No Reservations

by Natalia Banks

  Lorraine and Griffin exchanged a worried look.

  Ten minutes later, walking out of the hospital, Lorraine and Griffin could only look around, shaking their heads. Lorraine asked, “What do you think?”

  “She’s out of her mind, Lorraine.”

  “Griffin — ” Lorraine interjected.

  “I don’t mean to be cruel, Lorraine, of course not. I like Carmen, always have, and I wish her the best. But, there’s nothing about what she says that makes any sense at all.”

  “No? It is a lot of money, Grif. People have done a lot worse for a lot less.” Lorraine pointed out.

  Griffin sighed as they walked on. “If it is true, there’s not going to be much we can do about it. I mean, we can’t take Carmen’s theory to any court, lawyer, PI in the business, they’d laugh us out of their offices and rightly so.”

  “But they could have killed Albert — ” Lorraine said overwhelmed, her eyes starting to water.

  “There was an investigation, Lo’. They didn’t find a thing.”

  “And that doesn’t mean a thing.” She said.

  “It does when it all shakes out, Lorraine. Look, I love how you go after the fat cats, defending the little guy. You’re a champion, a warrior, and I thank God everyday that you’re my wife.”

  Lorraine wanted to enjoy the flattery. “Um, what are you buttering me up for, Grif?”

  “I really don’t know, Lorraine. If you wanna keep fighting, you know I’ll be right there with you. I may not have any money, but I’ll be there.”

  She nodded, knowing that the possibility was as real as it had ever been. “Maybe Jeremy’s right and I should just quit, even if they can’t straighten things out with Ashe’s play. Maybe they really didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Maybe,” Griffin said.

  “That sounds like a yes to me.”

  “Really? It sounded like a maybe to me. You've already admitted that working in the department isn’t going to give you the kind of opportunities to help the kids the way you really want to.”

  “But my petition, it’s getting more signatures all the time.” She said trying to sound convincing.

  “Then we’ll pursue that on our own, Lorraine. They can’t stop you, and once you’re out from under their shadow, they’re not going to bother with you at all. And honestly, I just don’t think the school board operates that way, having people murdered.”

  “What about the pro sports leagues? They beat each other half to death, and that’s just part of the show!”

  Griffin spat out an amused huff, but Lorraine couldn’t share his chuckle. “If you feel that way, maybe we should pull that petition.”

  “And quit, just run away? No, Griffin, no, then they win … ”

  “And you lose?”

  “The kids lose, Griffin.” She said firmly.

  Griffin hadn’t been the only person to suggest that Lorraine was succumbing to selfishness, to ego, to some personal demon that had already cost lives and could yet cost even more.

  Chapter 13

  The next day, a Thursday, found Ashe bounding through the front door, dropping his backpack on the living room couch and cheerfully crossing to the kitchen. “It’s back on, it’s back on!”

  Lorraine looked over from the dining room table, where she was pulling up Skype for a chat with her parents. “What’s going on, Ashe?”

  “My play, it’s back on!”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not really sure. I guess they decided the subject wasn’t so bad after all.” Ashe looked at Lorraine with his eyes dipped into shrewd slits, one brow raised. “Did you tell them to do it?”

  Lorraine tried to wave him off. “I really don’t have any sway over the board, and they don’t have much sway over — ”

  “But … when you were in trouble at work, the play got cancelled. Now it’s not cancelled anymore. Does that mean you’re still in trouble at work?” He said trying to piece things together aloud.

  Lorraine didn't have to think about that for long. “No Ashe, actually, I just quit my job at the Education Department.”

  “Really? You did?” He said surprised.

  “Yeah,” Lorraine tried to smile, as she had good reason to. But, it didn’t come naturally. “Just this afternoon, as a matter of fact.”

  Ashe stood there. He seemed to understand that Lorraine had some hand in the positive turn of events, he was as sure as he had been that she’d had something to do with it being cancelled in the first place. But, that didn’t matter to either of them. What mattered most to Ashe was that he didn’t have to be mad at Lorraine anymore, that he could drop his lingering sense of dread and anticipation of the worst. It meant he could once again embrace the sense of family, of wholeness, that Lorraine had brought to the Phoenix men, and which they had brought to her.

