“Yes. To put it bluntly.”
“Okay. On a personal level, it’s none of my business. On a professional level, I’m concerned about potential conflicts.”
“I understand, Frank, but let me lay out my thoughts, if you will.”
“Please.” He sat back, not unfriendly, but certainly contained.
“The fact is, I’ve been here for many years, in various positions with various titles, and I have never gotten involved with anyone on the job. So this is an anomaly, as you know. I thought about the appropriateness of it all, given my position, and while it’s never ideal to get involved with staff, Chris is in a management position, which puts us generally on par in terms of chain-of-command . . . along with Al, which of course, always seems ridiculous.”
They both grinned.
“I also took into account that Chris is a very private and respectful person, someone who understands required decorum, and I have faith in both his discretion and his ability to compartmentalize his personal life and the job.”
Frank appeared to suppress a smile. “Was that a prepared speech?”
“No. Did it sound like one?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I have given it some thought. I was actually planning to talk to you about it. I didn’t know when for sure, but he’s moving in over the next week, so I figured you deserved to know at this point.”
“Wow . . . that seems pretty quick. Unless you’ve been dating for longer than I realized.”
“It’s been several months. We spent a lot of time getting to know each other, and then things changed. Does that create a problem for you . . . for us?”
“Sidonie, I know you’ve had a rough go these last couple of years, and it hasn’t been easy, recovering from all that. No one wants you to be happy more than me, and while I have to be honest in saying I wouldn’t necessarily have picked Chris as an option for you—”
“Why? Why do you say that?” She felt immediately wary.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I knew Theo and have some idea of the kind of guys you go for.”
“Good-looking drug-addicted asshole cheaters?”
He sat back, thrown by her abruptness. “Sidonie, come on. I think you know what I mean.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said defensively.
“I like Chris. I don’t know him all that well, but the contact we’ve had has always been cordial. He seems like a bright kid who’s done very well for himself—”
“You realize he’s not even a year younger than me.”
“I’m just saying he’s got a young thing about him. Maybe it’s the way he puts himself together, maybe it’s his personality, I don’t know. It’s not a criticism, it’s just an observation. Look, he’s built an amazing business all by himself and I’ve got nothing but respect for that. He stepped in here and took over like a master. He’s made friends of the entire staff; he’s got a great work ethic. What’s not to like?”
“Then what’s the problem?” She could feel something akin to her mother’s response lurking somewhere behind his controlled demeanor.
“I’m not saying there is a problem. I just don’t know him personally. Which means I don’t know enough about what attracted you to have an opinion about it. I just wanted to discuss how this relates to the club.”
“Bottom line, Frank, if you trust me, then trust us to keep our personal relationship from overlapping here at the club.”
“I trust you implicitly, you know that. If you tell me that will be the case, I trust that as well.”
“Good. Beyond that, trust that I know what I’m doing with Chris. I get that you don’t know him. I hope you’ll get to know him better as time goes on. He’s one of the kindest, most openhearted people I’ve ever met, and the way he looks at the world is . . . I don’t know—it’s different from anyone I’ve ever known before. It pushes me to be better, maybe even a more compassionate person. I think that’s a good thing. And he’s made me happier than anyone has in a really long time.”
Frank sat up. “Then that’s all that matters.”
“No detention?”
“No detention. Get going. And let’s plan to get back to Louise as quickly as possible.”
“Will do.”
She felt relief, but suspicion lingered. Hopefully that would dissipate over time. Stepping into the hallway, she was surprised—or maybe not—to see Al heading quickly toward the bar. She half expected to see a highball glass in his hand. He turned and winked at her, a walking cliché.
She marched right up to him. “Okay, lurker, say what you’re going to say and let’s get this over with.”
“I barely heard anything as I walked past.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes. As she turned toward her office, he called out: “Hey, Frame!”
“What?”
“In all seriousness, I like the guy. Even if my buddy Mike is gonna be disappointed.”
