The Charade (26 page)

“Why do you think he came back?”

“Because he wants to run the company again. He wants the control.”

“Well just move on. You have more money than you’ll ever need.”

“It’s not about the money. Stellar was my creation. My brainchild. My baby. I didn’t lose to the competition. I didn’t lose clients because of poor product. I was forced out of something that was rightfully mine. And I didn’t even get to fight for it.” He took his suit jacket off. His breathing became rapid. He placed his hands on his head and breathed deeply. With each breath, it became more rapid.

He calmly walked to the table and in one stroke he violently swiped everything off the table. Plates, glasses, bottles, food, came crashing onto the floor, shattering into dozens of pieces. “C’mon let’s go.”

***

“I’ll drive. I’ll leave my car here. I didn’t park in valet,” I said. I tried my best to remain calm for him, but I was a nervous wreck. Victor was falling apart.

“You should have.” He nodded towards the men with cameras. They rushed over and I put on my sunglasses. The hot lights of the flashes consumed us. “We’ll take mine.” He went over to the valet and the young man went to get Victor’s car.

“Victor how do you feel about the allegations?” one cameraman asked. “How does your girlfriend feel about all these women coming forward?” Victor remained calm, brushing the questions they fired off. They were like a firing squad. Bullet after bullet. Rapid fire. They didn’t stop. Each question was more intrusive and insulting than the last. Each flash of the camera seemed brighter than the last one.

Valet seemed to be taking longer than usual. I was getting antsy. And the men with cameras seemed to be more vicious than others.

“Victor, does growing up without a mother and a father equate to having this predatory, deviant, sexual appetite?” Victor snapped. His next shot over to the man who asked that question. His look was icy.

“What did you say?” he asked. He slowly walked towards them. I grabbed his arm but he yanked it back, steadily inching towards them. The man repeated the question, this time nervously.

“Most people with a deviant sexual history don’t have a strong family unit.”

Victor closed in on the man, grabbed his camera and slammed it into the concrete. The man, who couldn’t have been a day out of high school, had a ghastly look on his face. With rage dripping from him, Victor pounded his foot onto what was left of the shattered black plastic. Pieces flew everywhere. The other man with the camera stood frozen. Victor breaking a camera would surely been great fodder from the blogs and the news circuits, but he was too scared to press the shutter. Victor looked at him and they both took off running.

The valet pulled the car up to the sidewalk. “You drive,” Victor said.

***

Victor didn’t say anything to me the entire car ride. He didn’t seem there. I held his hand a few times and it felt cold. Lifeless. He stared out the passenger side window for much of the ride, not looking in my direction. I stayed silent – not out of fear, out of respect. I knew how much Stellar meant to him. The last thing he needed was to be alone. Just my silent presence was good enough. But the silence was deafening, almost uncomfortable.

On the freeway, I didn’t take the exit to Victor’s place. “You missed the exit,” he said.

“We’re going somewhere else,” I said.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere where no one knows you.”

It was somewhere I always went when I needed to get away. Sweetie’s Diner.

***

I pulled into a parking space and turned the ignition off. He continued to look out of the window – listless. For all the time I new him, he looked as if he lost control.

I placed my hand on his knee. No words I could’ve said would have sufficed. I never experienced what he was going through. It would’ve been insulting to ask if he was okay or it’s going to be alright.

He broke the silence. “Today is the day I thought would never happen.” His voice quivered with each word. He didn’t speak for a few moments and then he slammed his fist into the dashboard. He pounded it again. And again. Both fists. “I gave everything to that place. My heart, my soul, my energy, my creativity. And they snatched it away from me.” He breathed heavily. “They snatched it like it was nothing to them. Casted me aside like I was worthless. Like a piece of lint.” He struggled to catch his breath. He put his face in his hands and breathed deeply. He lifted his gaze and looked around embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I apologize for losing my composure.” He didn’t sound drunk, he sounded clear and surely meant every word he spoke.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” I said.

