Bad Habits Part 78

"Wait, is this from that doctor dude? The one Simone said got in trouble because of you? The white boy?"

"What doctor dude?" Charles frowned. "White boy?"

"Daddy, you said you wanted to help. I told you before. I need to get to Charleston."

"You can't leave town, Kim." Diane stepped in. "Simone needs you and we got to deal with this place. Besides, you ain't right. You know this."

Charles looked from his wife to his daughter.

"I can go with her," Anne volunteered.

"Ain't n.o.body ask you." Diane rolled her eyes.

"Ma...just stop."

"Wait. Wait." Charles waved them silent. "Di? It might do her some good to take this trip, to see this person." He frowned at Kim. "Matt-Matt? Besides, you and I will be here. We'll get them moved out and settled." He nodded to Kim. "Whatever you need, I'll take care of it. When do you want to leave?"

"No!" Diane said.

"Soon real soon." Kim smiled. "Anne how soon can you go? We may be down there a week or so. Is that okay?"

"What about Kitt? She need you!" Diane reminded her. "How you gone run out on your sister? And don't front for them. You know I know what you going through. You get down there and that dude don't want you or the boys. What then? I tell you what'll happen, you gone want to use."

"Wow! Would you calm down? I'm fine. I'll talk to Simone. If she's okay with it, then I'll go. Okay? Trust me just like I've been trusting you since I got out."

Diane looked away. Charles touched her mother's back and her mother flinched. She walked out. He shook his head. "Let me deal with your mother. I need some alone time with her."

The way in which he made the request gave Kim pause. Her father seem to fixate on her mother too soon. But she couldn't get tangled in their love and war struggle. Her father's eyes returned to her. "When Simone get's home," He checked his watch, "we can all sit down and talk."

The boys laughed, chasing each other around the box. Kim nodded. Again she found it hard to look away from the gift. She thought Mathew hated her. She wanted him to hate her because it kept the silent hoping for more at bay. So what did this mean? That he missed her boys? That he still cared? That he needed closure? Maybe, just maybe Mathew didn't want closure. Maybe he wanted something more?

"Want another?" Scott asked.

Mathew dropped his head back. His eyes closed. The half empty bottle of his fifth beer was slick and cool in his palm. He lifted it in his hand with a mock toast.

"I'm good." He gave a lopsided grin.

And he was.

An ice-cold one after a day of fishing and card playing while rolling on the Atlantic waves, was just what the doctor ordered. Mathew inhaled the salty sea air, letting it fill his lungs. The light breeze stirred a mist of cool spray from the ocean that covered him as the sun sunk lower in the clear sky. And his boat swayed. It rocked and bobbed in the deep turquoise blue waters with the rhythm of the sea. He loved sailing and fishing. He loved the commune when off land just as much as he loved being a surgeon. This is where he found serenity.

"Wow, man, that mackerel. What you think it weigh?" Scott plopped down on the cushion in his deck chair in jeans, a sweat and grime stained shirt that he wiped his hands over each time he skinned a fish. His foot kicked the steel clamp to the hatch of the cooler, causing the catch of the day to slosh in the murky waters that kept them contained.

Mathew shrugged. "Don't know, twenty maybe thirty pounds."

"Big f.u.c.ker," Scott chuckled.

"Yeah, big f.u.c.ker," Mathew repeated.

They were maybe fifty miles offsh.o.r.e. With the day almost gone and the beer supply depleted, it was time to head back in. Still neither made a move or called it. He checked his watch and finally gave in. "Guess we need to take it in soon."

"Yeah, suppose so. Marlene expected us back at six, but maybe we should talk a little first," Scott said.

Mathew's gaze slipped over to his brother in-law. "Something botherin' you?"

Scott rested his beer on his knee. He removed his USC cap to wipe at his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. Then he pulled it down on his head again. "You know your sister. She worries and that means I worry."

"Here it comes."

"You got that big trial or whatever pending. Heath done come up there by the house and mention it on more than one occasion," Scott said.

Mathew nodded. "So that's what this fishing trip was about? She thinking that I won't show and you come out here to the ocean to convince me not to back out?"

"Nah, she convinced you gone beat it. Me too. Ain't no doctor better than you, Matt, they knows it."

"I don't follow," Mathew answered with a frown.

"She say you hankerin' for something more. Something in New York City?"

Now Mathew did follow. After Barbara's, visit he opened up to his sister. He had to. Keeping his feelings inside was making his bitterness terminal. So he confessed more and more of his desires. The secret wish was that Kimberly Jensen had truly been the one. He told her a little more than he should have of his inner struggles to keep from returning to New York to fight for her, and reasoned that her recovery meant that he stay away.

