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part 3 of the story

The Eye

Eric Burbridge

    Sherry packed everything necessary into her backpack for her short stay at the love nest Nate provided. A one-bedroom apartment for first year residents at the University Hospital Complex. What better place for Nate than close to the job? The Uber driver couldn’t get her there fast enough. She told the elderly gray-haired guy to take the long way to make sure she was not being followed. Suspicion was a trait she picked up from her mom. Her visit with Nate had to be short; her mom insisted she meet a young man she might like from Hong Kong who was visiting with his parents. That would be around 9pm, but she still needed time to be fresh. It was embarrassing when her mom would sniff around when she suspected she’d been with a man. “You air out after being with a man, understood?”
    Nate made a habit as soon as they got to the door, he would peel off her clothes, enter her and carry her to the bed and ride her until she passed out. He said she scared him, but he continued to do it every time. She laid her head on his chest dreaming of places and things they could do together. What would their children look like? Where would they live and it was essential, they have a high standard of living? He started to snore; time to raid the frig before he wanted to see the manuscript. Peanut and jelly were the only thing available; after the first bite he woke up. “Did you bring the copies?”
    “Of course, baby.” She dabbed her lips and got her backpack. “It’s good reading, I admire you guys with your vivid imaginations.” She fanned the pages looking for the papers she made notes and suggestions. “I did some editing for you.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Sherry paused a minute; she was going too fast. She knew she made notes on the first chapter, which wasn’t that long. She slowed, checking every sheet. She got that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach.
    “What’s wrong, Sherry?”
    “Nothing baby...nothing.” Her heart sank, it couldn’t be what she thought. How could she be that stupid. By now Nate got out the bed and he was standing next to her. She put the manuscript down and tried to compose herself. He’d be pissed if she did what she thought. “I must’ve have left some notes at home.” She gave him a peck on the lips.
    She fucked up!
    She accidentally put her copy back in the box and kept Bipp’s original.
    When he sees the notes, he’ll know. What the hell happens now? What was Nate going to do with it anyway, pull off a heist or what? Reality hit. She loved Nate, but she would never be with him forever. It’s best to tell Bipp, that way he wouldn’t think her mom betrayed him.
    Nate put his forefinger under her chin, lifted her face for direct eye contact. “Don’t lie Sherry, what’s up?”
    Make it good, Sherry. She had to be convincing and that would be a major undertaking; she was no actor. She backed up and frowned. “I’m pissed with myself. I had notes and suggestions about several parts of his work, but I forgot them.” She sighed and sat on the bed and forced tears in her eyes. “I worry about you. You aren’t going to do what got Bipp and the others in jail, are you? But you wouldn’t tell me anyway, but still?”
    “No, I’m not, so don’t worry, no crime.” They kissed passionately; he laid her back and mounted her.
    It worked! Now Sherry, enjoy the time left, the hard part of your screw up is ahead.

*

    Potts finished skimming through Bipp’s stories. Nothing of interest. He headed for his place; in and out right quick was the plan. But after being railroaded for exercising a defunct part of the First Amendment, freedom of the press, his caution wouldn’t surprise him. Where would Bipp be now? Bipp’s former PO might know is still his PO, but he doesn’t know it yet. If the government knew what he and Officer Smith did they would both get time in Leavenworth. Potts’ status as a federal informant would not help him. Potts’ real agenda, finding the recipe for, what Bipp said was his family’s food enhancement, had priority. The thing about Bipp, he was a creature of habit. He’d be at or around Ju Chen’s soon. When Sherry called and told him Bipp was there it sent a chill down his spine. What was he up too? It was too early for him to know he’d seen the manuscript, or was it? His lust for Ju Chen’s daughter would get him in trouble, but he couldn’t help himself. Surely, she had other guys in her life? She seemed too mature for her age to be a love sick teen even though she was eighteen. He tossed that thought. It was time for a plan. Maybe he could get to Bipp’s place before he left the restaurant, he wasn’t far.
    Bipp was particular bastard, but that didn’t bother him as much as his animal magnetism...let the females tell it. Security was minimal in the bougie building for snobs. Potts got in his place as fast as if he had a key. He figured Bipp was a slob. Wrong. The place was immaculate, as if it were a model apartment. No dishes in the sink, the living and dining area were in order and no household odor. He checked for booby traps; the kind that would let pretty boy know somebody had been there. There were none. But his office desk was cluttered with papers. He took out his phone and snapped as many pictures as possible, but when he thought about it, a sample of food enhancer would be in the kitchen. Would it be in a special marked container? His grandma’s recipe would be ideal, but unlikely. He checked all the cabinets and the pantry. Dammit, a text. He left a while ago, sorry to be late telling you. Time to go! He peeked out the door only to see a toy drone whizz by. That’s all he needed. He hurried to the stairs and closed the door quietly behind him and went out the rear entrance. “Hi, Mr. Bipp,” a kid said. He didn’t turn around and went out the back gate to the wooded area, glad whoever that kid was thought he was Bipp. Five minutes later he caught a bus out of there.

