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Chapter 5
Phin
Nine Months later.
Today is my nineteenth birthday. As I stood shirtless in front of the mirror in my little apartment above the bar, who I saw looking back at me was a different person than had arrived here nine months ago. I'd stopped looking at my reflection when I lived on the streets. Now the person staring back was a man; I was no longer a boy. My body and face were leaner, and I'd lost the soft edges that had me looking too young to be working at a bar. Duke had me boxing every week. When I started to do damage, he had me train with other guys closer to my age at the gym. We still worked out, and I enjoyed the time we spent together. The change in my body was unexpected, and I knew the women loved it, especially my well-defined abdomen. I'd begun to let women into my life, but only for casual hookups. They worshipped me the minute I took my shirt off, and I can't say I stopped them. Because of the scars on my back, I kept them focused on that part of my anatomy, and I had no complaints.
Stubble peppered my chin, and I left it because the girls liked that too. My dark hair needed a haircut, but I liked it longer than what was considered socially acceptable. My bangs were long across my forehead, which meant I played with them regularly to keep them out of my eyes. Duke, with his long hair, teased me mercilessly about my pretty, shiny hair. Even my dark green eyes had changed, they were deeper set and harder now. They'd seen so much in the last year. Nothing about me was the same, except somehow, I was happy for the first time possibly ever.
As it was my nineteenth birthday, Duke had let me drink for the first time despite not being legal yet. The day started with Bloody Marys at noon, and I don't remember what time I fell into bed, but I was sure it was well after 2:00 a.m. when the crowd left. The regulars were all in attendance, and they bought me endless rounds. Betsy, one of our regulars, brought in a giant chocolate sheet cake from the grocery store. I'd never had one of those cakes, my parents always bought a fancy one from some snooty bakery, and I was allowed to have one piece, and then it disappeared into the kitchen. My birthdays as a kid were always too formal and stuffy, never letting us run around and have fun. I envied those kids who were allowed to be kids. My mother especially wouldn't allow me to have my friends over because they might break one of the priceless antiques in the house. Thinking back, I didn't miss that life for a minute, especially since finding my first real home here at Duke's. Having a roof over my head and a place where I felt I belonged was the best gift anyone had ever given me.
Betsy slowly carried the blazing cake from the kitchen toward the bar while they all sang me a drunken rendition of "Happy Birthday." Once I blew out the candles, we all did a round of shots, and that's where my memory gets a bit hazy. The one thing I do remember is my face hurt from smiling; I don't think I'd ever been this happy in my life. I don't think Duke made much money that night, as there seemed to be a considerable amount of shots being tossed around the bar.
I do remember that earlier on in the evening; Duke had pulled me aside to give me a gift, while we all still had our faculties.
"Here, kid, I got you something."
"Old man, this is too much." It was a cell phone, a nice one that had Internet, email, and an expensive camera. It brought a tear to my eye; it was so thoughtful, and I didn't take for granted what this big scary guy had done for me. I had resisted spending my well-earned money on a cell phone because I was always concerned my parents would be able to find me. After the first night when I told Duke my story, he paid me under the table, no questions asked. Having the bar to call my home had been a godsend. I'd never anticipated this sort of kindness when I'd lived on the street. Like the mayor said, you have to pay it forward, and Duke had paid it to me in spades. One day I'd make it up to him and others who had helped me in my life.
"Not even, kid. I need to get in touch with you." We'd given each other the nicknames of “kid,” and “old man,” which seemed to work for everyone else in the joint. No one else called him old man, but everyone called me kid.
"You don't even know how to use it with your big old hands."
"You gotta teach me to use it." He gave me a sad smile. Looking at each other, we both silently remembered back to that first night I was here, telling him my sad story of abuse and neglect by my wealthy parents. He nodded and acknowledged, telling me he understood. Duke wasn't big on sharing, so I'd pieced together some of his story from observations, and the few stories he told about himself.
Standing behind the bar, gathering everyone's attention, Duke held up his glass in a toast to me. "To the kid, thank you for teaching this old dog a few new tricks and the bathroom has never been cleaner."
Everyone shouted together and laughed. "Here, here!"
I smiled and pounded one of many shots that I managed to drink throughout the evening and into the early morning. The alcohol made me feel warm, but I desperately wanted to remember everything I was feeling from the best birthday of my life.
Scrubbing my face, I tried to open my eyes, but they felt like they had been soaked in sand. I was relieved when I woke up the next morning, and the space next to me was empty. Occasionally, I woke up with some random girl who had stumbled in with her girlfriends on their way home from one of the trendy bars. I was particular about who I took upstairs when I had an itch to scratch. Sometimes it wasn't the young girls but the older regulars, and when I say older, I mean thirty or thirty-five. The older women were hot, and they told me what they liked and what they wanted me to do to them. They never expected more, and I enjoyed learning how to make them come. The few girls I'd dated in high school expected me to know where to touch them. How was I supposed to know? I don't have a vagina! Porn is only so practical; some girls didn't really like trial and error. Drunken fumbling in a girl's bedroom or the back of my car wasn't the best place to hone my moves.