"Only thing I'm hankerin' for is another beer," he joked. He retrieved one of the few left from the fridge, giving a toss to the empty one in the trash.

Mathew dropped back on the railing of the boat, crossing his arms over his bare sun-drenched chest. The weight of his family's concerns was becoming a heavier burden than his lovesick heart. He'd already had this talk with his sisters and four of his brothers. It was tiring. "I know you mean well, Scott. But it's done. In two days, this whole mess is over. I'll either be a doctor or a fisherman. By the looks of that mackerel, I might consider the career change."

"You saying it's over between you and her? No hope?" Scott asked, steering him back to the topic.

"What does that matter?"

Scott never looked his way. He tugged on the bib of his cap, adjusting it lower on his forehead. Mathew waited. His brother in-law was the only person to give him the s.p.a.ce needed after Barbara and Elaine. He was surprised that even Marlene got him to press this issue. "I thought we understood each other, Scott. You, of all people, know a woman is the last thing I need."

"Thing is," Scott cleared his throat, "when a woman's under your skin, she just is. If you think pretending it's different will work, well, I think you should just be sure. I was a hard-a.s.s before I understood what your sister meant to me. Almost lost her once. Don't know where I'd be if I hadn't swallowed my pride."

"But this is different."

"I'm sure it is. Matt, when this is said and done, you gonna need to start again and get over things." He cut him a look. "Man to man. It's time to let some of that stuff with Barbara and Elaine go. You say she the one you want in New York City? Then you go after her and tell her. If she ain't, then you let her go too, but don't leave it hangin'. That's not movin' on. Life is short. That's all I'ma say about that."

"You don't know her. There's things between us that we can't get past."

"Cause she black?"

Mathew looked out to the sea. Her color was never an issue. He didn't think his color was an issue. He wished it were. Somehow he felt he could compete with the taboo of interracial dating rather than a dead husband she could never let go of.

"No. It's not her race or mine."

Scott looked over. "Then you just a chicken s.h.i.t."

Mathew chuckled. "Really? You think so?"

Scott shrugged, rocked back in his deck chair and stared out at the ocean.

Mathew shook his head. "I'll show you chicken s.h.i.t," he mumbled.

It was late. Hours had pa.s.sed and Simone hadn't called or returned. Kim tried to downplay her worry but even she was walking on edge. Eventually, her father left. He whispered in her ear that he'd return with some men and a truck, so pack up everything for an extended stay. She didn't care. It was just too exhausting to deal with. Kim noticed the way his eyes followed Diane wherever she went. If he desired her mother, which she doubted since he was the one to leave Diane to her demons, then why wait until now to act like a love sick schoolboy?

None of it really mattered. Her main distraction was five-feet tall and four feet wide, taking up the center of her living room. Every time she looked at 'the gift', she smiled.

"Go to bed, Ma."

"No, waiting on Kitt. I-" Diane yawned, "We need to figure this out. She been gone too long."

"She's fine," Kim rea.s.sured her mother.

"How you know? She just ran out on us."

"I just do. Trust me, okay? Sometimes people just need s.p.a.ce. Simone's smart. She wouldn't go see Keith."

"You sure about that? Really? Cause you and I know what grief and anger can drive you to," Diane said.

Kim chewed hard on the inside of her jaw. Maybe she should call the police? Could her sister be so reckless that she'd go and get into it with that maniac? It was getting close to midnight. There were several knocks at the door. Kim's heart leapt to her throat. "I'll get it."

She hurried to the door, and opened it to find a tall black man with a detective's shield. "Yes? What is it? Is it my sister?"

"Hi, Kim, my name is-"

"Alverson. I remember you," Diane said, pushing Kim to the side to stand in the door. "Is it Kitt? Did that b.a.s.t.a.r.d.... Oh G.o.d, he hurt her, didn't he?"

"She's not here?" The detective asked.

"No. She isn't. Why did you come?" Kim asked.

"Oh Lord, my baby is in trouble! I told you! I told you something was wrong!" Diane said.

"Mama, calm down. Please come in," Kim said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't come to upset you. Is she missing?" Alverson asked, his tone now deepening with concern.

"She left earlier today. We haven't heard from her. I thought she wanted to clear her head. But do you think she went to see him?"

Diane paced. "We need to go look for her. Something is wrong. I feel it. I'ma call Charles," Diane said.

"Is she driving? Was she meeting friends?" the detective asked.