  For Lorraine, it meant that she’d regained Ashe’s respect and affection. When he stepped closer to give her a long, grateful hug, she was completely fulfilled. She thought of the smaller boy he’d been when they met four years before, when he was just nine years old, so young and vulnerable. He was fast becoming a man, the man Griffin and Lorraine were raising him to be, a man they’d be proud to know, happy to call him not only son but also friend.

  Ashe said, “Will you still play the mom?”

  Lorraine’s smile stretched across her face. “Of course I will.”

  “Great, that’s great.”

  “What about Rachel? She must be excited, too.”

  Ashe nodded. “I think we’re back together, too. This is so cool! I gotta go call everybody, get ready for more rehearsals. Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

  “We may have to schedule around a few things, Ashe. There’s the lawsuit yet to deal with, but … I’ll do my best.”

  Ashe smiled. “That’s all I ask.”

  The next morning, Friday, Lorraine drove out to Albany. She knew that she could just as easily have emailed her resignation letter and saved herself the trip, but Lorraine wanted to put eyes on Casper Newkirk, make sure he knew a few particulars about her departure. There was more to be gained by quitting the department than simply getting Ashe’s play back on track. It was about backing off the whole school board in hopes that whatever may have happened to Albert Jenkins wouldn't happen to her, Griffin, Ashe or Kayla.

  Lorraine blanched at the idea of backing down, especially from Casper Newkirk. Can they all be right, Griffin and Jeremy and the others, that I’m just being stubborn and rebellious? I really did want to help, and my tax idea is a damned good one! But, it’s obvious I can’t make any headway through this group of obstructionists. They like their corrupt system of cronyism and extortion so much, they can have it.

  Lorraine dropped her letter on to Casper’s desk. The private office seemed smaller to Lorraine than it ever had before, even more shabby. The smell of mildew seemed to rise up from the couch against the wall, but Lorraine wasn’t sure if it was simply her contempt for him manifesting itself in some sensory way.

  Lorraine also knew it didn’t matter. She’d never be exposed to it again.

  “I know what happened, so I’m keeping up my end of the deal.” Casper glanced at the letter, glancing up from his desk. Lorraine went on, “The letter is officially dated May twenty-ninth, the day my son’s play ends its run at his school, just to make sure things don't suddenly and inexplicably change again.” Lorraine leaned forward, over the desk. “His play gets shit-canned, I’m pulling this letter and I’l be back here, Casper … everyday of the week.” She ordered, unshakable in her tone, a sense of confidence and control she was glad she found within herself again.

  Casper pressed that little fake smile on his round, shiny face. Lacking any response, Lorraine said, “But listen to me, Casper. You keep up your end of the bargain, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

  “I understand, of course.” He nodded.

  “No, Casper, you don’t. I mean not you, nor anybody on the school board will have any reason
to be interested in us. We won’t stand in anybody’s way or interfere with your miserable, corrupt business in anyway. There won’t be any reason for any of us to have a heart attack the way Albert Jenkins … or Antony Scalia did. Do you understand?” She said unwavering.

  The two stared each other down, Casper setting the letter down on the desk. “Good day, Mrs. Phoenix,” was all he said, and all he really needed to say.

  “Good luck, Mr. Newkirk.” Was all she could say.

  Ten minutes later, Lorraine was halfway across the plaza when a familiar voice called her name from behind. “Lorraine, wait!”

  Lorraine turned to see Treena jiggling toward her. “Lorraine, um … I just want to say, I heard about what happened with your son’s play, and … I’m glad it’s back on.”

  “As glad as you are that I won’t be around anymore?” Lorraine said.