That morning or should I say the afternoon was blurry and my head felt like it was in a vise. If I could have died that morning, I would have gladly left this planet. The pain was worse than any beating I'd ever taken from my father. I think it must have been the ten Irish Car Bombs I'd had. My stomach rumbled, I wasn't sure if I was gonna hurl or if I was hungry. I had a foggy memory of having eaten a burger at around 3:00 a.m.
"Never drinking again!" I muttered, hoping my promise would make me feel better. When I stood up, I steadied myself and tried to create spit, but my mouth was drier than the Mojave Desert in summer. Dragging my body, that felt like it was made of lead, I went downstairs to make some lunch before the bar opened. The thought of eating didn't sound good, and my stomach felt like it had a cinder block in it, but bacon always made me feel better. Bacon cures everything, right?
I was right; Duke was wiping down the bar in his customary place as I came stumbling down the stairs with no shirt on, just in my boxer briefs. "Hey."
He spoke up, a little too loud if you ask me, and smiled. "Hey."
Right now, I appreciated the fact that Duke was a man of few words. I sat there for a few minutes, giving him a weak smile, trying to focus my eyes as I sat at the bar.
"Want a BLT?" Voice a little louder than usual.
I groaned, "Fuck, yes. I thought you'd never ask, but can you keep it down." I scrubbed my face and tried to wake up.
The sound of his laugh made me realize he was talking loud on purpose. He poured me a large Coke and a glass of ice water. "Drink up, you'll feel better, then you can make me a damn sandwich."
My head rested in one of my hands, and the other ran through my hair. Trying to wake myself up wasn't easy; pretty sure I was still drunk.
"Kid, can you believe it's been almost a year since you walked into this joint?"
Shaking my head, I answered, "It’s only been nine months, but I know the time has flown by."
His smile turned down for just a brief second. "You've got two years to go until the big payoff."
I scrubbed my face. "Yeah, man, you changed my life. I thought I would be living on the streets the whole time." Suddenly this topic was sobering me up.
"Kid, you’ve helped out here more than I can even say. We've got the kitchen working, the upstairs is nice now, and you've helped me get my books organized. This place is finally turning a profit." His gaze was full of respect and admiration. Neither of us looked away. This feeling must have been what it was like to have your father be proud of you. The thought caused a big lump to sit in my already dry throat. This feeling was foreign to me. I worked hard in school, but neither of my parents seemed to care or ever think I was good enough.
"Duke, it's nothing. You saved my life." I couldn't put a value on what he'd done for me and how he'd become the father figure that I'd always craved.
He topped up my drink. "Kid, if we keep talking like this someone's gonna ask what time our periods start. Let's not let this happen again." I smiled up at him, knowing he wasn't comfortable with his feelings.
He was right; I had helped him get the bar organized and cleaned up. Working at the bar was a hard job, but I loved it. Of course, I wasn't running my father's multi-million-dollar empire, but I couldn't have been happier. The work I was doing for Duke was real work, and I'd learned so much that I looked forward to it every day. Duke would let me open and close the bard soon. Currently, I was managing the place, so he could take time off to go fishing or to ride his motorcycle. I'd been right about him from the beginning, he did ride a Harley and loved to collect different bikes. Duke had taken me out on one of his bikes a few times, and it was a fucking blast. He'd hoped that I'd work with him on fixing them up, but it didn't interest me. When I wasn't working at the bar, I spent time in my room reading historical autobiographies or relaxed watching documentaries on Netflix. Occasionally, I would go over to Duke's and hang out with him at his house when he wanted to tinker on his bikes or watch sports. He was proud of the fact he'd managed to get me interested in baseball. Let's go, Giants!
"Why wasn't Lana here last night?" Duke rarely asked about the girls that came in and out of my apartment, so I was a little shocked he asked about her.
Lana was my current friend with benefits; she was twenty-four and a semi-regular at the bar. I could tell she wanted more, but I wasn't up for a regular girlfriend. I'd been clear from the beginning that I wasn't looking for a relationship, and she assured me she didn't either, but she lied. She was in the bar most nights waiting until closing to see if I'd offer to take her upstairs. Inviting her to my birthday seemed too personal, and she might get the wrong idea. Lucky for me, she didn't come in, or I would have had some explaining to do. I had rules; one was I never let her stay over. Allowing her to sleep in my bed would give her the wrong impression, and I couldn't let her get close. The other was she couldn't touch my back.
