TJ

By Boris Beedle

Good-looking, sexy, superstar actor, TJ Hartwell, grew up with an abusive mother and an absent father until the day he decides to find him. When his father, Tony, agrees to meet him for the first time in 25 years, their night together turns into something neither one of them could have predicted. It's a night that includes accusations and denials and sobering lessons with twists and turns that take both men far off course what either of them could have seen. As they try to find a way to reconcile, TJ and Tony confess things to each other they have never told another living soul and reveal bombshells that are mind blowing to both. "TJ" is about all of us; sons and daughters, husbands and wives. It is unprecedented access into a very private and profound conversation between two men who will find out more about themselves and each other in one night than they have in 25 years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483534619

Book preview

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TJ sat on the couch in the hotel suite he had rented for the night, gripping a glass of scotch, staring at the carpet and waiting for his father to knock on the door. It had taken him – or rather his assistant – a few minutes to book the room but it was a reunion he had both feared, and looked forward to, for over 2 months; from the time he first learned his father had been found until now. And here it was. Zero hour. Time up.

Tony, Senior left when Tony, Junior - TJ - was just 4. He had seen his father every now and then after that until his father moved to some city TJ didn’t remember just after he turned 6. Until then Tony’s presence in his life had gone something like this: after he left their mother, Tony would come by when it suited him, he and T.J.’s mother would inevitably get in a fight about something, anything. TJ would have no quality time with his father. Tony would stomp out as he threw $20, $50 or any amount of cash he had on him on the kitchen table and leave as he slammed the door. The cash would have to make do for child support because Tony certainly wasn’t paying that on a regular basis.

TJ and his little sister watched all this play out every few weeks, either hiding under their mother’s bed or trying to make themselves invisible in any way they could. Their little bodies trembling with fear from the shouting, cursing, sometimes glass breaking, definitely door slamming that went on almost every time their Dad visited. But they mostly trembled because with each visit they never knew what the endgame would be and how this day, this moment would play out. They had no control over the situation and didn’t know if someone would get hit, would get hurt or would die because of the violence of their fights.

TJ sighed and got up from the couch as the memories tumbled through his mind. He walked to the suite’s expansive windows and slid open the glass doors but didn’t step outside on to the balcony, not wanting to risk recognition from the hotel guests on either side of him, or possibly a resident of the apartment building across the street. All the time he had been dreaming about one day making a living as an actor, he hadn’t thought about the pitfalls of being famous. He hadn’t really gripped the concept then that if you were a working actor, you could, of course, become well known for it and with that name and face recognition would come fame, and that fame ultimately, was its own prison. Yes, one with velvet handcuffs, but still a prison where he had to second-guess every move he made and every thought he had before he took action. He hadn’t fully grasped that it would be like this.

The sun was beginning to set and TJ’s body tensed, knowing his father would be here in a few minutes, if he showed up at all. He didn’t know what he was going to say or do. There had been so many imaginary conversations in his head when he thought about this day and now he was just numb and paralyzed. He wished the visit, as he’d come to refer to it, was over already and it hadn’t even started.

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Tony got out of the SUV that had been sent for him with a small suitcase, but his legs wouldn’t move him any further. He looked at the entrance to the hotel, the funky wood doors with red inlays that opened into what he assumed was the hotel lobby and just stood there, frozen. There was activity all around him; cars driving up to the entrance, valets grabbing keys and giving tickets, people walking in and coming out. They all ignored him, everyone caught up in their own universe.

He had been fine until now. Not even nervous. He had gone through a gamut of emotions since the Private Investigator, a P-I, had contacted him to tell him his son had hired him to find him and wanted to meet him: at first fury that he had been hunted and tracked down but then disbelief, intrigue, maybe even excitement, but never nerves. And now when the moment was imminent, he found himself not quite terrified but anxious and yes, nervous. He didn’t know what to expect once he set foot inside the hotel room. A hug? A punch in the face? Some thugs waiting to beat him up? Although he doubted the last two. What son would go through all the trouble to hire a P-I to find him only to physically harm him as soon as he walked through the door; although he had heard about TJ Hartwell’s temper. He was sure it had happened with other sons and fathers but probably not in this case. Not when your son was a famous actor and there were any number of news outlets he could go to, to sell his story and the pictures of his swollen face.

