Chapter Four - Tyler
“No, I feel great! Why?” That’s me, answering Dr. Eldridge, my shrink, who just asked, “Are you nervous?”
We’re sitting by the pool at Evan and Robert’s house. Normally I go see Dr. Eldridge at her place, but Evan’s been hovering over me like a watchful mother hen since I got out of the hospital a couple of nights ago. He’s making me stay with him and Robert for now. Making me. That sounds so… Nobody makes Tyler Morgan do shit Tyler Morgan don’t wanna do!
But… I do need a place to stay while they repair my apartment, which is gonna take a while, and Evan’s all worried that I’m gonna do something else “bat-the-fuck-shit-crazy,” as he called it. So…
(I’m still not a hundred percent sure that the Mandarin Oriental isn’t going to try to bring arson charges against me. Evan kinda managed to… tweak… the fire inspector’s official report, and I did offer to pay for the damages out of pocket so we don’t have to fuck around with the insurance company, but the management people at the corporate office I talked with were real bitches about it. People can be such fucking babies.)
So anyway. Dr. Eldridge agreed to come see me here at Evan and Robert’s because Robert asked her to, and he’s super-charming and shit. But right now, I just want to get this little session with the good doctor over with. I’ve got some serious amends-making to get to. So when she asks, “Are you nervous?” I do my best to put on a face that lets her know I’m not.
“No, I feel great! Why?”
“Because,” she says, “your knee has been bouncing for the whole session and I’m worried that you’re going to start biting your fingertip off. The nail seems just about gone.”
I take my hand with its now-bloody fingertip from where I’ve been chewing and place it on my jackhammering knee to make it stop jouncing.
“Nope. I’m gooood,” I say, super smooth and convincing.
“Are you still feeling suicidal?”
“What?” I’m honestly shocked by this. “I’ve never felt suicidal. What makes you think I feel suicidal?”
“You told me that you set your home on fire so that everyone on the Strip could watch you burn, you told me that you pressed your head into the barrel of a gun in a back alley and told the gunman to shoot you, and you told me that you’ve been having a recurring dream that you’re dead and that it gives you pleasure. So. Y’know. I’m just spitballing.”
She’s so cool. She’s like the coolest sixty-year-old lady I’ve ever met. But I still need to get this fucking “talk session” over with so I can make moves.
“Okay, first of all,” I start, “the fire thing… like I told you, that was a thought I had, yes, but I didn’t think I was gonna DO it. I don’t even remember starting it. I looked down and it was just going. I might have blacked out or something.”
“Oh. Okay. Well then, no problem.” She says it with a smile.
“That didn’t come out… Look.” I try again. “Yes, I can’t deny that things have been a little, uh, out of balance with me. I admit that. But I’m fine. I really am. I think I’ve just been feeling a little purposeless, but that’s all changed.”
“What exactly has changed?”
“I told you. The woman that I’ve fallen in love with is Scotty’s little sister. It’s Maddie. That’s… I mean, what are the odds? And it’s incredible because we need each other. We’re what the other needs to get whole. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I know I’m right.”
I’m smiling. She’s not. Which bums me out.
“I’m not certain that needing another person to make you whole is the sentiment that gives me the greatest sense of assurance,” she says.
“I know, I know. We have to find our whatever within ourselves and blah, blah, blah. I get it. But that’s not… Look, all I know is that we have come into each other’s lives for a reason.”
“Yeah?” she says. “What reason is that?”
“Well… I mean…” I start. But I realize I haven’t yet developed a completely cogent rationale for why Maddie and I have tumbled back into each other’s lives in such a fucked-up and dramatic way. But then, in a flash, it comes to me.
“Okay! Okay! So… haven’t you been telling me, as much as anyone, maybe more than anyone, that there are unresolved wounds I need to heal!?”
“Well, I—” she begins, but I’m on a roll, so I keep going.
“Okay! So then, don’t you think that making things right with Maddie goes a long way toward healing some of those wounds? For me AND now for HER?” Bam! Drop the mic! Fuck with that logic, Doc! I’m clever as balls when I need to be. Everybody says so.
She’s quiet for a second. The waterfall that cascades into Robert and Evan’s pool is the only sound in the desert right now. I’ll be honest. I don’t hate staying here. It’s a sick fucking house. It’s actually got me thinking I should buy one like this instead of moving back into the apartment. Might be good to get away from the chaos of the Strip. Quiet in the desert. Too quiet? Would my mind wander? Nah. If I lived in the desert and stuff, I’d probably be inspired to take up meditation and shit. It’d actually probably be the best thing for me. Yeah! This is a great idea! I’m gonna buy a house in the desert! I’ll bet Robert can find me a sweet deal. Dude’s probably the most powerful land baron in Vegas. Evan totally married the right guy. And—
“Well…”
Oh, shit. That’s right. I’m still sitting here with Dr. Eldridge. All good. I bet I’ll be super focused after I start meditating.
“I think,” she continues, “that… yeah. Finding some way to connect and repair with Maddie Clayton would probably be a very good thing as far as helping you both heal goes.”
Oh, snap! I was right!
“I would only caution you to remember that it’s a two-way street.”
“I know.”
“I mean, she has to be ready to let you in.”
She was sure as fuck ready to let me in the other night, I joke in my head. Not out loud. Because, you know… inappropriate.
“I know,” is the version of the answer I offer aloud.
“Okay,” she says, “well, good. And I’m glad to see you seeming physically well.”
“Tip-top, Doc. Although I think I may be done with fucking hospitals for the rest of my life. For a thirty-year-old dude, I feel like I’ve had more than my quota of near-death experiences. See? Not suicidal at all!” I beam at her and tap my head. I just need her to believe me and take off. Because I’m clearly not crazy! It’s SO obvious!
