Chapter Seventeen - Tyler
Pulling up to Frank’s feels like a collision of past and present. Frank’s itself is something out of a time capsule. I don’t know if it was actually built in the fifties or if it was built as a nostalgic homage, but either way, it harkens back to a bygone era in Vegas. An era of shiny suits and hair gel. Of people dressing up for a night out on the town. Of the Rat Pack. All that shit. But here it still sits. A little older, a little more run-down, but still going.
When I was a shorty, we’d swing in here on Saturdays as our “Saturday thing.” After Little League games, win or lose, me, Mom, and Jack would stop in for milkshakes. Frank’s is where I learned about a Black and White. It was Mom’s flavor. Chocolate and vanilla swirled together and poured into a tall, ridged tumbler.
This is the kind of joint where they also slap down on the table the metal container they used to make the shake itself. So that when you’ve consumed all the creamy dairy goodness in your glass and can’t possibly take in one more sip, you still feel like you have to give it a shot. And then you lift that frosty, condensation-ringed metal to your mouth, polish off the contents, and throw up all over the table.
(OK. It only happened the once, but it’s the memory that sticks with me. I mean, shit, I was seven, gimme a break.)
And just like Frank’s, here I still sit. A little older, a little more run-down, but still going, too.
OK. Let’s do this thing.
I glance at the clock on the Tesla’s massive computer screen (the car itself is actually just a computer on wheels, which makes me wonder what the fuck happens if it gets hacked) and see that it’s three fifty-five. I look around the parking lot, but realize that I have no idea what kind of car my dad drives, so I wouldn’t know if he’s here or not. But through the windows, I don’t see him inside, so I guess we’re here first.
“How you doing?” Maddie’s voice pulls my attention back to now.
“Fine. Good. Too good, really. How’s it with you, Pop-Tart?” I know that I’m overdoing it with the charm offensive, but I don’t care. I kind of don’t want to hide that I’m nervous. I figure if I can’t be real when I’m with Maddie then when the fuck can I be? And I’m tired of not being honest about my feelings. There’s enough in my life to make me tired, I don’t need to add to that shit.
“Yeah,” she says, “you seem too good.” She smiles and rubs her hand on my arm.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I say and then blow out a breath.
“Hey, I go where you go.”
She winks, and I take my whole hand and spread my palm out over her face. “I fuckin’ love you. I just wanna crush your head.”
“Yeah, well, that’s love, I suppose.”
I don’t crush her head. Instead, I take my hand away, lean over, and give her a kiss that’s half-want, half-need. She moans a little.
My lips still on hers, I say, “You wanna blow this off and just go... I dunno....”
“Fuck?” she mutters back.
“Capital idea!” I say, hitting the ignition button and popping the car into reverse.
She presses the park button and turns the car off. “Later. Promise,” she says.
I make a plane propeller sound with my tongue, nod my head, and say, “OK. Fuck. Let’s get our reporter hats on.”
Stepping out of the car, I can smell Frank’s. It’s that burger and fry smell emanating from the kitchen’s exhaust fan out into the desert air. It makes me immediately hungry. I don’t think I’ve eaten today. I’ve been that preoccupied with this whole get-together. I stroll to the door and pull it open, holding it for Maddie.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she says.
“M’lady,” I offer back along with a deep bow at the waist and a flourish of my hand. Seriously, I would’ve been a fucking baller in Elizabethan England. Probably woulda been an earl or some shit. Maybe I was. I should get a past-life reading from one of those fortune tellers who work out of their houses and find out. Anyway.
I look around one more time just to see if Dad is here. I don’t spy him, but I do spy that our booth is open, so I point to it and Maddie nods and heads over.
“You wanna sit across from each other or same side?” she asks.
“Um... whichever, I guess.”
She plops into the booth, onto the side facing the entrance. The vinyl seat squeaks a tiny bit as she slides over next to the window. She pats the space beside her and says, “C’mere.” I do. I slide in next to her. She says, “Tactical. We’re facing the door, we’re both on the same side so it’s two against one, and you have the exit position in the event shit gets hot and you need to scramble.”
