Ice Heart Ch. 03

The bar was cool, inviting. He found a stool at the bar with ease; there were only four other people in the bar, himself, two men in cheap suits, a haggard looking woman, and the bartender, another haggard looking woman.

"Heya cutie," the bartender smiled tiredly.

It had been a while since anyone called him 'cutie,' and he sat up a little straighter and smiled at the woman. He made sure she saw the one hundred dollar bill and the second one as he peeled it out of his money clip.

"Baby, ain't got nothing smaller?" Jill asked. "It's only eleven o'clock; I don't have the change for that."

"If only I had a nickel for every time a woman said that to me," Hank boasted and she giggled.

He peeled off a twenty dollar bill and she made change.

Five hours later, some of the regulars started coming in, the jukebox started blaring the loud rock and roll music the afternoon crowd liked and the talk got loud and raucous.

Hank's good mood soured as the younger men got more of Jill's attention and he staggered to his feet and out of the door.

"Bunch of God damned punks," he muttered to himself, started his car, and pulled out onto Johnson Street, right in front of a school bus.

****

"That was your father in law," Sandra spat when an enraged Cris asked about the bill from the florist.

"I hope and pray you at least had the decency to make them arrange them to look like tap dancing shoes," he said.

"No," she said, hands on hips. "I had the decency to express your sincere sympathy and hope that he is at peace."

"What?" he yelled, and then burst out laughing, a harsh and bitter laugh. "No, I hope the son of a bitch spends all eternity roasting like a marshmallow."

"God's watching you, and He's listening to you," Sandra warned, waggling a finger at him. "You better watch it or He'll get you."

"He's not Santa Claus, Sandra," Cris laughed. "He's not making a list of who's naughty or nice."

"Know why Santa's always so jolly?" Sweet William asked as he strolled in.

"No, why?" Cris asked, letting a rare genuine smile crack his face.

"'Cause he knows where all the naughty girls live," Sweet William laughed. "Man, I want a bad ass bike like that! Ooh we! Them flames! Too sweet!"

"Like that, huh?" Cris asked. "Yeah, had the thing painted green, believe that? Green! So I took it in, had them paint it black with flames."

"You'll be feeling flames soon enough, you're not careful," Sandra warned.

"You go to Hank's funeral?" Sweet William asked.

"No, but I might go visit his grave," Cris said. "Make sure I drink a gallon of water first."

"Man, that ain't right and you know it," Sweet William said, losing his smile.

"I hope you can knock some sense into his head," Sandra said, leaving the office.

Chapter 10

Nicole swallowed her nerves and got out of the car. She didn't recognize the two cars in front of the building, nor the motorcycle.

The building itself hadn't changed in the eight years since the last time she'd come to Daddy's office. The parking lot was still just a pile of clam shells raked out to give an area for the cars. The vinyl siding that made up the exterior was gray, with a broad red stripe painted all along the front of the building. The red stripe was severely faded; it had been severely faded the last time she'd seen it. The glass door was heavily tinted so that you couldn't see in.

She reached out with her left hand to open the door and her eyes were immediately drawn to the half-carat diamond that adorned it. Her heart gave a little leap of happiness. Her man loved her and wanted to make it forever.

He'd asked Ann Marie to watch Freddy for a couple of hours and Nicole had used the breast pump and filled up a couple of bottles for him, then put on a nice little sun dress, yellow with red flowers, and Fred took her to Don's Seafood Hut.

Then he drove them out to Broussard and took her up in a tethered hot-air balloon.

She marveled as she looked out over Lafayette and the surrounding countryside in the last light of the day. It was truly a beautiful, almost breathtaking sight.

"Nicole," Fred said as he stood behind her, holding her tightly. "I know I'm not real handsome, and I know you could do a lot better than me..."

"Says who?" she asked, and twisted in his arms to kiss him. "Baby, I've never had anyone even half as good as you."

"Nicole, I want you, want you forever," he said and slowly got to his knees in front of her. "So I'm asking you, begging you to, will you marry me."

Nicole looked at the ring in his hand, then got down on her knees in front of him and looked him, brown eyes to brown eyes.

"No, Baby," she said, tears starting to fall from her eyes. "I'M begging YOU if you'll marry me."

"That's about a 'Yes' ever I heard one, yeah," the man operating the balloon said and laughed as Nicole and Fred clung tightly to each other.

Am Marie was bubbling with excitement as Nicole and Fred came home; Fred had clued her in on his plans.

