Forced Out

by Stephen Frey

MJ glanced down. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, “I did. I had to tell her what was going on; I couldn’t lie to her. She started yelling at me when I told her the truth. Told me I couldn’t do it because you’d welsh on me. Told me I had to get another job.” MJ shook his head. “But I said you were a good guy, a real good guy. Said you’d never stiff me.” He took a deep breath. “When you didn’t pay up, I gave her the other two hundred out of my own pocket. I couldn’t admit I’d been wrong. Plus she needs the money. She needs it real bad. We need it real bad.”

  Jack cursed under his breath. Now she’d be pushing MJ for the next four hundred, and he probably couldn’t come close to covering it this week. He felt his palms sweating on the steering wheel as he pulled the Citation to a stop at the next red light. People, he thought. They never stopped surprising you. MJ had covered him and never said a word. Christ, now he had to get him the money. “What were you saving up for?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those two hundred bucks you covered me with. You must have been saving up for something if you had it lying around. Most kids your age spend money as soon as they get it unless they’re saving for something. What were you saving for?”

  MJ put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “Christmas,” he answered softly. “We didn’t have Christmas this year. No presents, no nothing. I don’t want that to ever happen to my brothers and sisters again. And especially not to my momma.”

  “You’re so beautiful.” Bobby kissed Ginny as they lay on his bed. Ginny was the woman from the gym he’d wanted Cheryl to spend a day with going to the hair salon, nail place, and boutiques. They’d happened to run into each other forty minutes ago at a bar a few blocks from the apartment building. Ginny’s husband was away on business for the next few days, and Bobby had jumped on the opportunity. There was no way he was going to introduce her to Cheryl now. Of course, now that he was moving to Atlanta, who cared? Better that Cheryl not meet anyone else he knew at this point. “I love your dark hair, I really do.”

  Ginny laughed sarcastically. “Bobby, you wouldn’t care if I was brunette, a blonde, or a redhead right now. Hell, you wouldn’t care if my hair was green. All you care about is that my husband’s away, I’m bored out of my mind, and I’m in your bed naked. Don’t lay all that sweet stuff on me. It insults me.” She raised one eyebrow. “You’re getting what you want, I’m getting what I want. Now let’s do it.”

  The rumor at the gym was that Ginny got around, she didn’t give a damn about her husband anymore, and when she hopped in the sack, she was wild. As Bobby moved his hands up her belly to her full breasts, she let out a little shriek.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Jesus,” she said, with a hiss, wide-eyed. “What was that?”

  “What was—” Bobby stopped at the sound of a loud knock on the apartment door.

  “Get off me,” she said, pushing him to one side and scooting over. “What are we going to do? Christ, what if that’s my husband? What if he’s having me followed?” She put her hands to her face. “Damn it, I knew this was going to happen.”

  Bobby grabbed her arm, pulled her off the bed, made her gather her clothes up off the floor, then guided her toward the living room. “Get in the closet,” he ordered, yanking open the hall door and hurrying her into the tight space beside a stack of luggage. “Go on. Go on!” He shut the door behind her, then his eyes flashed across the darkened living room as the knocking came again, louder this time. “Dear Lord,” he whispered, glad that Ginny didn’t wear a lot of perfume, “please get me out of this.”

  He hurried back to the bedroom, slipped on a pair of boxers, then retraced his steps past the hall closet toward the apartment front door. He hesitated with his hand inches from the knob when the knocking came again. He had a pistol in the drawer of his bedroom nightstand. If Ginny’s husband was on the other side of the door, maybe he ought to get it.

  “Who is it?” he asked loudly.

  “Me, you dope.”

  Cheryl! Holy Christ!

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she called. “Something you’re going to really like.”

  “Shit,” he whispered, eyes flashing around. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  “Open up, baby,” she called impatiently, “come on. I don’t want to stand out here for long. You’ll see why.”