*

    It took three slams to close the antiquated letter box that management refused to replace. Fortunately, I found mail that had been recently delivered. The super would hear about this soon, not that he’d listen, but he’s still going to hear it. I took an extra-long, hot as I could stand it, shower to wash the imaginary stench of the MCC off me. It was good to feel alone while I showered. I slipped on the robe Lindsay used, it still smelled like her body wash. It aroused me slightly, but no distractions, I had editing to do. I’d thought about these stories for months. I tore open the bubble wrap enforced envelope and placed the contents next to the computer. There was a stain on it from what looked like coffee or cola. Strange...I don’t drink anything when I write and the paper didn’t feel right. I turned page after page and all of them had notes and corrections. Who did this? Ju Chen said no one saw it and she wasn’t a writer. She lied! Why? The more pages I turned, the madder I got. I trusted her. I slammed my hands on the table and everything jumped up or fell over. Relax! Somebody fucked up...I wasn’t supposed to see this. Could that be, Sherry Chen? She lingered around sometimes when me and Nate got together at the restaurant. Usually, after-hours, Ju Chen would tell her to stay away in Mandarin, obviously her daughter had a crush on one of us. Sherry was grown now, but my gut said over and over, she did it. Lunch with Lindsay had to wait. I got dressed, grabbed a few edited chapters and made a beeline back to Chinatown.

*

    Whatever was cooking at Ju Chen’s smelled delicious. Orange chicken and the truth about my manuscript would hit the spot. I calmed myself, it was to my advantage to respect her as a friend. She sat at the table closest to the kitchen scrolling through her phone when our eyes met. That half smile said it all, she knew why I was there. I took out the papers before I reached her table. She stood and wrapped her arms around me. “My son, good to see you.”
    “Love you too, Ju.” I sat and quickly spread the papers in front of her. “What’s this...do you know this hand writing or is it yours?”
    “Yes, I know already why you here.” She slid over in the booth.” Move closer so Sherry will sit.” I did. “You hungry?”
    “Yeah, a small side of orange chicken.”
    “Good, we just finished a batch.” She shouted whatever in Mandarin and a deep male voice acknowledge the order. “Sherry, not here now!”
    “How did this happen...I didn’t know Sherry was interested in my stories or anybody’s.”
    “I’ll let her tell you. She fucked up, I look like fool.” Ju Chen’s frown got worse. Just as she stood Sherry came out of the kitchen.
    “Yeah, mom I was in the bathroom.” She flashed a smile and sat next to me. “Hello, Mr. Bipp.”
    I nodded. “Sherry.”
    “You tell him what you told me...the truth, no bullshit!” Sherry jumped like she got a kick under the table.
    “I’m sorry Mr. Bipp, it’s not my mom’s fault. I saw her put away your papers; I always wanted to be a writer like you, so I took a peek. I decided to copy them without mom knowing.”
    “Where’s the copy, Sherry, who’s got it?” I tried not to raise my voice, but it was getting hard. She stared down at the table avoiding eye contact; she wasn’t telling us everything.
    “Nate has it.”
    “Potts?” She looked embarrassed; I wanted to ring her neck.
    “Yes, Mr. Potts.”
    Ju Chen snapped at her in their language. Sherry jumped up and hurried to the back. That was the last thing I expected. How did he know I left my stories with her? Damn...Potts was a fool for messing with Ju Chen’s daughter. She was half our age and he knew how she felt about interracial relationships. She always said, “It complicates things.” I knew how envious Potts was, but something else was up.
    “Listen Bipp, Sherry came to me about her fuck up so you wouldn’t think I betrayed you. But something still don’t smell right. I know she admired older people, but still.”
    I nodded. “Ok...what?”
    “You think he wants to steal your ideas or make more trouble to get you back in jail?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “Before I forget, she said when she put it back in the safe, she put her copy in its place and gave Potts the original and he don’t know she fucked up. That’s good, right?”
    “Right.” I wasn’t feeling all the cloak and dagger stuff, but what could I do? “Did he pay her, Ju Chen or what?”
    “He pay alright...in love. That’s how he pay. He fuckin’ my daughter that’s what I say and she in love. I can’t prove it, but I can feel it.”
    The cook brought my food. “Don’t feel bad, Ju everything will be alright.” I kissed her on the cheek and dug into my meal. I couldn’t enjoy it with her sitting there with that half sulking look on her face. I pushed my plate aside. “Okay, say it whatever it is.”
    “What Potts want with your stuff, more crime or what I wonder?”
    I shrugged. “Who knows...I want to forget that crap.”
    “I know it sound crazy, but you still cook with that special stuff, that special family recipe you bragged about?”
    “Bragged?”
    “Bragged.” She smiled. “You very proud of it.”
    “No, not really and what does that have to do with anything?” I felt stupid asking. That couldn’t be why he wanted my manuscripts, could it? “You think that’s it?”
    “Keep it in mind,” Ju Chen stood and gave me that look. “Keep it in mind that’s all I ask.” She headed in the back.

