Daniel Palmer - Helpless

“You know it,” Roland said.

The bartender appeared with two drinks. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, the host’s lovely wife has asked me to bring her a drink,” Cortland said.

“Best not to keep the lady waiting,” Roland said.

“Tom, nice to meet you.” There was no handshake this time, as both of Cortland’s hands were occupied with beverages.

Roland watched as Cortland crossed the room and went over to Adriana. Tom thought he seemed slightly bothered. Roland’s gaze shifted left, and his new expression revealed an even harsher edge. “Oh, good,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

Tom turned to look but observed nothing unusual. He half expected to see Kip Lange come sauntering toward them. “What? What is it?” asked Tom.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Roland said. “Frank, if you’ll excuse us.”

“Of course,” Dee said. “Do your thing.”

Roland took Tom by the arm and led him back into the crowd.

“Is this about Lange?” Tom asked, his voice betraying some concern.

“Lange? No,” Roland answered quickly. “I told you, I’ve had all my best sources checking on him. That guy’s off the map. Vanished. No, this is a personal matter that could use your assistance.”

Roland pointed to a set of nearby French doors. “Look, buddy, head out to the patio and wait for me there. I’ll be out in a few minutes. We’re going to have ourselves a little bit of fun. Just like the old days.”

Tom waited for Roland on a wide stone patio, accessible only through a set of double doors located toward the rear of the club’s dining room. The doors and windows were blanketed by heavy curtains, so Tom couldn’t see in, and those inside couldn’t see out.

He texted Jill again.

She responded seconds after he hit SEND.

Green.

The evening air took on a slight chill that felt refreshing to breathe. It wasn’t long before the closed patio doors opened and a distinguished-looking man, fit, trim, and in his fifties, stepped outside. Roland followed closely behind.

“Shut the doors, Tom,” Roland said to Tom as he passed. Tom remained curious, but calm. “And don’t let anybody come out here,” Roland added.

Tom went from relaxed to tense in a breath. He took another, much closer look at the man Roland had escorted outside, and saw a fearful look in his eyes.

“Roland… please… this is all just a misunderstanding,” said the man. The man’s hands were trembling, and his voice carried a slight waver, which Tom suspected wasn’t natural.

“A misunderstanding?” Roland repeated. “Really? That’s what you call it, Bob?” Roland’s face scrunched up to convey a profound incredulousness. “You made a pass at my wife, and in my house, too. That’s no misunderstanding at all.”

Bob’s face reddened. “It wasn’t like that, Roland,” he stammered. “We were just talking.”

“On the couch? Resting your hand on her knee? Drinking my best vodka?”

“She poured us the drinks,” Bob explained. “I was just showing her brochures for vacation property on Waban Lake. That was all.”

“You sure about that, Bob? You sure that’s all?”

Tom stepped away from the door and took a few tentative steps toward Roland. He didn’t like the dark tone in Roland’s voice. It definitely sounded menacing. Bob might be fit for his age, but he’d be no match for Roland if this confrontation turned physical.

“Please, Roland. I got confused.”

“You tried to kiss her, didn’t you?”

“No… I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, Bob. Tell the truth. You tried to kiss her.” Roland got right up into Bob’s face, and the older man took a few cowering steps in retreat.

“No.”

“No? I saw you,” Roland said, looking like a poker player who’d just showed his winning hand. “I saw you,” Roland repeated, this time in a much softer voice.

Bob’s face went slack. “You were there?”

Roland just grinned—the same one that Tom knew so well. “Ever hear of a nanny cam, Bob?”

Bob looked as though he might faint. “Roland, nothing happened between us. I swear.”

“You swear, huh? I have video evidence contradicting that claim.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Bob.

“You’ve got to take your punishment,” Roland said.

“My what?”

“I’ve got to hurt you, Bob. Physically. Right here, right now. And you’ve got to take it like a man.”

“Roland, please. Let’s be rational about this!”

“This is going to hurt you a lot more than it is me, Bob.” Roland cocked a fist backward and let it fly—a hook punch aimed squarely at Bob’s head.

Tom sprang forward, putting himself between the two men. With one hand, he pushed Bob backward, out of Roland’s range. With his other hand, Tom caught Roland’s fist in midair. “Roland, don’t do this,” he said. He kept putting up resistance until Roland eventually relaxed. Even then Tom held on to Roland’s fist a few seconds longer, until he felt it was safe to let go.

Taking advantage of the lull, Bob took several quick steps in retreat. Roland danced past Tom with a little spin move he had perfected on the soccer pitch, and seized Bob by the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Not so fast, Bob,” Roland said. “We still have an issue to deal with.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go home. Mull over what you did wrong. Call me later to apologize. Sound like a deal?”

“I’m not going to just forget about what you did to me tonight,” Bob said. “You’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

“Not if you want to stay married, I won’t,” Roland said. “Remember the nanny cam? I’m sure Veronica would be highly disappointed to see what I could show her.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me. And, Bob… don’t ever talk to my wife again.”

Bob straightened out his suit jacket and gave Tom a quiet look of thanks. If Bob had recognized Tom from news reports of Kelly’s death, it didn’t register on his face. Bob left the patio through the French doors.

Tom waited outside with Roland. “What the hell was that about?” he asked.

“The guy tried to make it with my wife,” Roland said. “What more do you need to know?”

“Why’d you invite him to your party if you knew what he had done?”

Roland scoffed. “Tom, I’d have thought you, of all people, would understand the advantage of a surprise attack. Bob showed up here with his guard down, and I just scared the absolute crap out of him. That’s why I invited him.”

Tom recalled the look Roland had flashed Adriana the afternoon he stopped by their house to ask about Kip Lange. Ironic, thought Tom, that he had lied about Lange’s jealous streak to a man who really had one.

“You weren’t really going to hit that guy, were you?” asked Tom.

Roland just laughed. “Nah, I was going to pull back. But I must say, you still got your speed, Tom. Haven’t lost a step.”

Tom grunted. “For a second there, I thought you were going to really pummel him.”

Roland chuckled again. “I don’t get mixed up in any physical altercations,” he said. “It’s bad for business.”

“Good to know,” Tom said, feeling only a modicum of relief. Roland might be loosely wired, but at least he wasn’t dangerous.

“I just said I wouldn’t hit him. I never said he wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Oh, you have guys who do that for you?” Tom asked with a slight laugh, believing Roland had to be kidding.

“Keep flirting with Adriana and maybe you’ll find out for yourself.” Roland kept a serious expression, then cracked a broad smile, laughed loudly, and slapped Tom hard on the back, but in a playful way.