"Well?" she demanded.

She had tolerated the man when she first met him. Barely. "Thankfully," she had thought, "I'm not the one dating him." But seeing his devotion to Nicole, to her, to their son, to Sophia, and to herself, she realized what Nicole had seen in the man. She realized that she not only accepted him, but loved him.

"Momma, Fred asked me to marry him," Nicole gushed, thrusting out the ring for her mother's approval.

"And Nicole asked me to marry her," Fred chimed in, scrawny chest puffed out with pride.

Sandra looked up, stricken, when Nicole entered the lobby.

Cris was in a foul mood; months of sample collection in Nigeria were found to be tampered with and they had to make a multi-million dollar decision. Go back to Nigeria, sidestep an extremely corrupt government, contend with terrorist faction groups, and try to get accurate soil samples and seismic readings, or scrap the entire project.

He had gone there himself and spent nearly three weeks, trapped in his hotel room; the corrupt government waylaid him, tied him up in paperwork and attempted to exhort bribes from him in order to clear him to visit his own office and work site in Nigeria.

So Norman James was holding him personally responsible for the success or failure of this trip.

And now his daughter, his daughter that had estranged herself from him for over two years was standing here. Cris was going to hit the roof, most likely have a coronary.

"What are you doing here?" Sandra hissed, trying to keep Cris from hearing her.

Nicole was both puzzled and hurt by Sandra's reaction.

"I, I come to see my Daddy," she said.

"Oh Nicole, I wish you had called first," Sandra groaned. "Now is just not a good time!"

"What do you want?" Cris asked from the doorway of his office.

"Hi Daddy," Nicole smiled and practically skipped over to him.

Daddy had changed since the last time she'd seen him. The last time she'd seen him, he had on a frumpy, wrinkled suit, a ridiculous hairpiece and his skin was grey, lifeless.

This Daddy had a bald head, but a healthy tan, a tailored suit, stood erect, not slumped over, not sunken in.

"Hi, what do you want?" he asked harshly.

"Um, I'm um, I'm getting married," Nicole said, feeling almost as if she'd been struck from the icy rebuff.

"Congratulations, that still doesn't tell me why you're here," Cris said flatly.

"At least talk to her," Sandra begged.

"Nothing to talk about; she cut me out of her life years ago. Just took me a while to notice it," Cris barked at Sandra.

"Daddy?" Nicole asked, feeling physically ill.

"What?" he spat out.

"I'm um, I'm getting married next month, his name is Fred Dumas, isn't that funny? I won't even have to change my name and I was hoping you'd walk me down the aisle," Nicole stammered, choking down the bile in her throat.

"Get Tom Sampo to do it," he said and returned to his desk.

"I um, he's not a part of my life any more," Nicole said from the doorway.

"Damn shame," Cris said. "'Cause you made good and God damned sure I'm not either."

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Nicole said.

"So am I, you selfish, self-centered little bitch," he spat. "So am I."

"Cris!" Sandra shrilled.

"What?" Cris yelled. "She has to hear it! Hasn't seen me in over two years and the only damned reason she's here now is, surprise, surprise, she wants something!"

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a file and threw it on his desk.

"Nineteen ninety seven, I had to turn down a manager's position in Santa Barbara, California. Why?" He said. "Because you had just started at Saint Thomas Moore and were trying out for the cheerleading squad. Didn't make it, but that promotion went to Vince Guidry. Know what his bonus was first year he was out there? One million eight."

"I didn't, how I'm supposed to know Chelsea didn't want me on the squad?" Nicole defended, shaking.

"Two thousand, I'm asked to take over vice-president of Pilot, move out to Houston," Cris went on. "Had to respectfully decline because my daughter was training with a tennis coach, even though they got tennis coaches in Houston. Ernie Brazwell got it instead. I don't even want to tell you what his bonus was last year."

He put the file back into the desk drawer and looked at her.

"Tell me, Nicole, how's that tennis thing coming?" he said nastily.

"I um," she said, and then disappeared from the doorway.

Cris heard her retching and heard Sandra cooing and murmuring words of comfort.

"Daddy, I'm really sorry," Nicole said a moment later, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Uh huh," he said. "Tell me, Nicole, how long was I gone before you even noticed I wasn't there?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Uh huh," he said. "Let's see, I gave up vice-presidency of Pilot for your tennis lessons and went to one match. One. And the only reason I went to that was because I overheard your mother talking about it to one of her friends. Any idea what that feels like, Nicole? To not even be invited to your daughter's tennis matches? Nicole, you were my sun and my moon, and you just slammed the door in my face? Any idea what that's like?"