No. Tony Junior wanted to see him. Confront him, probably. Yell at him, vent, accuse, insult, cry even, but not punch him. So why couldn’t he take the steps up and into that lobby? Tony looked at his watch. The car had dropped him off right at 8, but now it was 4 minutes past and he was going to run late if he didn’t make a move. He took a deep breath and let it out, pulled himself up and started to walk forward. The big wood doors swung open into the lobby as he stood on its threshold as if he was entering a mansion with his own staff of doormen who anticipated the master’s arrival. The lobby looked and felt luxurious. His eyes bounced over large couches with big fur pillows, big glass vases and shiny surfaces everywhere. A fish tank, the size of his bedroom, faced him as he stood looking straight ahead. He looked up and saw a humungous and opulent chandelier, the kind he had only ever seen on TV.

Tony looked to the left and walked over to two beautiful young women sitting at a long clear desk, one Asian, one white, her blonde hair in some sort of up-do. He assumed they worked at the hotel even though this didn’t look like any kind of check-in desk he’d ever seen.

Where’s the elevator?

The blonde looked up and smiled.

Are you a guest here, sir?

No, I’m meeting my…. ah, someone.

And the room number, sir?

I’m not sure I’m supposed to…. don’t worry, I know the room number. I just need to know how to get there.

The girl looked dubious but knew she could only push so far.

Of course, sir. Walk straight ahead, along this wall and make a left at the end of the fish tank. There are two elevator banks there.

Thank you.

Tony followed her instructions, looking at the fish tank as he walked by it. Full of darting, slimy life, it looked to him as if there were fish of every make, model and color inside. Jesus, how much did it cost to maintain this thing? Everything was so over the top in this place. He wondered where people got the money to build places like this and how much it took to spend one night here. A small, tight smile crossed his face as he waited for the elevator and realized that his son was one of those people who could afford to spend the night here. It made him both proud and envious at the same time.

The elevator arrived and the doors opened. No-one got out but still it took him 3 seconds before he could get in. Tony pulled out the small piece of paper with TJ’s room number and looked at it again. Room 835. He stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the 8th floor and thought, ’Here we go.’

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TJ gulped the small drop of scotch he had poured for himself and looked around the bedroom and then the living room and kitchen of the suite quickly. He didn’t know what he was looking for but in these last few minutes before his father arrived – was supposed to arrive – he wanted something to do to occupy his mind so that he wouldn’t start hyperventilating. He was suddenly beyond nervous, almost shaking. Every emotion he had, had another conflicting and contradictory emotion that came right after. Anticipation and then dread. Fear and then confidence. Hate and then…. certainly not love but curiosity. A raging curiosity to find out more about this man and why he had left his family; left his son and daughter even if he couldn’t stand to be with their mother anymore. They had never gotten married.

TJ looked for something to straighten up and ended up just washing out his glass. He would pretend he hadn’t been drinking.

Just as he finished drying the glass, the doorbell to the suite rang. His hand jerked and he almost dropped it.

Oh, shit, he whispered.

He felt temporarily paralyzed as if his feet were nailed to the spot, like Jesus on the cross.

Oh, God. Oh, God, help me through this. TJ didn’t usually pray but it felt like he needed a friend in Jesus right about now. He breathed in hard and breathed out, hoping his heart would slow down.

A few seconds went by but the doorbell didn’t ring again. TJ couldn’t believe the bastard had shown up. He guessed he would have been devastated and relieved all at the same time if he hadn’t but now he was here, on the other side of a hotel room door, and he didn’t know how to open it to let him in.

He hadn’t rung the bell again. ‘Maybe he left,’ TJ thought. But he knew that was unlikely.