"No, she took my car. I think she went to see her attorney." Kim gave him her license plate number. She told him about the conversation with Simone's attorney and that Keith was contesting the annulment. The detective shared the visit he had with the Mayor and Keith's attorneys. Her, her mother and Anne listened. He told them that he'd call in the plates and track her down.

When he left, they all sat in silence and waited. And even through her worry, Kim kept looking to the box in the middle of the room. Wondering.

Hours Later - They called him Big Chuck. It was a childhood name that stuck when he had a growth spurt in the sixth grade. He woke one morning to find that he stood taller than anyone in his family, and he kept growing. Now Charles Wilson stood a full six-seven and weighed a solid three hundred and eighty pounds. He wanted to play basketball. Busted his knee in college, and with a knocked up girlfriend, had no choice but to get married. So he went into sanitation, and became a husband to a bi-polar wife with a thirst for alcohol, and two little girls he adored.

When his first daughter was born, at just under five pounds, she fit in the palm of his hand. He named her Kimberly. She slept every night on his chest just so he could feel her tiny heartbeat. It wasn't until he was blessed with another daughter that he discovered how deep his love flowed for his girls. Why did he forget that? How could he have left his girls, all three of them, to fend for themselves? He wasn't a perfect man, but he knew what love was. And what he did to them was the only sin he regretted. And he had plenty.

He'd cleaned up his act, turned over his life, became a leader not a follower, a man to be respected and feared. Sure, he was dirty, but considering the company he kept, he was better for it. Now he'd have to do what was necessary to protect his girls. He wanted to make it right. He wanted to be their savior, and he wanted something else, to see Keith Livingston burn for what he'd done to his little girl. Big Chuck always got what he wanted.

"Sir?" his driver said.

Charles checked his watch. He gave a slight nod. The driver got out of the car to open his door. Charles emerged to find several waiting, but wanted answers from one.

"My daughter, have we found her?" he asked.

"I've tracked her down to Long Island. I will go see to her myself," Detective Derrick Alverson said.

"Long Island?"

"Her car is parked at a bed and breakfast. Don't worry, she's okay. I got friends over there. They're keeping an eye on the place. Keith Livingston isn't there."

Charles's eyes lifted to the warehouse. The building, long since abandoned, had tall windows with busted panes and darkness beyond. He could smell the stench of the Hudson River along with alleyways littered with unattended garbage. "Make sure Simone is safe and that she gets to the Hamptons with my wife."

"Will do," Derrick nodded.

"And, Derrick?" Charles spoke as the detective turned and walked away. "The fact that you knew she filed a protection order and kept it from me hasn't been addressed." Charles cut him a look. "But it will. Here on out, don't you keep s.h.i.t from me about my girl. You got that?"

"I didn't know she was your daughter until you called me. Chuck, none of us knew you had daughters."

"We clear?" Charles asked.

The detective nodded. "Yeah, I got it."

Charles stalked off. Inside, doors were held open for him. He was led to a flight of stairs with his men and quickly descended into the belly of the abandoned warehouse. The light was barely visible. With his men flanked on either side, he walked through an open s.p.a.ce as wide as a soccer field. A small crowd of men circled someone. The man was tied to a chair with a black bag over his head. The others' heads turned with his arrival. One in particular, short round, and a friend for many years, stepped forward. Removing his cigar from the inside of his jaw, he opened his short arms in greeting.

"Chuck! Salve!" Mario Lucini grabbed Charles's face and planted a kiss on both cheeks. "I am so sorry for your troubles," he said, clasping his hands together. "You were right to call."

Charles's gaze slipped past him to the man slumped forward in the chair. Lucini looked back. "If you want, I can have him taken care of."

"I'll take it from here. Thank you for acting on such short notice and for coming out personally. It's appreciated."

Lucini chuckled. His belly bounced like Santa Clause, but his eyes were dark and sinister, dispelling the similarities. "Like I said, what are friends for?" The Italian leaned forward and whispered something for Charles's ears only. Charles nodded that the he'd pay the price requested for the services and bid the man farewell. Lucini's men stepped away from the abducted prisoner. The man sat there perfectly still. Too still. His breathing could barely be detected. Charles walked over to him and s.n.a.t.c.hed the hood from his head.

James Madison immediately jerked in the chair. His eyes were wide with fright and his mouth covered with duck tape. A thin line of blood trickled out of his badly bruised nostrils. They'd roughed him up, but he was fine.

"Do you know who I am?" Big Chuck asked.

The attorney looked up at Charles, confused, then around him at the black men with guns. He shook his head from side to side, slowly.