  He had no choice if he wanted to keep having his fun, if he wanted to keep pushing her. He had to let her in. He crossed his fingers and opened the door. Here went nothing.

  She stood before him wearing a raincoat and high heels. As he watched in amazement, she let the long coat slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor of the landing outside his door, revealing her naked body beneath. Then she stepped into the apartment, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply.

  “You can do whatever you want to me tonight,” she whispered when their lips parted. “Anything.”

  He scooped her up in his big arms, carried her to the bedroom, laid her on the mattress, and kissed her passionately. “I love you. You’re incredible.”

  “Well,” she said softly, “it took me awhile to get my nerve up, but I’m glad I did.”

  “Me, too.”

  “It’s crazy, but I told myself I had to—”

  “Wait here one second, will you?” he interrupted, rising up off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Where are you going?”

  He smiled. “Don’t move, sweetheart. Stay right there. I just need to throw out the trash.”

  Jack had inputted everything he could think of into the search engine: “major league baseball box scores,” “Yankee box scores,” “Mickey Mantle box scores,” and a few more. But nothing was coming up. He wanted to throw the damn screen against the wall because MJ was turning out to be right—he didn’t have any idea what he was doing. He almost pounded the table instead, but caught himself at the last second. He didn’t want to wake Rosario. Cheryl hadn’t followed through on her threat to move the computer into the living room yet, and the baby was asleep on the floor in her makeshift bed just a few feet away, surrounded by pillows. He was the only one home, and he didn’t want to be up all night with the little girl.

  As reluctant as he’d been to let Cheryl go to Bobby’s this late, he’d relented. He’d seen that desperate look in her eyes and felt terrible. The least he could do was give her a night off.

  He let out a long sigh, thinking about Cheryl going over there this late. The bastard better not do anything to her. He might be old, but he could still take care of Bobby Griffin. Maybe he was no match for the young man physically, but that wouldn’t matter if he took his gun.

  He stood up just enough to peer over the pillows, just to make sure Rosario was still asleep, and instantly wished he hadn’t. She was staring back at him with those big brown eyes. He ducked down, hoping she hadn’t seen him, but she started cooing right away. A sure sign she wanted to be picked up.

  “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. Rosario could be up for hours now, and she’d start screaming if he left her in here alone. “All right, all right.” It wasn’t like he was making any progress on the computer anyway. “Here we go,” he murmured, reaching down and picking her up.

  As he did, she broke into a huge smile and reached for his face with her tiny fingers. “Dada!” she said loudly. “Dada!”

  Jack gazed at the little girl, that old uncontrollable emotion bearing down on him. Like it had the night Cheryl called him out for faking a heart attack at the stadium. When he’d been scared out of his mind she might really leave him.

  He pressed the baby gently to his chest. Maybe it was stupid, but he didn’t want Rosario to see him cry.

  26

  TREVISO LAY NEXT to Karen as she slept, admiring her beauty as he stroked her dark hair. Admiring himself for being able to marry a woman as beautiful as she. Finally he clasped her delicate chin with his fingers and shook it, rousing her.


  Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around groggily. “Hi, honey,” she mumbled. “What is it?”

  He let his fingers fall from her chin, making sure he really wanted to say this because you could never be a 100 percent sure you could trust anyone—even your wife. “You awake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, Tony.”

  “Okay, okay. Look, you remember when you told me how that guy made a pass at you in the car when I was collecting the VIG from him that day? How he said he wanted to meet up with you later while I was in the bodega?”

  Karen rose up on her elbow. “Of course I remember. Why?”

  For a few moments Treviso relived the absolute hatred he’d felt for that man when she’d told him the story. The almost uncontrollable jealousy. And the intense pleasure he’d taken exacting his revenge. “I loved you for that. I mean, I love you for a lot of reasons, but I was happy you told me what happened. It made me feel good. It made me feel like I could always trust you.”