"Daddy, I, I..." Nicole stammered, tears streaming down her face.

"And your eighteenth birthday party; my little girls' now an adult, but I was asked not to be there," he went on. "Make myself scarce."

"Daddy, we..." Nicole said.

"Nicole!" Sandra said, shocked that a daughter would ask her father not to attend a party.

"And your high school graduation, no invitation, but I did so love the little message you wrote on the envelope I sent you," Cris went on.

He could hear Sandra tut-tutting that.

"Then you have a baby; I'm a grandfather, but I don't hear about it from you; Sandra has to be the one to tell me about it," he said. "And love the 'thank you' card for the rattle and savings bond." (There had been no 'thank you' card.)

He turned to face his computer monitor.

"Beautiful last words I heard out of you, too, 'God Dad, you're being such an ass hole.' Well, guess what, Nicole? Dad's going to be an ass hole from now on," he said and clicked on an icon on the screen.

"And now you're here because you're getting married," he said and started to type on the keyboard. "Well, la de fucking dah but I won't be there. Congratulations, Nicole, you got what you wanted; me out of your life."

****

The school bus driver and the parents of several of the children on the bus sued the estate of Henry 'Hank' Joseph Campion, as well as the bar. Any inheritance Ann Marie would have received from his one hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy was quickly devoured by the numerous law suits.

"They're putting a lien on me?" she wailed to the lawyer from Young Insurance.

"I'm sure it'll come to nothing," he nervously tried to assure her.

"Uh huh, can I get that in writing?" she snapped and hustled to bring another pot of coffee out to the customer that had been trying to get her attention while the lawyer was talking to her.

"Nothing from nothing leaves anything," Harriet said and the lawyer left the diner.

"Oh, God, why even bother?" Ann Marie wailed.

"'Cause you got a daughter needs you, got another daughter says she's an adult, but she needs you too," Harriet shrugged.

"Uh huh," Ann Marie said and pasted on a smile for the handsome young man that came into the diner.

"So, how long you been with Pilot?" she asked as she recognized the PPEDI logo on his shirt.

"Um, four months; you know what Pilot is?" he said, surprised.

"Yeah, my hus, my ex-husband is the president of the Louisiana division," she said and set the silverware down on the table.

"Mr. Dumas?" the man asked. "Man, he's a hard ass! Can't blame you for leaving him!"

****

"Hey, Wright!" the manager yelled into the darkened stockroom. "Some girl's out here wants to see you!"

"Yeah?" he smirked, assuming some customer had seen him, saw how hot he was, how no one else could rock her world like he could, and was asking for him.

"Aw, man, what the fuck you want?" he spat, seeing Nicole.

After her brutal confrontation with her father, she was almost desensitized to Zack's outburst.

"Hey, there somewhere we can talk?" she asked.

"Smoking area out back," the manager said.

Zack looked at her. She really was a beautiful girl; long thick brown hair, warm brown eyes, full dick sucking lips, nice tits and a cute ass. All that beauty hid a real stuck up bitch.

"Look, Fred and me are getting married," she started off.

"That fucking loser?" he laughed.

"He's not a fucking loser; he's ten times the man you'll ever be," she spat, eyes flashing angrily.

"Yeah, whatever," Zack sneered.

"Look, I came to tell you I don't want no more child support from you," Nicole said. "I want you to give up all rights to Freddy altogether, okay?"

"Yeah, and what's in it for me?" Zack asked, smirking at her.

"What's in it, oh come on Zack!" Nicole shrilled. "The baby's almost six months old now and you ain't never once come out to see him! And you won't have to be sending me a hundred a week no more. What else you want?"

"Yeah, you right," he said and flicked his cigarette toward the overflowing ashtray.

"Okay, I got these papers off the Internet; you just sign here and here," she said and pulled the papers out of her purse.

"At least one thing went right today," she thought as she got back into Ann Marie's car and drove back to her home, the home she and Fred and Freddy and Momma and Sophia shared.

****

Norman James was not happy with Cris's decision to 'wash their hands' of Nigeria.

"Norman, by the time we get the go-ahead from this government official, he's either killed off, or forced out of office and then we got to start all over again; I say it's just not worth it," Cris said into the phone. "No, no, they 'SAY' they want our business, but they really just want our dollars and screw doing anything for it."

