Blind Fold Read online

“Don’t care! Surprise me!”

  “Stop yelling at me!”

  “You stop yelling at me!”

  She stood still, holding the red underwear. An evil thought crossed her mind and she held them up. “I’m going to shower and put these on,” she told him, holding the underwear in front of her.

  He asked, “And why would I care?”

  “Because, you’re angry at me,” she said smiling, “you’re angry because deep down, you want to see me in this. You’re angry because you know the moment you touch me you’re never going to want to let me go. You’re angry because you need human touch as much as I do, but your pride would never allow it to be me.”

  “Woman, I don’t curse in front of ladies and I try to make it habit to not curse at all, but fuck you,” he said, walking away and closing his bedroom door. She heard the lock on the door engage and slowly she took the items to the bedroom.

  It was time to leave, but she already knew he wasn’t going to let her go. The bulge in his pants said he was more than interested. Insulting him while promising to bring him a night of pleasure was just the thing. The sad part was, the man was her type. A type she was trying to put behind her, yet she’d run straight into again.

  What was now making her angry was the dampness in the one pair of under she’d had to wash each night until the suitcase he’d given her had arrived. She wanted him. The other problem was that she had the world’s worst taste in men.

  The surface said he was good.

  In her heart, she knew he wasn’t.

  And in her mind, she didn’t care.

  Chapter Four - Envelope

  Unbeknownst to many aficionados of underworld mafia folklore, the real means in which the organizations operated were nothing like the crime shows on television. In the real world, Mafia Dons didn’t sit in the rear at a red and white checkered cloth covered table eating spaghetti with oversized meatballs. In the real world, or at least the world where Uriel Tamagotchi resided, the mafia operated out of small out the way towns where there was very little crime. Instead of sitting in pizza joints sipping on Chianti and planning who to snuff out next, crime bosses cleaned and scrubbed money by filtering it through cash only businesses.

  Businesses like nail salons, barber shops and even hair salons who specialized in high end services that could run a client upwards of five hundred dollars. He knew this because Nobu Tamagotchi, One Way’s father, was an accountant for the Japanese mafia. A quiet man plagued by demons of his own making. Each morning he donned his suit and tie as his wife handed him a bento box with his lunch, provided a loving embrace and sent her husband out the door to make a living.

  The irony, if one could call it such, was the name Nobu meant to have faith in something or to prolong a relationship. His father had neither of those things. Nobu had a penchant for cold sake, hot black women, and unsteady hand at gambling. Each week he’d lose his paycheck gambling or was rolled by a stripper who often left him covered in glitter. His answer to the shortfall in revenue to pay the mortgage and keep the lights on at his home was to shave a few dollars here and there from the organization which paid him well.

  Or rather, he was paid well for an accountant living in Zanesville, Ohio, a small town east of Columbus. The hour drive from Zanesville to Columbus netted Nobu a world of trouble and he consistently brought it home with him. The deeper he fell, the more he tried to dig himself out of the hole, only to put everyone around him into a hole that no one, especially his wife and son could recover from with help.

  On a cold November night, Yasmin Tamagotchi received a call that her husband was at an abandoned factory, and going to die if she didn’t bring every valuable in their home.

  “We have no valuables,” she pleaded with the voice on the line. “Even my wedding ring is a simple gold band. We have nothing.”

  “Then bring me your son,” the voice demanded. “Your son or Nobu’s life.”

  Yasmin wouldn’t sacrifice her son’s life for a man who lied constantly, stole from dangerous people and consistently made life miserable. In a soft-spoken voice in the line, she said the words she often had trouble telling her husband. Her voice was clear when she spoke.

  “Tell my husband I love him,” she said, hanging up the phone. Yasmin wasn’t one to cry, even when the call came through again and she didn’t take it. Hours later, the number 2 on her voicemail stared at her and she refused to check the message knowing it would be her husband, pleading for his sorry excuse of a life. The good that was once in him was eaten whole and spit out a sour man who hated himself and the life he attempted to provide to his family.