“Listen, I can’t bore you with my ramblings.” His gaze met mine. “Let’s go inside.”

***

Sweetie’s Diner was about a forty-minute drive out of the metropolitan area. It was a stark contrast from the skyscrapers and loft apartments of midtown. It was located in a town where town stood still. One of those towns where the only things that mattered was the county fair, church, and high school football.

I went there because no one I know would come there. I’d go there whenever there was a lot on my mind. Considering all that happened, it was long overdue for a visit.

A greasy spoon of a place. No wi-fi, no credit card swipe thingy on your tablet - cash only. A small, compact place of about a dozen and a half maroon-colored booths, country music classics whispered through the speakers. It was about a quarter before eight and the patrons were mixed with truckers slurping down a bowl of grits and a farmer’s omelet before hitting their next destination and a pair of families who stopped in for a meal to quiet the rumblings of their complaining children.

We looked at the menu. “I can’t eat this stuff,” he said. “My head is banging right now” He massaged his temples. “I need an aspirin.”

“No you need something greasy,” I said. “You need guilty pleasure food. It’ll take care of that hangover I know you’ll have tomorrow.”

He was about to retort quickly, but raised a brow. “You have a point.”

The waitress, slim, with her hair in a bun, and her yellow apron stained with what looked like strawberry jam or ketchup, came over to our booth with two menus. Naomi was typed on her nametag. I hadn’t seen here before; she must’ve been new. She sure wasn’t new to waitressing. The wrinkles on top of her bony hands where a testament to that. “How are you two darlins’ doing this evening?” she asked putting two menus in front of us.

“We’re doing just dandy,” Victor said.

“Anything to drink to start you guys off?” She pulled out her notepad and a pen and Victor’s eyes lit up.

“I’ll have a coffee, a water, no ice and so will she. Just the water for her. But, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure darling. Shoot.” She put her hands on my hips. I braced myself.

“How long have you been waitressing?”

“I’d say about a good fifteen years.” She said it with a proud demeanor.

“That’s amazing.” Victor leaned back in his chair. I wondered where this was headed. “Have you ever tried putting down the notepad and taking orders with just your memory?”

She scrunched up her face, trying to recall the last time she probably did.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole. Trust me. Today, I just realized that the more we rely on outside things, the more we become dependent on them. Almost like a crutch.” Naomi rested her chin between her hands, listening closer. “And when that crutch disappears, we’re out of luck, upstream without a paddle.” She nodded slowly as if something clicked inside of her head. The table was silent for a few short moments. No one knew what to say.

“I’ll be back with those waters in a sec,” Naomi said, sliding her notepad in her apron’s pocket. “Good catch. He’s a cute one. A little weird, but cute,” she said whispering into my ear before she walked off. I smiled. It was true.

“What was that about?” Victor asked looking suspicious.

“I should ask
you
. Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know.” He toyed with a pack of sugar. “I’ve learned a lot over the last few weeks. With Ben passing away, the motorcycle accident, resigning from Stellar and all of these women coming forward…I think the universe is trying to tell me something.”

“What do you think it’s saying?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Lately I just feel I should walk away from it all. All of it. Just wash my hands of it all.”

“But this is what you were born to do. Create things, be successful.”

“Being creative isn’t supposed to bring about all of this madness. When millions are on the table, creativity is an afterthought.”

“Most people would kill to be where you are.”

“The don’t see everything behind the curtain. Have you ever taken a step back and really asked yourself or even said to yourself, Victor looks happy and content with his life?”

“I rarely see you smile.”

“Honestly, the only time I smile is when I’m around you.”

“And look how long that took.” We both laughed. “I finally got you to laugh.” Naomi came to the table with the drinks. He smiled and nodded.

“I just wish I could travel the world and be free from all the emails, nagging clients, deadlines. Just disconnect.”

“You want to be a kid again.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“People rely on you.”

“Not anymore. With Stellar gone, that’s not the case.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“I am.”

