I want to laugh, but he's not going to be laughing in just a few minutes, so I tell him straight by cutting to the chase. "I've identified one of them."
I can literally hear my father release a long, pained breath, because he knows exactly what I'm talking about. "You did?"
"About nine months ago...I saw him on TV and recognized the red bird tattoo."
My father knows about the tattoo. He and my mother sat with me, each holding a hand as I recounted to the police as best I could the spotty details of what I remembered.
"Jesus, Sela," he says in astonishment. "Why didn't you go to the police? We need to go to the police."
"I am," I assure him. "Soon...probably this week. But I need to tell you some stuff about him that you're not going to like. Some stuff that I was planning on doing that you're really not going to like."
"You can tell me anything," he reassures me, which I already know. It makes me ashamed that he wasn't the first person I told on that horrid day long ago when I saw JT on the television.
Taking a deep breath, I tell him as succinctly as I can just the crucial details. "It's JT...I mean Jonathon Townsend, Beck's partner."
Dad curses, but I talk over him, needing to get it all out. "When I realized who he was, I considered going to the police, but then quickly discounted it. I was afraid they couldn't do anything because of the memory issues, but more important, I wanted JT to suffer for what he did. I also wanted to know who the other men were that night. So my plan was to confront JT with a gun, force him to tell me what I needed to know, and then I was going to kill him."
"Are you kidding me?" my dad yells into the phone.
"Dad...I didn't go through with that plan," I say quickly in an effort to keep him focused.
"But you were going to kill him?" my dad asks, sounding incredulous. "Do you know how insane that is?"
"Yes, I get that," I assure him. "I was driven by a lot of hate and anger and was acting rashly, but I've got that under control now. That night I went to confront JT...well, I met Beck instead."
"Does he know?" dad asks quietly.
"Yes, he does. And we're currently working on a plan to get JT out of The Sugar Bowl first before we go to the police. Get things cleaned up on Beck's end so that hopefully when JT's arrested, it won't affect the business."
"It will still blow back on Beck," my dad says.
And that's true. When this hits the media, it's going to be about how the former co-owner of The Sugar Bowl is charged with rape. Beck's business will take a hit. "We know, but it's still going to be much easier to have JT removed as owner. If he still owns part of The Sugar Bowl when he's arrested, Beck will have to run things by him, and you know that will be a nightmare. Hell, JT's going to be so mad he'll fight against Beck on everything...probably will try to intentionally run it into the ground. It will be tough on everyone once this goes public, but we'll get through it."
"Of course we'll get through it," he says soothingly. "I'm right there by your side."
"The police may not think my identification of him by that tattoo is strong enough to force him to give DNA," I tell my dad. "He may stay free."
"And if that happens, what's your plan then?" my dad asks hesitantly. And I know what he's thinking...will I revert back to my original plan for murder?
"Then I'll have to live my life content to know that while I might not get justice for what happened to me, that I got Beck instead. And trust me...that will be enough."
I think.
God, I hope.
I really, really hope I can let it go if it comes to that.
I open the door to Michael Mina, an upscale, elegant San Francisco restaurant. Due to the abundant natural light from large windows in both the front and back of the restaurant, I easily spot Dennis sitting in a booth about midway back. He raises a hand in greeting and pointing to him, I tell the hostess, "I'm meeting someone and I see him over there."
She smiles and gives me a polite nod, murmuring, "Enjoy your meal."
He doesn't bother standing in professional acknowledgment of me, and I like that. After watching the fight with him the other night, and hell, after all the personal shit he knows about Sela and me, I much prefer to think of him as just a friend in this moment.
Because that's exactly what I need right now.
I had called Dennis a few hours ago when I got to my attorney's office and asked if he had time to meet today. He invited me to lunch, even boasting he'd pay for it, since he'd finally cashed the check I'd given him.
"What's up?" he says casually as I slide into the seat opposite him.