  It was nearing midnight when Yasmin played back the message. Nobu told her where to come and collect his body and to tell her that he did, in fact, love her and his son. A twelve-year-old who saw no wrong in his father and a mother who would not tarnish the image of a broken man fighting with a sickness. A dark sickness that still petered over into everything he touched.

  The clock was striking one when Yasmin finally decided to go and look for her husband. She found him, just where he told her he’d be, no longer alive and coated in a residue which almost glowed in the dark. It would be years later before the side effects of the glowing material would take hold of Yasmin, making her sicker by the day with no doctor being able to diagnose her illness. She’d hidden it well for so long but now, she’d reached a point where hiding it was no longer an option. It was time to tell her son the ugly truth.

  Yet it wasn’t in her heart to ruin Uriel’s memories of his father. He’d grown up strong and determined, and looked after her, even after the mafia tossed their home the very next day, and everything in it smelled of gasoline. She knew they had to get away. One suitcase was all she had as she loaded up her vehicle, which, also ironically ran out of gas leaving them on the side of the road just outside of Columbus, when a nice family, a man, his wife, and three sons stopped and leant them a hand.

  Uriel, the same age as the youngest boy at the time, Isiah, didn’t take a liking to each other. As the years progressed and under the ministry of Reverend Johnson, who also had two children, a son and daughter, ran a youth camp for disadvantaged children. Kids didn’t get more disadvantaged than Uriel and his mother.

  The woman and kid reminded him so much of his mother and himself as a child. That’s why he was trying to help. He knew the right people, but in some ways, he didn’t want to make the call. Seeing Exit with his weird family and silly cat wearing a hat and the necktie wearing dog, made One Way long for the connection. Spending time with Merge and those messed up kids also made him long for what he didn’t have, but what he did have, half of it, he didn’t like.

  “She’s a menace,” he grumbled, pulling out his phone to call Bleu Neary. “The sooner I get rid of her, the better.”

  His phone was in his hand when the knock came to his bedroom door. “It is her, in those lacy underwear, talking about she’s coming to say sorry. Sorry is what she’s gonna be, because, hell, it’s been a minute. When I finish with her, she’s going to be stuck to that damned mattress wondering what the hell happened...that’s for sure.”

  He grumbled and growled all the way from his bathroom to the bedroom door, snatching it open. The disappointment was evident on his face when he saw the kid standing there holding two fishing poles.

  “Hey Mister, you fish?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In the morning, can we go fishing? I can hear water, but we weren’t allowed to get out to explore, because you said the place was booby trapped, but tomorrow, some fish and fries would be mighty good eating,” the boy said. “You brought back potatoes and cooking oil. We can be all manly and go rustle us up some grub.”

  One Way said nothing as he stared at the kid. He was a good-looking young man, with thick black hair that was uncertain if it wanted to be curly or straight. He was in dire need of a haircut, and was maybe fifteen pounds or so underweight.

  “We can go in the morning to the watershed at Cosby Creek,” On
e Way informed the boy, “it is only about a ten-minute walk down the hill.”

  “That would be awesome! Do you have bait and lures or will I need to dig up some earthworms?”

  “I have a patch in the back that is full of worms I use to fish, we can get a bucket in the morning before we head out,” One Way said, looking at the kid. He had questions. But now was not the right time to ask any of it.

  Cool Guy was watching One Way as well. Finally, he spoke up, “it’s your house. You don’t have to hide from us in your room.”

  “Not hiding from anybody in my own house,” he replied.

  “Avoiding...is that the word? I hope you’re not avoiding me. I know I can be needy, but I’m a kid,” he said.

  “True, you’re a kid.”

  “I like being a kid and plan to stay one as long as I can. This kid likes to fish,” he said with a big grin.

  The grin was so wide and so warm, accompanied by the new boots, cut up tattered jeans, and the dumb tee shirt that said cool guy, One Way found himself smiling back.

