FIRE AND ICE: BOOK II: PLAYING FOOL TO CATCH WISE Part 4

EMMETT:

Is it sad that I almost regret having my phone back right now? When Duke handed me and Drew our phones back just before dinner last night, I was already going through GGW better known as Gossip Goddess withdrawal. Hey don’t judge me for naming my cell phone, since I’m sure y’all have some thangs y’all have named too, ie: toys that have absolutely NOTHING to do with Barbie or G.I. Joe. Just saying, though… Anyway, when I got GG back, I had five business calls from Darren, which I still have to return this morning. But the most troublesome were the other calls. Wouldn’t you know that Little Lord Fuckup called me 43 times, and filled my damn voicemail up so much that neither Darren nor my VIP clients could leave me a direct message. It pissed me off so much that Drewsie had to grab me before I went looking for that pest with a size 12 can of Raid, known as my left foot! The only thing that saved him was Drew’s reminder that we have no idea where on this island he is.

So now my cell phone is ringing again, but on the one hand I’m thankful that it isn’t Michael again. Only it’s worse… because it’s Debbie. I’m standing here debating the wisdom of not answering it, knowing good and hell well that I haven’t cleared any of Michael’s litany off of the vm as of yet. But knowing that the mailbox is full will just have her calling back constantly until I DO answer. I close my eyes as the phone stops ringing only to start up again. I want to turn it off, but I can’t in case Darren calls again before I have a chance to return his numerous calls. As I make up my mind to do what I really don’t want to do at all, I reach GG, only to have her snatched out of my hands.

Drew looks at the offending silver object with its glitter rainbow-colored case, seeing who is displayed on the caller ID. By the time he gets ready to push the ‘talk’ button, the call has gone to the voicemail again. But the peace and quiet is short-lived as Patti LaBelle belts out ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ through the phone speaker again. He knows that it’s Deb’s personal ringtone, which makes his scowl deepen further. Before I have a chance to advise against it, Drew presses the button, to place the phone on speaker. Which turns out to be a very wise move since she’s screeching on the other end of the phone to the tops of her ample lungs. Based on the things she’s saying, I don’t even think she’s registered that she’s not getting my voicemail, but us, live and in living color.

“I can’t believe this shit! Justin thinks he can just treat my baby like this and expect that I won’t have anything to say about it?! And just you wait until I get ahold of that ASSHOLE and the other two chicken-foot bastards! They think that they can just toss my Michael aside for their boytoys! No way, NO FUCKING WAY! They owe us… all of them! They owe it to Michael for all he’s done for them. When Emmett was high and homeless, Michael took him in! Even when his supplier pimp came looking for him at Michael’s apartment, and threatened his life if he didn’t come back, it was Michael that called the police! Then that fucking Ted, and his drug-addicted ass! He’s really changed since he started working for that asshole. Gone are the days when he was a staid but loyal pencil-pusher. But now that he’s gotten a little position, he thinks he can shit all over my son and the support we gave him? NO SIREE!!! This is NOT going to happen; not on MY watch! And let’s not even talk about King Dick himself! All those fucking nights I had to clean him up; all those fucking meals I had to prepare for him because of his bastard parents… He had ONE FUCKING JOB- just ONE- and that was to take care of Michael! And now he thinks he can just ditch him because of Justin?! Oh HELL NO! He owes Michael! He owes him for all the times he’s lent Brian money, or when he’s driven him home when he was too high to drive himself… HE OWES HIM DAMMIT!! And he, along with the rest of them, owe me a fucking explanation! I’ll not stop calling all of those turncoat assholes until somebody explains to me just what the fuck they think they are doing! And I won’t even get started on Ben! He owes more than that! He forgets that he took vows to my son- vows that I allowed against my own better judgment! He’d better get…”