  “Well, no, not nearly … ” The two women shared a tense chuckle. “Look, I was hard on you, I know that. But, it wasn’t just that I was jealous, though I guess I probably am. You’re so young, pretty, happy and everything — ”

  She sighed, “It’s not all sunshine and roses Treena”

  “I know that, too, Lorraine. I guess you make it look easy. But, you’ve paid the price for what you have, and you keep paying, willingly. That’s more than a lot of these people are ready to do. It’s more than I’m willing to do, too, I guess I should admit.” She looked down.

  Lorraine nodded, a downy woodpecker fluttering by overhead.

  Treena said, “I do want you to know, though, that it was as much about doing a good job as anything. I mean, imagine working diligently for years, just to have some … some hobbyist flutter in and try to turn the whole place upside-down.” Lorraine didn’t have to search too hard for a recent example of that. “It was a little scary,” Treena added, “for all of us. I guess we made it all the scarier for you.” She gave Lorraine an apologetic half smile.

  “I’ve been through worse.” Lorraine admitted.

  Treena put forward her hand, extended in friendship. “I’m sorry again, Lorraine. Good luck.”

  “To you, too, Treena.” Lorraine glanced up at the Capitol building behind them. “We’ll all need it.”

  Lorraine’s fingers clicked across the keyboard, fingers sliding along the touchpad to guide the curser to her account on the website usignit.com. Her petition for the new pro sports tax had garnered almost ten thousand signatures, still well short of the requirement to put the petition in front of the President.

  Griffin approached her from behind, his strong hands finding her shoulders and the napes of her neck, a gentle cycle of squeezing delivering a soothing massage. Lorraine leaned back, head resting against his chiseled torso.

  Even Griffin’s tender touch, the familiar surroundings of their comforting study, nestled in the heart of the fabulous penthouse, could bring Lorraine no solace. “Maybe this is pointless, Grif. At this rate, I’ll never get the amount of signatures I need.”

  None of the books on the walnut bookshelves, not even the endless resource of the internet, could offer any solution. Griffin said, “I know it’s not easy for you to give up, especially when you believe in something. It’s not that old bugaboo is it?”

  “It’s not about being afraid, Grif … at least not for myself. The whole thing with Albert, I just can’t get it out of my head. What if he really was murdered?” She asked disturbed.

  “Let’s say that he was. It wouldn’t have had anything to do with the pro sports industry. And your position is much more a threat to them than to the school board. And to think that both the school board and pro ball both go around murdering people, it’s just a little far-fetched, don't you think?” He reasoned.

  Lorraine sighed, eyes dipping closed as the tension leaked away from her shoulder muscles and upper back. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Lorraine, if somebody in the pro ball leagues was really concerned about your petition, they’d just exert pressure on some other end. They’re businessmen, Lorraine, and blood is a big expense.”

  Lorraine nodded, but Griffin added, “Anyway, killing you wouldn’t stop that petition. If anything, with you out of the picture, that petition would be stuck online, and probably would only get a lot more notorious, a lot longer. Anyway, you’re already too famous to kill.”

  “Griffin!” She blurted, half smiling, rolling her eyes.

  “The last thing they’d want to have to deal with is a martyr, Lorraine. I’d be a lot easier just to make a few calls and squash this thing somewhere down the line, once the heat’s died down.”

  Lorraine smile melted away. “What you're saying is that … I can’t win this, no matter which way I go.”

  Griffin finally had to say, “No, baby, I don’t think you can.”

  “So the school board gets to just go on being as corrupt as they wanna be — ”

  “We don’t really know how corrupt they are.”

  “And the pro sports leagues?” She asked perturbed.

  “What can we possibly do to change any of that?” Griffin countered in a calm and sympathetic tone.

  “What about the schools, Griffin, the kids? These monsters are turning our high schools into football recruiting stations and sending ninety-nine percent of them to the poor house or the hospital … or the graveyard.”

  “I know, Lorraine, it’s … it’s frustrating as all hell. But again, I just don’t know what we can do about it.”

  Lorraine knew he was right, a cold chill passing through her. And she also knew that, if he was wrong, she could be taking a terrible risk in the service of a doomed mission, and the risk wasn’t to her alone. She realized that if either the school board or these pro ball leagues were indeed ready to kill, that they’d go after her, Griffin, the kids, her parents.