"Just finished a meeting with my attorney. He's drafting up a purchase agreement for JT to sign if he takes the five-million-dollar offer. Should be ready in a few hours."
"Think he will?" Dennis asks. I had called him yesterday evening and told him briefly about JT's ass kicking. He didn't seem all that surprised it happened so quickly after the fight, stating that the timing of it was a good way to deliver the message of what a dire situation JT had put himself in and that his bookie was not fucking around on collecting.
Shrugging, I reach out and take a slice of bread from the basket that sits between us. "No clue. Not only was he rattled from the beating, but I caught him off guard by using his situation as leverage to get him out of the company. I figure he's reeling right now, and it's hard to make good decisions like that."
"Well, hopefully the fear of what will happen to him if he doesn't come up with the money will motivate him to see things your way."
"Hopefully," I agree, my mind not really focusing on that. I've realized that I have no further control over this situation and our next move depends solely on what JT decides to do.
A waiter approaches our table and sets a glass of ice water in front of me before rattling off the lunch specials. I've eaten here several times and it's always been good, I ask him to just bring me whatever he thinks is best. Dennis orders the Prime Black Angus rib eye rare with a loaded potato. We both stick with water for our drinks.
"I'm flying out tonight to Vegas," Dennis says after the waiter leaves. "VanZant's still there and I'm going to deliver the money."
"Not using the middle man?"
"He's good and trustworthy," Dennis says with a dark laugh, "but there's no one I trust enough when that amount of cash is involved."
I don't ask how it's being delivered or the details. Dennis has warned Sela and me enough that we don't need the details of how he operates, and we're safer not knowing. I have to trust he knows what he's doing and stop worrying about details I have no control over. And frankly, I just don't want to know how Dennis managed to "launder" the money I gave him into what is now probably five hundred thousand in nonsequential bills filling a sturdy briefcase.
I nod in understanding, but don't respond. I'm too keyed up over what's happened in the last two days, too worried about everything that could still be screwed up. I'm trying to make contingency plans, and it's like playing a game of chess with an opponent who flies by the seat of his pants.
"VanZant's an interesting character," Dennis says, and my eyes dart to his.
"How so?" I ask, not really caring, because let's face it...I'm done with him. But I've also learned enough about Dennis to know he always has a point to everything.
"From a small town in Iowa, captain of the wrestling squad. Honors student who dated the homecoming queen. Full scholarship to Purdue. Just a golden boy."
I break off a piece of bread, pop it into my mouth, and wait for Dennis to make his point.
"Just one of those guys you knew was going to be a success in life," he says as he leans his forearms on the table. "Got married to his sweetheart after college, produced two cute kids, and found out he had an actual talent for mixed martial arts."
While I know Dennis is leading me somewhere, I'm antsy with my own worries, so I urge him along. "Sounds like he's a little slice of Americana, but so what?"
"He didn't bat an eye at accepting a bribe," Den
nis says. "On paper...just looking at him from the outside...you'd never think that boy would do something like that. Too much straight and narrow in him. But he took it all the same."
"Meaning?" I prompt.
"Meaning that everyone has a price and everything can be bought if you know the right people, so with that in mind, I'm going to push you right along and ask you to spill it. What do you want from me?"
Perceptive fuck. But then again, that's why I paid him big bucks so far, and why I'm getting ready to have a conversation that could damn me to hell.
I like Dennis Flaherty a lot. He's not only a competent professional who came personally and highly recommended, but he's proven to me that he can get the job done. On top of that, I just think he's an upstanding guy. He clearly has shady ties, but you can tell that he's motivated to do good by others.
Most important, he also understands vengeance and how there can be an unquenchable need for it when someone you care for has been hurt.
Placing the bread on a small plate, I pick up my water, take a sip, and then set it down. Looking him square in the eye, I come right to the point. "I need a backup plan if everything we're hoping to happen goes to shit. If I can't get JT out of The Sugar Bowl. If the police don't believe Sela's memory is enough to investigate. Sela and I have talked about just walking away from it all, but I don't think I can fucking do that. I need another plan."