I stare at her for a beat and blink twice. “You totally didn’t need my help down in Mexico, did you?”
“Not really. But I was glad to see you anyway.”
The waitress approaches. She’s probably in her early forties, mousy blonde hair, thin, pretty. Her name tag says “Victoria.” She hands us menus.
“You guys waiting on somebody?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “But we can go ahead and get started. You hungry, babe?” I ask Maddie. She nods. “Yeah, so, um we’ll take a look, but can you bring us a Black and White while we figure it out?”
“Starting with dessert. My kinda people,” she says on a smile. She smiles like a showgirl. Who knows? Maybe she was. “I’ll be back. Take your time,” she says, and heads off.
I glance at the clock on my phone. Four o’clock. I start biting unconsciously at my bottom lip. I know that I am because Maddie asks, “Still OK?”
“Yeah, yeah. Why?”
“Because you’re chewing on your lips. Although you could just be really hungry.”
I stop biting at my bottom lip. “I’m fine.”
“Look at it this way... If you see him and decide that you don’t want to do this after all, we can probably slip out. You shaved. There’s a totally reasonable chance he won’t recognize you.”
I start smiling despite myself. “You really went there with that joke, didn’t you?”
She shrugs and grins. “I learned from the best.”
Victoria returns with our shake. “Here you go. One Black and White and two straws.” She puts the glass with the creamy confection down on the table, and then, as remembered, she places the metal mixing container with the remainder down as well. “You guys think you’re ready to order anything, or you still wanna wait?”
I glance at Maddie who says, “We’ll go ahead and get something now. I’m starving.” I love that Maddie’s always hungry. I don’t know why. It just makes me happy. “Can I get a cheeseburger, no lettuce?”
“You want fries or a salad?”
“Fries. Gotta carb-load. I’ll probably work out later.” She nudges me in the ribs. “How ’bout you?” she asks me.
“Um, same. Thanks.”
“You got it.”
We hand Victoria back the menus and she heads off again.
“The carb-loading joke was solid, huh?” Maddie asks. She’s trying to keep my mind from wandering too far and keep me in “reporter” mode. And I appreciate it. I really do. But I’m having a tough time.
I try to do what Doc Eldridge said though. Step apart from myself. Observe what’s happening. Catalogue the moment. But it’s tough, because it’s now a couple minutes past the time Jack and I were supposed to meet and the only people sitting here in this booth are me and Maddie.
She must be able to read my thoughts because she says, “He’ll be here. I know he will.”
“Yeah? How?”
“Dunno. Just one of those things.”
She takes the flexible straws, one by one, bends them at the neck, and places them in the milkshake.
“Here,” she says. “Drink this with me. We can stare into each other’s eyes and bump heads and giggle and shit. It’ll be adorable.”
I love her more and more every goddamn second.
“OK,” I say, forcing out a laugh. I place my mouth around the straw just as she does and we both sip.
Swallowing, she pulls her mouth away and says, “Holy shit, that’s good.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Is it as good as you remember?”
I look at her. She wears an expression of hopeful expectancy. Her eyes are wide, and her lips are puckered as she finishes swallowing the slurp of milky goodness. She is a waking dream. My waking dream.
“Better,” I tell her.
Victoria approaches the table.
“All done?” she asks.
Maddie has finished almost her whole plate of food. I’ve only kind of picked at mine. Most of my fries are still there and there are a few bites out of my burger. My napkin sits crumpled on top of the plate of partially eaten food.
“Yeah, yeah, I think we’re done,” says Maddie.
“Anything else?” Victoria asks, cautiously. I imagine being a waitress at a diner in Vegas you learn to read people pretty well. And I’m making no attempt to hide the way I feel right now, so she’s got to be picking up the energy that’s wafting off the table.
“Just the check, thanks,” Maddie responds. Victoria nods and heads off.
It’s starting to get dark outside. I look at the time on my phone again. Five o’clock.
