“Trying to say something?” His arms wrapped around her hips.
“Get off me, and I’m not trying to say anything.” She looked over his shoulder and signaled Tim.
Within seconds, Tim came back, staring at the stranger. “Why’s he here?”
“He won’t leave me alone.”
Tim faced him. “Take a hike.”
“I will, but with your girl on my arm. She’s a little confused about something.”
“I don’t think so, but you are.”
Brandi pulled at Tim’s sleeve. “Let’s just leave. Don’t fight with this crack head.”
“Don’t worry. I would need an actual opponent to have a fight. Get lost.”
“Your girl has a color problem, and only a real man can help her overcome that.” His buddies egged him on.
Tim was in the mood for a fight, having been upset about practically everything that day. But he didn’t want Brandi seeing that side of him. “My girl already has a man, now if you don’t mind.” He put the cue stick back into Brandi’s hand and helped her aim.
A cue stick crashed across Tim’s back, forcing him and Brandi onto the table. He stood, pushed Brandi aside and picked up his stick.
“Tim, let’s just go. He’s an idiot.”
Ignoring Brandi’s plea, he pulled away and faced off with the man. “You want to fight? Fine, let’s do it. That’s the only thing I seem to be able to do well.”
“He’s not worth it, Tim. Let’s go.”
“You’re right.” He laid the stick down and followed behind Brandi. Midway through the pool hall, the man followed them, plunging a fist in the middle of Tim’s back. Tim turned and landed a left hook across the man’s face, dropping him to the floor, where he passed out immediately. Tim sank to the floor in pain.
Brandi screamed. “Tim, what’s wrong? What is it?”
A large crowd was forming around them as the manager approached, holding the rest of the men at bay. “Sir, are you okay?”
“I think I broke my hand.”
Brandi helped him to his feet; tears rolling down her cheeks. “Let’s go. We need to get to emergency. That hand is swelling.”
Once outside, Tim reached into his pocket for the keys and Brandi automatically took them. “You can’t drive like this.”
“I’ll be fine. Give me the keys back.”
“No way; you driving like that could get us killed. You’re in too much pain to drive anywhere.”
“Stop playing around, Brandi. I’m fine.”
She pushed the alarm key and it didn’t go off. “What’s wrong with your alarm?”
“Someone jimmied it.”
Not letting that stop her, she unlocked the door manually, pulled up the hood and disconnected the alarm. “We can drive it now. Get into the back seat.”
She drove as fast as she could while eyeing Tim in the rearview mirror. Her tears returned. “Had it not been for me being such a big shot with that nut, none of this would have happened.”
“Don’t be silly. This is not your fault.”
In no time, they were in front of Mt. Sinai Hospital.
Brandi slowly slipped his jacket and shirt over his bandaged left hand. She handed him the bottle of painkillers from the pharmacy and a glass of water, then helped him get into his bed. “Take one of these and lie back.”
“No, we need to get you home.”
“I’m staying here until you’re better.”
“You know I don’t want you here as long as things are happening to me and my house.”
“Has anything else happened?”
“No. That’s only because I have a sensor camera in the garage now. Whoever the nut is, he’s scared of cameras.”
“Then lie back and let me do my thing.”
“Your thing? What thing is that?” he said with a smile.
“Comfort you; make sure you have everything you need.”
“I do. You’re all I need.”
Her head rested on his bare chest while her fingernails delicately stroked his muscles. “This wasn’t one of your best evenings, was it?”
“Aside from being with you, the entire day was a washout.”
“What happened?”
He did not want to discuss Claire or his brother. “Among other things, I learned that I may have to escort students to the writing clinics at Niagara University; that is, if one of my co-workers can’t reschedule his surgery. Also, the cops gave me hell about having a camera installed in my garage.”
“Why?”
“I purchased one that links my house to the cameras in the precinct. It cost a bundle, and they’re giving me the runaround, claiming that they may be too busy to respond to every incident. What did I buy the darn thing for if they won’t respond?”
“I think something else is wrong tonight.”
“Yeah, like my busted fist.”
“No. Something’s on your mind, and I think it’s your brother. Tell me about him.”
“What made you decide that?”
“I see how you stare off into space when I’m horsing around with Brian. You always seem to go to another place. There are things I need to understand about you, like what happened with Greg.”
“You will never know what that was like, so trying to explain it would be useless.”
“Can’t you try?’
“Look, Brandi, you have a loving relationship with your brother, even though you think you hate him at times, so let’s not get into something you can’t fathom.”
“I want to know everything about you.”
“You would run like crazy.”
“I’m not that demented, despite what Tiffany says about me. Come on, trust me. I want to know what it was like for you in that troubled childhood. Maybe I can make the second half of your life a happy one.”
“You are doing that already. It’s clear that you won’t let up until you hear all the dirt. So here goes. I grew up on the streets, as I told you. I was arrested all the time, and was in and out of foster care more times than I can count.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“Nothing! Dad was too drunk to give a damn about us, and eventually left when I was eleven years old.”
“He just left you and your brother?”
“And my mother, who then blamed Greg and me for him having left—me more than anyone else.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I was more trouble, always harder to understand, tougher to get along with. I danced to my own music and never followed anyone except for my brother. That was a big damn mistake.”
“You just needed more love than what you were getting.”
“I didn’t know what love was until I heard my baby’s heart beat for the first time. And now with you, I really know what love is. I just hope I can give you what you need.”
“You’ve doing it already. That’s why I want us to get to know one another. Tell me more about you and Greg.”
“I don’t know anything about him, really. I haven’t seen him in years. I went to his place to see his new baby, my niece, Destiny. She’s eleven years old now. My daughter would have been about ten years old. Her name was Dorian.”
“I love that name.”
“That’s our story. We had a big falling out years ago, way before Destiny was born. He blamed me for something that wasn’t my fault.”
“What?”
He hadn’t meant to let that slip. “I don’t want to bring that up. It’s involved and sordid, horrible.”
His speech beginning to slur; the pills were taking effect. “Okay, sleepy-time, Tim. I’ll be here with you, so don’t worry about anything.”
“I need to take you home.…”
She sat up, stared at his relaxed face, the face of an angel—maybe hell’s angel, but an angel nonetheless, and she loved him. She once again rested her head on his heaving stomach, needing to be near him, wanting so badly to explore lovemaking with him. Her hand traveled to his zipper, tracing the thick metal, wanting to play inside, but not wanting to awaken him. Instead, she settled for massaging his thighs. When he became fidgety, she stopped.
His groggy voice urged her on: “Why did you stop? That felt great.”
“I can play later. You need to go back to sleep.” His eyes slowly closed and he drifted into a deep sleep. Brandi held him close. She felt closeness was what a marriage was about, love and closeness. She loved being close to this man, and wanted to wake up and lie down with him for the rest of her life.
The flashing lights from Tim’s alarm clock awakened her. She sat up, looked at him zapped of all energy, and decided it was time for her own bed. She called a cab, fixed her hair and took his keys from the dresser to lock up. Sitting on his dresser was a letter addressed to Mr. Gregory Polaris at an address in Schenectady, NY. She quickly wrote down the address, hoping for a chance to get Tim and his brother back together. But she wondered if contacting him would make matters worse. Not knowing what she would eventually do, she shoved the scrap of paper into her purse and waited out front for the cab.
She saw the cab approaching and waved it down so the driver wouldn’t honk, possibly awakening Tim. On the ride down Tim’s street, she saw that familiar red car again. She asked the driver to stop so she could get the plate number, but as she approached the car, it took off and sped down the street. She stared until it was out of sight, wondering if it could be Eric.