"A plan to keep The Sugar Bowl or a plan to get justice?" Dennis asks calmly. "Because those are two very different goals."
"I don't care about The Sugar Bowl. I'm talking about JT."
"Everyone has a price and everything can be bought," Dennis says, repeating his words from just moments ago. "What do you want to buy?"
I figure if I'm man enough to want this to happen, I can be man enough to tell Dennis what I want without hesitation. "JT's death."
Dennis doesn't react. No cough of surprise, no raised eyebrows. He just nods in understanding. "I've got the necessary resources to make that happen."
"I don't want you--" I say hastily, because I don't want him at risk.
Dennis holds up a quick hand to stop me. "Not me. But I can facilitate what you need with the right people who will do it cleanly and without any suspicion."
The minute those words hit my ears, I feel a sudden weight fall from my shoulders, even if a ball of black disgust with myself starts to form deep in my stomach. I can't let Sela go unavenged. While I'd like JT to pay for his crimes within the bounds of the law, I'm prepared to take action so Sela won't be failed again.
"Good," I whisper, looking down at my hands. Am I really asking this man to facilitate murder for me? I think back to how shocked I was when Sela first told me she wanted to kill JT. I thought it was an insane proposition and that the risk of getting caught was too great to bear.
And yet here I am...trying to figure out how to make it happen.
"But doing it without raising suspicion means more than just how and where it's carried out," Dennis explains with an ominous undertone. "The police always look to those closest to the victim. That means family, close friends, and business partners. What's been the nature of your relationship with JT over the last several months?"
"You mean, how we get along?"
"Exactly. If the police were to go to your staff members, are they going to say that you are a solid duo who has each other's backs? That you care for and respect one another, and that in a million years they could never imagine you harming JT?"
I swallow hard, because, no...they wouldn't say that at all. While Linda would never want to hurt me or get me in trouble, she's as honest as the day is long. She'll have to tell them she's seen my frustrations with JT's behavior. The endless list of women complaining about him and my actions in smoothing things over to keep the business strong. JT's secretary, Karla, who is loyal to her boss and doesn't care for me because I treat my employees well and she gets treated like shit, will relish in telling them about the fights we've had in JT's office. I guarantee she's listened in on them, certain that on more than one occasion she's heard me telling JT I want to buy him out and him refusing. She's aware of JT's bad behavior as well, and has seen my fury over it time and again. I bet she'd go so far as to say that she's seen murder in my eyes when I've stalked into JT's office before, and she wouldn't be wrong. Of course, back then, it was metaphorical murder, but really...how hard would that be for the police to leap to actual murder?
Add that to the fact that my girlfriend was raped by JT, and they'll have enough circumstantial evidence to come after me for the crime. My attorney would never disclose any communications we've had, as they're protected by attorney-client privilege. But that doesn't mean JT's attorney won't also confirm that I've made overtures to buy JT out, and that JT's own attorney has advised him there's no need to entertain offers because of the way it's written.
The argument will be simple enough. I wanted JT out of The Sugar Bowl because he was a liability. He refused. JT raped my girlfriend. I exacted vengeance and removed him from my business all in one fell swoop.
Yeah...the police would look directly to me.
"I'd be a prime suspect," I tell Dennis, and then tell him exactly how strained our relationship has been for several months.
"Then we'd have to try to direct attention and evidence to a better suspect," Dennis says simply.
"His bookie?" I guess.
"His bookie, the Sugar Babies he's tried to harm or has harmed, people he's bought drugs from. JT's into some whacked shit. It will help to muddy the waters of the suspect list."
"How would the police even know about his betting?" I ask. I know virtually nothing about this type of stuff.
"JT's talked to Vegas on the phone, so there will be a record of that. And his bookie is well known. They won't have a hard time connecting those dots. And frankly, if JT doesn't take your money and chooses to risk his own life, there's a good chance Vegas will take care of the problem for you."