No-one comes all this way to see his son and then leaves after just a few seconds of impatience, right? But this was also a father who hadn’t made any real effort to see him since he was 6 years old. So, anything was possible.

TJ straightened up, took a deep breath and walked towards the door. It was now, never or regrets. He stood before the door and leaned on it, trying to control his breathing. His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, his stomach was full of butterflies that felt as if they were pecking at his insides.

Pull yourself together man, he thought.

Don’t be weak. Don’t be a bitch.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him.

The pump of anger helped to focus him and he stood up straight again and put his hand on the door handle. First, he looked through the peephole to see if Tony was still there. Yup, he was.

He had his back to the door and seemed to be looking up and down the hallway as if he wasn’t sure he had the right door, but he was still standing there. Silent. Waiting.

A little sweat glistened on TJ’s forehead as his hand began to slowly push the handle down, releasing the lock. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath as the door opened, a little bit and then wider.

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Tony’s head was down, his back to TJ as the door opened. He had been seriously thinking about leaving as the seconds ticked by, wondering if the boy had changed his mind and made him come all the way to this fool’s palace for no reason. He was starting to be both angry and relieved, refusing to ring the doorbell again.

A freaking doorbell? Really? Did these rich idiots now think a hotel room was their damn house?

He was only going to give it another ten seconds before he heard the door handle turning after he’d counted to 6. Click. Click. Slow and easy. No urgency here.

Tony’s back was to the door and he kept it that way until he felt the door was open all the way. He turned around slowly, deliberately. He knew what the boy would look like, of course, but he was meeting both his adult son and a big movie star for the first time in his life.

He turned and looked up, and his eyes locked with his grown son, Tony Hartwell, Junior.

His first thought was, ‘Wow, this is what a movie star looks like in the flesh.’

Suddenly, he couldn’t help it, a grin crossed his face and his eyes widened uncontrollably. Before he could stop himself, he said, Hello, Mr. Hartwell. Nice to meet you, I mean see you again.

As TJ heard the first words from his father in 25 years, his head jerked back and a wrinkle of confusion furrowed between his eyebrows.

Mr. Hartwell? What?

Within milliseconds he took in what he saw before him. A handsome man; bald, tall - as tall as TJ - wearing a blue blazer, crisp, white shirt and jeans. He was thin but fit. There wasn’t a wrinkle on his face but you could still tell he was in his late 40s to mid-50s.

And then he saw that shiny look in the eyes. A look he was used to. A fan. A fucking fan was staring back at him and if not a fan, then someone who was enamored to meet a celebrity. No matter how hard people tried to hide it, no matter how cool they played it – both men and women – he could tell now, from a mile away, when someone was giddy to be in close proximity to a celebrity but trying to pretend they didn’t care.

‘Okay, okay,’ he told himself. ‘It’s fine. I get it.’

He opened the door wider.

Hey. Come in.

Tony walked into the room slowly and looked around.

Neither one of them knew whether to shake hands or hug or do nothing.

TJ spoke first. No Mr. Hartwell here. TJ is fine.

Tony nodded, Of course. TJ. Tony Junior.

That’s right. He paused. Have a seat. You want something to eat or drink? I can order something from room service if you like, whatever you want.

The words kept spilling out of his mouth even though he couldn’t really hear what he was saying. He just wanted to keep talking no matter what. His brain was on temporary autopilot.

I’m good, I’m good, Tony answered. Actually, a drink would be nice. He paused and smiled. I’ve never met a movie star before.

TJ winced, a quick look of annoyance crossed his face. I’m not a movie star, you asshole. I’m your son. The words, ‘I’m your son’ streamed across his eyes as if he was looking at a stock ticker. He could feel anger welling up in him but he swallowed it down and breathed in through his mouth.

What do you want? There’s a full bar, so….

Huh, scotch and water, then.

TJ raised his eyebrows slightly as he turned towards the bar. A small smile crossed his face.

So you live here? Tony asked.