  Cool Guy yelled, “Whoa! Your face totally changes when you smile. And not in a good way. It’s kind of scary. Like, I’m coming to kill you cat, roast your dog, and pluck the feathers out of your parakeet!”

  One Way started to laughed. A deep chested laugh that sounded foreign to his ears. “Pluck the feathers from the parakeet? You’re saying that when I smile, I look like I’m going to kill Tweety Bird?”

  “Yeah, so, don’t smile like that again. I think I prefer the scowl of disdain,” the kid said. “Wait, Tweety is a parakeet?”

  “Disdain...that’s some vocabulary you’ve got there Cool Guy.”

  “I read, and speaking of which, when is your niece going to call and talk to you about the book? I told you the story, but to get the real feel of the adventure of the kids, you’re going to have to read at least some of it,” Cool Guy said. “Maybe after dinner, we can all quietly go to our corners and read.”

  “I’ve got work to do,” One Way said, “let me do it.”

  “Okay, dinner is in an hour,” Cool Guy told him.

  “Not hungry, lunch was pretty heavy,” he said, closing his door. The woman could hear him bolt the lock again, and inside she felt like a pile of mush. He locked himself inside of his room to avoid her. The look on her son’s face, expressed as much. Slowly, she put down the book she had been holding upside down pretending she was reading, and walked over to One Way’s bedroom door and tapped lightly.

  “One Way, I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t want you to feel as if you have to avoid me when I’m a guest in your home. If I’ve done anything or said anything to make you so uncomfortable, tomorrow, you can be rid of us.”

  She waited in silence for an answer, but no response came. Giving up, she went back to the couch, and waited for the ding of the oven to tell her the pot roast was done. She also knew their time with the mysterious man was also done. It was her fault.

  It was always her fault.

  ****

  One Way sat at the small desk in his bedroom, going through the images of the job he recently finished, ensuring the files had been uploaded as confirmation. Next, he checked his bank accounts to make certain payment had been received for the two jobs. He had enough at one point, to walk away from it all, but a recent turn of events had tapped him deep, and his pockets were getting low. At this rate, he no longer had a choice, but needed to take every job which came his way.

  The life insurance plan put together by the Archangel’s wife would be helpful if he had a family to leave it to, and the health insurance plan had come too late to suit his immediate needs. His other immediate need had come to the outside of his bedroom door. The woman was a thorn in his lion sized paw and she was starting to get to him far more than he wanted or needed her to.

  He knew, within a shadow of a doubt, had he opened that door and seen her standing there, all five feet five inches of her would have been in his arms. The short, black cropped hair would have found itself balled up in his fist, as his mouth planted hard kisses down her ebony throat. The perfect mouth sized b-cupped boobies would receive a full-on tongue lashing from his desperate mouth as he plunged himself deep between her toned thighs. Six months of pent-up aggression, frustration, and angst would be unleashed until she clawed at his back begging him to stop as she shuddered through orgasm after orgasm and then, he rolled over to his back, smack that apple shaped ass, and have her finish him off. Real slow like, moving as if she were riding a mechanical bull on the lowest setting.

  “Frick, frack, fruck.... that woman!” He said looking down at his lap, “and you shut up too! Nobody asked your flipping opinion.”

  One Way pushed the computer aside and headed for the shower allowing the warm water to envelop his body as he eased off the tension.

  ****

  The sun had barely cracked its eyes when One Way went to the back yard to rummage through the soft soil to unearth bait for fishing. Cool Guy, wide awake and chomping at the bit, held the poles and the gear, ready to get going. He yawned a few times but One Way didn’t comment.

  “Let’s go,” One Way said to the kid.

  “Stepping where you step, walking where you walk,” Cool Guy stated aloud.

  Flashlights hung around their neck, lighting the ground as they walked down the hill, coming along side of Cosby Creek. It was less than half a mile to the watershed as One Way opened the folding camp seats. He’d brought along a bag and once he opened it, Cool Guy knew what to do, which took One Way by surprise.

