Guardian Angel

by Adam Carpenter

  Jimmy wished right then for nothing more than to leave the party. He’d had enough of Serena Carson and her society ladies, the horny board of directors who let a rich shyster play them all for fools, worse, victimized fools. Except he knew he couldn’t leave until Serena was ready. He was more than her escort, more than her guardian. In fact, he was her prisoner.

  “He’s a piece of work, isn’t he?”

  Jimmy turned to find Serena herself standing beside him.

  “Men in positions of power often are,” he said. “A world-renowned heart surgeon, I’m sure he thinks he’s God.”

  “Ooh, speaking of good surgeons, I believe that new friend you met at the benefit is about to make his long-awaited entrance.”

  Jimmy didn’t have a chance to react. The children cheered, because just then in walked the red-suited, white-bearded Santa Claus, a satchel of gifts saddled over his shoulder. Despite the get-up, the jolly ho-ho-ho that rang out in the room and the ringing of jingle bells and despite the large, overstuffed stomach, Jimmy noticed the man’s eyes and remembered them staring up at him, flashing bouts of desire and encouraging him deep inside. Of course Santa was none other than Steven Wang.

  The kids swirled all around him, jumping up and down.

  “I bet you want to sit on his lap, too,” Serena said with a knowing smirk.

  Jimmy offered up no response.

  He could only think how ironic the moment was. Hadn’t this man only last week tried to play the role of Santa Claus with him?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jimmy excused himself during the gift-exchange portion of the party, informing Officer Sanchez he would be outside. He had watched Steven playact as Santa for five minutes, trying not to dissect the situation too deeply. Steven was just being nice, serving as jolly St. Nick only to please the kids, but was it his personality, wanting to make life better for those around him? After only two dates—one really, if the first night only counted as a hookup, the man invited Jimmy to share his life with him, his expensive home, and trendy life. That night he was handing out gifts to the less fortunate.

  Standing on the sidewalk on the corner of 44th and 6th Avenue, Jimmy felt the comforts of home beckoning to him. The safety of his own world was only blocks away.

  From where he stood, he could see the blinking lights of the Belasco Theatre marquee. It reminded him of the Calloway, a not dissimilar theatre in terms of its architecture and reputation. Ghosts abounded everywhere for Jimmy McSwain, their wafting chill passing through him at any given moment. The Calloway was only blocks away, and home was further but still within reach. Except he was required to return upstairs to the offices of Help Is Here, to their large conference room where children were no doubt gleefully unwrapping presents. Jimmy found no solace in such a notion. Santa Claus sometimes brought empty promises.

  He was about to return inside. The cold finally was penetrating beneath his skin, when his phone rang.

  With one glance the caller ID let him know just how the universe worked. It enjoyed irony.

  “Hey, Frank,” Jimmy said.

  “Glad I caught you. Thought about sending a text. Busy?”

  “Working a case,” he said, thinking about the holiday fun upstairs. “Sort of.”

  “Ok, I won’t keep you. The meeting is all set tomorrow eleven a.m.”

  Jimmy’s mind had been so focused today on the Serena Carson case, he’d nearly forgotten, but his request from Captain Frank Frisano for a one-on-one with his father, Lieutenant Salvatore Frisano, came rushing back to him, and suddenly he was filled with a new feeling: anxiety laced with a knowing fear. The commanding officer was not without influence, but he came out intimidation. To enter the lion’s den, you needed not just a whip but courage.

  “Thanks, Frank. I’ll be there.”

  “So will I.”

  “Right, probably a good idea. What was his reaction when you asked?”

  “He said it was better I wanted to bring you to his office than to Sunday dinner. No flies on Sal Frisano.” His voice held a tinge of regret. It was tough being in and out of the closet.

