RECKLESS — Bad Boy Criminal Romance (4 page)

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a lawyer,” Maya chimes in.

“How about you?” I ask Wyatt.

Hesitantly he says, “I’m the Senior Drive-Thru Manager at SoBe Burger.”

“
Senior
Drive-Thru Manager,” I emphasize.  “Sweet.  Hey, I’m sure pretty soon they’ll promote you to kitchen manager.  Just keep working hard and keep the dream alive, and I bet you’ll be all over it.”  I turn to Maya.  “We probably need to head out soon to get something for dinner.”

“Oh, yeah,” Maya says, turning to Wyatt.  “We haven’t eaten and we’re both starving.  It was really good seeing you though.  I’m glad you were able to stop by and meet Tom.”

“Yeah, good to see you too,” Wyatt says and gives her another hug.  He gives me a nod, glaring, and says, “See ya.”

Maya closes the front door behind him and returns to the kitchen.

“You said you never went out with him?” I ask, taking a sip of beer.

“No, I never did.”  She walks up to me, takes the beer, and takes a sip herself.  She thinks a moment, contemplating her next words.  “He did try to kiss me once though.  I told him that I didn’t think of him like that but I’d still be his friend.”

“Obviously he agreed to that.”

“Yeah.  Well, first, he asked why and told me how much he liked me.  But I explained I just didn’t feel that way and he seemed to accept it.  I mean, he’s never tried to kiss me again or anything.”

I nod and take the beer back.

“And he’s had girlfriend for a while now too.”

“Yeah, what’s she like?”

“She’s nice.  A little bit fat.”  Maya giggles.  “No, actually, I shouldn’t be saying that.  She’s really nice.  And Wyatt is too.  He always does nice things for me.  Like drive me around if I need it and he always buys me stuff.”

I laugh.

“What?”

I shake my head and say, “Nothing.”

Early in the morning I drive to an unmanned parking lot downtown where drivers pay at a machine which dispenses to each of them a ticket.  I wear an ugly, nondescript bright yellow golf shirt, tucked-in, and a black belt and khaki pants.  On the ticket machine I stick a placard that reads “OUT OF ORDER”.  I stand in front of the machine with a pouch containing a standard ticket notepad and some cash for change.

A businessman drives into the lot and parks.  He walks to the ticket machine and glances at the sign.

“I can help you.”  I take out the ticket pad and hold a pen.  “How much time do you need?”

“Three hours,” he says.

“That’ll be thirty dollars.”  I write “PAID” on the ticket along with some made-up chicken-scratch code.  “Put this in your windshield where it can be seen.”

He hands me thirty dollars and I give him the ticket.

Next an older woman arrives, looking as if she’s about to go shopping.

“How much time do you need?” I ask.

“Do you run this lot?” she asks.

“No, I’m just an employee,” I say.  “Having to stand out here all day in the heat is the last thing I want to do, but the machine is busted.”

“I can imagine.  That’s sounds dreadful,” she says.  “Let’s see.  You better give me at least two and a half hours.”

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars.”

She hands me the money and I give her a ticket.

Many more people arrive, most of them in a hurry to go to work, and they quickly exchange their money for the tickets I provide them.  In a short period of time, I collect more than one-thousand dollars.  Soon the amount of customers dissipates and I take the “OUT OF ORDER” sign off the machine and I leave.

Before I return to Maya’s apartment late that afternoon, I change into a suit and tie, my lawyer outfit.  I walk inside and take a beer out of the refrigerator.  I find her in the shower.

“Did you have a good day at work?” she asks from out of the tub in the steamy bathroom.

“Yeah, I did.  It was productive,” I say.

“You remember my parents are coming over for dinner, right?  They should be here soon.  Grab the door if they’re here before I’m out and dressed, okay?”

I sit on the living room sofa and think about turning on the television but decide against it.  There’s a knock at the door.