She walked back to the bar, leaning in with ferocity. “Goddammit, Al, can you just once not act like a dick?” Her snap got his attention. “My private life is not a game for your entertainment. The last thing I need is some moony-eyed cop giving me a hard time. Whatever you think you heard, fine. But I’ll ask, as a fellow manager and, hopefully, a halfway decent human being, that you keep it to yourself. Do you think you could possibly do that?”
“Jesus, take a frickin’ chill pill! Of course I can do that. I’m not an idiot. And I mean it, I like the guy.”
She shot him a fierce look, trying to assess his sincerity. He grinned . . . like an idiot.
“Thanks.” She had to laugh. “He is a pretty great guy.”
THIRTY-THREE
DIANTE STOOD AT THE DOOR OF THE TOWNHOUSE, WINE in hand and an affable smile on his face. He handed the bottle to Sidonie with the flourish of celebration.
“Chris said you liked California reds, so this here is a 2012 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon that I’m told gets ninety-one points in the ratings.”
She laughed and accepted it graciously. “That’s very sweet, Diante, and I’m so happy to meet you! With all our crazy schedules, it’s been hard getting together, but I’ve looked forward to finally connecting. Chris talks about you all the time.”
“He’s my boy, that’s for sure. We’ve spent some hardcore time together over the years, tearing up this town from one end to the other.”
“Can you come in for a while? Chris should be home soon. He just called from the club.”
“I would, but I am literally on my way to a company shindig. Had this bottle in the car for long enough that I wanted to swing by, hoping someone would be home so I could drop it off. Sort of a housewarming thing, a toast to you guys in your new living situation.”
“Thank you,” she replied, genuinely touched. “We will enjoy it in your honor.”
He looked around, then back at her with a warm smile. “I can see why he likes it here. Nice neighborhood, nice woman. He’s a changed man since you guys hooked up. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him so happy.”
She blushed. “Well . . . it’s mutual.”
“Nothing better than true love—me and my lady can attest to that. Listen, I gotta bounce, so just tell him we’ll hit each other up later. Oh, and I’d love for you and Jordan to meet. She was real happy to hear Chris settled into something solid. Maybe the four of us can work a night out together soon.”
“I’d like that.”
“Great, I’ll talk to him about it. Enjoy the wine, and really nice to meet you, Sidonie!”
As he swept down the stairs with a wave, she made note of his genuine warmth. It was a good reaction out of the many her relationship with Chris had inspired. In fact, as much as it had been strange when no one knew, reactions had become litmus tests as more were let in on the secret.
Chris’s friends and colleagues, by and large, were either completely lackadaisical (“Cool . . . good luck, man.”), or moderately to extremely impressed (“Wow . . . she runs The
Church?”). And though Chris’s decision to start moving his things from Hyde Park to Andersonville disappointed his mother, she never failed to mention how much she looked forward to meeting Sidonie. Vanessa was still uninformed of the particulars and had been too immersed in her own drama to care much anyway. That chapter had yet to be written.
On Sidonie’s side, everyone at the club was thrilled, with endless questions and curiosities. Jasper, the undisputed conduit of their meeting, took particular pride-of-ownership. As promised, Al kept the news within staff circles, though he wisely circumvented further entreaties from Officer Mike (which Sidonie appreciated). There’d been a delay in Marian and Steve’s Florida departure (the foreclosed property fell through), so the resolution of that awkward sidebar was on hold for the time being. Patsy—out of town on extended family business—had yet to receive her personal debrief, and Karen remained a staunch supporter, eager to meet the man in the middle. All felt to be unfolding as well as could be expected.
Then came the call.
It was Wednesday afternoon, about two o’clock. Chris was not expected in that night. The only scheduled event was spoken word, which Andrew was handling on his own, and since Sound Alchemy was also dark, Chris was taking the rare free time to get settled at the house.