No. No. I just got this suite, and your room, for tonight.

Oh.

Tony wondered quickly why TJ chose this place and not his home, but he just as quickly let it go.

You gonna have some girls come over later? Tony laughed at his own joke; a fantasy of the movie star life ran through his head as he continued to look around.

No, no girls, TJ answered. I just wanted somewhere private and quiet for us to meet.

Tony nodded as TJ handed him his drink. TJ’s own glass of scotch and water – his second - was in his right hand. He raised his drink.

Huh…. Cheers. The mood in the room felt so tense and awkward, he didn’t feel as if there was any other toast he could make right now.

Tony raised his glass and their eyes met for one second before they both looked away quickly. Tension and discomfort coated the room like steam after a hot shower.

They both took a sip of the brown liquid, each wondering what came next. Tony spoke first.

Someplace private, huh? Don’t you live in L.A?

Yes.

Your house not private enough?

Sure, but not for this…. people there all the time.

Tony processed the information.

Right. You got what? Cook, butler, maids, driver. That sort of shit?

Not all that but yeah, a few people work there. Always someone going in and out.

Hmmmm….. right.

What?

I’m sure your people see all sorts of stuff every day and they don’t say nothing. So maybe you just didn’t want some stranger at your place. Tony’s tone was sarcastic and defensive. Not sure what I was going to do, huh? Help myself to a little something? Tell folks where you live? He paused. That’s alright. I feel you.

TJ looked at Tony as if he was a teenager he had to reprimand. This joker just wasn’t getting it. He was surprised and disappointed at the antagonism in Tony’s voice.

No, you don’t feel me. I wanted to have a place where we could meet and talk without a lot of distractions and explanations and whispering; where I didn’t have to ask everyone to leave and explain why. It never occurred to me that you would come to my house to steal from me. Ain’t no conspiracy here. But it’s interesting that you would think that of me.

Tony had walked to the sliding glass doors while TJ spoke and stood with his back to the room, looking through the sheer curtains at the view. He heard his son’s words and felt a little embarrassed now. He took a sip but didn’t turn around.

Sorry…. didn’t mean to offend. But you know, you’re a big movie star with a lot of stuff, so I don’t know how you treat strangers.

You’re not exactly a stranger.

Sure I am. Haven’t properly seen you, or you me, in 25 summers, 25 Christmases, 25 New Years. What you call that?

TJ sighed.

You want to sit down?

No, not really. Tony kept looking out the window.

It’s getting dark, I’d like to close the curtains.

Tony looked around, puzzled.

Why? That apartment building is way across. Ain’t nobody can see in here.

TJ laughed derisively.

You’d be surprised what they can do with long-lens cameras these days.

A light bulb seemed to go on in Tony’s head.

Oh, yeah. Those… What you call them? Papa, paparez?

Papparazzi.

Yeah.

Yes, them. But you also wouldn’t believe what regular people get up to. Everybody is monitoring, stalking, curious, obsessed with what celebrities are doing these days whether for themselves or if they can sell information, pictures, whatever. So I’m just mindful. When it’s dark, I close the curtains, simple as that. Prevents a lot of headaches.

Tony made a sound but stepped back from the window.

Okay, do what you gotta do.

TJ walked over and started to close the heavier curtains over the sheer ones.

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A tiny twinge of apprehension started to tickle the back of Tony’s head. There were no more distractions, he would have to sit down face to face now with the boy. He didn’t know what he was going to say or how he was going to be confronted. And there would be a confrontation, right? Had to be. No-one took the time and money to hire a private eye, find you and ask you to meet unless they had some pretty significant shit to say. And loudly. He knew that but had come anyway, curious to meet TJ Hartwell, wondering what the celebrity was like but also curious about what his son had to say to him after all these years of silence.

Tony took a seat on the couch as he waited for TJ to finish the closing of the large wall of curtains. TJ was going about it so deliberately and slowly it looked almost ceremonious.

So I see you kept your childhood name, T-J, Tony, Junior.

