by A. L Long
My throat began to constrict as I tried to make up an excuse as to why he couldn’t walk me. “I don’t think that is a good idea,” I began as I proceeded to scoot across the booth seat. “I don’t know you very well and I really don’t feel good about letting you know where I live. If you don’t mind, I will just be on my way. Thanks for breakfast.”
“Can I at least have your number?” he asked, pushing from the booth himself.
“No can do. I don’t have one to give,” I confessed, knowing that everyone had a cell. At least, everyone except me.
“How will I see you again?”
“Maybe we’ll bump into each other again,” I replied with a sarcastic smile.
As I opened the door, I could tell that Lou wasn’t too happy with my frankness, but the last thing I needed was a handout. I had made it on my own for the past nine years and I didn’t need any handouts now.
~****~
It always seemed like the same thing over and over. Standing outside the building with so many others needing a place to sleep, I just missed my chance to get in and was ultimately turned away. Even though it was still pretty early in the morning, I guess having breakfast with Lou wasn’t such a good idea after all. I was hoping I would be able to hold on to the money I took for a little longer, but unless I wanted to sleep under the bridge again, I needed to spend some of it. Turning on my heels, I headed down the street to the nearest motel that looked to be clean and reasonably priced.
Finding just the right place, I checked in and paid my sixty bucks, I headed to my room for the night, which was located just up the stairs and to the right, just as the clerk instructed. As I opened the door, I could smell the scent of clean linens, which was a definite plus compared to what I was used to. Placing my bag on the bed, I began taking a look around the room. Even though the furniture looked like it came out of the seventies, the room was clean and nicely decorated. Stepping inside the bathroom, I was surprised to see that there were fresh towels hanging on the rack that were as white as the first snow. As I pulled back the shower curtain, the shower was also very clean. So clean that it was calling my name. Stripping off my maid’s uniform, I found a missed hundred dollar bill stuck between the material of my uniform and skin. Kissing the bill for good luck, I placed it on the counter and finished getting undressed.
The water felt so good on my skin. I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken a real shower. Pulling the curtain just enough to see the toilet, I grabbed the complimentary bottle of shampoo and conditioner that had I placed there, along with the plastic shaver. “All the comforts of home,” I thought to myself as I let out a small chuckle. I wasn’t even sure what those comforts were.
Finished with my wonderful shower, I wrapped a towel around my damp body and another around my wet hair. Filling the sink full of soapy water, I began washing my uniform, making sure that it was clean for the next day. Swishing it in the warm water a few times, I drained the sink and wrung out the excess water before draping it over the shower bar to dry. One thing nice about staying in a motel was that I would be able to iron out the wrinkles once the uniform was dry.
Settling on the bed, I just stared at my bag, unable to bring myself to open it. Pulling it closer with shaky hands, I slid the zipper back slowly, revealing the money that was lying on top. There was so much of it. Taking a deep breath, I emptied the contents of my bag onto the bed and began counting the money.
By the time I had finished, there was exactly $14,940.00, and that included the hundred-dollar bill still in the bathroom and the one I broke to pay for this room. It was the most money I had ever held in my hands. Thinking that I may have gone a little overboard with what I took, I promised myself that I would be returning all but a few thousand dollars in the morning when I got to work. I just needed to figure how I was going to do that.
Putting the money in a couple of envelopes that the motel had left for guests to use in case they wanted to write a letter, I placed the money back in my bag along with the rest of my things, while leaving a change of clothes out to sleep in. Changing into a long t-shirt that had seen better days and a pair of plain white panties, I turned down the covers and got beneath them, pulling my bag to my side with my hand wrapped around the handle. This was a daily ritual with me. When you didn’t have much, you tended to protect what you did have. Finding the remote, I began going through the channels until I found something that I wanted to watch. It must not have been too exciting, because my eyes began to get heavy and soon I was sleeping.
~****~
At first, I thought that I might have been dreaming. Checking under the covers to make sure that my bag was still secured around my wrist, I flipped off the covers and headed to the door. The person on the other side was still knocking when I got to the door. Opening it until the chain I secured prevented it from opening further, I could see that it was the guy from the front desk who checked me in. Peeking my head through the crack, I asked in a husky voice, “Is there a problem?”
“No, Ma’am. Just thought you might want to know that there is a vending machine on the main floor and an ice machine as well. I forgot to let you know when you checked in,” he confessed.
“Well, thank you for the information,” I replied.
When the guy left, I thought it was strange that he didn’t just call my room and let me know. It would have been the easiest thing to do. Closing the door, I decided to take the guy up on his offer. I hadn’t eaten since this morning and it would be nice to go to work with a little something in my stomach. Slipping on a pair of jeans, I pulled a few small bills from the envelope and headed down the stairs to the vending machine.
