out from under the 1962 Chevy Nova. The back of his black T-shirt and the butt
of his jeans were soaked from drinking up the moisture in the ground, his legs
and feet the only thing Griffin could see sticking out from under the car.

The
socket was handed under. Griffin asked, “Sure you know what you’re doing? You
don’t look like a mechanic to me. You’re too much of a pretty boy to know shit
about cars.”

“You
calling me pretty, Griff?”

“You
like to think you are. Don’t go getting a fat head. It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I
think I can handle working on a car.” Drew grunted applying pressure against
the socket and then something broke loose. Oil dumped into his face. “Mother f…!”
He gripped the bottom of the car and maneuvered his way out from underneath. He
reached for the rag Griffin had waiting for him.

Griffin
leaned a hip against the car, smirking down at Drew.  “Like I was saying…you
don’t look like you know shit about cars. Need my help?”

“You
know how to fix up cars?” The white cloth had turned black from the oil Drew cleaned
off his face. The rag had gotten most of it, but there were still streaks of grime
on his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose.

Griffin
shrugged a shoulder, “I used to help my uncle steal cars. We would turn around
and fix ‘em up. Sell ‘em. It’s not that hard.”

Drew
pushed up from the ground and brushed the dirt off the seat of his jeans. “So
why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Why’d you let me make a fool out of
myself?”

“It
was fun to watch.” Laughter touched Griffins eyes.

They
both heard gravel crunch under tires and turned their heads. A cab bumped down
the dirt drive stopping as it reached the house. Car doors opened and closed.
To anyone else the distance from the side of the barn to the house would have
been too much distance to make out who the guy and girl was, but not Drew. He
knew immediately who she was; his hunch confirmed the minute Birdie came
barreling out of the house, clopping down the steps with her apron on pulling
the girl into a hug.

“Megan,”
Drew muttered.

“No
way in hell, for real? What’s she doing back here?” Griffin observed from
beside him.

An
elbow struck Drew’s stomach causing him to release the air he was holding in
his lungs. Griffin asked, “Dude, are you okay. You look like someone just
walked over your grave. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

At
that exact moment, Birdie pointed in the direction of the barn and Megan turned
glancing his way. He caught a glimpse of the face that had haunted him for most
of the last two years and couldn’t have answered the boy if he wanted to. The
cab started backing out of the drive and the three of them walked in his direction.
His heart hammered in his chest, all his focus on the guy with her. “Son of a
bitch. Do they really need to come over here?”

“If
I were you I’d act busy, at least appear uninterested.”

Griff
had a point. Drew tore his gaze from the trio headed his way and bent
retrieving the socket and rag from the ground. He tossed the tool back in the
box with a clank and used the rag to clean off his hands.