“I got it,” I shout to Maya who I doubt hears me.  I open the front door and see her mother, a very attractive woman in her mid-fifties.  She resembles Maya and in her eyes I see a liveliness that contradicts her age.

“Hi, I’m Tom.”  I shake her hand.  “Are you Maya’s sister?”

“No.”  She laughs.  “Maya doesn’t have a sister.  I’m her mother.”

              “No way.  You can’t be old enough.”

              “No, really, I am.”  She smiles, touches my arm, clearly enjoying this.

              “Well, you must have had her when you were ten or something.  Come inside.”

              “Hey,” Maya says, walking up behind me.  She hugs her mom.  “So you two met?”

              “We just did,” her mom says.  “I like him.”

              Maya looks at me, surprised.

              I shrug.

              “Where’s Dad?” Maya asks.

              “He’s parking the car,” her mother says.  “He should be right up.”

              Soon her father arrives.  He’s a tall, broad-shouldered man with short, silvery-grey hair.  He wears a dark blue wool sport coat.  “Tom, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” he loudly announces.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  He firmly shakes my hand.

              “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Well, I’m sure it was all lies.  Don’t believe a word of it.”  He bellows a hearty laugh.

              “Oh, stop it,” Maya’s mother says.

              “It took me forever to find a parking space to fit into.  Unbelievable.”  He looks at me.  “I drive a Lincoln Navigator.  How about you?”

              “A little blue Toyota.”

              “Ah,” he says.  “I hear you recently got a job here as a lawyer.  You should upgrade.  My daughter deserves to be driven around in something nicer than that.”

              “Dad, please,” Maya says.

              “What?  Tom knows I’m just messing with him.”  He rifles a playful, but stiff elbow into my ribs.  “Right, Tom?”

              “Sure.” I feign a smile.

              “So, where do you live?” he asks.

              Maya and I shoot each other a quick glance.  “You know Palm Marina Condos, just a few blocks from here?” Maya answers for me.  “The nice ones you pointed out to me one time.  That’s where he’s at.”

              “Oh, yeah, those are nice.  I’ve been wanting to see the inside of one of those places.  You’ll have to invite me over sometime, Tom.”  He bellows another laugh and slaps the back of my shoulder.  He turns to Maya and her mother.  “Hey, you girls better get dinner started if we’re going to eat at a decent time.”

              “Yeah,” Maya’s mother says to her.  “You want to?”

              “Sure,” Maya says.  “How about you guys?”

              “We’ll be fine,” her father pronounces.  “Tom and I can sit out on the balcony and talk.”

              “Are you okay?” Maya asks, looking at me.

              “Sure, he is,” her father answers.  “I just want to get to know him a bit.  You’re okay, aren’t you, Tom?”

              I nod.  “Yeah, I’m good.”

              Maya and her mother enter the kitchen.

Her father and I exit out onto the balcony.  He takes out a couple cigars out of his sport coat pocket.  “Do you smoke?”

“I do.”

“Here you go,” he says, handing one to me.

“Thanks.”

“Does Maya give you trouble about smoking?”

“She does.  I’ve cut down a lot since I’ve been seeing her actually.”

“Yeah, she gives me trouble about it all the time too.  Tells me I’m killing myself.  I don’t know.  Maybe.  But to me, there’s nothing like having a drink and smoking a cigar.”

“I agree with you.”

“So you’ve been seeing Maya a while.”

I nod.

“What do you think of her?”

“I like her a lot.  From the time I first met her, I felt like there was something special about her.”

“She’s my only child so naturally I have a lot of interest in her and whoever she’s involved with.  I can’t stand the idea of her being with someone who doesn’t care a lot for her.”

“No, I do.   She’s important to me.”