  Cool Guy gathered rocks to form a small circle. Next, the boy gathered fire wood and kindling to get the fire going. The morning was cooler than he initially thought, but he wore a windbreaker who in his opinion, was falling down on the job. The wind felt as if it were whispering through the thin material, yelling at his skin to make it goose pimple.

  “It’s chilly out here,” Cool Guy said.

  One Way didn’t respond. He continued to work preparing the tea pot to go into the flame with fresh water and he pulled out a bit of jerky, passing one to the kid. The bait bowl got shaken and One Way found a fat juicy worm and baited his hook.

  “I wasn’t talking just about the weather,” Cool Guy said, “listen, Mister, if you want us to leave, it’s cool. We’ll be okay. Somehow, my Mama always makes sure we’re okay. But you can’t be so cold to her when she’s only trying to do her part for you letting us stay.”

  “You don’t need to take on grown folks matters kid,” he warned.

  “My Mama is all I have Mister, and I’m her second line of defense,” Cool Guy said. “If anything happens to her, mentally or physically, I’m left to pick up the pieces and do what I can to help us get through. It’s not fair, and I just wanted a chance to be a kid for a while. I was hoping you’d allow me to do that, but if your...I don’t know. If you can’t get along with her, then we need to leave. I can’t have her on pins and needles scared of what you’ll say or do next. That’s not fair to her.”

  One Way stared at the boy in the wee light of the fire which had come to life. He was far wiser than he needed to be but the new world took away childhoods. The days of being allowed to ride a bike, shoot marbles and pinch the butts off fireflies to put in a jar was long gone. Now, the childhood for many consisted of violent video games where kids played against foul mouthed adults, instant messaging and getting likes. Here, he was present with a child who wanted to read books, go fishing and eat sugary sweet cereal. The boy was excited about getting fresh fruit and here he was being an asshole to his Mom.

  “Fair enough and I hear you,” One Way said.

  “You hear me but will you change the way you’re treating her,” he asked. “I see more than I can say and I understand how men look at my Mom and what they want. You’re no different, even though you’re trying to fight it. I can respect that, but I can’t respect you taking your frustration out on her and giving her the cold shoulder because you want her in your bed.”

  “Is tha
t the play...you tell me you’re okay with me and your Mom? Is that what this is about?” His defenses were up and if the woman was using the kid to get to him, they definitely needed to go.

  Cool Guy baited his hook and cast his line like a pro. He didn’t look at One Way. “There is no play. She doesn’t know I’m telling you and I would like it, if you didn’t say I did.”

  “So why are you talking to me about such adult matters?”

  Cool Guy took a seat, holding the pole between his knees as he held his hands out to warm them by the fire. It hadn’t been that long since he fished like this to make sure he and his mother had a decent supper, or at least something in their belly.

  “My Dad taught me to fish,” Cool Guy told him. “I was ten when the cops arrived to take him away and he knew they were going to come for him. Every day, Mister, he took me to the pond and showed me how to fish. He told me, that if nothing else, I could use a hook and string to catch me and my Mom dinner so our bellies would never be empty. That’s why I can know how to fish and like the quietness of the morning. Helps me think.”

  One Way watching him pull up the line and reel in a nice sized trout. It was reflexive almost on the kid’s part to put the fish on the string and dangle it back in the water. He added another bait, and cast his line again.

  “You are good,” One Way commented.

  “I have no room in this life for failure,” the kid said. “I’m a mongrel, as I’ve been called to my face. My father’s culture won’t accept me, my mother’s culture don’t know what to make of me and even my hair doesn’t like the combination of the two races.”

  One Way found himself smiling.

  “Mister, I can’t just be good, I have to be better than all the rest, just so I can have half the chance,” he said softly. “Being here gives me a chance to breathe and not have to worry if some stupid drunk is going to follow my Mom to her car and try his luck. That’s why I was practicing my ninja moves in case things got nasty. It’s only a matter of time before they do, and I need to know how to make this life work in my favor. That’s what I need from you.”