"She wasn't invited," was all I said, so Duke let it drop.
We'd had sex a couple of nights ago down here in the bar, and when I was done, I realized I wasn't feeling it with her. I am not proud of myself, but we usually had sex down in the bar after we closed. I always made sure we both were satisfied, but there was no connection. I knew that I couldn't start a relationship with anyone given my situation, so I kept my heart on lockdown.
After eating and getting some hydration, I headed back to bed. When I had gotten up from my second nap, I got dressed and went downstairs again. I was sitting at the bar having some hair of the dog when Lana stormed in.
Before she even spoke, I held up my hand. "Not happening!"
Lana was average height, with ash-blond hair and very long legs. Her legs were her best feature, but her personality not so much. I didn't find out what she was like until after I'd fucked her. Lana was all the things I hated; she was shrill, opportunistic, and superficial. If she knew about my parent's money and my inheritance, I'd never get rid of her. Lana was my greatest mistake.
She was standing with her hand on her hip and tapping her faux expensive high heel. Everything about her was faux. She'd told me on our second date how she was saving up to have her tits done—what a waste of money.
"What the fuck, Phin? I came down here to hang out. Why can't you have a fucking cell phone like a normal person!"
Smiling up at Duke, neither of us said a word knowing that I had a cell now, but there was no way in hell, I was giving her my number.
Finally, I turned around to look at her, I might be hungover, but I wasn't a total douche. "Look, I'm hungover, and I'm going back to bed."
"Who did you go drinking with?" Her expression changed from annoyance to skepticism. She wasn't my girlfriend, so I didn't have to put up with the third degree.
"Lana, I work in a bar. I don't have to go anywhere. Some of the regulars just had a few too many last night."
"Fuck you. I am going home!"
She stormed out with a big pout and flipping me the bird. Duke was shaking his head as he saw the interaction.
"What's up your ass, big guy?"
"Kid, you've got to cut that one loose. She's not your normal, 'hit it and quit it' girl. You are going to find a bunny boiling soon. Rip off the Band-Aid."
I held up my hands in surrender. "Yeah, I know you're right. We haven't fucked in a couple of days, and she's champing at the bit. I've told her, but she doesn't get casual." I think I have learned my lesson regarding the "hit it and quit it."
"You might need to take a break from the fucking and ducking girls thing. One of these days, that magic wand will come down with a bad magic spell. Even worse, the wand will conjure up a little version of you. Trust me; you don't want that."
My eyebrows shot up; it seemed he was trying to tell me he had an unwanted kid out there. "You got a kid, old man?"
He didn't answer for what seemed like a long time; he just looked down at the bar and watched as his hand cleaned the top wearing a hole in the bar. He finally looked up at me, and his eyes were intense. If I didn't know him, I'd be scared right now.
"Yep, I do have a kid. A boy, about your age named Gray, lives up in Frisco. Don't see him; he doesn't know me. His mama wanted it that way. She and I fell in love one summer when we were your age. Her name was Daisy, and she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She was petite, with silky blond hair, the nicest pair of tits and the perfect sweetheart ass. I was fucking gone, kid."
This confession was the most Duke had ever shared with me in the past nine months. He turned away from me to adjust a bottle that didn't need it, and I heard him clear his throat. He turned back around, picked up two shot glasses and a bottle of our secret stash of top-shelf tequila. Filling the tumblers to the very top and dipping his head toward me to take it. We both powered them back in one go.
We both let out a satisfied sigh; the heat from the liquid ran down my throat and into my stomach. I waited for a second to see if I was going to be sick, but instead, the heat of the alcohol soothed me. You can't beat hair of the dog.
"What happened?"
He sighed again. "Kid, it's your typical bad boy, good girl, and a broken condom. Too young to know better and too stupid to think that love can fix everything. My old man was like yours, beat the shit out of me or my mom depending on who was closest. Daisy was my light, and I couldn't stay away from it." He laughed. "Believe it or not, I've never been a happy guy. She woke up and realized my darkness was too much for her. The pregnancy test was positive, and she said she'd do it on her own. Her parents were uptight and well off, so they sent her away to live with some aunt in the south. I never saw her again. I enlisted and went to the desert to try to forget her, but it didn't work. Tried to find her for a long time, but it was before the Internet." His eyes looked far away, like he imagined something far, far away.
Duke wasn't one for talking about his feelings, so I wasn't quite sure about what his darkness entailed, but I assumed it was a sort of PTSD. The most I could figure out was that he'd had some years of drinking and fighting that had taken him down a dark path after coming back from the war. He'd taught me to box and to appreciate baseball; I think these were some of his coping mechanisms to fight his own darkness. I didn't question his methods because they seemed to work for me too.
I was curious now; I had to know the rest of the story. "So, did you find your kid?"
