Naughty and Nice

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I stole a quick glance at Corey who was wide-eyed but silent. I prodded Steve a little more.

  “So, is that the Dillon I saw on the books? Was that where the twenty grand went?”

  “Hey, those guys don’t come cheap,” Steve blustered. “I saved you a bundle there, too.”

  “Well, I appreciate that, I truly do, Steve, but the funny thing is, Dillon’s payment only showed up in one place. Yes, it fact it was brought to my attention again just this morning that we’ve somehow managed to duplicate our bookkeeping files. They don’t match, Steve. How did that happen?”

  Anyone could see he was scrambling. He said nothing.

  “Yeah, in fact, I brought a print-out with me. Here. Take a look.” I pulled out a handful of pages that were rolled up and stuck inside my jacket pocket. “Look at these payments, for example, to…” I pretended to run my finger down the page to locate the example. “Yes, here it is. To M.P. Enterprises, Inc. Looks like just this last year we paid out about twelve million and the weird thing is, it says I authorized it. But, oddly enough, I have no clue who M.P. Enterprises, Inc. is. Do you know, Steve?”

  His face was flushed. “What is this, anyway? Some kind of shakedown in front of the kid here? You sure as hell didn’t think I was going to sit like a good little boy in my corner office and let you make off with the money that was only there because I brought it in, did you? Hell, everyone does that. I just paid myself a little, well-earned bonus, you can call it.”

  “Well, I can understand maybe buying a new company car, Steve, but twelve million this last year alone? How did you do that?”

  “Oh, hell, Chris. That’s nothing. It’s at least twice that, if you want to know. It’s okay. You want some? I’ll fix the books and you can have the same thing under the table. No records, no taxes is what I say.”

  In Steve’s mind, as long as he could get away with it, and spread it around, it was okay. That was typical of the way mob bosses worked. I had no idea how deep Steve was in. “Is that how it’s done with your friends, Steve? I always wondered how they got away with it.”

  He chuckled. “You really don’t get it, do you, shithead? The thirty million or so I pulled out was just my part. The real money went out to the phony businesses. Let me spell it out for you, dummy. The mob. The bosses. They run this city…Doc Verengetti, Tommy Manatilla, Joey Bonetti… the real power downtown. You’re lucky I knew them. I kept you safe, asshole. Without me, doling out a taste to each one of them, your buildings would be charcoal right now, too – just like that Lemming broad’s.”

  I fought for self-control. “Steve, why did you keep this from me? The mob payouts, the money you skimmed, the arson…why?”

  “Because you couldn’t handle it, asshole! You and your damned integrity,” he said in a mocking voice. “I had to wear the pants in this relationship and you’d better be damned happy it was me and not one of the other guys. They’d have smashed you like the ant you are!” Steve was fuming, restless and I knew he wanted to go, wanted a cigarette. Most of all, though, he wanted to brag.

  “For the record, Steve, you got me on this one. I didn’t have a clue what you were doing. I had no part in it and what happens from here on out will be above board because you’re no longer involved. Got that?”

  “What do you mean…” he grabbed me by the collar, forgetting where he was. “You tryin’ to threaten me, you pipsqueak? You think I can’t have your lights put out before it gets dark? Who the hell do you think you are?” He was so angry, spittle was spraying over my chest. “Let me the hell out of this booth. I’m grabbing a cab. I’m outta here.”

  I calmly laid down my fork, wiped my mouth with my napkin and slid out of the booth. I made a sweeping gesture with my hand and said, “Be my guest. We’ve got enough.”

  He was already sliding out of the booth, throwing his napkin into my salad bowl and spat on it for good measure. “You’ll be hearing from me and my friends,” he threatened as he stood.

  “As you will from mine,” I responded. “Gentlemen?”

  Steve’s face drained as four men from the booth directly behind us stood and blocked his path. Three of them tilted their lapels to show their badges and flipped open their coats to reveal his revolver. The fourth man, Willard, winked at me and gave me one of his rare smiles.

  “Mr. Perkins, you’re under arrest,” Detective Delanty of the Chicago Police Department stated. He went on to read Steve his rights as another officer cuffed him and he was led from the restaurant. Delanty stayed behind a moment.

  “We’ve heard enough to put him away, Mr. Tolliver. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a finer piece of detective work. No, sir. You know, my partner and I were there the night of that fire. We always hung around Lemming’s. Good people. Shame that happened. My partner got hurt there, as a matter of fact. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this guy and his friends.” He shifted his coat and held out his hand. “The evidence?”

  I reached for the papers I’d brought. “Sorry, forgot all about them. You can send your men by my office. My accountant will give you access to whatever you need. My books are open, Detective.”

  Delanty touched his forehead in a respectful salute as he took the papers, turned and followed the others.

  I sat back down and pushed the fouled salad away. Truth be told, my hands were shaking. I knew that Steve carried a gun, and when he didn’t remove his coat, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was glad he’d left it behind. They hadn’t found anything as they frisked him.