Five o’clock.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a breaking story on today’s five o’clock news. In what should come as a shock to no one, Jack Morgan, father to Tyler Morgan, following a long history of being a terrible fucking parent, continues his nearly unbroken record of failing to execute the most basic example of what it might mean to be someone’s dad, or even a decent person, for that matter. There will be no film at eleven, because there’s nothing to fucking show. In the weather, storm clouds are imminent.
“I’m sorry, Ty,” Maddie says.
I don’t even try to pretend. “Me too.” I hang my head and shake it a tiny bit. I don’t even really feel that sad. I just feel...stupid. Which, I suppose, is something I should be fucking used to by now, but it never gets any more fun. I blow my lips out and make an attempt to rally. “All good,” I say. “Let’s go. You ate an assload of fries. We gotta go work that shit off.”
I slap the Formica tabletop with my hand, slide out of the booth and stand, turning to offer my hand to Maddie as I do. I am the Fifth Earl of Dumbfuckery.
She’s just about to her feet when I hear, “Christ! Ty! You shaved! Jeez Louise, ya look like a fuckin’ million bucks!”
And I turn to see... Jack Morgan.
A very drunk Jack Morgan.
His tie is loose. His hair is messed up. His shirt is half-untucked from his pants. His fucking fly is down. He looks like a cartoon version of a goddamn wino.
He comes stumbling over.
“Ty, Jesus, I’m sorry. You know what happened? Here’s what happened. I was having lunch with Lou. You remember Lou? I dunno if you ever knew Lou. Anyway, I was having lunch with him about some business — me and Lou are in on this thing, I’ll tell you all about it, it’s this place these guys are opening, this distillery, me and Lou are gonna invest, it’s gonna be big, Ty, I’m telling you, these guys know what they’re doing — and then he said, ‘They said we should come over and check out a sample batch.’ And I was like... well you know me and samples, right? Ha! So I said, ‘OK, but I can’t stay all night because I’m meeting my son!’ But then we got there and Ty, when I tell you that they had ALL the different kinds of whiskey... Man! These guys, they’re from Kentucky, I think. Kentucky? Tennessee? Ahhh, I dunno. But they know what they’re doing, that’s for sure! And they were having this tasting for us because me and Lou, we’re thinking about investing because these guys, these Kentucky guys, or Tennessee, they know what they’re doing, Ty! Anyway, it put me just a few minutes behind and that’s why I’m running late, because, y’know, business, but so I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m here! Let’s sit down, eat, eat, c’mon, I’m buying, and... Is that Maddie? Maddie, hey!”
I don’t know if it’s because it’s what Dr. Eldridge put in my head or if it’s just because it’s what happens. But I do leave my body. I sail right outside of myself and rise above the room and look down on it with my little pad and pen, and what I see is... fucking absurd.
There aren’t a ton of other people in Frank’s, but there’s a few. And they’re all looking at us. Victoria has stopped just at the break in the counter and holds the check, unsure whether or not she should make her way over to us. Jack’s still stumbling in our direction. It’s only a few feet for him to travel, but the whole thing is happening in slow motion. Maddie’s got one knee on the booth bench, one foot on the floor, and her grip around my hand is tightening.
And I am dead inside.
The look I see on my face from my reporter’s eye-in-the-sky perspective is a completely blank one. It’s not disappointment. Or embarrassment. Or sorrow, or shame, or anger. It’s simply one of “well, what did you expect?”
“Tyler?” That’s Maddie.
“It’s OK,” I say, squeezing her hand and then letting go to approach him before he can reach me.
“Ty?” she says again as I move toward him. Jack Morgan. My fuckin’ dad.
I get to him and he tries to push past me, “No, no, let’s sit down. Is that your booth? That’s where you’re sitting? Did you eat? Lemme buy you something.” But I don’t let him pass. I put my hands on his shoulders and hold him in place.
“Jack, c’mon. Let’s go. Outside. C’mon.”
“Noooo. What? Why? Ty, I’m sorry I’m late. I am, but—”
“Jack,” I whisper to him. “Outside. Now.”