“What’s one thing you said when you wanted to be when had more money than you could’ve imagined?”

“To disappear.” He sat very still. “Just run away from the madness.”

“Do you ever think you could let go of it all?”

“I think about that all the time and I’m not sure if I’m ready to answer that. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what my next move is. And honestly that makes me happy.”

Chapter 20

I woke up and the sun was beaming. I looked over and Victor was still asleep. It looked like a beautiful day. The sky was blue with a few pockets of clouds floating in and out. It didn’t look like a frigid December morning. I drank a small glass of water and I laced up my sneakers to go out for a quick run.

It didn’t look too cold outside, but I wanted to dress appropriately. I hated getting geared up for a run, only to be freezing a half mile into it.

I flicked on the television to the local news broadcast to check the forecast.

The opening story was about Victor.

I sighed heavily. Before I could shut it off, they said a new woman had come forward. I had had enough of this story. I believed Victor. I trusted him. I knew he didn’t have the gall to force a woman against her will. I just wished it would be over with. Normally, I would have turned the TV off and went about my business, but something in my mind told me to keep watching. I continued to tie up my shoes as they flashed the new girl’s face on the screen.

I shrieked in unspeakable horror at what I saw.

It was Gabby.

I couldn’t breathe anymore.

Victor rushed into the room. “Babe are you okay?” he asked. “You screamed…and…” He looked at the TV screen and sighed. “Another one.” He shook his head. “I told you not to pay attention to this crap.” He reached for the remote, but stopped when he saw me frozen, my mouth half open. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s…that’s…my cousin.” I couldn’t believe the words I spoke.

That wasn’t the Gabby I knew. I didn’t know that person. The color of her hair was different – ginger red. And her name wasn’t Gabriella. It was Jillian Krozalewski. My body shivered as I watched her go into graphic detail about the fictitious, illicit encounter she had with Victor. “I feel sick.”

“Somebody is trying to destroy me.” He sat down next to me. My body still shivered. “I’ve never seen this person a day in my life.”

“I can’t believe this.” A million thoughts consumed my head. How could she? My own flesh and blood. She knew I was with Victor. I felt nauseous.

Victor shot up and got on the phone and spoke to his attorney. I sat there paralyzed as the anchors switched over the weather forecast. My own kin betrayed me.

I quickly went over to my purse and saw three missed calls from my mom – surely she saw the same nonsense I did. Brushing away tears, I called Gabby, but her number was disconnected. I tried again just to make sure. Disconnected.

***

“You know how she is,” my mom said to me as I sat on her couch. Victor sat next to me. I wanted to cry more, but I was all cried out.

Though my mom and me weren’t on speaking terms after the mess at her house, I had to come and see her. We never could go a long time without speaking anyways. We always were quick to  patch things up after a spat.

“She’s flaky. As soon as someone gets in her ear, she’s gone and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop her.”

“But she’s family,” I said, confusion filled my voice. “I don’t understand. We’re supposed to be close.”

“When she went to Los Angeles,” she clapped her hands as to rid dirt from them, “I knew it was over. She was gone. I’m sure that was blatantly obvious when you saw her.”

I nodded. “I didn’t think she could ever do something like this.”

“Sometimes family doesn’t mean much to others as it means to us.”

I buried my hands in my face as my mom comforted me. “There’s got to be more to it. It can’t be just this.” My mom looked as concerned as I did.

“Sometimes you have to accept things for how they are. Whatever decision she made, it was best for her – even if it means sacrificing her family ties. For some people. Family only means people who carry the same last name as you.”

There was a long silence.

“Tiny,” she said. “I want to apologize for my behavior from the other day. To you and to Victor. You’re a grown woman. And I didn’t treat you like that. You haven’t made the bad decisions like I did. You’re smart. I know whatever decision you make in life is going to be a wise one. I need to trust that. I raised you the right way and I need to trust that and let things be without giving you my approval.”