  She smiled at him sweetly. “I’m glad it made you feel good. You know you can always trust me.” She stroked his cheek, waiting for more. “Is that why you woke me up, Tony? To tell me that?”

  He took her chin in his fingers again and looked her straight in the eyes. “Can I really always trust you?”

  “Of course. Why would you even ask me—”

  “You know what I did to that guy, don’t you?” he interrupted, his tone turning forceful. “You know how it ended up for him?”

  “I, I—”

  “You heard Paulie when he came over here that time, didn’t you?” He and Paulie were close, but it wasn’t like Paulie came to the apartment that much. Usually they met out. “You heard what Paulie said about that guy, about what happened to him. How his wife got his head in the mail?” They were in the other room when Paulie was talking about it, but it was a small apartment, and you could hear everything. Even if you were in another room and you weren’t trying to listen.

  Karen’s eyes widened. Still, she said nothing.

  “I love you so much, Karen, and I’d never blame you if a man came on to you. You’re beautiful, and men are tempted real easy by women who are nowhere near as good-looking as you,” Treviso added. “It’s our nature.” He shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter. I could never forgive a guy who actually tried to make a move on you. They can look, but they can’t ask.” He let out a low breath. This was harder than he’d anticipated. “I don’t know what I’d do to the next one. I really don’t. And I got people who’d help me do whatever I decided to do, too. You know? Not just Paulie. There’s others. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  This was what he was trying to tell her. The real reason he’d roused her from a sound sleep. “The only things I would ever blame you for are screwing around on me behind my back and leaving me. I’d never forgive you for those things, Karen. If I came home one day and you weren’t here, or I found out you were screwing somebody, I’d go crazy. You know?”

  She nodded again.

  His fingertips tightened on her delicate chin. “I mean it,” he said, his tone turning tough. “Do you understand me? Do you fucking understand me?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, not trying to escape his fingers despite how tightly he was clasping her.

  “I hope so because my boys would help me track you down. We’d never stop until we found you.” He shrugged, like once the process had started it would be irreversible. Like there’d be no room for explanations or second chances when they found her. Like Marconi shrugged when he gave out a warning. Quiet but chilling. “And it wouldn’t go well for you when we found you.” It was something he’d heard Marconi say, and he loved how scary it sounded.

  “No.” Her voice was barely audible. “I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

  “You can’t blame me, can you? After all, I’m a man,” he added lamely, “an Italian man. If you ever left me, I’d find you and I’d kill you. It’s that simple.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve taken care of you,” he kept going, “I’ve given you a good life.” He gestured around the dimly lit room. “I mean, look at this place. Look at all the nice things you have. And you were on welfare when I met you.”

  “I know. You saved me, you rescued me. You gave me a chance, a fresh start. I’ll never be able to repay you. But I’ll always be true to you.”

  Treviso hesitated. He liked how submissive she was being. It was turning him on. “You sure you understand me, Karen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very sure?”

  “Very sure.”

  “Everything I’ve said?”

  “Everything.”

  He let go of her chin and caressed her cheek gently. “All right, then.” He lay down and pulled her close, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad we talked. Now we can go to sleep. Now I can go to sleep.”

  A few moments later Karen rose again so she was over him, so their lips were close. “Did you really do that, Tony? Did you really kill that man who came on to me in the car?” Her voice had turned husky. “I mean, I heard you did, but I never really knew for sure. And I didn’t feel like I could ask you,” she said, sliding her soft inner thigh over his leg. “Because you always told me not to ask you about exactly what you do. So, did you?” she asked again when he didn’t answer, running her fingernails down his stomach ever so slowly. Moving her thigh even farther over his. “Tell me.”

  Treviso stared into her burning eyes, feeling himself becoming incredibly aroused. “Yeah, I did.”

  Then she was over him and he was inside her and they were going at it like two crazy teenagers in the back of a station wagon.

