It's All a Matter of Choice Page 4
Oh, he would sometimes go a week or two sober and working, especially after Anita put her foot down, but inevitably he would backslide into his old ways, thinking he could have a beer or something, then tumbling back into the bottle completely. He would get picked up by the police and Anita would dutifully pay his fine and bring him home.
It was when Anita came home during her lunch break when everything came to a head. She found her father sprawled naked on her good couch in the living room with two scrawny dirty-looking and nude women, one black and one white. The white woman was giving him a blowjob as he leisurely drank a beer, while the black woman sat on the arm of the sofa above his head, sucking on a crack pipe.
Anita went ballistic. She threw all of them out…including her father. Upon further investigation, she found her father had also used her bed to have sex in, the stains still on her white sheets. Anita threw up, then…without thinking…packed her bags and caught the first bus north, leaving everything else behind.
She had to get away from her father.
But John felt his daughter owed him. He had given her life after all…plus she was a soft touch when it came to him. He called his friend again and found Anita a few towns over. After a lot of pleading on his part, Anita took him in again, only to find he hadn’t changed. Once again she moved out at the first opportunity. Now, he was trying to find her again.
“Where did she go?” he asked the landlady.
Joan frowned at him.
“She didn’t say where she was going. She simply informed me she was moving, took half her security, packed her bags and left. I can’t say I blame her. You were ruining her life with your shenanigans,” Joan sniffed at him.
“Bullshit,” John spat at the landlady, “She’s my daughter and she loves me.”
He was feeling miserable. He had just got out of jail that morning after spending a week there for public intoxication. This time Anita wouldn’t come and get him, tired of paying his fines.
“She may love you, but she’s moved on. Why don’t you go get a job and stop living off of her?” Joan asked him, her arms folded across her chest. “She’s got a right to live her own life.”
“I bet you told her to go, you nosey old busybody,” John snarled at her.
“Oh no you don’t. You only have yourself to blame. You’re a horrible father,” Joan spat back at him.
John’s reddened eyes grew even redder with rage. Luckily Joan realized this and slammed the door, locking it as the irate man banged on her door ferociously. If she hadn’t ducked back into the house, most likely it would have been Joan being battered.
“I’m going to call the police!” Joan cried through the door, her voice shrill with fear.
“You do that you old cunt!” John cursed, giving the door a final punch before walking away unsteadily. He needed a beer. Now.
As he walked quickly away from the complex, John felt his pockets, reached in and drew out a few bills. Good. He had enough to make a long distance phone call.
“I’ll find you, Anita,” he said under his breath. “I always find you. You’re my blood. You can’t hide from me for long.”
*
For the first time in years, Emmet left work without his briefcase full of paperwork. He was in a very good mood. As he headed with the rest of the associates for the elevator that led down to the parking garage, he saw Anita leaving, heading toward the front of the building. He watched her so intently as he walked, he bumped into Susan, bouncing off her big boobs.
“Hey, watch it!” she said, frowning at Emmet, who turned red.
“Oh…sorry,” he said, wondering if all women’s breasts felt so…hard.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” she said stiffly, turning and stalking off toward the elevators. She was pissed she had to do his paperwork now.
Emmet blinked after her a moment and looked back toward where he last saw Anita. She was gone.
After waiting patiently, Emmet got on the elevator with several other associates. Brandon was also riding, crowing about the interview Emmet had arranged.
“Yep. I’m flying up to New York on Thursday. Going to talk to old Grimes himself,” Brandon bragged, “Once I land this contract, I will be the top closer in B, B & B history. The contract is worth millions. Millions. Hobson’s got its hands in everything. You’re looking at the new Golden Boy.”
Emmet scowled slightly as he listened to Brandon. He didn’t even mention it was Emmet who set up the interview. As Brandon continued to talk about his upcoming interview with Jonathan Grimes, Emmet found himself hoping the contract would fall through, despite the fact he would receive a huge bonus if Brandon was successful. The truth was, if not for Emmet, Brandon would hardly have any interviews at all. He wasn’t good at setting them up. He was the kind of man that worked better dealing with others face to face, where he could use his confidence and good looks to his advantage. On the phone…he sucked.
The elevator stopped and the associates filed out, heading for their cars. Emmet walked up to his, unlocked it and got in. He sat there for a few minutes, waiting for the other associates to pull out. His Acura made so much noise when it started up, it was embarrassing. He really needed to buy a new car.
Finally, the last co-worker pulled out and Emmet started up his car. It knocked, banged, coughed, then the engine caught as a large puff of black smoke blew out of the exhaust pipe. Emmet threw it into reverse, backed out, then threw it in drive, exiting the parking lot and heading down the main road toward the deli. As he drove, he saw Anita waiting at the bus stop. He was on the far left of the road, but slowed anyway. She was just standing there, looking in the direction the bus would come from.
Emmet sighed. He would have liked to offer Anita a ride, but didn’t dare put her in his rattrap of a car. It would be too humiliating. A short horn blast behind him made him accelerate. He drove away, frowning slightly.
