One Final Step

by Stephanie Doyle

  “How are you?”

  “I suck. Leukemia has that effect on a person. But I don’t want to talk about that, either. Tell me how things are going with you and Michael.”

  “Going with us? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means are you being successful at your job?” he asked carefully.

  Too late, Madeleine realized her reaction had been defensive.

  “Yes, things are good. I think we’re going to get the Sunday Night Hour interview. Once people are able to see what he’s talking about and understand his vision, I think there will be partners lined up around the corner ready to do business with him. Former reputation or not.”

  “Excellent. Then you’ll be coming home soon.”

  Madeleine ignored the knot in her stomach. “Yes. Soon. He won’t have much more need for my services.”

  “Job well done, then. When you return, there is a state senate campaign in Virginia that has need of your services to develop a policy on strip mining.”

  Madeleine nodded, vaguely thinking about how she would feel going back to the research and the papers. It was where she preferred to be, certainly. Not in the field. Not working directly with the candidate. That part of her life was over.

  “Is everything all right, Madeleine?”

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  “We’ve already established that I’m terrible. Not much more to be said there. I would rather talk about your woes. Distract me. Please.”

  Madeleine shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Missing something that wasn’t even gone yet. And she certainly wasn’t going to discuss her personal feelings with Ben. They were close, but they weren’t that close.

  She wondered if Ben was that close to anyone.

  “I don’t have any woes. And I have to catch a flight in a little bit. I wanted to check on you before I left. Anna mentioned the next round of treatment starts soon.”

  “So it does.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  Madeleine gave him a brief nod then turned to leave. She stopped when she reached the door. “Please tell me whatever you said to Anna wasn’t awful enough to make her leave you. Not now when you need her the most.”

  “It probably was.” He sighed. “But I doubt she’ll leave, anyway.”

  Comforted by that, Madeleine left his office and went in search of Anna. She found her in the kitchen huddled over a cup of tea. When the younger woman looked up, Madeleine could see she’d been crying.

  “Don’t ask.”

  “You know, you two have a lot in common.”

  “He is an ass. And I have nothing in common with an ass.”

  Madeleine didn’t comment. “Is it okay for me to leave with everything going on? I can’t let him face what’s coming alone, Anna. I owe him that much.”

  “Don’t worry. He won’t be alone. I’ll be here. Right where I’ve always been.”

  But things would be different. Something had obviously happened between them to make everything different. She’d never felt such tension from either of them before.

  “You know you can always call me. Talk to me.”

  Anna nodded, her eyes tearing once more. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll keep you up-to-date about his progress. I promise.”

  Feeling strangely sad, Madeleine did something she wasn’t accustomed to doing. She walked over and wrapped her arm around the woman’s back and rubbed it until she felt Anna relax. “It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay. I know it,” Madeleine said softly.

  “Sure. It will all be okay.”

  “I’ll call.”

  “We’ll be here. Just one big happy-ass family. Oh, no, wait…just a boss and his…secretary.”

  * * *

  MICHAEL PULLED INTO his assigned parking spot in the garage under his office building and turned off the engine. He’d started the day with an extra burst of excitement since he knew Madeleine would be returning this afternoon. They were to meet at her hotel later and he wasn’t foolish enough to convince himself he wasn’t counting the hours.

  But when he opened his car door he heard someone shout his name.

  “Hey, Mickey!”

  No, not his name. His old name, his old life, calling out to him in a place where he least expected it. Only Archie and Darnell still called him Mickey. And one other person he didn’t want to think had followed him here to his office.

  Michael stared at the man who had obviously been waiting for him.

  “Good to see you again, Mickey.”

  Michael closed the car door behind him and the sound of the beep signaling he’d locked the vehicle echoed off the cement walls. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you think we knew each other, but…”

  “Come on, don’t pull that with me. I know you’re playing.”

  “Not really. I don’t play much.”

  “Okay, I get it,” Nooky said, his hands raised as if he was surrendering. “We don’t know each other. Never did time together at County. Eighteen years ago. In Block B.”

  Michael sighed. It was pointless to deny his past, no matter how much he didn’t want to go back there. Besides, Archie believed ex-cons needed to stick together. It’s how they got a leg up in the world after they got out. Nooky must have told Archie about their meeting and no doubt Archie bragged about Michael. About his success, his job.

  Where he worked.

  Not that Michael could ever be angry or upset with Archie for giving away such information. He could, however, be slightly annoyed.

  “So how is the job going?” Michael asked, trying to stay casual and not leap to conclusions about why Nooky was here.

  “The job,” Nooky snorted. “Whatever. I never really saw myself as a mechanic. After I got out the first time I stayed clean for a while working at a restaurant. But things got bad and a few jewelry stores later I’m back inside. You know how it goes.”

  He didn’t. One experience had been enough to change everything for Michael. “Yeah, yeah. Listen, I’m late for an appointment…”

  “Oh, sure. An appointment. Because you’re important, right?”

