Chapter Thirty-two
Can someone explain this whole religion thing to me because I am mystified? Ryan studied his reflection in his bathroom mirror.
When he and Patricia had left Pastor Ward’s office, he had been hopeful. After that prayer session, surely things would be better . . . he thought. But Ryan didn’t know what happened to Patricia during the drive home because when he pulled his car behind hers and stepped out, a different woman exited her vehicle.
She was sullen, uncommunicative, and went to sleep without an explanation. What was the point of praying if she was going to forget everything once they left the pastor’s office?
Ryan reached for his electric razor, which he kept charged, to shave his cheeks, but he was so distracted he shaved off half his moustache.
His eyes widened in disbelief. What did he just do? Maybe it isn’t so bad. Ryan leaned into the mirror to look. I haven’t seen my upper lip in years. With a light buzz, he shaved off the other side. When he was done, he examined his work. He looked funny. Ryan’s hand grazed his upper lip. This “new him” was going to take some getting used to. He would see what Patricia thought.
Ryan entered the room, relieved to see she was still awake.
Patricia’s eyes zoomed in on Ryan’s face and became bug-eyed. “What did you do?”
Ryan shifted his eyes from hers. “It was an accident.” Please tell me I look good.
Patricia tilted her head back and laughed. She laughed and laughed, while he stood there blinking and blinking.
“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me. It can’t be that bad.”
She laughed some more before cupping her mouth. “I’m sorry. I think black men must always have facial hair. You remind me of Don Lemon.”
Ryan froze. He knew she wasn’t comparing him to that CNN reporter. Patricia knew he couldn’t stand him. He stomped into the closet, yanked clothes off the hangers from his otherwise organized closet, and quickly dressed.
Patricia’s laughter stung. There was a time when she would have cuddled him and told him how she thought he was cute. Instead, she had laughed at him. He knew it might seem petty, but Patricia’s response was big to him. She had always had his back. Always. Now he was a joke. Just like their sham of a marriage. Only he was the only one not laughing.
He was a grown man. There was no reason his wife’s mirth should rankle him, but it did. He felt self-conscious and naked without the hair on his upper lip.
Before he slammed the front door behind him, he mumbled, “Lord, I know I put myself in this mess, but if you could hurry up and get me out, I’d really appreciate it.”
Ryan rubbed his bare upper lip. It will grow back, he assured himself repeatedly as he slipped inside his Navigator. He couldn’t resist another peek. Luckily, his cell phone rang to distract him.
“Ryan, this is Frank returning your call. I was caught up in some other business.”
Frank. Ryan hunched into his seat. “Thanks for calling.”
“Let’s meet for coffee,” Frank suggested.
Something deep within beckoned Ryan not to take Frank up on his offer. “I was on my way to my office . . .” He thought of his son. His daughter. His wife. None of them were in his corner. He wasn’t sure what God was doing because He had him on a spiritual seesaw. His stomach churned.
“If you’ve changed your mind . . .”
No. Frank’s call might be God’s doing. Ryan needed help with this court case. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he said, gripping the steering wheel.
The two agreed to meet at a Dunkin’ Donuts in twenty minutes. Ryan shifted into drive and arrived in fifteen minutes. Sauntering into the donut joint, he ordered two coffees and a couple of muffins. Then he sat in a booth and waited for Frank.
Frank strolled in behind a young mother and her twin sons. Ryan watched the pudgy man charm the young lady and smiled. Frank made sure to strike up quick conversations with two other patrons before strolling over to Ryan’s table.
“Coffee?” Ryan asked.
Frank gave him a brief nod.
“I thought you’d look more . . . menacing.”
The other man laughed and sank his teeth into a muffin. “I get that all the time.” Frank frowned. “Believe me when I tell you, I get the job done.”
Ryan shuddered on the inside. Frank had transformed from unassuming to sinister in under two seconds. Maybe he should take Pastor Ward’s advice. The walk of a Christian meant faith in God. “Let God fight your battles” was what Pastor Ward sometimes said. But this problem could cost him millions of dollars and his reputation. What was a man without his reputation?
Before he could change his mind, Ryan wrote Jackson Higgins’s name and phone number on a napkin. “I need him annihilated. I need this case gone.”
Frank folded the napkin and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Consider it done. I’ll check in with you in a week.”
Ryan felt uneasy but gave Frank an uncertain nod.
Frank leaned into his ear. “This is not for the faint of heart. Be sure. There’s no undoing once things get started.”
Ryan gulped and held back his shiver. “I’m sure.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
It took Ryan an hour to steady his equilibrium. He wasn’t sure what Frank would do, but he knew he wouldn’t like it.
He knew he couldn’t go into work because there was no way he would be able to concentrate. Ryan drove around aimlessly before calling Brian. No answer. No surprise there. He tried Karlie next.
She picked up on his second ring. Ryan pulled over to the curb to speak to her. “How’ve you been?”
“I only picked up to let you know I’m ready to do the paternity test.”
Her frosty tone intimidated him somewhat. Ryan wasn’t sure how to connect with her. “I’m glad, Karlie. I need—no—we both need to know.”
“Fair enough, but I need you to know that no paternity test is going to change the fact that Neil Jameson is my real father.”
Her words cut deep. Though Ryan had felt Neil was best for her years ago, hearing Karlie say it jabbed a knife through him. “I wouldn’t try to take Neil’s place—”
“Good, because you can’t,” she interrupted.
Ryan counted to five. “I would like us to have a relationship if the results show I’m your father.”
“I . . .”
Ryan prayed she would give him a chance.
“Let’s do this, get the results, and then . . . We’ll see,” Karlie said. “I won’t make any promises, but that’s the best I can do.”
Considering his terrible deed, Karlie was being more than generous. “One day at a time,” Ryan said. “Thank you for answering my call.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Oakes.”
Her polite formality was more hurtful than her cool demeanor. “How’s Brian?”
“I saw him yesterday for the first time in about a month,” Karlie said. “He’s okay, I guess.”
That told him nothing, but at least Ryan knew his son was alive and well. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Karlie ended the call.
By the look and sound of things, Ryan had a long bumpy road ahead. Nothing in his life was going right. He slumped over the wheel. His life was so complicated. Life had wrapped itself around his neck and was squeezing the air out of him. Now he understood why some men shot themselves in the head because his brain was moving 300 miles a minute.
Ryan held his head with both hands as despair overwhelmed him. “It’s too much.” He turned his head and noticed the store sign. He had parked beside a gun shop.
Why not end it now?
What did he have to live for? He cupped the door handle. Maybe he would just browse. Take a look. Ask some questions. He applied pressure to the door so it swung open and placed one foot on the ground.
Then his phone rang.