When her phone rang, Sidonie, expecting it to be Chris, was surprised to see “Alice Rosen” pop up on caller ID.
“Hey, Alice! What’s going—”
“Sidonie, you need to get home, right now!” The panic in Alice’s voice triggered an immediate chill up Sidonie’s back.
“What’s going on? What’s all that noise?” A melee of some kind was audible in the background, the sounds of men yelling and the high-pitched screech of a female voice.
“It’s a clusterfuck here. I’m recording it so you can see what’s going on—”
“What’s going on? You’re scaring me!”
“The police are here! I heard all this noise out back and didn’t know what the hell was happening, so I came out to the patio and there were cops everywhere, guns pointed at Chris, all sorts of craziness. He was on the back stairway going up with a TV box—I guess he bought you guys a new TV—and Sandra, that fucking bitch . . .” Alice cut out.
“What?”
“Sorry, I was just trying to see around the corner. Anyway, I guess she saw him going up and down the stairs with boxes, thought he was robbing you or some bullshit, and called the police.”
Sidonie felt a spasm of rage. In her home. In his home. Fucking hell, was there no sanctuary from this shit?
“Sidonie, are you still there?” Alice was panting.
“I’m here, I’m here,” she answered, rushing to her office. “What’s happening now?”
“Sandra’s still carrying on about how she’d never seen him before and how she figured he was up to no good—”
“Goddammit! She’s a fucking liar! Can you say something to the cops—tell them you know who he is?” Frantic, she grabbed her purse and ran past the bar toward the parking lot door, eliciting a perplexed look from Al as she flew by.
“I did, but they’re ignoring me. They yelled at him to drop the TV, so he tried to set it on the step, but it just rolled down and smashed at the bottom. I kept screaming, ‘He lives here, he’s my neighbor’s boyfriend,’ but they completely ignored me.”
Sidonie careened out of the parking lot. “I’m in my car, Alice. I’ll be there in twenty minutes if traffic isn’t too nuts. Can you tell them that?”
“I’ll try. They don’t seem too interested in what I have to say. I’m hiding at the moment.”
Tears gathered as Sidonie sped down a tangled street faster than was probably wise. “What’s happening now? Tell me what’s happening now, Alice!”
“They told him to step down to the bottom of the stairs, hands above his head, and all of them had their guns pointed at him. There was so much yelling I was terrified they were going to shoot him. Sandra kept carrying on about him robbing you, and I kept saying he wasn’t, but then they just slammed him down to the ground and were all over him. God, I’m so furious! They got his license out and this one cop checked it, asked me his name, asked me your name.” Alice was crying now. “God, Sidonie, this is awful.”
“Are you still recording?” She could barely breathe.
“As much as I can. One of them told me to shut up and stop interfering. That kind of freaked me out. So I’m standing back by the garbage bins and recording from here. They said they’re going to interview me at some point, so I’ll say all the right things, I promise.”
“I know you will.” Traffic bogged down as she made a left turn. “Dammit. Listen, Alice, I’m not far, but traffic’s getting worse and I’m afraid my phone is about to die.” She thrashed around the glove box. “I can’t find my charger. Okay, if I lose you, just tell them I’m on my way.” Sidonie was stunned by her own driving, half expecting to plow down a hapless pedestrian or sideswipe a car in the next lane.
“I will, Sid. Get here as fast as you can.”
Just as Alice uttered those words, a series of mechanical screeches erupted as the car in front of Sidonie swerved wildly to the left, attempting but unable to avoid rear-ending the truck it was tailing. The impact was concussive, followed by the clamor of brakes all around. Sidonie slammed to a stop, luckily averting contact. Dust swirled as the redolent odor of overheated brake pads filled the air. Traffic ground to a complete standstill, and, moments later, her phone died.
THIRTY-FOUR
THE LIVING ROOM WAS DARK, COOLED BY THE EVENING breeze that had mercifully rolled in off the lake. The street below was quiet for this time of night, and a general sense of calm pervaded. Calm after the storm.