  There was something hard and mean in the man’s eyes. With a heavy dose of resentment mixed in. Michael braced himself for what was coming.

  “What do you want, Nooky?”

  “Look, I’m doing the job. Trying to stay clean and shit. But I was thinking since you’re doing so well and Archie says you like to help ex-cons, maybe you could help me out. I mean, we share a common history and everything.”

  Michael understood paying people off. He’d done it with several people he was concerned might someday be problematic to him. But this straggler was someone who happened to recognize him because he was in the cell next to him. Was it worth it?

  “What kind of help do you need?”

  “A couple large might do it. Get me back on my feet for real. I mean, look at you. You kept your nose clean all this time and you’re a big shot.”

  Michael didn’t become a big shot by simply keeping his nose clean, but he didn’t think explaining the concept of ambition to Nooky Clarke was going to make a difference.

  “I saw you on the news promoting one of your environmental causes. You’re becoming like a real celebrity. Seems to me you like to give your money away. Why not give it to someone you know?”

  “Someone I know,” Michael repeated. It would be an easy thing to do. Head to the bank, take out some cash and make this reminder of his past go away. Of course, the money would come with the condition that he leave Archie’s immediately. After all, Michael deserved at least that much in return for two large.

  But something in him balked at the idea. He didn’t want to give Nooky the satisfaction that the past bothered Michael so much he was willing to pay to make it go away.

  He took a step closer and watched as Nooky shrank back. “Just because you know me, you think that entitles you to a couple thousand dollars of my money? Let me explain somethin
g. When you’re going to attempt to blackmail someone you really need to have an implied threat. Otherwise there is no motivation on my part to give you what you want. So what is your threat, Nooky? Why should I agree to give you what you want?”

  The man held his hands up again and Michael could see the grease he hadn’t bothered to clean off. “Hey, nobody said nothing about blackmail. I was looking for a little charity. That’s all.”

  “I save my handouts for the people who need them. You have a job. You’re getting paid. You’re fine. Now, if we’re done…?”

  Instantly the man’s face changed. Gone was the pretense that this was a friendly conversation between two ex-cons who once did time together. Michael stepped around him and headed for the elevators.

  “I don’t think we’re done yet, Mickey. You want a threat? I’ll find a way to come up with a threat.”

  “Good luck.”

  Michael kept his back to the man as he hit the button on the elevator. He wasn’t concerned about any kind of physical attack from behind. He remembered Nooky well enough to know which side of the line he fell on in terms of weak or strong. He’d been a weasel who’d survived by doing whatever was asked of him, whether it was by the guards or the other inmates.

  As he stepped onto the elevator he considered his actions and wondered if maybe he had made a mistake. A couple of thousand dollars and he could have made him disappear. Michael believed in taking the easy road when it came to sticky situations and money typically made things very, very easy.

  It was the audacity of the weasel’s request. Hey, you and me once did time and you made it, so now you owe me. It sickened Michael and made the shame of what he’d been back then resurface. It also made him angry enough to tell Nooky to take a hike.

  He could only hope this loose end didn’t wind up biting him in the ass.

  * * *

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON AS HE WAS leaving the office, Michael was reminded of what it felt like to actually have his ass bitten. His car had been keyed from hood to rear, both driver’s and passenger’s sides. Deep, ugly, sickening grooves marred the sleek beauty of the machine he’d rebuilt to satisfy his every whim.

  To him, it was like desecrating the Mona Lisa.

  Nooky’s anger had obviously been underestimated.

  Approaching his car, he cursed under his breath and stopped when he saw the scrap of paper tucked under his windshield wiper. He pulled out the note and continued to curse.

  Why hadn’t he paid the little shit off? Forget thousands, a couple of hundred would have been enough to get him to back off and he had that in his wallet.

  You want a threat? How’s this? Do all them fancy people know what you did to Ricca?

  Seeing the name printed on the paper was enough to nearly make him sick. Michael stood for a few minutes and contemplated his options. He could shout and slam his fist into the side of his car, but that would accomplish nothing and would likely further damage either the car or possibly himself.

  The more sensible, rational option was simply to throw the note away. He would dismiss it for now, and if Nooky had the balls to come through with another threat then he would see about taking care of the situation. It was what a grown man did. It was so very different from what the hothead he’d once been would have done. The hothead would already be nursing a hand with broken bones.

  In the meantime, he was supposed to be picking up Madeleine at her hotel. He would focus on that. He’d been waiting all day for that.

  In the few days she’d been gone her absence had been palpable. He understood why she’d needed to leave. She had work she was still committed to and, of course, she’d wanted to see Ben.

  Plus, there wasn’t really anything for her to do here. He was sponsoring a marathon on Sunday to promote another green initiative. An event she wouldn’t attend. And she was still negotiating with her friend Peg regarding the televised interview, but that could be done from anywhere.

  It seemed they were in a waiting game at this point. Letting all the charitable work he’d done sink in with the people who mattered, and until the interview was confirmed there was nothing else he could take on that would instantly remake his image.