“I respect your approval though.”

“But I didn’t have to be disrespectful about it. And I’m sorry for that. If that he said he didn’t do those things and you believe him, then I support you. Regardless if I believe it’s foolish or not, it’s not my life. It’s yours and I have to respect it as such.”

“I love you for saying that mom. It means a lot.”

“Miss Yancey, you don’t have to apologize, I totally understand,” Victor said.

“Oh, shut up. I do need to apologize. My behavior was uncalled for.”

“It sure was,” I said smiling.

My mom gave me a look. “Don’t you go pressing your luck.”

***

That morning felt like someone punched me in the stomach. I was ready to run away forever at that point. As long as Victor was with me. Seeing that running away like a bratty seven year old wasn’t an option, so we did the next best thing – we went to an arcade.

It was better than staying barricaded in Victor’s apartment.

We pulled into the Noble Shopping Center. What was left of it. Most of the shops in the plaza were vacant. Hughes Entertainment Company was still open. Thirty years strong. Owned by the same family for years. I spent countless birthdays there as a kid.

We got out the car and walked towards the entrance. Victor paced ahead of me as I stopped in my tracks. I stood and looked at the place from the damp, concrete among a sea of broken, green liquor bottles and hamburger wrappers. The memories poured in.

Before I could get misty-eyed, I walked to the door and Victor held it open for me.

It had the same smell - greasy french fries mixed with cotton candy. The migraine-inducing sweetness of the cotton candy swirled through my nostrils. I closed my eyes and smiled.

My senses fired up instantaneously. My mouth watered and my appetite churned. I had to order their pepperoni pizza. Large. Extra cheese. Square dish.

I walked into the arcade and my senses were immediately assaulted. Blurs of color and piercing sounds combined in a slew of organized confusion. Bells, whistles, and chimes rattled off simultaneously from the rows of games seemingly stacked up on one another. Theme music from sports games, explosions from war games, and the thrumming, throttling motor from racing games swirled the air. I looked around and saw only the clerk hunched over the counter. It would be me and Victor free to roam, romp, and fulfill our every childish whim. The sounds and sights were hypnotic; able to lull you into a pixelated and audible stupor where you looked up and you realized when you went in it was daylight, but when you came out, the moon and the starts lit up the sky.

They had every game there. From the archaic pinball machine that my mom grew up playing to the classic PacMan that I loved, to the newer first-person shooters that I weren’t familiar with. Towards the back of the arcade there was a dining area. It was usually reserved as a rest area for the parents whose knees or back pains kept them from running around with their kids.

I looked over at Victor. The blacklights which adorned the room gave our skin a freakish, purple hue and our eyes were dotted stark yellow. Victor’s eyes danced around the room. He was mesmerized.

“What should we play first,” I said. I yelled over the loud, thumping Top 40 tunes that blared through the speakers.

Victor’s eyes were fixated on one game and one game only. “That one,” he said. I looked over at the game and in huge, scathing yellow letters, the words “Street Fighter were emblazoned on the front.

“Are you hungry? I should…” Before I could finish my sentence, Victor, his eyes not leaving the game’s screen, darted off towards it as if it cast a spell on him like a snake charmer. I stood without a clue and threw my hands in the air, dumfounded. “So I guess this means I should get the quarters then,” I said. Not even food couldn’t come between a man and his video games – not even if he had a net worth of over a billion dollars.

I returned to Victor with a small bucket of quarters ready for battle. “Are you ready to lose?” he asked.

“Lose?” I looked confused; almost insulted by his comment. “What? You think just because I’m a girl, this’ll be an easy win for you?” I pushed his arm. “You got another thing coming, mister.” Victor grinned widely and inserted two quarters in each of our slots.

Within seconds, our fingers banged against the red and blue buttons thrashing each other’s fighters with uppercuts and roundhouse kicks. I was absolutely no match for him. He trounced me with beating after severe beating. I put more quarters in for consecutive rematches. “So much for letting the little lady win, huh?” We both laughed.