Tomorrow he was having lunch with Anita. It was almost a date in a way, though it was just the cafeteria. Emmet wondered if he should tell his mother not to make his lunch, or just take it and pretend he ate it. June would be aghast at his spending good money in the cafeteria. She’d probably have a heart attack if she knew he was buying lunch for…gasp…a woman.
Emmet smiled wickedly as he imagined treating his mother with smelling salts from the first aid kit in the bathroom, trying to revive her after she passed out from shock that he was interacting with a “potential gold-digger.”
He pulled up in front of the deli and looked in the window. There was hardly any line. A rarity. Still smiling about his mother, Emmet strolled into the shop and ordered her nightly meal.
He decided he would tell her about his lunch date with Anita.
Honesty was the best policy after all…
Chapter 4 ~ A Bit More History
About ten minutes after Emmet drove by, the bus arrived and Anita boarded it, heading for the cheap motel she was staying in across town. She’d have to find other accommodations soon. She was tired of listening to people fucking all around her. The walls were so thin it seemed as if they were made of paper. It didn’t help that the motel had “short term” rates. Guests could rent the rooms for four hours at a time and quite a few unsavory types took advantage of the deal, including patrons from the bar across the street where Anita met Brandon for the first time.
Anita looked out of the bus window absently as it rolled through the town. She needed to find an apartment. Hopefully her father wouldn’t find her this time. John Bowen was bad news. Anita sighed as she thought about him. Maybe she would have to get a restraining order to keep him away from her. She hated the idea because John was her father, but the truth was he was ruining her life.
She didn’t know why she cared about him so much. He was never there when she was growing up. Well, he popped up once when Anita was eleven, after being released from prison.
The doorbell had rung and Anita ran to answer it. She opened the door and a man stood there with a little stuffed dog in his ha
nd. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was very handsome. He was wearing a suit.
“Anita?” John Bowen said to her.
“Yes, I’m Anita. Who are you?” she asked him curiously.
“I’m your daddy,” John replied.
Suddenly Anita felt her mother’s hand rest on her shoulder and squeeze it hard as she pulled her back from the doorway. Anita stared at the man. Her daddy?
“I told you that you couldn’t come here, John,” Marion said to him, her other hand going to the door.
John looked at his wife. He hadn’t seen her in ten years. She looked hardened, skinny and tired, her blue eyes narrowed. He looked back down at Anita.
“I just wanted to see Anita and give her this,” he said, holding out the stuffed dog.
Anita took it, still staring up at her father.
“They let you out of jail?” she asked him.
John nodded.
“Yes, and I am never going back,” he replied, smiling at her. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m going to get a job and help your mother to take care of you now.”
”We don’t need your help, John. The best way you can help is to leave us alone. We’ve managed without you this long,” Marion said bitterly.
“I want to do right by Anita,” John said to the angry woman.
“John, I’ve already gone through this with you. You couldn’t do right if it were mapped out in front of you. Sure, you’ll start out good…but it will end up with you sucking on a bottle and breaking into somebody’s house,” she spat.
John frowned at Marion blackly, then looked down at Anita.
“Fine thing to say in front of my daughter,” he said in a low voice.
“It’s the truth and you know it, John. Now please leave and don’t come back. If you do, I will call the police,” Marion said.
John looked at Marion. When he was with her, if she had talked to him that way, he would have slapped the spit out of her mouth. But if he touched her now he knew he’d go back to prison. Those controlling days were over.
“Fine. But I’ll be mailing you some money as soon as I get settled,” he said. He looked down at Anita.
“Bye Princess. Your daddy loves you,” he said, reaching out to touch Anita’s hair. Marion pulled her back.
“Just go, John,” she said.
He looked up at his wife then turned and walked back up the walk. Marion closed the door.
Anita looked up at her.
“That was really my daddy?” she asked her mother.
Marion looked down at her daughter.
“Yes. That is your biological father. As far as “daddy” goes…no, he’s not. I’m your mother and your father, Anita.”
Marion walked back into the living room, followed by Anita who looked thoughtful.
“He’s handsome, mommy,” she said.
Marion sighed.
“The devil is a beautiful person,” she replied, sitting down on the couch.
Anita sat next to her, holding her stuffed animal tightly. Her daddy had given it to her. Anita’s brow furrowed.
“What does that mean, mommy?” she asked. She always thought the devil was red and had horns and a long red tail. That didn’t sound beautiful at all.
“It means, Anita, that just because a person looks good…it doesn’t mean they are good. Your father has problems, Anita. He can’t be good. He does bad things all the time,” Marion said.
“But mommy, he’s been in jail for so long, maybe he learned his lesson. Maybe he will be good this time,” Anita said hopefully.
Marion shook her head.
“I was with your father a long time before I had you, Anita. Believe me when I tell you he hasn’t changed. He can be good for a little while, but he always goes back to being bad,” she said to her daughter. “I don’t think it good to have him around us.”