Sure, saw no reason to get rid of it. ‘It’s all I had left of you, you bastard,’ TJ thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

Tony picked up the remote and turned on the giant flat screen TV in front of him. He saw the menu come up and didn’t know what to select. This remote and the menu were way fancier than any hotel he had ever checked into.

Hey, how you find ESPN on this thing?

TJ turned around, slightly shocked. He wanted to watch TV now? Really? He didn’t say what was on his mind and instead tried to help.

Press the bottom arrow. Yeah, there. Press that until it gets to the TV button, then press that yellow button in the center.

Tony pressed the TV command and saw a wealth of available channels appear on the screen.

Now look for ESPN and use the right arrow to scroll over there and press the big yellow Select button again.

Tony looked down at the remote as if he’d never seen one before in his life.

TJ could see that he was a bit intimidated.

It’s not about the remote. Look at the TV screen.

Tony looked up.

Okay, now you see where it says ESPN? It’s alphabetical.

Yeah.

TJ spoke slowly, trying to be patient and not just grab the remote from Tony.

Okay, press the right arrow key until the yellow box is on ESPN, and then press SELECT on the remote and it will go right to it.

TJ, an infrequent guest at the hotel, understood that this TV and its remote were a bit more complex than most people were used to so he tried not to be impatient. He didn’t exactly consider himself a sophisticate either. He had just been on a sharp learning curve since he’d started earning real money and found out all the things the poor and middle class didn’t know and was able to buy the things they didn’t have and couldn’t afford: the things that made your life easy and quick and smooth but not necessarily happy.

Tony’s face lit up when ESPN Sportscenter appeared on the screen. It was a Saturday night and the hosts were gauging what the outcomes would be from Sunday’s football games as well as the upcoming Monday night match-up between the Seahawks and the 49ers.

Tony stared at the screen for a few minutes while TJ sipped his scotch, looking on from kitchen of the suite.

Tony looked out the corner of his eye, trying to see where TJ was in the room. He didn’t turn around but spoke out loud.

You like football?

Sure.

Who you follow?

My favorite team?

Yeah, man.

I like the Giants.

Tony chuckled. Boy, you’re a New Yorker through and through.

What about you?

Can’t go wrong with the 49ers.

They talked about the past summer’s football draft, team matchups and the odds each team or quarterback or linebacker had in succeeding this season.

Silence descended on the room again as they both watched the hosts going at each other from opposing viewpoints on the Monday night matchup.

TJ looked at Tony’s glass and saw that it was almost empty.

You want another?

Tony looked at his almost empty tumbler and sighed.

Sure, hit me up.

It’s fine. You don’t have to.

You don’t have to ask me twice. I’ll have another one.

TJ walked over and plucked Tony’s glass from his hand. He walked to the bar. It was 8:30pm. He hadn’t brought this man here to drink scotch and watch ESPN. It wasn’t a boys’ night out. He knew he would have to initiate a conversation, tell him what was on his mind before it got too late. He didn’t want to be here all night.

Tony continued to stare at the TV not even looking up when TJ returned with his drink and put it in his hand as if this was his routine every day: the butler filling his drink order and providing it to his master without disturbing him.

TJ shook his head slightly. This fool looked as if he was enraptured. TJ would probably bet that Tony hadn’t picked up a book since high school but that he knew every sports show and sports announcer on TV. TJ wasn’t a big fan of TV and he knew some of his friends thought he was a big snob because he chose to forego it most of the time. But he realized a long time ago that TV was the heroin of the masses. They were hooked, addicted and mainlining TV all day, every day. He would bet that millions of TV addicts looked down on actual drug addicts with their Meth and their Molly and their crack and their coke, but didn’t see that their TV addiction was just as bad and insidious.

