Chapter 2 #2
“Nah, I’m taking your crazy ass home,” Erys protested, reaching down to grab his father by the arm.
Mr. Ernie snatched away. “Gotdamn it! Unhand me.”
Erys, fully focused on his father, didn’t see his enchantress rush away from her set to the table. It wasn’t until she shoved him backward and glared at him.
“What the fuck is your problem, grabbing on him like that? Don’t put your fuckin’ hands on him!” she barked, pointing her finger in his face like she was taller than five foot five. “Ernie, are you okay?”
Ernie fixed his suit jacket and hat, cutting his eyes at his son. “Yeah, I’m good, Remedy. Go finish your dance. Make us some money,” Ernie encouraged. “This ain’t nobody.”
“You still pimpin’, old man?” Erys’ asked in a huff. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you need to fall back.”
“I don’t know who the fuck you are. But you need to fall back,” she fired back, standing toe to toe with him. “You don’t strike no fear in me. Don’t put your hands on him again!”
“Get yo ass back on that stage and let me handle your demented ass pimp!” Erys snarled, grabbing his father by the elbow again.
Before he could turn to look back at his father, he was met by a slap that caused every fiber of his being to freeze.
Upon her hand meeting the side of his face, a gang of strippers had all started to defend their fellow dancer.
“Didn’t I tell your stupid ass not to fuckin’ touch him again? You hard of hearing up there, nigga?” the woman popped off. It was clear she wasn’t backing down and Erys was unsure what dream his father had sold her that made her so…loyal.
“Hey! Hey!” A man’s baritone cut through the noise and the stare down the two were having. “Get y’all asses back on stage before I dock those fuckin’ tips.”
The women scattered and Ernie spoke up. “You ain’t touching her tips. She’s with me. We taking every dollar on the floor.”
Erys scoffed. “He’s not taking shit. This nigga is my crazy ass pops. What the fuck are you even doing here?”
“He’s with me. How many ways do I need to tell your dumb ass that?” the lady in red popped off again before registering the fullness of his sentence. “Pops? Ernie, this is your...”
Erys and Ernie were having a stare down that answered Remedy’s question. The similarities between men were like a copy and paste with decades between them.
“Rem, what you doin’ talking to patrons like that?” the man grumbled back, trying to keep up with the chaos spinning around him.
“He was snatching up my friend like shit is sweet. He’s lucky all I did was slap him, Lem,” Rem admitted. “You know I keep a blade tucked.”
“Your friend, pimp, or whatever he’s calling himself these days is my fuckin’ father. Whatever you two had going on is dead. He’s coming with me,” Erys retorted. Tone was now in the mix.
“Damn Ernie, you still got it. Got her red thong matching your fit, fire shit,” Tone said, making Ernie grin.
“Let’s not get nothing fucked up, he’s not my pimp,” the woman defended, making Erys scoff and kiss his teeth.
“Ay, look, how about all y’all get this bullshit out my club. Don’t come back tomorrow, Rem. This is that bullshit I warned you about. All four of y’all get the fuck out,” MackLem finalized before stomping away.
“Baby girl, go get your shit, I’ll meet you at the car,” Ernie grumbled.
“Nah, you ain’t driving nowhere,” Erys spoke up.
“He doesn’t drive,” the woman fired back before looking at Ernie who was becoming agitated. “He gets confused at night.”
“Then how the fuck he get here?” Tone questioned.
“I drove him. I’ll get his keys,” she stated, before turning around and walking off.
“And don’t bring your ass back, all this bullshit in my club,” MackLem grumbled, throwing his hands up.
“Fuck you, MackLem. Two name having ass nigga,” the woman fired back, still stomping off toward the locker room. When completely out of view, Erys looked at his father who sat back down.
“I leave when she leaves. We came together, we leave together. That simple,” Ernie muttered. It was fear. He hadn’t been amongst people in a long time and with the mystery woman, he was safe.
