Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [19]
“A girlfriend of mine told me about this. I have to go directly to the shower when I get in the room and I don’t know what state my husband will be in when I get in. Now I don’t care since I have every reason to go and take a shower. And God forbid he picks up my clothes, the smell will totally disgust him. You’re a man so I’m sure you have some secrets.”
“Yeah, I do, but this is a good one.” I smiled.
“Thanks.” She opened the door and poked her head outside.
“Maybe I’ll see you again.” I lied.
She looked back at me as if to say that I was dreaming. “No, it’s time to go home forever. But thank you for everything.”
I nodded and she walked out the door, closing it gently behind her.
After she left, I walked to the door and tested it to make sure that it was locked. I threw myself on the bed and night turned into day. The ringing of the cell phone jarred me awake and I stumbled toward the table. I picked it up and flipped it open. I didn’t look at the number on the phone.
“Donald, get Emerald to school right now.” The voice made me sit up on the bed, the events of the night becoming a distant memory.
“What?!” I exclaimed as the recognition of the voice came to me. “I am taking Emerald to school but we’re not going back to the house.”
Maybe a dial tone from a house phone would’ve made me realize that he wasn’t on the phone anymore. With cell phones, it was different, a click and dead silence. I kept the phone to my ear, waiting to explain myself, but there was no one but me in the room. I looked at the time on the phone. It was 7:30 a.m. I grabbed my jacket and ran to the bathroom. I hung it on the bathroom doorknob as I quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth. I ran my hand through my hair and looked at myself in disgust as I opened the bathroom door. I picked up the bill that was slipped under the door and realized that they had already charged my card so there was no reason to stop at the front desk. I took the stairs two at a time and I was quickly in the parking lot. I clicked the car alarm and pulled the door open. I didn’t get it more than halfway opened before it was slammed shut, the force almost taking my hand with the door. As I turned around, I barely saw the hand that ripped into my stomach, making me grasp for air. The second punch was even more vicious than the first. It dug into my ribs as I fell to the ground.
“Enough.” The voice was the same one I had heard on the phone. I looked up to see the shiny, black, pointed shoe and gray head of my father-in-law, Mr. Malcolm. On either side of him were two big men; one Spanish and the other black. The black man, who looked like a rejected NFL line-backer, was rubbing his knuckles, eager to continue inflicting pain.
“Don’t talk,” Malcolm said as if I had the strength or desire to do that.
“You know I hate repeating myself. Look at me, Donald. I’m an old man. I hate hurting people.”
The two men snickered when he made that comment. He looked at them and they quickly clamped their mouths shut.
“I will call to talk to my grandson at home at six o’clock this evening. I would like for him to tell me how great school was and, besides being a little late because his father had an emergency, that everything was okay.” Malcolm reached down and lifted me up to the car. “It’s all right. You don’t need to thank me for helping you up.”
I watched them drive off in a tinted Lincoln sports car. I opened the trunk of the car and lifted the covering for the spare tire. The gun that the PI had given me lay between the tire and the wheel lug. I slammed the trunk down and pounded on it. Every dog has its day and I was sure that mine was coming. Today my name was John, but one day soon it would start with a P.
Chapter 5
“When did you stop seeing faces?” Donna asked, lying naked on the bed next to me. Her gray suit was folded neatly on the chair at the foot of the bed. We were at the Hilton on 42nd Street.
“A long time ago,” I replied, understanding exactly what she meant. I couldn’t recall ever talking to