“You know how competitive I am.”

As we perused each game, my losses mounted – until we ventured off in the games without the use of a screen, button, and joystick were used. Basketball, skeeball, and air hockey were more up my alley and I beat him silly.

After about an hour our pizza came out and we sat down to eat.

***

“I can hear my dad yelling at me, ‘Tiny, you’ve had enough cotton candy’ and me trying to wrestle the stick out of his hands,” I said.

“I’m never calling you Tiny by the way.”

“You will, the more you’re around my family and friends you will.”

“I don’t get it. Why Tiny? You’re 
not
 tiny at all.”

“You better not be saying I’m fat!” I threatened him with my fist

He backed away in fright. “Of course not. Of course not. I know better.” He took another bite of pizza. “You are seriously corrupting my eating habits.”

“I didn’t put a gun to your head and force you to eat it.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said putting his hands up in surrender. “You still haven’t told my why your nickname is Tiny.”

“My mom said whenever they used to play the song “Tiny Dancer”, I would be in my crib wiggling my legs and giggling. Every time they played that song my face would light up. Another song came on and I’d shut up. They play it again and I’d come alive. They started calling me that ever since.”

“Some things you just can’t get rid of even if you tried.” He paused and fiddled with a piece of pepperoni. “Like you.”

I threw a handful of popcorn at him to reprimand him for his snarky comment. “Are you calling me a stalker?”

Victor sighed. He scratched the back of his neck and looked in the other direction. I grabbed the bowl and dumped the remainder of buttery, fluffy kernels over his head. His head shot up and his eyebrows were raised in shock. “That’s it!” He slammed his hands on the table, grinning the entire time. “You’re done for!” He abruptly got up from the table, knocking the chair over. I laughed insanely as speckles of popcorn stuck to his head. I wasn’t about to sit and watch what he planned to do in revenge. “You want to act like a five year old, I’m gonna treat you like one.” A playful retribution twinkled in his eye. He lunged at me, his arms extended as I narrowly escaped his clutches. I dashed over to the furthest end of the air hockey table. He rushed to the other side. I faked left and then right, trying to juke him one way.

“I ran track in high school,” I said as we ran around the length of the table. “I’m faster than you think.”

“That doesn’t mean a thing. That was twenty years ago.”

“How old do you think I am?” I stopped sharply. I was absolutely insulted and began to giggle. I was always sensitive about my age. It totally made me snap out of the game of hide and go seek. It was all Victor needed to gain on me. “Gotcha,” he yelled. He seized me and wrapped his arms around me, tickling me into a convulsion of laughter.

“Please, stop,” I screamed in hilarity. My eyes were shut and I was surely beet red from trying everything I could to not pee on myself. “Oh god! You’re going to make me pee on myself!” The cook came out from the kitchen to see us because I screamed so loud. Victor tickled harder and faster moving his fingers down to my stomach. I could barely breathe from the torture. “Pleeeease stop!”

“Not until you say I’m the sexiest man alive.”

I laughed uncontrollably.

“We know…that’s a lie!” The sensation his fingers were giving me pushed me to the limit. My knees buckled as he applied more pressure. All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my head. “Okayokayokayokayokay.” I was getting dizzy. I had no choice but to relent. As I started to speak he loosened up. “You…are the…most ugliest…”

“The what?” He sounded sincerely shocked that I didn’t give in yet. His fingers dug into the crevice of my armpit.

I could fight no more. “You win okay! Yourethesexiestmanalive.” He slapped me on the butt.

“Music to my ears,” he kissed me on the forehead and let me go. I looked in the mirror. I was a sweaty, shivering, red mess. But I was still laughing like crazy. Victor was too.

“You know, you looked pretty good at that flying game,” he said as we sat down again. I shifted my eyes away from his towards the golf game and nodded in agreement. “As a matter of fact, you beat the pants off of me. You seemed like a natural holding that steering wheel.”