Nasty by Dr. Xyz

medicine, but no faith, hope, or promise that things would improve. They said he needed a miracle.
    Well, making the cabbie stop at Washington Square Park to check out his old stomping grounds and running into that nice-looking young man who had given him the flier constituted a miracle in Eli’s book.
    All those years in prison, volunteering for clinical drug trials, hoping it would slow down the progression of AIDS or shave off years from his sentence. Anything to get him out and maybe get a glimpse at his son…or even his ex-wife, Ophelia, before the disease claimed his body and soul. And now, at the end of life’s road…his dream would soon be realized.
    Attica had not really been that bad for him. It was there that he had kicked heroin. He didn’t even need methadone any-more. When his health cooperated, he ran both a GED and an arts program for his fellow inmates. The young guys even used him as a life counselor.
    Eli shook his head. Imagine him, a total loser, giving out advice. But they sought him out. Asked him questions. He shared the truth he knew best. It seemed to give the young men hope in an otherwise hopeless situation. During his prison stay, he had behaved and done all the things he should have done on the outside but was too pig-headed or too weak of a person to try.
    Looking at the picture of Tarik playing at the piano, Eli beamed with pride. He could not help but notice how muchthey resembled each other. He prayed that physical appearance was the only thing his son had inherited from him. It didn’t bother him that he didn’t carry his last name. He had signed over his parental rights years ago to Ophelia and her new husband, Richard “Pops” Singleton.
    After five years in prison, he hoped that they had taken good care of his son. He had never really doubted that they would. Ophelia was an excellent mother. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Hell, after all, she was the one who had the good sense to get him out of his own son’s life.
    In three weeks, Lord-willing, Eli would see his son perform in concert, and maybe get a peek at his ex-wife. He prayed he was alive and strong enough to attend.

CHAPTER TEN
     
    “
I
knew it! When you ran outta this office five years ago, I knew one day you’d want the whole story, and I knew there’d be more to the story.”
    Nicola rolled her eyes as the private investigator rattled on about her case and rummaged through cold, gray, dusty cabinets.
    She looked around Max Whitlow’s disorganized, claustrophobic office and sent up silent prayers that he’d soon find her information and that this would be the last time his services were needed. Waiting for the big reveal in his hot office added unnecessary drama. Beads of sweat slid down the curves of Nicola’s back. She could not wait to get out of there and put an end to the mystery of her childhood.
    After a half-hour of searching through file cabinets and boxes, God answered her prayers.
    “Oh yeah, here it is.” Max pulled out a thick manila file and handed it to his client.
    Eager to leave, Nicola grabbed the file out of his hands and stashed it into her purple leather satchel.
    “Aren’t you gonna read it now? You might have some questions; it’s heavy stuff, Mrs. James.” Max knew she would need help. It had taken him almost three months to put all the pieces together and the story was not pretty.
    “If I have any questions, Max, I’ll call.” She wrote out a check paying him a handsome sum, thanked him for a job well done, and left the office.
    It was two days before she got up the nerve to read the file. She left it in the third floor library on top of Harrison’s antique mahogany desk.
    She could not find the courage to face up to her past. But today was different. Armed with a fifth of Courvoisier, she entered the office knowing that she was leaving it a different person. The bits and pieces of her childhood that haunted her since the evening she busted Harrison were about to be