3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Crowds bothered me. I wasn’t exactly happy about wandering through all those people in the park. It was a wide-open area filled with strangers, and I worried that some of Mitch’s cohorts were lurking around to bring me trouble.
I learned to watch my back after I left him because I feared we’d never be completely safe. The threat the thug had made that fateful night when Jackson was a baby hung like a black cloud over my head. At any moment he or someone associated with him could appear and destroy us.
Twelve years meant nothing to his kind. They’d wait as long as necessary for revenge. Besides, I had the feeling that Mitch had moved on to a worse situation where troublemakers ended up dead.
I put on a brave face and told myself I would handle whatever came my way. The crowd kept me safe enough unless the thugs had suddenly become sneaky, finding new and inventive ways to kill while remaining invisible. Holding my head high I strutted across the park in search of my son and his mentor.
I really wanted to meet the man Jackson praised so highly, especially once I’d experienced the changes in his behavior. This man had to be one hell of a guy.
I spotted Jackson’s dark, wavy hair and his bright red t-shirt near the longest line in the park. He was watching someone intently. Whoever had his attention was hidden by the crowd at first. Then, he stood up from a battered table, towering over everyone else.
I lost my breath for an instant. I felt the blood leave my face. I was suddenly terrified for my son.
The man was huge. His muscles rippled in the sunlight, emphasizing the tattoos covering his biceps. His shaved head showed more ink. The black t-shirt strained over his massive chest.
I once again felt the cold barrel of a gun on my forehead, and the stinking scent of the greasy-haired attacker of twelve years ago assaulted my nose. One glance at this man, and I was back in the filthy apartment fearing for my life. The day of reckoning had come. We’d been found, and Jackson was in danger.
I walked faster, choking back the fear as best I could. No one was taking my son. I’d die to protect him.
As I moved forward, common sense finally began to take over. He didn’t share any features with my attacker except for the tattoos. He carried no visible weapons. No one was running away in fear. They were laughing and joking with the large man. Jackson was smiling.
If there was danger of any kind, it wasn’t obvious. There was no way Jackson could be kidnapped in front of all these people. There would be too many witnesses, and the man was so different from anyone else he’d be easily described. My paranoia was getting out of hand. I needed to reign it in.
Still, he wasn’t the type of man I wanted Jackson hanging around. He reminded me too much of the past. I knew what men like him were capable of, and that wasn’t what we needed. I’d said goodbye to that world a long time ago.
I needed to remove my son as fast as possible. Thank goodness I had a plausible excuse to make a quick getaway.
I had no control over my emotions. I hoped only the anger was evident to others, especially to the man now standing next to Jackson with his bulging biceps across his shoulders.
I reached out and grabbed Jackson’s hand and tersely ordered, “Mijo, it’s time to go. You’ve got a doctor’s appointment.”
My son decided it was a good time to act childishly and began to whine about leaving. I managed to hold back my frustration and not lash out at him. Instead, I gave a reasonable explanation as to why it was necessary for him to leave the fundraiser early.
I tensed when the man spoke up in my defense as Jackson continued his whiny attitude. Was he really ordering my son to obey me and show some respect? Those words coming from someone whose appearance was at odds with their meaning shocked me into taking a closer look at his face.
His eyes were a deep blue with long, dark lashes. There was a kindness and respect in them that shook me just a little. His nose was straight and his lips full. He had a chiseled jaw and cheekbones. The man had the audacity to be handsome despite his tattoos, which added to my frustration.
Heat came off him causing my skin to tingle with desire, which sent my heart pounding. I would not allow this to happen, not in a million years. Being attracted to another thug wasn’t on the agenda.
When he held out his hand to introduce himself as Jackson’s mentor, I wisely chose to ignore it. It was far better to be rude and leave quickly than to let myself be drawn in by another con man.
I promised myself that I would either remove Jackson from the club or demand a different mentor. I wanted this man as far away from us as possible. In fact, I’d see to it that the administrator knew I thought it best to kick him out as a mentor. He didn’t belong around children.
Jackson confronted me the instant we got inside the car. He was angry, and it showed.
“Why were you so mean to Kirk, Mom? He’s awesome. I’ve told you that. He made us a ton of money today. He beat out everyone in arm wrestling and rang the gong every time. No one else did that, not even Josh’s mentor who’s a champion bodybuilder. You were rude!”
I gritted my teeth and replied, “He’s not what you think he is. Don’t you think I know what all those tattoos mean? I’ve told you before to stay away from men like that. They’re dangerous. I’m betting that lots of men join these clubs because they’re forced to as part of their rehabilitation from prison. It’s community service work or something. I’m going to make a complaint to the administrator immediately. Don’t get too attached; your Kirk isn’t going to stick around.”
“That’s not true! There’s a screening process for mentors. Kirk’s nothing like what you’re saying,” my stubborn son argued.
“Even if he’s not, I don’t want you mentored by him. We’ll get you someone better, someone more like who I want you to be.” I tried to soothe my son. I hated fighting with him. He was all I had.