"If only I could be so lucky," I mutter as I look around the restaurant. "But there's a chance they won't kill him too, right? I mean...what if he hands them a few million he can scrape up and works out a payment plan? He makes a good enough salary that if he stopped spending his money so frivolously, he could get them paid off other ways."
"That could happen too," Dennis agrees. "You gotta figure those people who take bets are businessmen too. They could extend part of the repayment and call it a loan. Attach a ridiculous amount of interest to it. They're in the business of making fast money and look at return on investment too. His bookie could go to loan shark pretty quickly."
"Fuck," I grit out. "I hate this shit. Hate seeing justice for Sela and happiness for us both just within our reach and about a million fucking things that could go wrong. It's driving me crazy."
"Look, man," Dennis says, and his voice is so empathetic it gives me pause. "You know I understand how you're feeling right now. I've been in your shoes, and there was nothing that was going to stop me from avenging Rosa. I had her father and brothers behind me, but I'm the one who sleeps the best at night for ending the fuck who took her from us. No one will understand what you're going through better than me. But with that being said, you've got a lot more to lose that I ever did. My love was what I had lost. Yours is still very much alive and the biggest part of your happiness. Shit goes down in a bad way and you get caught for this, you're going to lose something that's far more important than what little bit of peace you'll get from ending JT."
And he's nailed the dilemma. Balancing pros and cons, trying to figure out what my priorities are and where I need to be focusing my attention. Avenging Sela and ridding this world of JT, or living happily ever after with a kernel of regret for letting him go free. Those are my choices and they are not easy ones to make.
"Regardless of what you decide," Dennis continues in a low voice, "you've got to let some time pass before you move on it. You've got to start publicly repairing your relationship with him, and get some distance b
etween you and the tension you two have exhibited to others over the past months. It might mean you need to continue working side by side with him for months to make sure you are shown in the best possible light. Think you could honestly do that?"
"No," I say immediately. "I can't be around him. If JT stays in The Sugar Bowl, I'm going to need to walk. I can't live that type of lie."
"Then my advice is still the same," he says. "Let JT buy you out. Make it amicable. Part on good terms. Then you walk and don't look back. When some time has passed, and if you still need vengeance, then we'll talk some more and I'll get you set up."
After the waiter brings out our meals, which look delicious, and leaves, I ask Dennis, "So what's up for you after your trip to Vegas?"
"I've actually got a wedding to attend in Ireland this weekend, so I'll fly out from Vegas to New York, and from there into Shannon. My cousin's getting married and I will take any excuse to get back to the motherland. While I'm not a big fan of weddings in general, Irish ones are a hell of a lot of fun."
"Yeah...red hair, fair skin, tough-as-nails attitude, and boyish charm. I kind of pegged you as Irish," I say with a smirk as I cut into a huge scallop. "But I don't detect an accent."
"I was born in New York, but both my parents are from Ballinderreen, a little village in County Galway. They're Irish folk musicians and emigrated to the Big Apple to see if they could find their fame and fortune there."
"And did they?"
"No more than what they found playing in the local pubs back home," Dennis says with a laugh. "But they liked the opportunities, especially for their kids, so they stayed."
"You go to Ireland a lot?" I ask.
"I do," he says while lifting a bite of steak to his mouth. "And I don't have any major projects on tap, so I'm going to stay there for a few days, then I have a guys' trip planned to do some deep-sea fishing down in Panama. Wanna come?"
"Who are the 'guys'?" I ask.
"People who could potentially help you down the road one day," he says with a knowing smile.
"I think I'll pass," I say with a chuckle. "You told me to be all straight and narrow in case I need help with JT down the road. I don't think a trip on the books with your boys would look good."
"That's true," he says as he cuts another bite of steak. "Maybe one day...after all this shit's done."
Sugar Rush Page 17