Chris sat in the chair closest to the window, staring out, blank and expressionless, his mind oddly fixated on the roster for the upcoming week, a busy one for both the club and Sound Alchemy. A large Sony box encasing the demolished TV lay on the floor at his feet —he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t left it in the garbage bin—and the beer he nursed had warmed in the time since the police left. After Sandra slunk back to her townhouse, Alice attended to him with great concern—and longer than his exhaustion preferred—yet Sidonie, still, was not home or answering her phone.
A truck raced by bleating its horn, startling Chris from circular thinking. He gingerly touched the side of his head that had earlier made contact with the concrete patio. It ached badly, he couldn’t seem to slow his heart rate, and the adrenaline that washed through every corpuscle of his body refused to recede. The result was a kind of feverish stew that came with nausea, dizziness, and the unavoidable punch of humiliation.
Had there been an overall ratcheting up of police interactions lately? Or was proximity to this new woman in his life—a white woman with no reality of the racial paradigm of profiling—making it seem so? He’d been stopped by police before—frequently and for equally groundless reasons—but the gaps in between had been longer and the sense of true danger less imminent. Now the pervasive sense was one of onslaught.
He’d always kept his greater focus on the day-to-day building and bolstering of his life, trying to keep a safe distance from the ubiquity of racial chaos and the political demands of resistance. It wasn’t that he lacked cultural pride; it was that he took life as it came, and his life came largely as peaceful, supported by strong family ties, viable opportunities, and tangible success. Yet lately he felt unprotected by that success, by his intelligence and civic diplomacy, by his choice to live an ethical life, avoiding controversial behaviors. There seemed no buffer now, no differentiation. As if he’d been reduced to nothing more than a generic black man in Chicago, with all the attendant baggage of that assignation.
He sat up stiffly, his head throbbing, and felt like he might throw up. Deep breathing was getting him nowhere tonight. He leaned forward, put his head in his hands, hoping the lightheadedness would pass. It did, finally. Just as he was about to attempt rising from the chair, he heard rushed footsteps co
ming up from the garage and the door burst open to a breathless Sidonie.
She took in the mood and immediately adjusted her emotional state, for which he was grateful. He was certain he couldn’t handle her needs at the moment. She set her bag down, focused on containing herself, went to the kitchen, and poured two glasses of water. She came out to the living room, set the glasses on the coffee table, went to Chris, and gently put her arms around him. He leaned into her as she caressed his tousled hair, picking bits of leaves and debris from the knots. Finally he pulled away, guiding her to the chair across from him.
“Sit down . . . it’s okay . . . I’m okay.”
She sat peering at him as if trying to see through skin and bones to assess the damage, flooded with questions, concerns, apologies, sorrows. Finding no words to articulate any of what she was feeling, she went for the mundane. “I got caught up in someone’s fender bender. It was a mess. Everyone was stuck for almost an hour. I couldn’t call because my phone died.”
“I wondered what happened. Don’t you have a charger in your car?”
“I must have left it in my gym bag.”
A long pause followed. She got on her knees in front of him and gently took his face in her hands, silently demanding eye contact. He met her stare.
“What?”
“Tell me what you’re feeling. Please.”
“Sore. Sick.”
“Chris . . . I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. Here I welcome you into my home, my neighborhood, and this . . . this insane thing happens. I want to fix it but I don’t know how.”
“You can’t fix it and it’s not your fault. Your neighbor—Sandra— really seemed to think I was robbing your place. Maybe you can’t fault her for that.”
But Sidonie could. They’d all made eye contact the day Chris and Alice met. She knew Sandra had seen Chris walking in and out of her place several times; looks had been exchanged, glances noticed. Her neighbor knew he was a part of her life, yet still had the effrontery to pretend otherwise. Sidonie’s rage was commensurate with the damage inflicted on the man she loved.
The Alchemy of Noise Page 13
