by Evan Ronan
Not Shannon.
So how do I do that?
I give Marcus the look. “Give me your phone.”
Twenty-Four
Marcus looks at me sideways, mouth agape.
“What are you going to do?”
“Make you a deal, asshole,” I say. “I won’t shoot you if you give me your phone.”
He still wavers. “What are you going to do with—”
BANG
Though he’s slumped against the front door, he manages to somehow get airborne for a second. Quickly, Marcus takes his cell phone out of his pocket and tosses it at me.
I don’t have much time. The neighbors had to have heard at least one gun shot in the three that have been fired.
I pocket Marcus’s phone and take my own out. Make sure to keep the gun trained on him.
“Repeat after me,” I say. “I am not going to do anything stupid.”
“I am not gonna do anything stupid.”
Keeping the gun on Marcus, I call Tarika.
“Hey, Greg,” she says warmly. She’s still in that false reality where she and her daughter have taken their first steps toward reconciliation. “Did you find everything?”
I can’t break it to her just yet. “Does Shannon know you didn’t come home?”
“What?”
“Tarika.” In the distance, I hear the sirens now. They’re coming. “I need to know, right now, if Shannon knows I went to your house instead of you.”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“We need to keep it that way.”
“Greg, what is going on?”
The police are so close now. Marcus is leaning toward the side lite, trying to see out to the street.
“Don’t fucking move, Marcus!” I gently remind him.
“GREG?” Tarika is panicked. “Greg, what is going on?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as I can, Tarika, but you have to promise me you won’t let Shannon know you didn’t come home. Okay? She can’t see you, she has to think you’re here. Okay? No calls, no texts. Nothing. Do you understand?”
“Greg.” I can barely hear her over the sirens. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
Blue and red lights swirl and illuminate the house. I hear two cars come to a stop on the street.
There’s no way to soften this blow. “Shannon tried to have you killed.”
***
Detective Neeson arrives ten minutes later.
Neeson steps into the kitchen, where I’ve parked it against the counter. Somebody turned the coffeemaker on. I've got a nice hot cup and I sip. Normally I don’t do coffee this late, but the adrenaline is going to keep me up all night anyway.
YOLO, as the kids say.
“Alright, Owen,” Neeson says. “We’ve got Rasheed in custody already, and somebody at the party is bailing him out.”
“Who?”
“Another girl. She went outside to smoke and saw Rasheed and Shannon in the parking lot. She said Shannon was trying to get a rise out of him, but Rasheed never laid a finger on her.”
I nod. “So let’s do it then.”
Neeson holds out his hand. “Give me the phone.”
I pass him Marcus’s phone. Neeson had to clear this move with his lieutenant, who had to get in touch with the precinct’s legal department, to make sure it was aboveboard. Apparently he got the greenlight. Neeson unlocks Marcus’s phone with a swipe, pulls up Marcus’s text messages. I watch over his shoulder as he types.
I did what you told me to do.
Neeson gives me one last look before he hits SEND.
The text warps through cyberspace and lands on Shannon’s phone. Under the text, a tiny window appears to say the message has been delivered.
We watch that window without saying a word.
The word Delivered changes to Read.
“Shannon has seen it,” Neeson says.
Another window pops up.
Shannon is typing
She types for what seems five minutes, but is probably less than fifteen seconds. Marcus’s phone beeps when Shannon’s message comes through.
Get your ass over here
Neeson responds: No, leaving town
Shannon fires one back immediately: Stick to plan. You gotta come hospital so I can get you alibi!
Neeson holds the phone out.
“Is that enough?” I ask.
He nods. “We can make this work.”
Twenty-Five
I want to drive straight to Ashlynn’s. I want to sit on her couch and drink a few drinks and drown out my sorrows. Bad shit happens. Really, really bad shit happens.
No matter how old I get, I’m still surprised by it. Maybe it’s a lesson I never want to learn. Maybe it’s healthier to think the world is a happy place where things usually work out.
But I know if I go to Ashlynn’s, I’m just being a coward. And Greg Owen is many things, but he’s not a coward. So I drive back to the hospital, where I find Tarika sitting in the lobby outside the emergency room. She’s surrounded by police officers, none of whom are speaking to her. Like the weight of the world is on her shoulders, she slowly lifts her head as I come over.
The cops part and give us some space, fanning out across the waiting area. Tarika just stares at me with dead eyes and gives the tiniest shake of her head. Then she leans forward, puts her elbows on her thighs, and starts crying again.
I sit next to her. I don’t know what to do. Sorry doesn’t cut it. So I just rub her back while she cries. Neeson comes in a few minutes later. I get up to leave, because I know they have official business to discuss, but Tarika grips my thigh and pushes me back down onto the seat. The detective crouches so he’s in front of Tarika, his eyes level with hers.
“Ms. Lahill,” he says. “I’m very sorry about this. But we have to place your daughter under arrest now.”
Tarika can’t speak. She’s crying too much.