*

    It was time to get analytical, but what I needed was at home. I wouldn’t be there for a while, maybe days. I told Lindsay we’d go and do whatever she wanted and I intended to do just that. I decided to walk until the bus came. I hoped she’d want to lock up and we’d go to my place, but I didn’t count on it. I remembered when things were simple in my life, until the conviction. Money binds too many friendships especially when they think their shit don’t stink, such as Nate Potts. What was he up too? I reminded myself that if I’m patient it will come to me. But it won’t walking down Cermak Road in this heat. The closer I got to the mall the more I wanted to cancel our plans. As they say; be careful what you wish for.
    When I exited the bus and entered the mall, I got a mini-smoothie. Sweat ran down my face while I downed the cold drink. I sat at a table with a group of loud teens but that didn’t distract me from looking down the aisle at Lindsay’s place of employment. I wish I hadn’t. She was talking to a short stocky with greying hair and he wore one of those Jewish caps they wear. The name escaped me, but their conversation was intense. The kind of intense between lovers or spouses. She told me she was unattached, but it didn’t look like it. I started to hurry their way, but when he grabbed her and a passionate kiss followed, that stopped that. Whatever was between them excluded me and everyone else. I was hurt; I thought she was the one. Lindsay eased away from him smiling and wiped her eyes. I turned quickly; he was headed my way and out the door he went. At the same time my phone rang.
    “Hey baby, where are you?” It was obvious she’d been crying.
    “Leaving out the door.” I lied. She sniffled. “You okay?”
    “I’m good, a touch of hay fever. I gotta cancel our plans, don’t be mad.”
    “I’m not.” I lied again, but I was glad in a way.
    “Something came up with family...I have to tend to it.” She said, the sniffles were gone.
    “Who’s going to mind the store?” The hesitation told me that caught her off guard. Whatever she said wouldn’t matter. I was still hurt, my gut told me it was over.
    “They’ll, they’ll send somebody. I gotta go...be in touch.”
    Thank God, my heart wasn’t in too deep and I had other concerns.