TJ remembered in high school that whenever he went over to a friend’s house, no matter how poor they were, there was always a big screen TV in the living room when big screen TVs had just started becoming popular and therefore, a must-have. They had one too, proudly bought by his grandmother for the family. Even back then when big screens were three, four thousand dollars, everyone managed to find the money to park one in the living room, maxing out the little credit they had for surround sound and life size images. For some reason, 50 inch TVs made even poor people feel normal.

He had his own theater in his house in Malibu now plus TVs in every bedroom. You couldn’t get better than that, but he could afford it and even then, he wasn’t watching TV every night like a zombie.

TJ shook his head again in a quick zig-zag motion, trying to clear his thoughts. Why was he going down this road? He needed to get back on track and to the matter at hand.

Hey, Tony, can we talk?

Huh?

You wanna turn that off?

Tony reluctantly, petulantly looked over his shoulder at TJ like a little boy who’s just been told he needed to turn off the TV and go to bed.

What about mute?

What?

How do you put this on mute?

I think we should talk. I want to talk to you.

We can talk. Mute is like the TV is off.

It took all of TJ’s self-control not to roll his eyes. Instead he walked over and took the remote out of Tony’s hand, rougher than he intended and looked for the mute button. He found it and pressed down.

Happy, now?

Jesus, if it’s that important to you, then turn the damn thing off.

No, it’s fine. It’s fine.

They were both on edge, not knowing what the next steps would be. What was going to be said, how this was going to start and how it was going to end.

TJ took off his leather jacket and sat down in the wide, plush armchair adjacent to the couch and took a sip from his glass. He started with the most obvious connection they had.

You like scotch too, huh?

Yup, ever since I was 13 and started stealing from my grandfather’s liquor cabinet. I discovered scotch one day and it’s been my joint ever since then.

Oh, yeah?

If he had ever found out he would have beat my ass, even more than he usually did, but I use to replace what I took with water. Little bits that I hoped he wouldn’t notice; that old trick. I don’t know how he never knew, but he liked vodka and beer so probably didn’t even hit the scotch bottle enough to notice the difference.

Why were you at your grandparents’ house so much?

They raised me. You didn’t know that?

No. How would I?

Right. Well, they did. My father, their son, was in jail. I barely, well, never really knew him much; he was in jail from the time I could remember and my mother, she couldn’t raise me and my 3 brothers by herself so she outsourced us, so to speak. A bunch of different family members took each of us in. One here, one there. You know how that goes.

As Tony talked, TJ marveled at how little kids knew about their own parents; even children who, unlike him, hadn’t been separated from their parents for years. How many people really asked their parents about their lives before they had children? Were even curious or cared? To a child, it was as if they and their mother and father were born on the same day. Everything that molded that parent was heard in dribs and drabs as we went along in life while never getting a real picture of who they were or what they’d been through. In this case, Tony hadn’t even hung around long enough for TJ to get even a small idea of who he really was.

Why was your father in jail and what happened to your brothers?

Pops was in jail for armed robbery but he beat up a security guard who confronted them and the guard died later, so…. he got a life sentence although he was released after 27 years in. He and my uncle Roland did it together but Roland got out earlier because he was just an accessory. And as for my brothers, ah, let’s see…

Tony thought about it for a few seconds and then seemed to remember. His speech was slow and drawn out.

I think Samuel went to my mom’s sister. Paul went to my mom’s brother and his wife and Danny, the baby, ended up with her parents. She ran out of relatives so I was sent to live with your grandmother and grandfather, my Pop’s parents.

You liked your grandparents?

They were alright, lots of beatings in that house. Well, as Granddaddy – that’s what I called him – use to say, it was discipline. He was a big believer in ‘discipline’. Tony put air quotes around the word.

Boy, you don’t know what it’s like to have a beating till you have one of Granddaddy’s specials; leather belt across your naked back and thighs until he drew blood. You’d think he was a fucking slave master and you tried to run away from the plantation.

Tony grunted.

I got one of them specials one day just for getting kicked out of class because I gave my teacher supposed attitude. Talked back to her, the bitch.

Tony shot a quick look at TJ and shrugged his shoulders.

