8 Mile & Rion (5 page)

‘When I see something unjust, I have to intervene - it's hard for me to watch the underdog suffer.’

~Kristen Bell

Senior was not a perfect man. He was a human man, he made mistakes and he was
my
dad. The guy who taught me how to do everything, including wearing makeup. Granted, I don’t wear make-up now but I remember him taking me to the mall and sitting with an artist so we could learn together. Fact: no matter how hard I tried, he did make-up better than I did.

He also taught me to fight, shoot, cook, to believe in myself and to bet.

But
Mr. I’m better than you
doesn’t know that because in his eyes, my dad was just a bookie. He stood in my office blasting a man he’s never even met. I would not stand for anyone, especially a stranger, talking shit about the man who sacrificed everything for me. A rage took over and though I’m not normally a violent person unless provoked, I grabbed my H&K P30 ready to shoot him in the mouth for his transgressions. When he left without a word, I dropped the gun immediately. How it got into my hands I’ll never know, but one more word from his lips about my dad and I would have let a bullet fly. First, the terror over knowing I would have harmed him came over me, followed by remorse for thinking it. The few hours I’ve known this guy had me feeling all sorts of shit I didn’t like.

Then the anger really came. I did this asshole a favor and this is how he repays me? I do not fucking think so. Putting the gun back in the drawer, I whip the office door open and then do the same with my apartment. He was packing up to go, good. But he wasn’t leaving until I said my piece.

Turns out, I have a lot of pieces.

“My Dad was a Marine,” I say the moment I barge through the door. “A damn good one too. He met my mom young and when his time was up, he came state side to start his life. Only to find out all his time serving his country was for nothing. He had no education, but he had three skills. Battle, loving my mom and taking bets. My dad wasn’t always law-abiding, but when I was born he turned that around, for
me
. He went to the hospital a married man waiting to meet his first born daughter and came home a widow with said daughter. That man dedicated his life to me. He may be a lowly bookie to
you
,” I growl up at him, followed by poking him in the chest, “but he was
my
dad!”

“I---”

“Shut up!” I scream at him. “I offer you a place to stay and you repay me by insulting the only man who’s ever loved me in my own fucking home? You look at me like I’m the piece of shit in this scene? Look in the mirror asshole; you’re the star of this shit show.”

“Look---”

“No, you look! One week ago I had everything! My dad, a decent job and a few bucks in the bank. Today I have nothing. I have to start over without my dad. I just got dumped by my god damned answering machine. You remember that, right? Was that as fun for you as it was for me? You’re mean, I don’t do mean.”

“Rion---”

Just then my temples started to squeeze and my mouth got salty. I couldn’t even finish my rant because I was going to puke now, perfect. “Excuse me,” I whimper knowing he’ll see himself out. I need the dark, I need the quiet and I needed it right now.

Crawling into bed, I don’t even bother with covers or a pillow. I curl up in the fetal position and pray this passed quickly because I had shit to do. Trying to focus on anything but the pain, some time goes by when my door opens slowly and wouldn’t you know it, he hadn’t left.

Fuck, he was more persistent than this damn headache.

‘War is good when good survives and evil is crushed. If you don't crush evil then evil will get you.’

~Ted Nugent

I sat outside her door feeling all kinds of shitty. She was right. I had no business commenting on her old man. Problem is, if I have something on my mind I say it. Tends to piss people off too. Just when I think she’s out, she moans in agony and it makes me grab my own head in misery hearing it. I don’t know what to do for her, but I know she wants me to leave and I will, after I know she’s okay.

Recalling her every word I almost smile at how fired up she was. I may be Loyal by name, but that woman was loyal to her fucking core. Hell, she drew a fucking gun on me over an insult to her old man. Her loss was fresh, raw even. Fuck, the poor woman was probably trying to mourn him proper but can’t because she’s running a business that’s broke, got dumped, took on a charity case and gets blinded by headaches to boot.

Yeah, I feel like shit. I may be homeless, but she’s just fucking wrecked.

Grabbing a cloth from the bathroom, I wet it with cool water like my mom used to do and crack her door open slowly. Entering her room as quietly as possible, I walk over to her side of the bed, kneel down and press it to her forehead. She whimpers again which causes my stomach to tighten. “Can you hold this?” I whisper.