“Will you SHUT THE FUCK UP?!!” A voice that sounds remarkably like Diane yells back. “Nobody owes you a fucking thing! They all have lives, while the blood-sucking scum known as your bastard son is trying his best to steal them. And for what? So his intelligence-challenged ass doesn’t get left behind?! So he can have a free ride through life at the expense of everyone else, except you? Wait. Let me guess! You feel that you’ve done your duty by your brat so now it’s his friends’ job to pick up where you left off so you can have a break from the thinks-he’s-entitled Spawn of Satan you raised? Well lady, buy a fucking clue… or better yet, I’ll give you one for fucking free. NOBODY is going to cater to that spoiled, malevolent, whiny, lazy, loud-mouth, inconsiderate, waste of a mediocre fuck that you pushed out of your twat! Raise him yourself! My brothers don’t have time to do your fucking job for you!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“The first answer that you need to know is I’m Blake’s sister. The second is that I’m the new owner of this place, and your new boss. Although I think we’re about a second closer to making that your ex-boss, especially if you don’t put that fucking phone down and stop harassing my brothers-from-other-mothers and get your tyrannical ass back to work! It’s a new day around here, Ms. Novotny, and unless that domineering doofus you call a son can afford to take care of you, I would suggest you start doing the job I’ll be paying you for.”

“My sons would never….”

“Son, Ms. Novotny. You only have ONE son. And I’m sure the others will not mind me speaking for them when I tell you that the reign of Novotny terror is OVER. Unlike before, they have family now, and a wonderful mother figure in Jennifer Taylor, whom I met just this morning. They no longer need you and your brand of you-will-owe-me-FOREVER bullshit, and they certainly don’t have to clean up the shit that ignoramus you birthed brought on himself. After the shit he said to and about Justin, it’s a wonder his ass isn’t lying somewhere in a pine box!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

I know that I have to keep her from telling Deb what Michael said. It would probably just kill her to know that Michael could be so vicious… “Diane, don’t!”

“Oh my God, Emmett is that you?” Deb screeches again. “It’s about fucking time you answer the damn phone! Now about Michael…”

“Diane, tell her!” Drew orders and I know from the look on his face that there is nothing I can say or do to stop this from happening. I close my eyes, even as I feel Drewsie’s trembling fingers grip mine.

“No one is going to come to the rescue of the man who has wished Justin DEAD more times than you can imagine.”

“WHAT?! You’re lying! Michael would never…”

“It’s true, Deb,” Melanie chimes in. I didn’t even know that she was there.

“Melanie! What the hell are you doing here?! And why are you taking this lying bitch’s side?! Michael is your friend.”

Mel snickers in response before answering. “Michael Charles Novotny is only a friend to himself. To the rest of us, he’s just as fickle as you are about your wigs.”

“No, he’s not!”

“Yes, he is! Damn, I can’t believe that you still choose to wear those Michael-colored blinders when it comes to him. He’s got you snowed good. But to answer your question, I found out years after it happened just why Michael got punched in the eye by Brian at the party. Quite frankly, Michael got off easily for saying that Brian should have left him on the garage floor.”

“He didn’t,” Deb’s broken voice comes over the airwaves.

“He did, Deb. And since then he’s said it more than once. Face it! Michael has wanted Justin gone since the night he met Brian. He just made sure to act on his mean-spiritedness when none of the rest of us were around or could hear the maliciousness that pours from him as easily as he takes his next breath. It’s why Justin won’t do business with him anymore. But Michael cut off his nose to spite his face in the end, because Justin and Brian own all the copyrights associated to the artwork and advertising. Then to make matters a bit worse for Michael, Justin also owned the design elements that were featured on Red Cape Comics website, and within his legal rights, Justin has severed all ties that bound him to Michael in any way, shape, or form. Simply put, Michael fucked himself over in more ways than he ever bargained for, and there is nothing he can do about it.”

“Em, you have to talk to Justin. Tell him…”

“What would you have me tell him, Deb? We were all there, and Michael most assuredly meant every word. So no, I won’t be talking to Justin on Michael-the-Moochers’ behalf. As far as I’m concerned Michael deserved everything he got and so much more.”

Before she has a chance to argue further, I disconnect the call. Drew looks outright murderous right now, and I don’t blame him at all. He’s standing there fumbling with his phone, a look of angry concentration on his face. Before I can even ask what he's doing, he tells me:

“By tonight, everyone will know exactly what Debbie thinks of them and their roles within Michael’s life. You guys have no more reason to be willfully ignorant; no reason to be beholden to Michael and his Ma.”

There are times when freedom- or the idea of it- feels fucking amazing. You’re almost ready to run naked through the street in glee! But then there are times when freedom sucks. It’s usually because of a monumental shift, such as a breakup. Losing my second mother to her delusional son’s ideals makes THIS is one of those times.