*

    Once again, I had that empty feeling; a piece of my heart was missing. I swore I wouldn’t let that happen again. I couldn’t get back to my apartment quick enough. A belly flop on the bed and a scream in the pillow helped. Why did I allow myself to get comfortable? Jail time loneliness is what did it.
    Man up, Bipp, get yourself together, you got things to do.
    I rolled over and tossed the pillow aside and headed for the shower. But first open the windows, the place had the faint smell of wine and sweat. It wasn’t me...just my imagination? Maybe. Instead of the windows I’ll open the balcony door. It was unlocked and the drapes were pushed back. That I don’t do. Damn, whose been in here? Now I was pissed. I felt violated. A closer look at the lock showed markings on the latch. I looked around the living room, nothing missing.
    My manuscript!
    I rushed in the study; there it was where I left it. Nate Potts came to mind and so did my grandma’s secret sauce/food enhancer. What little was left was in a catsup bottle in the frig. Potts was an envious SOB. He wanted whatever I had. What a miserable way to live and that made him dangerous. If it were him, how did he know where I live? Did he follow me from the Dragon Strip or Ju Chen’s? I was sick of his mess and not being a violent guy made me put up with his mess way too long. Now this, if it was him. I’d been told a thousand times, “Follow your first thought gut feeling, it’s usually right.” Prison hardened my resolve not to tolerate bullshit. I was going to slap the shit out of Nate Potts; I didn’t need or want his friendship.
    Exercise caution, don’t hit him too hard, you’ll injure or kill him.
    I was getting ahead of myself...be analytical and intuitive. I cracked a couple of windows and left. When I locked the deadbolt, something whizzed past my head. “Hi, Mr. Bipp.” The little kid who lived at the end of the hall said, with the controller of his drone in his hands.
    “Hey little Billy, how you doing?”
    “I saw you a little while ago going out back, you didn’t speak you mad at me because of my toy?”
    He was right, I hate that thing. “No, no, Billy that wasn’t me.” Those big bright eyes lit up behind those thick glasses on his little face when I said that.
    “Ok, but I thought it was you I saw your ponytail.” He pushed a button and the toy drone came racing around the corner and landed at my feet.
    “Okay Billy, see you later.” There was doubt, it was Nate Potts.