  27

  ROSARIO USUALLY WOKE at seven in the morning like a rooster on steroids. Singing and shrieking her soft-as-a-rose-petal bottom off. Then she drank an entire bottle of formula, ate a mush mix of prunes and apples or something else equally as unappetizing-looking, pooped like a human five times her size, ate more mush mix, teeter-tottered around the house in her drunken-sailor-hands-at-her-ears-just-learning-to-walk walk, and pooped again. By eight o’clock she was back in her makeshift bed in Cheryl’s room taking her first nap of the day. It all happened before Cheryl left for work—which made Jack very happy. He was coming to love the little girl very much. He just wasn’t much for the nuts-and-bolts stuff involved with taking care of infants—feeding, changing, entertaining. For God’s sake, he hadn’t been like that with his own flesh and blood. How could Cheryl expect him to be like that with Rosario?

  Generally, he took the last fifteen minutes of the first morning shift, albeit grudgingly. Managing to crawl out of bed and trudge to the kitchen by quarter to eight so Cheryl could at least have a few minutes to herself before leaving the house. It wasn’t a bad stretch of duty because it mostly entailed simply sitting at the kitchen table in his boxers, faded scotch-plaid bathrobe, and white socks and sipping a hot cup of coffee while he watched the baby teeter-totter around. All he had to do was make sure Rosario didn’t pull anything breakable off tables or walls and smash it. Which would have been pretty much impossible at this point because they’d moved anything that wasn’t nailed down off the tables and taken down everything hanging on the walls from three feet up all the way down to the floor so she couldn’t get to them.

  Jack liked to say they’d raised their standard of living since Rosario had arrived, because everything that had been anywhere within her reach was now higher up. Cheryl didn’t seem to find that amusing. Probably, Jack figured, because she did the lion’s share of caring for Rosario and therefore the lion’s share of protecting their breakables. She was even coming home at lunchtime to make sure the baby was all right—and to get her fix. Taking a long time away from the office in the middle of the day, which worried Jack. They needed Cheryl’s income now more than ever, and he could only assume that her boss wasn’t happy about the two-hour-plus lunch breaks.

  He’d finally
told Cheryl what had happened, that he’d lost his job at Publix. It had been pretty obvious after a week. But probably because they had Rosario, Cheryl hadn’t seemed as upset as he’d anticipated. Probably because she knew that if he was still working during the day, they wouldn’t have been able to keep her. Money was going to be a real problem soon, but neither one of them had brought it up yet.

  The state trooper who’d begged Jack to take Rosario “for a few days” at the accident had never called. Though, to be fair, they’d never called him, either. Once in a while Cheryl got frustrated with the constant responsibility of motherhood—the way any new mom would—but Jack could tell she’d also become permanently attached to the little girl. That it would kill her not to have Rosario in her life. So he’d never made the SOS call. He did check the local newspaper’s metro section every day for any stories about a little girl being missing. It had occurred to him that they could be arrested for kidnapping at this point—a minor detail that could land them in the state pen for ten to twenty. But nothing had ever appeared in the press. The guy in the Mustang must have ultimately bought the story about the little girl dying in the crash along with his wife. Just like he’d wanted. The bastard.

  Biff hadn’t called with a live situation yet, either. Hadn’t called with an opportunity to steal some poor old person blind when he or she was most vulnerable. Which was good—and bad. Jack owed MJ six hundred bucks. And he’d owe him another four hundred on top of that in a few days. Cheryl’s thin cash reserves were quickly draining away, and his earnings as an usher were meager. Bottom line: they were staring at an imminent cash crisis. He needed money terribly, but he didn’t want to do a terrible thing to get it. What Biff wanted him to do was worse than terrible, it was evil. But he couldn’t take a day job—which would have solved their money problem—because of Rosario. Someone had to be home with her. And they didn’t want anyone else taking care of her, didn’t want to have to deal with prying questions about who she was and where she’d come from. As it was, Jack felt uncomfortable with Bobby knowing the little girl was with them. Sooner or later he’d start asking why Rosario was still around.