  “I suppose that’s him being nice.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Frisano rang off, and Jimmy tucked his phone back into his pocket then ventured back into the heated warmth of the building, putting aside his concerns for seeing one man he’d run away from the next day only to return to a crazy, fun-filled room where another man who’d challenged his independence reigned as the king of Christmas. Jimmy saw that he was done passing out presents and just having conversation with a few of the thankful parents. He still donned the white beard, stained from a bit of fruit punch. He couldn’t spoil the illusion, not for the kids, not for anyone really. Didn’t everyone want to believe there was someone out there looking to put a smile on our faces? Santa Clauses throughout the world, at least during the season, paved the way. Only a few weeks before he’d watched the Macy’s Parade on television with the family. Santa was always the last to arrive. He ushered in a season of hope, a season that year, which had been cruel and bloody. Where was the hope when bodies were buried?

  Steven saw him, made his own way toward him, slipping around the kids, who still wanted to hug him and thank him. He indulged them, so it took longer for him to cross the room. Jimmy held his place. He supposed for once he should.

  “Popular guy,” Jimmy said, when at last they were standing before each other.

  “Not with everyone.”

  “I guess I deserved that.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound so…”

  “It’s okay, Steven. I should have called and apologized.”

  “You apologize? For the past week, it’s been me thinking of the right thing to say.”

  “You did nothing wrong. You spoke from your heart. I don’t always do that.”

  “Hi, Santa,” a happy little girl said, suddenly wrapping her arms around Steven’s legs. The way she looked up at the white-bearded bearer of gifts, Jimmy had a hard time being upset about anything at the moment. The girl was the poster child of the good work Help Is Here did, selflessly giving to the less fortunate and giving them all a reason to smile. The realization allowed Jimmy to smile as well, and he exchanged one with Steven, who asked the girl, if she was happy with her gift.

  “I got an American Girl doll. She’s my best friend now. Her name is Becky.”

  “And what’s your name?”

  “Kelsey,” she said. “We’ll be BFFs forever.”

  Steven laughed. “Now that sounds wonderful, if a little redundant.”

  The little girl squealed, not fully understanding the play on words, but it didn’t matter. She went happily running off to rejoin some of the other kids who were busy enjoying their treasured spoils. Jimmy wondered if he’d ever been like that growing up, pleased at the gifts left under the tree by the supposed Santa Claus who visited the McSwain home. He remembered one year where he’d gotten a ten-speed bicycle. He’d probably been eight- or nine-years-old then. Santa had left it. His father had taught him to ride it. He knew the two men were one in the same. He hadn’t minded the ruse. Joseph McSwain could do no wrong.

  “Will you come with me, while I get out of this suit?” Steven said.

  “Look, Steven, I think we’ve said…”

  “Jimmy, I’m not trying to seduce you, not this time. Just…humor me.”

  He supposed he owed him that much. Jimmy followed after Steven, who walked down the long corridor to one of the private offices. He saw the name “Henderson Carlyle” on the nameplate.

  “I guess I should have that removed. It’s my office now.”

  “Congratulations,” Jimmy said, “On your appointment to the board.”

  “Nothing like a second job to keep a man occupied. What else is a doctor to do in his free time?”

  Jimmy didn’t react, nor did he speak.

  “I didn’t mean it that way…”

  “Steven…”

  “Come in, Jim.”

 
Steven flicked on the overhead light, bathing them in a harsh industrial glow as though exposing the gap that existed between them. Jimmy sat on the edge of a desk while Steven removed the Santa-Claus outfit, reducing himself to a pair of undershorts and shirt. Jimmy turned away, not needing the reminder of the fact he’d seen the man in far less. If it wasn’t Steven attempting a seduction by reverse psychology, Jimmy hoped he could downplay it. He was wrong. Suddenly Steven came to him, pulled him into his arms, and planted a kiss on his lips, deep and passionate. Except the kiss was one-sided, an expression of desire not shared by the recipient. Jimmy pushed him away.

  “Steven, I’m sorry….”

  “Yeah, me too. I just had to make sure.”

  “I wasn’t ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.”

  “Jimmy, did you see the faces of those kids at that party, how excited they were by the simplest of gestures? They didn’t care where the gifts came from, Santa Claus or wealthy strangers whom they’ll never see again. They just wanted a moment to smile and to forget their troubles and illnesses. That’s what Help Is Here provides. That’s what I do too in my professional career and, I hope, someday in what passes for my personal life. I’m sorry, if I pushed too much or too soon. I’m not a man who wastes time, not when I see life on the line every day. I liked you, and I wanted you. I took a chance.”