“I don’t want someone else! There’s no one better! You’re being stupid, Mom. Don’t you dare do this to me! Kirk’s my hero!” Jackson shouted as he leaped from the car at the doctor’s office and slammed the car door.
“Calm down, Jackson before you bring on an attack,” I demanded as I slammed my own door with the anger I could no longer hold back.
But my warning came too late. My anger dissipated instantly when I saw that Jackson was out of breath and wheezing. His asthma had gotten the better of him due to his anxiety over our argument. I rushed to help him get inside the doctor’s office where the nurse went on alert at the first sight of him.
“Bring him straight back,” she stated. “I’ll get the doctor.”
Dr. Clark hurried in while I was digging Jackson’s inhaler out of my purse.
“Wait a second,” he commanded. “Let me listen to his lungs. I’m afraid things may have gotten worse.”
I stood back, wringing my hands with worry as my son’s face became paler and his lips began to turn blue.
“Let me give him his inhaler!” I begged. “He’s going to die right in front of me.”
“Go ahead now,” Dr. Clark replied, motioning me forward. He was so calm in spite of my panic. “It’ll stop the attack for now, but it’s not going to be enough in the future. We’re going to need to upgrade him to a combination inhaler, which holds two different types of medications. One will end this kind of attack while the other is a long-lasting medication to keep this kind of attack from happening as often. He’s not a little boy anymore. His body can handle the more complicated combination now.”
I didn’t relax until Jackson’s color returned to normal. I found myself breathing in time with him as if that would make everything alright.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” my baby said as soon as he was able.
“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault you have asthma,” I answered, giving him a hug, one we both needed.
“I don’t like fighting with you. But please don’t get Kirk kicked out. He’s a good guy. I know he looks scary, but he’s nice to me. He’s the one who made me stop cursing around you and told me do my chores without whining. I don’t care how he looks or what the tattoos mean. He’s not like the men you told me about,” Jackson stated.
I didn’t want to fight anymore either, so I said, “I’ll think about it, but I’m not making any promises. I’ve seen what men like him do in the past. They’re good at pretending, then they turn on you just like the snake on his neck would if it was cornered.”
“Not Kirk,” he replied with conviction.
We left the doctor’s office with a stack of papers to read about the new inhaler and a prescription for it. I was relieved to see that Jackson was back to normal and asking for pizza. As a peace offering, I relented and bought a pepperoni one on the way home.
We’d barely gotten in the house when my cell phone rang. It was Mitch.
I didn’t want to answer because I instinctively knew what was coming. He was going to cancel his visit once again.
I sent Jackson to the kitchen to pour us some sodas over ice then answered the call.
“Don’t say it, Mitch,” I ordered. I paced the floor, my hand on my hip. Sometimes, it was like talking to an out-of-control child. Mitch had no idea how to be an adult, much less a father.
“Don’t you dare disappoint our son again! You promised to pick him up for breakfast and spend the day at the lake with him to make up for not being around as often as the court allows. You’ve already canceled four out of the last five times. It hurts him when you do that, whether you give a damn or not.”
Personally, I hated that the man still had to be around, but the courts had thought it best Jackson had a father figure still. I didn't argue that since I had at least gotten to escape Mitch's hold on me, and Jackson wanted his father even if the man was useless.
“Don’t give me a hard time, bitch. I’ve got business I can’t reschedule,” he replied, and I knew just what kind of business he meant. One of these days, the courts would see he still had his hands in criminal activities and take his rights away.
“I can’t waste time with the kid when I need to make money. You know as well as I do that these men don’t wait around. You take him to the lake if it’s so damn important. There’s nobody after your hide, so you can play around like you’re special or something. I don’t have that privilege. Nobody handed me a college degree.”
I shook my head, Jackson's footsteps alerting me he was coming back toward me. Why did his own father not see Jackson's importance?
I quieted my voice. “Nobody handed me one either. I worked hard for it while raising our son all alone. Because of you, I’m always on alert. Do you truly think I’ve forgotten the threat made on our lives when Jackson was a baby? That fear seeps over onto everything in my life. It caused an argument with Jackson that sent him into an asthma attack today, not that you care about his health anyway. You owe your son some one-on-one time. He needs a father.”
Mitch scoffed. The fight was a waste of my energy. “He’s got you. I don’t have time to be the pansy-assed kind of father you think I should be. The kid needs to get a backbone. If he toughens up, he won’t have those damn attacks. I think they’re bogus, anyway. Tell him I’ll see him when I see him, and I'll make it up to him then. If all works out, I'll have all kinds of cash to spend on him. That’s the best I can do,” Mitch said before hanging up.
“That was Dad, wasn’t it?” Jackson asked from the kitchen doorway.
“Yeah, I’m afraid it was,” I answered, not hiding my disappointment at how this was going to make Jackson feel yet again.
“That’s okay. I didn’t expect him to show up. He’s never into having fun or hanging out when he picks me up anyway. He spends most of the time on the phone doing business.”
I hated the sadness I could see on his face, but I also knew he was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t expecting his dad. It was sad to realize my son was aware of how flaky his father was.
My son deserved better.