When I closed the door, I could hear sirens going off in the distance. Looking over the balcony in the direction they were coming from, I realized that I could see the Park Lane Hotel. As I looked over to the hotel, I realized it was there that the sound of sirens was coming from. Just as the police arrived, the paramedics and the fire department also arrived. As I kept my eyes fixed on the commotion, it was way better than watching any movie on TV. Even though a large crowd began to form, I was up high enough to see that the paramedics were hauling what I presumed was a dead body on the stretcher, based on the black body bag lying on the top. That kind of excitement never happened while I was working.
After watching for about an hour, the crowd finally settled and began to break up. With nothing else to see, I headed down the stairs to grab a snack from the vending machine. Tomorrow when I got to work, I would need to find out from Courtney what happened. She knew everything that went on in the hotel, sometimes even before it happened. It was kind of scary the way she could do that.
CHAPTER THREE
Gainer
What a strange, but beautiful girl. She was definitely one of a kind. I really didn’t spend enough time to get to know her, but at least I knew what she did and where she worked. Watching her leave the little café, I looked to see which direction she was headed until she was out of sight. Placing a few bills on the table to cover the tab, I headed out towards the park, to my place.
Given the hour of the morning, Central Park was beginning to come to life with people either getting a dose of their daily exercise or just to enjoy the wonderful weather. Me, all I wanted to do was get to my place and take a shower, then head to the shop to see what the guys were up to. Taking it easy, I began jogging at a slow pace through the park. Just as I headed over the Gapstow Bridge, I noticed an older man, in his fifties, chatting with a young boy who appeared to be lost. The minute the man turned towards me, my gut began to churn. “What the hell? No, it can’t be.” I began thinking to myself as I got closer to the man. Even though it had been over eighteen years ago, I would know that face anywhere.
Walking up to them, I took hold of the man’s arm and hissed, “Stay away from him.”
The man, whom I knew to be Father O’Malley, looked at me like I was out of my mind. Pulling his arm from my grasp, he cursed, “Do you mind telling me what is goi
ng on, young man?”
Before I could say another word to the man I hated more than I hated anyone in my life, the little boy’s mom walked up to us. “Oh, my God, Joey, are you okay? I told you to stay near,” she said hysterically as she took the little boy in her arms. Looking over to Father O’Malley, she stood and praised him. “You are a godsend, Father. Thank you so much for keeping him safe.”
Right then, I just about lost it. He was no more a godsend than I was the Pope. Pulling my gaze away, I looked to the woman and warned, “If I were you, ma’am, I wouldn’t trust this man again. Your son was lucky this time.”
“Don’t be silly. He is a man of the cloth,” she replied as she held her son by the hand and began walking away.
As I reverted my gaze back to the pedophile, he was gone. Glancing up the path, I couldn’t see him. I knew he couldn’t have gotten far. Jogging down the trail, I began searching for him. I wasn’t done telling him what I thought about him. Concerned about finding him, I began to wonder what he was doing in Manhattan. He was a priest at St. Vincent’s in Chicago. He shouldn’t be here. Knowing that he slipped away from me, I cut across the park and headed to my apartment.
What seemed like a great start to a beautiful day just turned into a day I wanted to remove from my calendar. Never had I left my apartment building without my keys. As soon as I felt inside my pocket, I knew I had done just that. Pushing every button on the entrance pad, I stood outside and waited for someone to let me in or answer my call. Not long after I finished pressing the last button, the door buzzed open. I wasn’t sure who it was that let me in, but thank God.
~****~
Walking into the shop, I could see that Peter was busy at his computer doing his normal daily thing. Peeking my head inside, I said a quick “Hello” before heading to the conference room. Before I could leave, Peter said, “Hold on, bro.”
Taking a seat in front of his desk, I waited until he was finished with what he was doing. His fingers were going a mile a minute on the keyboard. When he was finished, he looked up to me and shared, “I guess there was a situation at the Park Lane Hotel. They have requested additional security. Seems someone was murdered in one of their Junior Suites. We should be receiving information soon on who it was.”
“Wait, did you just say the Park Lane Hotel? I accidentally ran into a maid that works there early this morning,” I admitted.
“Well, that could be a good thing. Maybe she could give us some insight on what happened,” Peter replied.
“I don’t know if that is even possible. I don’t know if I will ever see her again. And besides, I get the feeling that she likes keeping to herself.”
“No matter, either way, we will find out what happened to that guy.”
After, I left Peter’s office, I began thinking about my encounter this morning and the funny way Emma acted. I knew that Manhattan was a big city and a girl needed to be careful, but the way she acted was more like a person hiding something, especially the way she held onto her bag and disappeared so quickly after our meal.