“Good enough,” she says after a brief pause. “You’ll call me if you need anything.” She does not offer that as a question.
“Abso-tively,” I say. Charming as hell.
She stands, gives me a hug—which is something she’s never done before and kind of catches me off guard—and heads in through the open wall (it’s like a glass wall that folds out like an accordion, making the pool and living room a total indoor/outdoor space. When I buy my dope new desert house, I want it to have one of those too) where Evan is standing to talk with her. Presumably to get a debrief on the mental health status of one Tyler Hudson Morgan.
I watch them as they talk, Evan nodding and looking over at me, when I hear, “How ARE you feeling?”
Robert Vanderbilt (Nope, not those Vanderbilts. Total coincidence. Even though Robert does look a little like Anderson Cooper. Go figure), Evan’s husband and probably the most sophisticated, erudite, smooth-ass, James Bond motherfucker I’ve ever met is standing behind me, wearing light blue trousers and a white cashmere sweater (again, these are things I would never notice or appreciate without Evan—and even though I notice them, I’m still not sure I appreciate them). He’s holding two beers. He hands one to me.
“I’m okay,” I say, taking la cerveza. I can speak Spanish like a motherfucker. Multitalented. “Gracias.” I nod to him and take a swig. Makes me feel like a cowboy.
He sits on one of the pool chairs. He glances in to see Evan. Evan glances back, sees Robert looking at him, and smiles.
“It makes me happy to see Evan so happy,” I say to him. I’ve only known Robert since I moved back to Vegas. They met while I was still out of the country and got married about a year and a half ago while I was traveling in… I wanna say… Thailand? Musta been. Only something as important as Thai prostitutes could’ve made me miss one of my best friends’ weddings.
“Yeah,” Robert says, trying to hide a shy smile. “I don’t hate him either.”
Fuck, I love seeing people who genuinely want to be around each other. Evan jokes all the time about how high-brow Robert is. He likes fine wine and opera and all that shit and Evan is much more a “hang out with the fellas” kind of a guy, but they work. I never really believed much in marriage until I spent some time with (as Evan refers to themselves) Siegfried and Roy. (I don’t think Robert likes it much, but it cracks me up.)
“So,” I start, trying to make small talk, which I’m shitty at, but feel obligated to make since Robert is letting me stay in his mansion, “how’s the real estate game?”
“Not bad,” he says. “Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“It’s fine. I’ve just got a huge project I’m developing out on the Arizona border, near the Hoover Dam, and—”
“I love the Hoover Dam,” I interrupt. “When I was a kid, I used to think that if you ever wanted to kill yourself in a really spectacular way, jumping off the dam would be an amazing way to go.”
There is now a, to say the least, awkward silence. It was just a silly thought I had once or twice as a kid after my mom died and shit got really bad with my dad. But I wrote it off to adolescent-drama-brain. Really.
For real.
Anyway.
After a moment, Robert says, “Sure. Yeah, so anyway I’ve got this massive project out there but it’s a huge pain in the ass to survey because of the terrain and coordinating the boots on the ground part of it and… whatever. It’ll work itself out. Hey, if it was easy everybody would do it, right?” He winks and takes a sip of his beer. Guy is capital ‘b’ Businessman to the bone.
I look over and see that Evan is closing the door behind Dr. Eldridge, and that’s my cue to take my leave. “OK, man, um, I gotta run out for a bit, so—”
As I’m heading into the indoor portion of the indoor/outdoor space, Evan intercepts.
“Where are you running?” he asks.
“Nowhere, MOM. Jesus.”
“Dude,” he says, “you flatlined three nights ago. You were DEAD. Three nights ago. You’re not just bounding back out into the world to… get into whatever fucking trouble you’re planning on getting into.”
“I’m not going to go get into trouble,” I say with slight indignation.
“You’re going to go find Maddie.”
“So?” I shoot back. “What’s troubling about that? That’s not trouble. In fact, Dr. Eldridge says it’s a good idea.”
“Mm-hmm… Does she, though?” Evan asks with squinty-eyed skepticism, his voice getting weirdly high as he poses the question.
“Evan,” Robert chimes in, “he’s a grown-up. If he wants to go find Maddie, let him go find Maddie. Stay out of it.”
“Easy there, Siegfried,” says Evan.
“Don’t call me that, please,” retorts Robert.
“Roy is the one who got attacked by the tiger. Be glad you’re Siegfried,” Evan fires back and Robert gives up. Evan turns to me again.
“Okay, fine,” he says. “Go. Do whatever you want. But just… just make sure you’re taking care. Okay? This is… you’re in the middle of an incredibly intense situation. Just take it slow. K?”
“I will,” I say. “I will take it slow.”
He eyes me with skepticism.
“Promise,” I promise.
The speedometer in the Defender says I’m going a hundred and fifty. I could probably push it another thirty miles per hour or so, but I don’t wanna be reckless.
I’m racing through the desert to the only place I can think to go. The strip club. The place where I met my angel. My angel who turned out to be called Scarlett. Scarlett who turned out to be Maddie. Maddie who I fucked and when I did caused me to feel safe and happy like I was finally coming home. Because she is. My home. In every way that can be understood.
I know there’s like no chance at all that she’s at Pete’s. Why would she be? Why in the world would she ever go back to that place? It’s like returning to the scene of a crime for her, I’ll bet. But still. Maybe. Just maybe. And besides, I don’t know where else to go.
I push down on the accelerator. I can’t get there soon enough. My heart is beating. Fast. Like it’s going to pop right out of my body. Like maybe Evan was right and that I should take it easy considering I was just recently dead and all. But I don’t give a shit. I’m on a mission.
A mission to heal her. A mission to heal myself. And this time, I’m going to show the fuck up.