“No,” she whispers back so low had I not been so close, I wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’ll do it,” I tell her and she doesn’t object. Sitting on the floor next to her bed with my arm extended, I hold the cloth to her head until I hear her breathing even out. With a small amount of light coming through the window, I study her. Long light blonde hair, long eye lashes, freckles across her nose and pink lips. Most women spend time painting their faces to look pretty, but not her. This woman has the girl next door vibe working for her. Size wise she’s tiny next to me, but then again most are. She looks like a little sprite from a kid’s movie she’s so dainty. But she wasn’t a sprite. She was a grown woman and damn near flawless because she oblivious to it. Not that I have much to go on when it comes to females. I think of that bitch back in Missouri. I used to think she was attractive too. Looks are fucking deceiving but I’m beginning to think this female was the real deal. Turning away from her, I switch arms so I can lean against her bed while still keeping the cloth on her. Focusing on the music in the background, I listen to the guy sing. Who was he? The guy knew shit, I ain’t never heard anyone sing a story like this before. Picking up on the chorus, I decided this guy was legit and that I needed to hear every song he’s ever written. Relaxing into my spot it hit me I never let my guard down for anyone but for some reason today, with this woman, I did. I even let myself close my eyes because being near her felt so damn good. Rion may be a spitfire, but she was also a calming person. In my life, I ain’t ever met anyone like her and it was such a good feeling, I fell asleep immediately.

I hear my name being called from a distance. I don’t trust my dreams because they always morph into a nightmare; it’s just a matter of time. I hear it again and I wait for that moment when the image of Jill smiling for me turns to hatred and then her on all fours getting fucked like a whore.

“Loyal,” she says to me. “Wake up.”

God I hate that bitch. I hate everything about her. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, I feel her touch me and I snap. Anytime the whore touched me it set me off, ‘cause she only did it when she wanted something. Jolting awake I come to my feet quickly, seeing her on our bed like that pisses me off. The bitch never got on her knees for me, that’s for damn sure. Seeing her on them now has me wanting to teach her a lesson.

Slamming her onto her back, I don’t care that I knocked the wind out of her. I hope she fucking suffocates. I hope this ugly face is the last thing she sees when she takes her last--

Pain.

My fucking balls, the bitch kicked me in the balls. She breaks away quickly and hits the floor while I try and recover. Jesus, where did she learn how to do that shit? Then there’s a click followed by blinding light. Letting my eyes adjust I realize right away it’s not Jill. It’s Rion… with another gun.

Once again, her hands were steady.

‘It's pretty sad when you have to choose between the lesser of two evils.’

~Meg White of the White Stripes

When the pain subsided enough to let him off the hook, I tried waking him because he looked extremely uncomfortable holding the cloth with his arm bent. In between calling his name, I may have also checked him out too. He was bigger than Rio, but his skin wasn’t as dark. He had the bald look working for him, a crooked nose and full, fat lips. His face had thin scars zig zagging all over making him look indestructible. He looked like a fighter or maybe a cop, I couldn’t decide which, but each scenario held appeal. His forearm tattoo was a crest of some kind, if I had to guess, but it was the ink peeking out from beneath the collar of his t-shirt that was just…damn.

Reality crashed in that this big angry man was on the floor in my bedroom and I felt guilty for it. I called his name again several more times with no response. Finally, I got up on my hands and knees to give his massive shoulder a push then like a shot, he was on his feet. I couldn’t even admire how fast he was because before my next breath, he was on me.

Using one arm to pin me down by my throat and his weight to crush me, my headache was forgotten. No, he wasn’t aware of what he was doing because his eyes said he was a million miles away, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him choke me out. Bringing my knee up to introduce itself to his nuts, I had to do it twice to get him to let go. When he grunts and falls to his side, I flop ungracefully to the floor then scramble, grabbing my gun from the drawer.

Finding my own two feet, I keep the gun in my right and turn on a light with the left. If I have to shoot, I’d prefer to see my target. That’s gun ownership 101.

He looks up at me, reality registers and remorse pummels him. He coughs, closes his eyes in pain and groans out, “Rion, Christ I’m---”

“Leaving,” I tell him, catching my own breath. “You’re leaving.”

“I thought you were---”

“I don’t care what you thought,” I warn him. “That’s twice, Loyal.”

“I have nightmares,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I may not have full use of my throat for a couple days but, I’m fine otherwise. That really isn’t the point here. It’s been real, but I can’t do this with you.” When he stands there blinking at me, I figure I need to step up my game. ”It’s not you, it’s me. You don't look half as good as you did on Christian Mingle. I just can't be with someone who liked Sharknado. My dick is committed to you, but my heart isn’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not one for subtly, I take it,” I offer up as I walk to the door. “How’s this? I’m going across the hall to work and try not to use my throat for the rest of the day. When I’m done doing that, I’m going to come back
here
and that’s your cue to
not
be here when I get back.” When he stands there doing nothing, I said ‘fuck it’, turned on my heel and left anyway.

The second I went to open my office door, he just guts me with five words. “I was a Marine too,” he says quietly. “I’m pretty fucked up, Rion. Came here to find my brother and found you instead. Didn’t mean to hurt you, I’d never hurt you on purpose. Never.”

Closing my eyes, I hear him walk down the hall towards the step. Second chances Junior, second chances. Senior wouldn’t be proud of me if I let him walk away and deep down I knew I didn’t want him to either. My gut cramped knowing he was going to walk and I didn’t know why, but I knew we needed each other. “Loyal wait…”