Neeson continues. “We will place her under arrest and read her her rights. We will not move her out of the hospital as she’s under a medical protocol, but we will have men watching her every minute from now on. We will also confiscate her phone and personal belongings at this time. When her treating physician clears her, we will move Shannon to county. She will be processed there and charged.”
Tarika tries to say Okay. She can’t even manage that.
“We are placing her under arrest for attempted murder,” Neeson explains. “We expect she and Marcus will point the finger at each other. I’m afraid the further we push, the more we’ll likely find out. I’d like to say things will get easier from this point on, but I’ve seen this happen before. It will likely get more difficult for a while.”
Tarika nods.
Neeson puts his hand on her shoulder. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Tanner.”
Tarika doesn’t respond. She just keeps crying. Neeson lingers a moment to see if she’s going to speak, but then he rises and motions at his guys. He leads two uniformed cops back into the emergency room.
We sit there for a long time.
And I wonder at fate and circumstance. If Tarika hadn’t left a bag on the end table by the front door, I’d be dead right now. Maybe Tarika would be too. Maybe Shannon and Marcus would have gotten away with murder and collected on Tarika’s life insurance policy.
Twenty-Six
The casino has a big room set aside for the nine-ball tournament. It’s gotten bigger than expected, the pot growing accordingly. Everybody hustles.
Each player is allotted warm-up time. I got here early to use every minute of it. I spend most of the time working my cuts. It takes a few minutes longer than usual, but finally I slip into the zone and pocket balls the way I know I can.
My time up, I go to the waiting area to sit with the not small crowd. I don’t play for another hour, so I’ve got the next sixty minutes to stave off the pre-game jitters.
I spot Ashlynn and my daughter, Tammy, as they come into the casino a few minutes later. Tammy is only fourteen but she looks
so much older. And they’ve got somebody with them.
Roy.
I leave my cue and meet them by the entrance. Hugs all around, even with Roy.
“Who pulled the stake out of your heart?” I ask him.
He smiles. I haven’t seen Roy since Wally moved away. It’s only been a couple months, but he looks a year older.
“Bernie was my Van Helsing,” Roy quips. “The twerp wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept calling.”
I laugh. “I’m partly to blame for giving him your number.”
“Partly?” he asks. “What, you only gave him half my phone number?”
“Okay. Fully then.”
“Thanks ,Greg.” Roy pretends to be angry and turns like he’s going to leave. “Thanks a lot.”
“It got you out here,” I say.
“Yeah, it did.” He cuffs my shoulder. “So now you better win.”
“No pressure.”
We all go to sit down. Tammy is telling me about soccer season—she’s decided to play—and her upcoming classes, and she sounds excited again for school. For a while, Lorelei and I were real worried.
“Anyway, I’m going to stick with the Honors classes,” she says. “If they’re too much, I can always switch out.”
I smile. “I think you’ll be fine.”
She gives me a look. “Easy for you to say.”
I shake my head no. “If the last thirteen years are any indication, you’re going to do great.”
She leans into me and I put my arm around her shoulders. Ashlynn finishes a call and sits next to me on the other side. Her hand finds mine.
“You ready?” she asks.
“I’ve only had my whole life to prepare,” I note.
She laughs. “Just closed the deal.”
“Congrats!” I put my other arm around Ashlynn and squeeze her tight. Tammy doesn’t seem to mind I’ve got a girlfriend. She actually likes Ashlynn.
“Yes, so we need to have good news all around,” she says. “Big win from Greg Owen today. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
Only, the tournament is much bigger than expected. The pot’s grown too, which is hypothetical good news. But in this place called the real world, it only means there are more sharks circling now.
A few of these guys I’ve seen on ESPN 28.
I make that joke but I’ve never been on local public access TV.
I am outclassed. Feel like Hemingway’s Old Man.
My phone buzzes.
“Excuse me. I have to take this.”
I show Ashlynn the caller ID, and she rubs my back. I find a secluded corner of the game room.
“Hey, Tarika,” I say, “how are you holding up?”
“Hey, Greg.” She sounds okay, but there is a sad note lining her voice. “I’ve been better.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I was just calling to say good luck.”
“Good luck?” I ask.
“You told me about your tournament,” she says. “I didn’t forget.”
How did she not? With everything else that was going on, how did Tarika Lahill remember Greg Owen was playing in a nine-ball tournament in Valley Forge?
“Thanks,” I say quickly, embarrassed. “How is Shannon?”
“Her lawyer got her a deal.”
“How about Marcus?”
“Marcus is fighting for his life too,” she says. “According to him, Shannon first went to James Stanek to see if she could sue Marcus. Take out a civil claim against him and his family. Marcus was in on it. He would have taken the stand and owned up to brainwashing her and having sexual intercourse with her underage. Then they would have split whatever money the jury awarded them.”
“Small problem with that,” I say. “For that to work, Marcus’s family would need to have money, or an insane insurance policy covering those misdeeds.”
She doesn’t hear me. “And you know what, Greg?”
She believes Marcus.
“I believe him,” she confirms. “Shannon didn’t go see Stanek to talk about a will and custody and life insurance. She went there to make money, not spend money she didn’t have.”
“What about the check cashing place?”