“You know the funny thing about having kids?  You can’t plan their lives for them.  No matter how hard you try.  I wanted her to get a college degree, get a good job.  That’s not to say I’m against the idea of her getting married and having kids.  But just as a backup, you know?  Have a degree.  Keep your options open.  But there doesn’t seem to be any career she has an interest in.  Plus with the economy as it is she can’t seem to even find an ordinary job, just as a way to spend her time, make a little money.  So I don’t know what to do with her.”  He chuckles.  Then he is silent a moment.  “You know, Maya’s a terrific girl.  I have no doubt someday she’s going to be a fantastic wife and mother for somebody.  And that seems to be her future so I don’t want anyone stopping her from that or wasting her time.”  He takes a long drag from his cigar.  “I guess what I’m asking is, since you’ve been seeing her a while now, ‘How serious are you about her?’”

“Very much.  The night I met Maya I knew she would be one of the best things that ever happened to me.”  I tap my cigar against the arm of my chair, the ashes falling onto the balcony and blowing off.  “I’m lucky to have met her.”

“You got that right.” 

I smile and take a few puffs from my cigar.

“You’re a young guy though.  You’re sure you want to settle down?  That you could handle it and be happy?”

“You know, when I met Maya I didn’t know what I was getting into.  I wasn’t expecting to find a girl that I felt was perfect for me.  But when it happens I just feel like you can’t let such a precious opportunity like that escape.”

“Mmm, I know exactly what you mean.”  Puff — puff — puff — from his cigar.  “When I was twenty-five I was stuck in a traffic jam one morning trying to get to work.  We were completely deadlocked, some big wreck or something if I remember.  I looked over into the car next to me and saw the woman who would become my wife.  She was listening to some song on the radio.  She looked happy and was lost in the music.  I remember thinking she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.  So I got her attention and got her to roll down her window.  I asked for her phone number and she thought I was crazy.  But somehow I convinced her and I called that night.  We went on our first date later that week.  She was twenty and lived with her parents.  When I dropped her back at the doorstep of her house I went to kiss her but she backed away.  She told me she didn’t like to kiss guys on the first date.  I pulled her close and kissed her anyway.  Luckily she wasn’t upset.  But I just thought it was worth the risk.  All of it.  From meeting her to kissing her to when we got married not long after that.”

“Definitely.  You just have to go with those moments, I think.  Fortunate favors the bold.”

Maya’s father flicks his ashes.  “That’s right.”  He smiles big and doesn’t ask me any more questions.  The mood is suddenly tranquil, serene, and I feel his approval.  Not much else is said between us before we’re called in for supper.

As we sit down at the dinner table Maya half-jokingly, half-seriously asks her father, “So you didn’t grill him too hard, did you?”

“Of course not,” he bellows.  “We had a good little talk.  Tom’s a good guy.”

Maya looks at me and smiles, relieved.

“Hey, I forgot to ask,” he says to me.  “How old are you exactly?”

“Twenty-eight,” I lie.

“Twenty-eight.  Maya’s twenty-one.  Hmm …” He thinks.  “I remember reading somewhere that supposedly a man should marry a girl that’s half his age plus seven years.  Half of twenty-eight plus seven is twenty-one.  Well, I guess you’re perfect for each other on that account.”

Maya holds her hand over her face.  “Please, Dad …”

Maya presses her outstretched feet against the edge of her makeup table.  Tilting backward in her chair, she stares forward into the mirror and applies bronze eyeshadow.  She wears heels and a green dress with a butterfly print.  Tonight she plans to spend out with some female friends.

I lie on her bed.

She looks up at me in the mirror’s reflection.  “What are you doing tonight?  Do you want me to make you something to eat before I leave?”

“No, babe, I’m fine.”  I sit up.  “I’ll probably go out somewhere and grab something.”

That evening I go to a dirty punk rock dive bar.  A giant headshot of Winston Churchill is plastered on the front of the building.  On television they play English soccer and on stage an all-girl band tunes up their guitars.  At the bar I sit near a large man wearing an untucked white dress shirt and a plaid bowtie.  He drinks beer from a pitcher as if it were a mug.