“Tone, tell your nephew I’ll get up with him later,” Erys huffed, taking a seat on the far end of the booth.
Tone shot Erys a humored expression. “To be real, that nigga in the studio. I just wanted you to come out and have some fun.”
Erys shot him an annoyed look. “Nigga, get-”
“I’m going to enjoy the VIP room, I’ll get up with you.”
“Do that,” Erys stated, eyes trained toward the dark hall the woman stomped off toward.
The environment wasn’t conducive to having a conversation with either party.
Ernie and Erys sat mere feet from each other with over three decades of questions between them in complete silence.
Almost twenty minutes later the woman returned with her duffle bag slung over her shoulder and a sweat suit covering her body.
Her hair was pulled into a floppy bun and her eyes avoided Erys.
“Ernie, you ready to go?” she asked, standing with her hand out to help him up. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“I’m good,” Ernie replied. “You didn’t eat.”
“I’m good. Gonna get you home and I’ll have a sandwich or something,” she replied, keeping the main thing the main thing. “You had an exciting day.”
“I had the best day,” he responded, standing and following her lead.
Erys watched as he walked behind the pair out the back door of the club and to the parking lot where the car was parked.
“I’ll take the keys,” Erys spoke, earning him a shot of her eyes over her shoulder.
“Nigga, I don’t know you. I drove him here, I’m driving him home. You look strong, you can walk ten miles back to the west side,” she replied, helping his father into the car.
Ernie eased into the car and looked up at him. “Get your big ass in the back.”
He caught the smug smirk on the woman’s face as she rounded the hood, threw her bag in, and slid in behind the wheel. She fired the engine up and glared at him.
“I’m not trying to piss him off and leave your big ass out here. So either you getting in or you’re walking. I don’t give a fuck either way.”
“You kiss my daddy with that mouth?” Erys shot back.
“Nigga, get your ass in this car and shut the fuck up!” Ernie bellowed. “I’m tired.”
Erys grumbled to himself and got in. The ride silent outside of the radio playing the hits from the sixties.
Erys had several pictures of his mother in this car, posed outside of it, and most of them with him.
He was shocked it still ran as good as it did.
When they arrived at the house, the woman whose name he hadn’t committed to memory helped his father inside.
Erys took in the house he had no memory of.
It was old, slightly cluttered but clean.
There was no sign a woman lived here though.
His eyes trailed them down the hall and his feet followed.
At the door of the hallway bathroom, he watched as she helped him undress, step into the shower, and wash him.
“If you’re going to stand there staring, you can at least hand me the underwear and pants off his bed,” the woman grumbled.
Erys moved across the hall finding the Depends and pants neatly placed on the bed. He returned to the bathroom where she was applying lotion to Ernie’s aged skin. She took the items from him and finished.
“Ready for bed or do you want a snack?” she asked, observing his tired eyes.
“You staying?” Ernie asked.
“I’ll be right next door; if you need me, you know how to get me,” she softly assured. Not like a lover or a woman who needed him but with respect.
Ernie nodded. “We’re still going to the laundromat tomorrow?”
“Yes we are. And the diner between loads. When you wake up, I’ll be ready. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Remedy,” Ernie stated, easing into the room and climbing into the bed. She ensured he was comfortable, night light on, tv on and the blinds closed.
“Don’t mention it. Night, Ernie.” She eased out the room past Erys. “He shouldn’t get up tonight and start wandering. The club tired him out.”
“How long has he been like that?” Erys asked, genuinely concerned.
“He’s your father, you figure it out.”
With that, she walked out the house leaving Erys to sit there with all the changes his absence brought.
Slumped on the sectional sofa, he kicked his feet up on the newspaper-covered ottoman, knocking over a stack of them.
He huffed and sat up to pick them up. Every paper was an article about him.
The military officer who’d really been a killing machine for the last fifteen years.
Smoky mirrors and rose-colored glasses sold to the public.
Erys looked at a few of them before tossing them on the other end of the couch and letting the faint scent of strawberries lull him to sleep.