He looks up into my eyes and can clearly see that I’m not fucking around, because he just says, “Yeah... Yeah, OK.”
“And pull your fuckin’ fly up,” I whisper once more.
“Wha—? Oh, shit.” He looks down and zips up his pants as I turn him around and send him out the door into the parking lot.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Victoria as Jack makes his way out. “Lemme, uh—” I reach my hand out to grab for the check.
“Nah, it’s OK,” she says, and waves her hand at me not to worry about it.
“No,” I say. “No, it’s not at all. But one thing’s got nothing to do with the other. Please...” Again, I reach my hand out.
Maddie steps over now with a look in her eyes that I have seen before. Not necessarily from her, but from people. It’s the look that lets you know that they think they’re about to witness something gruesome. Say... someone having the shit kicked out of them, for example.
The one other time I remember seeing it distinctly from Maddie was the night I held a gun to Logan’s head in the alley behind Pete’s. She didn’t know me then. Didn’t know a thing about me other than I was the kind of person who probably wasn’t afraid to die right then and there.
And it makes me really sad to see that look from her again now.
“Go on,” Victoria says again. “It’s fine. I’ve got a dad too.”
It’s incredible, given the right circumstances, what you can know about a person in five words.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a wad of twenties and hand them to her. “Please, just take this.”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah, you totally can. Please.”
Maddie reaches over and takes the money from me. She places it in Victoria’s resisting hand.
“That was the best milkshake I’ve ever had,” says Maddie, “thanks.”
I nod to Victoria and hold the door open for Maddie, who passes me, out into the parking lot. When I turn to follow, I see Jack leaned over the backside of the Tesla having just finished throwing up. Classic. He’s now the second member of the Morgan family to throw up at Frank’s. Maddie turns to say something to me, but I just walk past her and reach where my father is wrapping up dry-heaving.
I clench my fists, involuntarily, and ask, “How’d you get here?” He points at a pretty new-looking Cadillac sedan parked diagonally across three spaces. Jesus Christ.
“Lou let me take his car,” he says.
“You don’t have a car?”
He shakes his head. “Been meaning to get a new one, but shit’s come up.”
“Yeah. OK. I’ll call you one.”
“No, no, come on! We’re gonna hang out, I thought.”
“Yeah. We were.” I pull out my phone, open the app, and punch in our location. “It’ll be here in five minutes,” I say.
He nods, absently. “This your car?” he asks, referring to the Tesla.
“No.”
“Oh. Thought it must be yours since I heard you got all that money now.”
Ladies and gentlemen, more breaking news: Here at Frank’s the situation has gotten even more dramatic. Revelations are coming out by the second.
“What? What do you mean?” I ask. “Where’d you hear that?”
“After Thanksgiving,” he says, still leaning over, breathing heavy. “I talked to Jenny from the front desk at the Four Seasons. We were just talking and I don’t remember how it came up, but she said, ‘Your kid is called Tyler?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah,’ and she was like, ‘Same last name?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah,’ and she said, ‘Tall? Big beard?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah.’ She said you came in personally and reserved the Presidential Suite for five nights over the holidays and I was like, ‘Nah, can’t be, not the same guy,’ but then I, y’know, I used Google and everything and I found out that you invented this like... thing. It said that you were a millionaire! My kid! A millionaire! And I was like, wow! So that’s why I wondered if this was your car...”
In the eyes of this investigative journalist, lots of new details are now coming to light.
I take a breath, letting all this absorb its way in and then say, “Shit. That’s why you came looking for me.”
“What?” He coughs.
“That’s why you came looking for me. With Evan. You want money.”
“What? No!” I don’t say anything. And then he goes, “Well, I mean, y’know, I wanted to talk to ya about this opportunity. These guys from Kentucky—”
“Or Tennessee, yeah, I got it.”
Maddie’s looking at me with an expression that’s like, Do you want me to do anything? I put up my hand and shake my head. She’s already doing everything she can do. She’s here. Which is all I need from her right now.