  Jimmy felt a lump in his throat, the words strangled inside. “I’m sorry.”

  “Here’s what I’ve learned: You should never apologize for being honest about yourself.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s fair to other people.”

  “True, but other people have to realize when some things are unattainable. I’ve got all that I need in this world: financial security, a great home, career, and now a position on the board of directors of a charity that does amazing work that I believe in. I should be content, but I’m not. I’m human. As you saw, there is the straight-laced Hai-Boi Wang, overachiever, and then there is the humbler Steven Wang, who wanted nothing more than you in his bed.”

  He paused, raising a finger to keep Jimmy from speaking. “Yet what I had to wrap my mind around was this: What does Jimmy McSwain want? I think you are unsettled in your life, still searching for what you really want out of this world. You live your life in the shadow of others, seeking out truth and injustice, all while keeping your needs at bay. Oh, I have no doubt you get your physical release. You certainly did with me—and don’t for a second think I regret what we shared, but it doesn’t mean you’ve found happiness. But let me inform you about this thing people called happiness. They search for it, relentlessly, never realizing that it might just be right in front of them. Most everything is. You just have to recognize it.”

  “Very deep, Steven. You make life sound easy.”

  “It is, if you let it.”

  Steven leaned forward, kissing him once more. Jimmy allowed it, a consolation prize.

  When they parted, Steven said, “I’m guessing there’s another man.”

  “No, uh, not really.”

  “The ‘uh’ says everything. Jimmy, don’t miss out on what could define your life.”

  With that Steven Wang, dressed in a dark suit and tie, slipped out of the room, leaving an exposed Jimmy beneath the harsh lights like he’d just been interrogated. He wiped at his eyes, not feeling moisture but feeling remorse trickle out. He shook himself back to reality, doused the lights and headed back toward the party, wishing it would soon be over. It was time to return Serena to her castle before midnight. No one was turning into a pumpkin there.

  As he re-entered the room, he heard his name. Serena Carson was dashing toward him with two women in tow. They were probably ten years younger than she, twins from what Jimmy could see: blonde, surgically enhanced, their sizable breasts practically popping out of their sequined dresses. It was like looking at a fun house mirror.

  “Oh, there you are, Jimmy.”

  “Serena, it’s time to go.”

  “Horrors, no! The night is just getting started. Mitzy and Flopsy have invited me out.”

  Jimmy turned towards the two women. “Ladies, I’m afraid that’s not possible. Ms. Carson needs to return home.”

  “Oh, Jimmy, surely an exception can be made for one night.”

  “Yes, one already has.”

  “But we’re all going out, all of the ladies of the board, Lady Grey, the Sinclair twins. Even Melissa has deigned to grace us with her presence. Her husband, Philippe, is footing the entire bill for the night, a sort of party after the party to celebrate everything we achieved this year at Help Is Here. Oh, Jimmy, of course you’re invited. What would the night be like without a couple of handsome men accompanying us beautiful ladies?” She paused, her eyes darkening. “Jimmy, this is important to me. Make it happen.”

  But Jimmy had already stretched this gift as far as he could. The wrapping was off. Just the cleanup remained. Officer Sanchez awaited them downstairs. The time had come for all good accused murderers to return to their house arrest. His eyes pointed downwards to the ankle bracelet, an accoutrement she never would have worn normally, yet there it was, a piece of her, unable to be discarded unlike the men she was accused of killing.

  “Ladies, if you’ll forgive us, we hope you enjoy the night. Serena, after you….”

  She stared daggers at him. The lady unaccustomed to hearing “No” reluctantly moved on, not even saying “Goodnight” to the unlikely Sinclair twins, who immediately turned to each other and started whispering to each other the moment Jimmy was out of earshot. He had to wonder, were the twins also victims of Henderson, and, if so, what their experience had been. He might have to get in touch with them at a future date. For that moment, in the words of Steven Wang, he had to focus on what was in front of him: a furious Serena Carson, an angel who hours before couldn’t wait to see the smile on the faces of the children she was helping, was suddenly a devil poised to strike. Jimmy joined her in the elevator and rode down in silence.