  However committed Lorraine was to the cause of education, she was more committed to the cause of her family, the love and lives they created, the futures they looked forward to. Nothing was more important than that to Lorraine and nothing ever would be.

  Maybe I am afraid, Lorraine had to admit, of course I am. But I’m afraid for them, not myself. I’ve been shot, I’ve nearly died! But the idea of little Kayla or Ashe getting caught up in anything like that again … no, I just can’t have it. Griffin and Ashe have suffered enough, we all have. And I won’t let Kayla suffer in the same way, or even worse. The legacy of death and violence that’s plagued the Phoenix family ends, here and now; at least if I have anything to say about it.

  Lorraine took a deep breath and reached out to the keyboard, pale index finger trembling as she guided the curser to a small button labelled Cancel Petition.

  One click and it was all over.

  Chapter 14

  Lorraine and Griffin were pacing around his study in the penthouse, the smell of freshly ground Arabica coffee beans filling the oak-paneled walls. The prints of Tony Gardner’s paintings where everywhere around them, Einstein peering out from the foam matte board, challenging, begging Lorraine to find some solution to their pending doom.

  They only took their eyes off the paintings long enough to glance at each other, and neither liked what the other wasn’t saying.

  A knock fell on the open door and Jeremy stuck his head in.

  Griffin said, “Come on in, Jer.”

  Jeremy and Anton stepped into the little room, Anton stepping past Jeremy to examine the paintings. Jeremy said, “We were just on our way to talk to that lawyer of yours. Are you sure about this? We still say this isn’t the right time.”

  Griffin tossed out an amused huff. “Actually, I think this may be your last chance. Take the fifty at least. And the job at the company will cover your insurance. There’s no reason to be proud.”

  Anton turned from one of the paintings, a brush-rendered picture of a snowy landscape. “D’ese nice,” he said in his thick Jamaican accent, bending his over six-foot height to look more closely at the pictures. “D’ese aight fer sout’paw, man, aire.”

 
Lorraine asked, “What’s that? Southpaw?”

  Anton said, “Left-hand paintah, can tell by d’ese strokes here. De right-hand paintah do like d’is wit his brush, see?” Anton demonstrated with his right and left hand, each one naturally creating brush strokes in a certain direction.

  Lorraine and Griffin stepped toward the painting, each taking a closer look. All the notable strokes of the hashmarks, a criss-cross pattern of brush strokes, had a definite pattern favoring the motion of right to left, with the right-facing up strokes passing over the left-facing down strokes.

  Anton turned to another painting, this one of a Paris street, and he pointed out the same cross-hatch pattern. “Pree,” he said, and Lorraine and Griffin were quick to see the similarity. Anton glanced around at the shelves, then turned to the laptop. His long, dark fingers clattered over the keyboard, eyes scanning the monitor. “Pree, pree,” he said, not needing to explain what it meant.

  Griffin and Lorraine looked at the monitor, a painting by the great painter Rembrandt, known to be right-handed. A close examination revealed that the cross-hatch pattern was subtly but visibly different, stronger on the strokes heading from left to right, the opposite of the other paintings.

  “My God,” Griffin said astounded.

  “Which of that lying rat’s arms did you mangle?” Lorraine blurted out.

  “Right,” Griffin said, “I’m certain of it.”

  Lorraine turned to Anton, and beamed “Anton, I could kiss you right now!”

  Anton shrugged. “Mi deh ya,” he said, meaning, I am here. Jeremy smiled and gave Anton a playful swat on the shoulder.

  Lorraine and Griffin sat down at that familiar long table in the deposition room at the county courthouse. The tan walls had little decor save a framed photo of a black-robed judge wearing a stern expression, silently overseeing the proceedings. Attorney Hal Rodney had arranged to have Tony’s original paintings around the room on easels, as before, trying not to smile as Tony Gardner and his lawyer sat down.