  Which meant any day now she would announce she was leaving for home permanently.

  There was nothing he could do to hold on to her.

  Rattled, by the note and her imminent departure, Michael took the long way around town to the hotel. He needed time to get control over his emotions before he saw her, otherwise he might fall to his knees and place his head on her stomach and beg her not to leave him.

  That would definitely not be cool. After battling downtown traffic for more than forty minutes, his head was clearer and he felt like he was better able to deal with seeing her. He could be his normal, casual self. An unthreatening friend.

  That was what he remained as he knocked and heard her scrambling inside the suite. But when she opened the door the smile on her face was like nothing he’d ever seen before. His heart beat hard and his stomach leaped and he wondered if he wasn’t going to disgrace himself by falling to his knees after all.

  * * *

  IT WAS TOO good to see him. Too exciting. Too everything. She shouldn’t be this happy.

  “Hi,” she said and could hear the breathless quality in her voice. She was pathetic. She was a sixteen-year-old waiting for a boy to pick her up for the prom. Not that she knew what that felt like from experience. Her father had frowned on the idea of something as silly as a dance with a boy when she could be studying instead.

  Ugh, she didn’t want to think about her father now. She needed to have more control over her thoughts than this.

  “Hi.”

  Swinging open the door she let him inside. “You’re late.”

  “Traffic.”

  Madeleine was at a loss as to what came next. Her skin felt prickly and her tongue felt thick. They were supposed to go over the schedule for the marathon, which was going to include a brief speech from him to kick it off. They had been doing this kind of work for weeks now, but suddenly it all felt strange.

  She’d missed him. A couple of days away and she’d missed him. She was a fool to think she could stay away from him indefinitely. Which led her to wonder what the hell she was going to do when it came time to go home. Because she did have to go home eventually. The job wouldn’t last forever.

  “Do you want to talk about the speech first?” She needed to focus on the work. The work was the barrier between them she couldn’t forget.

  Michael already had his suit jacket off and was pacing in front of the television. She wondered if he knew how often he did that. Back and forth, back and forth, like he couldn’t stop himself. Like one of those office desk toys—once they were set in motion, the motion never ended.

  “No, I’m not ready for speech talk. How was your trip?”

  “Fine. Good. I was able to finish up a job that had been lingering. And I was able to visit Ben. He’s lining up more work for me when I return.”

  “I don’t want to talk about you returning, either. How is Ben?”

  Madeleine, who had long since given up the pretense of formality when working with Michael, hadn’t even bothered to put her shoes on when she answered the door. Barefoot and wearing the casual slacks she’d flown in, she sat on the small suite couch and tucked her feet up underneath her.

  “Not great. The current treatment isn’t working as the doctors had hoped. There are stronger chemotherapy drugs they can try, but as weak as he is now, I don’t know how much more he can take. Plus, he and Anna seemed to be fighting about something.”

  “So? You said they were close. His illness is bound to cause stress and tension. Sometimes fighting can relieve that.”

  “Yes, but this felt different. I’ve always wondered about their relationship. Yes, she works for him, but there always seemed to be something more. But when I was there visiting it was like that spark was gone. It felt like she was pulling away from him. Certainly not what h
e needs right now.”

  Michael sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. He reached out to take her hand. Madeleine let him hold it. She definitely wasn’t pulling away. At least not from him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’ll be here for you. If you need me.”

  Would she need him? If something happened to Ben, would she need to be held and comforted? The answer was yes, as long as it was Michael doing the comforting.

  This time she did pull her hand away. She unfurled her legs and stood. It was her turn to pace. She needed to find her shoes. She should find her shoes and put on some lipstick. No doubt her makeup had all worn off. She probably looked worn-out. Vulnerable. She shouldn’t have answered the door without those shields in place.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked her. “I’m starved.”

  Dinner, food. Practical things like that helped to keep her focused on something besides him. Because his presence seemed to suck up all the air in the room. Madeleine decided she was famished.

  “Yes. I can order up room service. What were you thinking?”

  Michael joined her at the desk, where she was thumbing through the room-service menu. A menu they had ordered from so many times already because she wouldn’t eat with him anywhere besides Darnell’s.

  He reached around her to put his hand on the book and close it. “No room service. I’m sick of it. Eat with me downstairs in the restaurant.”

  “Michael, I don’t want to go there again. You know I won’t be seen with you,” she said quietly, feeling his body heat as he stood inches behind her.

  “Fine. Then come to my place. It’s private. I can cook for you.”

  She turned and was sorry she had because he seemed even closer now that she was looking at him. “Michael…”

  “Madeleine. We’ve been down this road. You know I’m not going to pounce on you as soon as I get you in my home. I want to relax, have a nice dinner, maybe some wine. We’ll talk about the speech and we’ll talk about our working plans for the future.”

  Her heart was beating as hard as if she’d just run a sprint. “You promise?”