  They car ride was the same, all the way back to her brownstone at 64th and Madison.

  “You don’t need to see me in,” Serena said from the sidewalk.

  “Serena, I did you a favor tonight,” he said.

  She spun around. “Fine, Jimmy McSwain. You want do me another favor?”

  “Which is what?”

  “Take me upstairs and fuck me.”

  Jimmy wondered then just how much she’d had to drink. “You know that’s not possible.”

  “Why? You wouldn’t be the first homo I had or the second.”

  With that she stormed up the steps and slammed the door. He heard the dramatic turn of the lock. He stood on the first step for a couple minutes, trying to absorb what had just happened, what she’d said. Had Serena known about Henderson and Robbie? If so, did she not care that they were lovers? Had she seen them as a challenge? He began to rethink the events of the night of the benefit: first Henderson violating the order of protection then Robbie taking her home.

  Jimmy returned to the sidewalk, where Officer Sanchez was waiting.

  “Don’t let her go anywhere.”

  “That was the plan all along. You insisted on letting her out.”

  At the moment he thought truer words had never been spoken, and he wondered why he had allowed Serena to play him. It was a question that accompanied Jimmy back to Hell’s Kitchen, back home, just where he liked it, a neighborhood gone dark. Jimmy always found safety there.

  § § § §

  Jimmy wasn’t in the mood to stay overnight at his mother’s, so his brisk walk from the Upper East Side brought him to his office, except he didn’t immediately go upstairs. He’d only been wearing a suit, not an overcoat, so he was chilled after the thirty-minute trek. He slipped into Paddy’s Pub, his uncle behind the bar, serving drinks as he normally did. Jimmy detected the grieving man’s actions were a bit slower. It took a few minutes for his uncle to notice him.

  “Ah, Jim, fancy duds there. Where you coming from?”

  “A ho
liday party, part of a case I’m working.”

  “Like the night Kellan got beat. You came home in a tux.”

  “Same case.”

  “That society broad?”

  “Serena Carson.”

  “Famous lady. I remember the story in the news way back when. She survived a plane crash.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if she did.”

  “Oh, someone’s in need of fortitude.”

  Paddy served up a Guinness alongside a shot of Jameson. Jimmy knocked back the shot quickly and felt it tight against his throat. That’s when he realized he was still as buttoned up as could be, the tie strangling him. He yanked it apart, slipping it into side pocket while undoing the first two buttons. He felt better, almost himself, the first sip of the Guinness doing its best to return him to his world. He paid no attention to the other revelers at the bar or those playing pool or darts or just having a good time.

  If he had wanted companionship that night, he could have easily gone home with Steven Wang, but he would only have been using him, and Jimmy wasn’t interested in a game where there were no winners. He’d stay for one then go upstairs and pull out the sofa bed and try to get a real night’s sleep. He had an important meeting the next day. He wondered just how much he would reveal of what he knew to Salvatore Frisano or how much the lieutenant would tell him.

  Sometimes he felt cases had a rhythm to them. The initial meeting like an overture, and the first set of questions were the opening number, where the mysteries of the plot were slowly revealed. It was only as the story progressed that complications ensued. In a play it came often through a dramatic monologue and in a musical with a rousing number, where the supporting characters got their moment to shine under the blinding spotlights, a feeling not unlike an interrogation. All while music pulsed around the theatre, thrumming inside the audience’s hearts as they witnessed the unfolding events. Eventually, though, the show needed to end. A resolution was required.

  Jimmy wondered if either of his open cases were reaching that so-called eleven o’clock number yet. Would he be able to bring the curtain down, and, if so, what would be the response: enthusiastic applause, polite clapping, an arrest, or a bravo for justice? And what of the critics, be they theatre professionals or the police: They always had to have their say. Rhythm could so easily get out of sync after the wrong note. A case was the same way with the wrong clue.