“Somebody down in Mexico owed her … oh, Greg, I can’t even get into it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s going away for fifteen years,” Tarika says. “Eligible for parole in eleven.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I think that’s where she belongs, Greg,” Tarika says bravely. “I think that’s who she is.”
“Marcus did a number on her,” I say. “She was only fifteen. He brainwashed her, he took her away and—”
“Don’t make excuses for her, Greg.” Tarika’s voice is heavy. “So much more has come out since the arrest. Olivia was involved too, down in Mexico. They had a system for bringing girls into the country. They told girls they could make money waitressing at exotic resorts, then when the girls came, they told them the real deal: the money was in escorting. They enticed them with promises of lots of money and, eventually, the cartels took notice and then it all went to hell. Shannon and Marcus claim they only wanted to run an American escort service and that they were forced into the trafficking. Shannon says Marcus ran the show, but he says it was all her idea. Like the detective said, they’re pointing fingers now. And … anyway.”
I don’t know what to say.
“I keep wondering, Greg, if Shannon changed, or if she was always going to be this person.”
One of the age old questions.
Tarika asks, “Do you think we are what we are?”
“No.” Because I can’t. Because I think we can change, and change for the better. I have to. I have to think that’s true.
Even if it isn’t.
Tarika is still talking. “Shannon’s father was a crook too. He ran liquor and numbers and ran girls … I didn’t know till after I got pregnant. He played the perfect man with me for as long as he could. But he couldn’t hack it. I caught him running around, and one by one the lies piled up and I saw the real him. And that’s the hardest thing to accept: Shannon’s just like him. Only worse.”
There is no denying that nature plays a part.
Tarika says, “What could I have done differently?”
“Everything,” I say. “You could have done everything differently and you know what?”
“What?”
“You still might have ended up here.”
“Yeah.” But she doesn’t believe it.
“Or you could have done nothing and everything would have turned out differently. That’s the God’s honest truth, Tarika.”
“Come on, Greg. Everything we do as parents has an impact. I could have … I have to live with this.”
“But you don’t have to die with it, Tarika,” I say. “Shannon’s a grown woman now. She tried to have you killed.”
“It’s like it happened to someone else, Greg. Not me.”
I gaze back at my daughter. She is the perfect child. I know how Tarika felt about Shannon, six years ago.
“What are you going to do?”
“Start over.” Tarika laughs but it’s without music. “Maybe I’ll go to Mexico.”
“Starting over’s a good idea. I don’t know about Mexico.”
She laughs sorrowfully. “I’ll never leave, Greg. I’m not kidding myself. Shannon is my girl. She and Aisha are all I’ve got left. My only family.”
“You could start another family,” I say, fearing the reaction. “You’re young, Tarika.”
She hasn’t heard me. “How could I ever leave Shannon?”
How could she not?
“You have your whole life ahead of you,” I say. “Don’t spend it second-guessing every decision you made as a parent. Just apply what you’ve learned moving forward. That’s all you can do.”
Tarika isn’t listening, though. “I love her, Greg. It doesn’t matter what she did, or what she tried to do. She’s my daughter. I love her. I
can only love her. Is that wrong?”
“She’s your girl,” I say evasively.
“It probably makes me crazy.”
“All parents are crazy.”
She takes a deep breath. “Goodbye now, Greg. Thank you for everything you did.”
“Tarika,” I say. “You should really think about—”
“Goodbye, Greg.”
She hangs up.
Phone still in hand, I lower my arm to my side. I stand there, numb, all thoughts about the tournament, all thoughts about anything else, forgotten. I want to do something for Tarika. I want to drive out and see her. I want to …
What are you going to do, Greg?
Tarika needs to process this and move on. Or not move on. I can’t do that for her. Or not do that for her. But damn I hate this feeling of uselessness, of not being able to help somebody who needs it. I close my eyes.
“You alright, kid?”
It’s been a long time since anybody called me kid. I turn to Roy and force a smile.
“It’s great to see you, old-timer.”
He pats my shoulder. The gesture makes me think of Pop.
“So, you alright?” Roy asks again.
“This case.” I shake my head. “There’s nothing good about it.”
He nods. Doesn’t speak.
And his little bit of silence gives me the room I need to open up.
“At the end of it all, Roy, all I’m looking for is something positive. Something inspiring. Something good and whole to latch onto. But this …”
I put my head down.
“You got a tournament to play,” Roy says.
I laugh. “How can I go play nine-ball after getting off the phone with a woman whose life was just destroyed? For the second time.”
“Greg,” Roy says, sounding a lot like my father now. “I’m an old man now, but there’s one thing I know for sure. Life is short. Right now you’re probably saying to yourself, this tournament isn’t important, and there will be another one. Right? You’re thinking you don’t have your game now and you can always come back in a few months or next year?”
“Yeah.”
“But you know, you know, life gets in the way. In six months a deal might come along and you start a new business that eats up all your time. Or tomorrow, you get a call from another realtor and you sell the hall and never touch a cue again. Or you marry this girl over here and have another kid. Or a million things. You know what I’m saying.”