Imagine if he found out I was stealing his scotch? Whoooo Hoooo, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

Tony paused.

But it was different in those days. He beat me because – I think - he was determined that I wasn’t going to turn out like my dad and my uncle: alcoholics, armed robbers, small-time gangsters, getting arrested for this and for that. They had two boys who ended up being two criminals. Funny, huh?

They were silent for a few seconds. Tony suddenly noticed all the tattoos over TJ’s muscular arms and what he could see of his upper chest under his t-shirt.

Wow, you got tattoos everywhere.

TJ looked down at his body. Yup, I got my first one at 14; had to hide it from Ella as long as I could so I wouldn’t hear from her or get something thrown at me.

I got some too. I’ll show you later.

Really? When was the first one?

When I ran away from home at 11; I was hiding in my friend’s bedroom, his house was just a few blocks from Granddaddy’s but I was gone for two days. My friend gave me the tattoo himself; it hurt like hell.

You ran away from home? Must have been really bad.

It was and even worse when they figured out where I was and dragged me back. When I see tattoos all over someone’s body, see that they’re all tatted up, covering in some cases, almost every inch of their body, I know there’s been trouble. Tattoos are a sign that you’ve seen too much and if you’re tatted all over your body it shows, I think, that you’ve been through so much pain that you can withstand anything; that you’re willing to put up with a needle piercing your body for hours at a time, because it’s nothing to you. And the more tattoos, the more needles, the better. It’s almost like those girls I hear about who cut themselves. It don’t mean a thing because the hurt outside from a razor blade or a knife or a tattoo needle, is no match for the hurt inside. You see a person tatted all over their body or with multiple piercings, anything that invades or scars your body and causes pain, you know there’s been a whole lot of trauma and trouble.

Oh, really? And when did you become a tattoo therapist?

I’m not, it’s just my thoughts. I have tattoos too, not as much as you, but I know what’s up, it’s not that hard to figure out.

Well, you might be right. Tattoos do tell a story and a lot of times it’s not pretty. TJ’s voice turned sarcastic, Wow, look Tony we already have a couple of things in common, tattoos and scotch. How poetic, someone should write a song.

Yeah, a song. It would be a blues tune, I’m sure. So I guess that’s why I’m here? So we can sing the blues together?

Sure. You can write the lyrics about growing up with an angry grandfather and I’ll write the chorus about being raised by an angry mother, aunt and grandmother in a house where the boy was an easy target; the only male in their immediate grasp and the offspring of the dude that left. I’m sure we could find a way to put all that in a song…

Boy, please, you don’t even know what I -

TJ cut him off.

Why do you think you’re here?

Don’t play games.

Trust me. I’m not.

You hire a goddamn private detective to find me. Then he does. Ask him if you can call me. You do, and then you summon me here. To do what? Vent about your awful childhood, have me atone for my sins? Explain why I left 25 years ago? Ask for your forgiveness? Don’t ask me why I’m here.

You didn’t have to come.

No. No I didn’t, but….

Tony took a deep breath.

But I…

TJ waited, wanting to hear what was next.

I wanted to….meet you and….hmmm…see…find out…talk to you. You went to a lot of trouble, so…

TJ stared at Tony. There was so much he wanted to say, to yell and to scream but he held his emotions in check. He didn’t want the night to end prematurely and Tony could easily walk out if he became agitated and belligerent so he held his tongue for now and waited to hear if Tony would say what he wanted him to say.

The silence began to get so uncomfortable, Tony spoke up.

So you going to say something?

"Thanks for coming, you didn’t have to. And just so you know, when I decided I wanted to meet you, see you again, I asked Ella, I asked Aunt Pauline; I asked them first if they were in touch with any of your old friends from the neighborhood, with any of your family. I knew they weren’t happy about me asking, but I asked anyway. I Googled you, I tried Facebook, I tried every possible avenue I could think of before I hired the Private Investigator. So it wasn’t some spur of the moment decision or something I took lightly. I knew hiring a