Boss of Me

Halle starts laughing. They’re all three laughing when I notice a guy at the bar scowling at Red. Shit. He could be her boyfriend or her husband or just some drunk asshole who thinks she was with him first. I’m not interested in finding out.

Fishing out my wallet, I flag the waitress so we can go before any punches are thrown. I hate nights like this, but we’re in a situation. I can’t afford any more bad press because of him. I don’t want to hear about it from my dad, and I don’t want it getting back to clients.

I’ll walk him through this valley until we’re on the other side.

“Where’s a good rave club around here?” Halle is still perched on his lap, but Red is leaning on the table looking at her phone. Neither strikes me as very intelligent.

Halle leans forward. “You want to move it, move it?”

She laughs loudly, and Marley’s eyebrows shoot up.

He points at me. “Did you hear that? What she just said?”

Unfortunately, yes. “I hope I never hear it again.”

“Ah, fuck ‘em. I bet those guys liked it.” He looks up at Red. “Moto-Moto.”

Her nose wrinkles, and she yells back. “You like Madagascar or somethin’? That’s my son’s favorite movie.”

The waitress returns my check, and I quickly sign it, standing and catching Marley’s eye. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I expect him to fight me, but he doesn’t. He simply stands, moving Halle into his empty seat and follows me to the door. It’s a Friday night, so the foot-traffic is thick. Warm winds push past us, still I shove my hands in the pockets of my slacks. Marley digs in his pocket and pulls out that half-smoked blunt from before, quickly firing it up.

I’m not unhappy about this find. I hope it’ll make him sleep. God knows I’m tired, but I’ll keep going as long as he does. I’m not letting him slip out on me again.

He hands it over, and I take a pull.

“Remember Mexico?” His hands are free, and he’s moving fast.

“I’ll never forget it.” I pass it back.

“Yeah, looks like I won’t either.” He inhales deeply, speaking in a strained voice. “They say cocaine kills your memories, but it doesn’t kill mine.”

Regret flashes in my stomach. When we first got back, they gave us all medals and stuck us all in therapy. I never could let myself off the hook enough to get anything out of it, but now I’m trying to remember what the therapist said.

“The only way to get peace is to find it within yourself.” It sounds like bullshit to me, but I’ve heard it helps people.

“I’ll never have peace.”

I can’t tell him I’ll never have it either. Somebody has to be positive, and Taron isn’t here, not that I’m sure he’s feeling so high on life these days. Still, it’s not my style to be Pollyanna.

We’re in Cumberland Park, with the bridge to the right and the baseball stadium across from us. Lights flicker off the ripples on the black water, and I want to go to bed, sleep off this shit.

Marley’s eyes are fixed on the dark currents, and he stands up on the bottom rung of the metal fence. “Sometimes I wish they’d finished the job.”

“That’s the lack of sleep talking.”

The sound of live music and people on the streets echo around us, behind us. The river silently moves below, deceptively peaceful. It’s all so oblivious.

“Sometimes I close my eyes, and that hood is over my head. The torture wakes me up.”

I look up at him, and the street lights cast long shadows down his cheeks.

Reaching up, I grasp his forearm. “Get down. It’s time to rest.”

“I’ve been hearing noises outside my door at night. Someone’s trying to break in.”

I’m not sure if it’s the cocaine making him paranoid or if he’s having sleep-deprivation issues. “Come to my place and spend the night.”