*

    Potts dreamed of making a successful run at the restaurant supply business. That was more practical for him since that would limit working with the public. People were a pain. If he got Bipp’s flavor enhancement recipe and formula he could possibly make a fortune. Good bye drug hustle and punching someone else’s clock. Bipp was a fool not taking advantage of what he had. He thought about it more than Bipp, the want to be writer of the great American novel. The near fascist administrations assault on the First Amendment made tampering down freedom of speech helped limit dissent, but the dreamers with pen and paper persisted with opinions and the like that fell on deaf ears. Yes, Milo Bipp, continue down that path while he got the recipe. He knew it was somewhere. When he heard Bipp was being released he asked his good friend Officer Fred Smith, a well-connected probation officer, would he be in the “the eye” program that was so controversial. “Maybe, maybe not,” was all he said. That meant what’s in it for me? “A partnership in one of my entrepreneurial endeavors,” he’d say. But he knew that wouldn’t mean much. “Money and a beautiful man...you still a sucker for a pretty face, right?” That would hold his interest. He’d fill him in on the details once he became his PO. He agreed. It was a long shot, but it happened. Now weeks later they would meet at a female queer bar in Lincoln Park Square and Smith would share what he found out. It would be fun since they both loved lesbians, every now and then, but it had been a while and “The Closet” changed with the times. A hefty cover charge of fifty bucks and a thorough pat down was required. That guaranteed security, not from internal foolishness, but electronic eavesdropping, something every body showed concern. Too much privacy breeds dissent, so say the politicians. To this day many people still remain discrete about their sexual preference.
    Potts knew the manager by her nickname, used by friends only, Tiny. Tiny she wasn’t, but a big woman who dressed expensive, but not flashy. No matter the outfit her curves could not be hidden and the white pants suit she wore today proved that. She escorted them to a booth that wasn’t far from the stage where several jazz singers lined up to audition. An unexpected treat that Potts tipped her with an extra fifty bucks. “You drinking today or what?” Potts asked.
    “No, not today, not in the mood...got trouble at work. Under better circumstances I would. You made his stuff sound so good.”
    “Wait a second, Smith, what happened?”
    “There’s a big class action suit or threat of one about the eye probation system. Rumors of abuses...”
    “Abuses?”
    “Abuses.”
    Potts leaned back against the booth high back cushion. “Shit, that’s the last thing we need.”
    “We! It’s me who got suspended pending further investigation. I had nothing to do with the hack or whatever happened. But I knew something was wrong because when your boy’s eye was supposed to be off, it was on.” Smith said, he started to sweat and raised his voice.
    “Calm down...calm down. You need a drink.” He waved for a waitress. She frowned not wanting to be bothered while listening to a short Latina singing her heart out.
    “Yes sir.” She tried to be nice.
    “Scotch on the rocks.” Potts watched Smith scroll through his phone. “Make that a double,” and tossed a twenty on the table. She returned with a smile and scooped it up and returned to the stage area.
    Smith stirred the mixture and gulped it down. “Damn, that’s good scotch.”
    “You know they don’t serve bar whisky.”
    “Right.” Smith stared at the cubes in the empty glass. “You were right about your boy. He is gorgeous, but he or anybody else is not worth my job, pension or jail time.”
    “If you didn’t hack the system what you got to worry about?”
    “Don’t be stupid, Potts. People will say or do anything to stay out of jail especially cops or law enforcement people and you know that.”
    “Please tell me you didn’t print anything, did you?”
    “No...the system don’t work like that. I wish it did because he’s beautiful and sometimes I thought he put on a show for me.”
    Potts laughed. “Your lying, right?”
    “No, I’m not. I see why you so jealous or envious or both.”
    “I’m not!” Potts snapped.
    Smith shook his head slightly. “If you say so, but do you want to hear my report or what?” He signaled the waitress for another drink.
    The alcohol was loosened his buddy’s tongue. He wasn’t a liar. Now, if he only has good news. Smith downed it right quick. “Good we ain’t driving.” Potts said.
    “Your boy Bipp is a real character; from day one he signaled for me to go fuck myself, I can’t say I blame him. This eye shit is a real invasion of their privacy even when they take a shit.” They laughed and took a sipped their drinks. “Before I forget, I haven’t forgot our deals.” Smith held up his glass; they toasted.
    “We’re good.”
    “Man, those girls sound good — especially the short one with the big tits. What is she about five feet? Them short ones got good sex, Potts, good sex. Sorry, but anyway like I was saying. When an ex-inmate gets the eye, the first interview the PO gets to see where the parolee lives. That goes for the first half hour, after that they go and see what they want. If it’s not a violation you can’t do anything about it. Your boy, Bipp with his smart ass, after he used the toilet would look down in it without flushing for several minutes, sometimes longer.”
    “That’s gross! For real?”
    “Yeah, for real. Nobody did that shit, no pun intended, but him, and I couldn’t violate him for it. I thought about our deal and concluded his BS wasn’t going to work.” He signaled for another round.
    “Don’t hurt yourself.” He shouldn’t have got him started, but he needed the info.
    “I won’t. Ten minutes after ‘The Eye’ was over, it popped back on. I was shocked, it was fuzzy, but I could hear and see everything he did...I wasn’t supposed to.”
    “Did all the other people with it have the same problem?” Potts asked, hoping for good news regarding his plan.
    “A few, but I, like others, didn’t discuss it. The bosses might mess that up and start pointing fingers. But before you ask, I took advantage to learn what I could, which was nothing. The papers or whatever you thought he’s got I didn’t see. He didn’t even open the mail when he first got there.” Smith took another drink and dug his fingers in a bowl of popcorn and pretzels. “Don’t look so disappointed.”
    “What can I say, continue.”
    “He cooked, he ate, he went to the bathroom, watched 3D...I wish I had that, and went for a walk. He saw you at the Dragon Strip.”
    “Yeah, he ignored me. I wondered why; you’d think he would want to see some of his old buddies.”
    “Can’t blame him, he took a hit for nothing. He’s probably thinks you ratted on him, did you?”
    “Fuck you...finish, I don’t have all day.”
    “Well, Mister Potts anything else?”
    “He use any seasoning that might appear special?”
    “Oh, you mean the secret sauce you’re looking for.” Smith shook his head; it was obvious he was drunk. “I know one thing he got a real looker for a girlfriend. I wouldn’t mind gettin’ some of that. Boy, they go at it like two dogs.” He belched loudly. “Don’t tell my partner that.”
    Potts was pissed. This was obviously a waste of time. He took an envelope out of his pocket. “Here’s what I owe you. Don’t spend it all in one place, like here.”
    Smith grabbed the money. “I’m goin’ up front and listening to those wonderful jazz singin’ girls and see if I can get in somebody’s panties.” He hesitated when he stood before he took a step.
    “You okay...you can make it, right?”
    “Yeah, I got this.” At first, he staggered, but stopped, regrouped and made his way to the stage.
    Potts followed to make sure he was alright. “I got to go, can you make it home or wherever?”

Enjoy the Eric Burbridge story “The Eye” in the April, May, June & July 2023 issues of cc&d magazibe...

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