Booting up the computer, the minute it came to life, I wanted to find out why in the hell Father O’Malley would be in Manhattan or if there was any other information on him. Seeing him was like seeing a ghost from my past, and it was something that I needed to put to rest once and for all. Typing his name in the search engine, a whole bunch of nothing showed up except for one link that seemed to pop out. Seems Father O’Malley was in Manhattan to attend the ordainment of a new priest to St. Peter’s. This would explain what he was doing here. It still didn’t sit well with me knowing that he was here, but at least I knew where he would be. It was time that I faced my demons and had a little chat with him.
As I was shutting down the computer, Sly entered the room looking like he was just run over by a truck. Looking his way, I said, “Dude, you look like shit.”
“Thanks a lot, Gainer. Guess I should have left before Cop pulled out the Crown,” he confessed.
“Glad I wasn’t here to witness that.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna grab some java. Maybe that will bring me to life.”
Smiling at Sly, I patted him on the back and said, “Good luck with that. Catch you later.”
Crazy Sly. I could only imagine what it was going to be like in Vegas once he and Nikki got married. Letting Peter know that I was leaving, I got in my Tundra and headed down the road to St. Peter’s. Basically, being raised in a Catholic church, I knew that their doors were always open. I remembered always having to attend Sunday mass, with Father O’Malley standing in front of the church wearing his fancy white Alb along with his fancy Amice with its detailed gold and red embroidery throughout the front and back. He always made sure we looked presentable as well. Being altar boys, we too were required to wear the white linen cassock. Even though Father O’Malley wasn’t the Pope, he always made us kiss his ring, which he told us was a sign of respect to St. Vincent’s for his services. Even now, I knew that was a bunch of BS. It was his way of showing that he had control over his church.
To me, he didn’t mean anything, nor did he have any significant place in society as far as I was concerned. Pushing my feelings aside, I concentrated on the road. It wasn’t hard to miss the old church as it sat between the tall buildings. If I hadn’t known better, it looked more like a government building than a church with its tall concrete pillars and steep steps that led to the entrance. Parking my Tundra around the corner, I got out and headed up the stairs to where three large doors were. Choosing the one in the middle, I pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The inside was more beautiful than I had imagined. Just past the narthex, the chapel doors were open, leading to an amazing place of worship. It had a row of stained-glass windows on each side of the room and a walkway which split the pews. The walls were painted in white, giving it a holy and sacred aura. The ceiling was high, with beautifully painted murals of Jesus’ Crucifixion as well as different scenes depicting the Bible throughout the chapel.
As I was taking in the surroundings, a man came into view, which I knew was a priest based on his dress. Stepping up to him, I held out my hand and said, “Good afternoon, Father. My name is Lou Gainer. I understand that you have an induction of a new member of the clergy taking place this Sunday.”
“That is correct. Brother Samuel will be taking over St. Peter’s. I have given forty wonderful years to this church. It is going to be hard to leave,” he explained as we began walking towards the alter. “Will you be attending the ceremony?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I understand that Father O’Malley will be among the assembly to ordain the new priest,” I shared.
“He was supposed to be. Unfortunately, he will be unable to attend. He was called back to Chicago early this morning,” the father remarked.
“That is unfortunate. Do you know why?” I questioned.
“An unforeseen incident at St. Vincent’s. He is going to be missed,” the priest confessed as he placed some additional candles on the tiered mantle where the lit prayer candles were.
As I left the church, at least now I knew that O’Malley wouldn’t be attending the ceremony on Sunday. Getting in my truck, it was closely approaching one o’clock and I only had thirty minutes to get to the YMCA before my class started. As I started the engine, I couldn’t get O’Malley off of my mind. Something had to be done. I was no longer that shy, scared boy from eighteen years ago. He needed to pay for what he did to me and so many others like me.
I will never forget about the boy whose bed was next to mine in the room where all of us slept. His name was Tommy Porter. I think of all of us, he was the most affected by what O’Malley did. Every time he was called away, I knew it was his turn to feed O’Malley’s addiction. It seemed that he was always gone the longest. Sometimes he wouldn’t show up until the next morning during breakfast. I always asked him if he was okay, but the only response I ever got was a blank stare. Come to think of it, he never said much of anything after his first encounter with that
low-life motherfucker. Then one day he was gone. I wasn’t sure what happened to him and none of the others knew either. When I asked Sister Claire, she told me that I needed to concentrate on taking care of myself and not worry about things that didn’t concern me. To this day, I still think about him and wonder what happened to him. I kept hoping that he was placed with a good family. I even tried finding him when I left the orphanage and entered the service, but it was like he just disappeared. After several years of no luck, I stopped looking and convinced myself that he was doing well and living a good life.
Clearing my mind, I pulled away from the curb, heading to the YMCA where I knew twelve students would be waiting for me. These were the best kids ever. Some of them were from broken families and some were not so lucky to even have a family. It didn’t matter what family life they had, I treated them all equally. I wanted them to learn discipline that would carry them through life. Martial arts was the only thing that got me through my earlier years, and I wanted these kids to learn this technique so they too would make it through life.