And yet again, I pull back up to that birds-eye view of the situation and I see something that now shocks the hell out of me: I’m calm. I don’t want to fight anybody or tear anything apart. I don’t want to blow this whole place up or torch the earth. I don’t feel anger or rage. If I feel anything it’s... sorry for him.
Huh. Ain’t that something?
And maybe that’s what this was supposed to be. Dr. Eldridge asked why I wanted to see him, and I didn’t really know. I claimed curiosity, and sure, that’s true. But I think I thought I was curious if he and I could resolve something. Or curious to see if maybe he’d changed. Maybe I could get from him something that I missed. Or wanted.
But maybe what I was actually curious about was to see if I could forgive him. Regardless of what he did or didn’t do. Regardless of how he’s different. Or not.
Maybe that’s what I needed from this. Maybe it wasn’t for him to give me anything, or for me to get a reclamation of some long-gone, never-to-return father/son what-the-fuck-ever. Maybe it was only ever supposed to be a chance for me to see myself now. And to give myself permission to be at peace with it all. And maybe the fact that I was able to step away from it and see the whole picture instead of just my part of it and my feelings about it is what’s allowing that to happen right now.
Wow. Dr. Eldridge is a really fucking good doctor.
The car pulls up and I wave the guy over. “Hey, man,” I say to the driver, “this is my dad. He’s kinda fucked up. So just make sure he gets home, OK?”
The guy eyeballs Jack. “He ain’t gonna throw up in my ride, is he?”
“I dunno. Maybe. Look, here’s...” I pull out all the cash I have left. “Here’s like a couple hundred bucks. If he does, the detailing’s on me. If he doesn’t, have a happy new year. OK? Cool?”
The driver eyes me for a second, then takes the cash and says, “Yeah. Cool.”
Maddie comes over and helps me scoop my dad up and load him into the back seat of the guy’s car. As we’re plopping him down, he grabs my shirt. “Tyler?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to see you, and... I’m sorry.”
The reporter is poised, leaning in, pencil pressed against paper, ready to take note of whatever smartass thing I’m about to say.
“I know, man,” I tell Jack. “I know. It’s cool. OK? Don’t worry about it.” And with that, I pat his shoulder, slam the door shut, and the car takes off.
Maddie stands next to me, watching it drive off into the distance. She strokes my arm. “Fuck,” she says.
“Yeah,” I let out. Then I say, “Well... Look at it this way. At least he recognized me.”
She looks over, furrows her brow, then laughs. “You OK?”
“Yeah, I’m OK. Come on. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Back to Evan’s. I wasn’t kidding, babe. You need to work off those fries.” I wink and pat her on the stomach. She slaps my hand away, laughing still.
“Fuck you!”
“That is the plan,” I say.
She gives me a kiss and then rounds the car to the passenger side, careful not to step in Jack Morgan’s puke. I open my door and plop down. I glance at myself in the rearview mirror. There’s a look in my eyes I don’t recognize. But I like it. I don’t know what it is. But I like it.
Sitting down next to me, Maddie says, “Ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Will you try to see him again?”
I take a second to consider the question. Then... “I dunno. I have no idea. Probably not. I mean if he comes looking for me again, maybe, but... Nah. I probably won’t try to find him. I kind of got what I need, I think.”
She looks surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“OK.” After a second, she asks, “How do you feel about it?”
“Which part?”
“I mean are you sad? Relieved? Still hungry? What?” She kind of smiles.
How do I feel? How do I feel? I really have no idea. I never thought I would see him again in the first place. And I suppose that if you had asked me to describe what seeing him again would look like, I would have likely described something not too far off from the way it went. The only thing I wouldn’t have described is how I reacted. Helping him into a car. Telling him not to worry.
Being kind about it.
Yeah, that’s maybe the only part that surprises me.
So, I look at her with what I think is probably sort of a silly smirk and say, “I dunno. I guess – in the words of the late, great, Walter Cronkite – I just kind of feel like...” I pause to put on a pretty awful Walter Cronkite impression that kind of sounds a lot like my awful Rhett Butler impression.
“That’s the way it is.”