“He could have changed though,” Anita said stubbornly. “He said he wasn’t going to go back to jail anymore. I believe him. He’s my daddy and I want to get to know him, mommy. Everyone else has a father…I want one too.”
Marion looked down at her daughter, her eyes filling with tears as she thought about the disappointment that was in store for her.
“All right, Anita. Let’s do a little test. He said he was going to mail us money. Let’s see if he does that. If he does…I’ll arrange for you to spend a little time with him,” she said, her heart sinking at Anita’s bright smile. She hugged her mother.
“Thank you, mommy. He’ll send it,” she said.
Marion patted her back.
“We’ll see, Anita,” she said softly.
Of course, John didn’t send them a dime…then Anita found out he had gone back to prison for new crimes. She was heartbroken.
“I didn’t even get to talk with him,” she sobbed against her mother.
“That bastard,” Marion thought. “We’re better off without him, Anita,” she said to her crying daughter.
But Anita never believed that. Not until John Bowen had been released from prison eight years later and somehow found her. At first, Anita was happy to have her father in her life, especially since Marion was dead and she had no one else. John was very helpful. He cleaned, cooked, set out the trash and fixed things around the apartment. He also explained to Anita how hard it was for a felon to get a regular job, but he did go out and find odd jobs to do. He contributed financially to help pay bills and bought food. Then he started to buy beer along with the food. Anita had no problem with this.
But then he just started buying beer. Then liquor. Anita watched John Bowen spiral down from a dream father she’d always imagined into the man he really was. It was horrible. Anita never had to deal with anything like this before and she was in over her head. She didn’t want to abandon John…it seemed the world had been doing that to her father for years…so she dealt with him until she couldn’t take it anymore. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to get out. So she left instead.
Then he found her again. And again. Over the past four years he’d managed to track her down no matter where she went.
Running away was a coward’s way out…Anita knew this. It rankled a bit too, because Anita was strong about everything else…except her father. John Bowen was the only thing in the world she ran from, and she couldn’t understand it.
Her father was also the reason she never had a real relationship…not that she was ready to tie herself down to anyone yet. But if she did entertain the idea, John would certainly be a hindrance. One night she brought a rather sweet and nervous young man home with her from a local club intending on fucking his brains out and John was on the couch, drunk and wide awake.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he roared at her.
Anita was so embarrassed.
“To my room. I have a guest,” she said, reddening.
John stood up.
“You think I’m going to sit here while you bone my daughter?” he yelled at the young man, whose name was Ernest.
Ernest was visibly trembling. He was already nervous enough with Anita choosing him to come home with her. It took a few very hot kisses in the parking lot to convince him to follow her in his car. Anita was so pretty he couldn’t believe she wanted to be with him. But she was horny and he fit the bill. Shy and a bit dorky.
“Um, no sir. I was just leaving,” Ernest said, wrenching his hand out of Anita’s and streaking for the door.
Anita had a terrible argument with her father, but it ended up unresolved since he passed out on the couch, and had no recollection of anything the next day. Anita started using motels whenever the urge hit her after that.
Anita sighed. Now she was living in a motel.
The bus rolled to a stop in front of the motel and Anita exited, the bus driver looking at the brunette appreciatively as she walked down the short stairs and stepped on the pavement.
“Have a good day,” he called after her.
“Thanks,” Anita said, turning and giving him a smile.
Inside the motel office, Al, the Indian proprietor watched Anita walk across the parking lot, then when she was out of sight, looked at the security monitor to make sure she got to her room safely. Normally his motel was used for quick trysts by prostitutes, addicts, patrons from the bar across the street and people having tawdry affairs. Anita was the only real guest he had and considering his usual clientele, he was a bit concerned for her safety. He already moved her once, saying there was a problem with the heating, but in reality, he didn’t want anyone to know she was in residence in that room. They might try and break in. She really should have chosen a better motel in a better area, yet he figured the low rates were the reason she stayed here.
He waited a few moments, then picked up the phone and dialed Anita’s room. It rang twice before she picked it up.
“Hello?” Anita said.
“Hello, Miss Bowen. This is Al at the front desk making a courtesy call. Do you need anything?” Al asked in his musical voice.
Anita smiled. Al was very considerate considering the kind of establishment he ran.
“No, Al…I don’t. But thank you for asking,” she replied.
“Did your interview go well?” he asked.
“Yes, I got the job,” Anita responded.
“Excellent! That is very, very good Miss Bowen,” he said delighted.
“Yes it is, Al,” Anita replied, “Thank you for calling.”
”Goodnight, Miss Bowen,” Al said.
“Goodnight,” Anita said, hanging up the phone.
Anita was sure Al wasn’t the proprietor’s name. It was most likely a shortened version of his real name to save guests the trouble of trying to pronounce it correctly.
She sighed and sat down on the bed. There was fresh bedding and her room had been cleaned. The mattress sagged in the middle however…probably due to too much usage…but there was a protective cover over it, then the sheet. Anita wouldn’t care to have one of those ultraviolet stain lights in here. She could only imagine what she would find.