He ignored Sandra's hateful glare as she brought him the cup of coffee.

"Fine, fine, send Guidry out there, see if he can do any better," he said tersely. "I just know I ain't going back to that shit hole."

"Your own daughter?" Sandra hissed and Cris waved her away.

"Fine, if that's how you really see it, I'll fax you my resignation effective immediately," Cris said. "It has been my pleasure to be of service to you for these many years but..."

He hung up and took the cup of coffee and blew on it before taking a large gulp.

"God damn it, Sandra! He yelled. "Sweet and Low? I HATE Sweet and Low!"

She reappeared in the doorway of his office, smirking at his consternation.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said in a voice that let him know she wasn't sorry at all. "I meant to put salt in it."

"Why didn't you just spit in it?" he asked her as she took the offensive cup of coffee from him.

"What makes you think I didn't?" she asked and left the office.

****

Ann Marie stared at Nicole as Nicole recounted her conversation with Cris.

"You are kidding me," she finally said. "That doesn't sound like him at all!"

"I mean, he brought up all this stuff from like two years ago," Nicole sniffed and took Freddy from her breast and gently burped him.

"Want me to go have talk with him?" Fred asked angrily.

"That's sweet, but, no, no, he was pretty mad with me; don't need you getting into it too," Nicole said, soothing Fred's male ego.

"Oh I wish I still had his phone number!" Ann Marie spat. "I would give him a piece of my mind, that's for sure!"

****

He got onto his motorcycle, kicked it into life, and roared away. There had been no tearful good-byes; he'd not told Sandra that he'd faxed in his resignation, Charlie Wertmuller, the vice-president of the Louisiana Division was the only one he'd told.

Charlie had merely shrugged, shaken Cris's hand, wished him well, then sat back down at his desk.

Cris felt a huge weight lifted from his shoulders and wondered why he had not done these years ago. He pulled up to the apartment building, parked his bike in the small shed he'd built behind the building, next to his Indian Chief and locked the shed.

Cam Pao's garden was looking very nice; the peppers were large and a deep rosy red. The tomatoes were fat, pulling the vine down. Her summer squash looked succulent. She'd told him if he ever wanted any of the vegetables that grew out in her garden, he could just help himself, but he did not. She worked hard on each individual plant; each individual vegetable received her attention.

He smiled; the 'scarecrow' she'd erected looked exactly like her; cone shaped straw hat, loose top and pajama bottoms fluttering in the breeze, stick in hand, tilling the soil.

He went into his apartment, fixed himself a stiff gin and vermouth, took a sip and smiled. It was a good drink, a fitting toast to a good day.

The visit from his daughter had been a bit of a cloud on the day; he really did not like to be reminded of his past life. A life when he bent over backward to make others happy and denied himself any happiness, denied himself any creature comforts just so that others could be happy.

"Well, didn't make them very happy, now did it?" he said aloud, the gin and vermouth beginning to sour in his gut. "Had to run off, fuck somebody else. And how long? Huh, Nicole, just how long was I gone before you even noticed I wasn't there any more?"

He poured the drink down the sink, debated with himself on what to have for dinner, and then decided he wasn't very hungry. Besides that, the pickings were slim in the refrigerator; tomorrow was his grocery day.

Maybe resigning wasn't such a great thing after all. Work gave him refuge from the non-stop barrage of thoughts. Work gave him somewhere to pour his resentments and his bitterness. Work gave him a sense of purpose, of definition.

He knew he had a reputation of being a hard task-master, of being a hard-ass. He knew that the majority of his employees did not like him, spoke ill of him behind his back.

"Well, maybe they'll like Charlie Wertmuller better," he said, stripped out of his suit and tie and stretched out on his bed.

****

Cam Pao woke up when she heard the motorcycle start up. She peered out of the window to see Missah Cris, dressed in leather jacket and blue jeans ride off, duffel bag draped across the seat behind him.

****

"Where the hell is your boss?" Ann Marie shrilled as she stormed into the building.

Sandra smiled tightly as she pointed to Charlie's door.

The man was a horse's ass; a buffoon that had been riding Cris's coat tails for years, but believed he could do a much better job than Cris Dumas. In Sandra's opinion, the man was in for a much deserved rude awakening.

"Just what the fuck do you mean...?" Ann Marie screamed then stopped as a frightened Charlie Wertmuller looked at her.