  I looked over at Corey whose face was bleach white. He was slack-jawed, waiting. “Enough said?” I asked him. He nodded. “Then get out of here and go home. Beg that woman not to divorce your sorry ass, but to give you another chance. And if you screw this one up, brother, you can bet every penny I’ve got will see you in the poor house. Go on. Get out of here!” I was brusque and intentionally so. Corey needed to be taught a lesson.

  Now, who was going to teach me mine?

  Chapter 23

  Lillie

  I stared at the plastic stick in my hand and was having trouble breathing. It couldn’t be true. There it was, though… the notorious pink plus sign.

  I was pregnant.

  I’d suspected something when I missed my cycle. I’d been classically precise since my first menses at the age of twelve. The first day I’d written off to stress. The second to inadequate sleep and nutrition. The third day I crossed the street to the convenience store and now, I was sitting in the bathroom and holding the incriminating proof in my hand.

  Damn! This wasn’t the way I wanted it to be. I’d always pictured a wedding, a man who loved me and would toss me into the air and twirl me around when I told him I was pregnant. I never imagined it happening in a cold, impersonal bathroom at the Ramada Inn. I never expected to be alone.

  I hadn’t heard from Chris since the night he’d dropped me off at the Ramada portico. I was in survival mode; getting the odd temporary assignment that paid enough to keep me under a roof and fed, up to a point. Now that would all change. I couldn’t raise a child in a motel room.

  I couldn’t go to Chris. He’d made it perfectly clear from the beginning that he ‘wasn’t the marrying kind.’ He didn’t want children and since I’d not heard from him for so long, I was sure he didn’t want me, either.

  So, there I sat, bawling like a baby with my knees spread and the pink plus sign condemning me to a life of secrets and disappointment. There went any plans of re-opening the bakery. There went the plans of finding a career job that earned good money and allowed me to travel and provide a better life for my parents. There went a house, a new car and a chance to find the man who would spend his life with me. Now I was nothing more than an unemployed, unwed mother.

  There was no question of keeping the baby. That’s how I was raised and even if that weren’t true, I would never give up the only thing I had left that belonged to Chris. I could be carrying his son and heir, although he’d never learn about it from me. I would get thro
ugh it on my own. I was made of tough stuff, right? Then why was I crying—again?

  My parents. Oh, my god. They would love to bounce a grandbaby on their knees, but it would bring them shame. They were strict and there was no room in their lives for an unwed mother. There was the very real possibility that Papa would even disown me. He was that strict. We’d seen the pitiful cakes for the quickly thrown together weddings over the years. He’d always clucked his tongue and shaken his head, muttering that the bride was white trash. Now I’d joined their ranks.

  What had I been thinking?

  I felt a panic creeping over me and quickly grabbed my coat and purse and went down to get into my car. I rode by the bakery lot and saw the notices still posted there. It was so humiliating, and I was sure the entire neighborhood talked about the Lemmings and how they’d fallen apart and had become an embarrassment. Even if it weren’t for the taxes, the city would have required Papa to demolish the rest of the building and level the lot. He couldn’t afford that, and neither could I. There was an hysteria building.

  I bought a small can of V-8 juice; my attempt at good nutrition and then went back to the Ramada Inn and turned back the covers. I lay in the daylight, staring at the ceiling and counting my sins. I was very good at that.

  My cell rang and I picked it up.

  “We’ve got another client,” said the woman from the temp agency.

  Well, maybe this was a sign. Maybe things would begin looking up. I couldn’t get a full-time job; no one would hire a pregnant woman with no place to live and no one to look after the baby. I had consigned myself to a lifetime of temp jobs.

  “Okay, that’s great. Where do I go and when am I supposed to be there?”

  She gave me the necessary information and I disconnected, falling asleep with the tidbit of work that I’d get the next day—I hoped.

  I dreamed of Chris. We were in Paris, but Marga wasn’t there. It was our honeymoon—exactly one year from the day I’d made the wish into the snowflake sky. I was so happy, and my parents were beaming at the catch their daughter had made. They were going to the old neighborhood to brag about it. Chris couldn’t keep his hands of me and Corey and Daphne were our witnesses. I felt so happy. It was perfect…until…the alarm went off.

  I clawed my way out from beneath the covers and quickly peeked out the heavy drapes. It had snowed overnight which meant I had to hurry. I’d have to scrape and warm up the car before I could drive. I jumped into a shower so quick the water never had a chance to warm up. There was no time for my hair, so I drew it back into a bun and applied a minimum of make-up. I went through my wardrobe and pulled out the standby navy suit—now needing a good dry-cleaning. It didn’t matter. Before long I wouldn’t even fit in it.

  The office building was downtown, in the high rent district. An elevator with brass appointments and walls of glass skimmed me upward to the twentieth floor. I tried not to think about the height, but focused on the floor and the fact that it was still only five feet, two inches below me. Well, relatively speaking. The elevator dinged as it stopped at the floor and I pasted on my professional smile, gripped my resume with my handbag and was ready as the doors parted.

  What greeted me was hardly what I expected. There was no receptionist, in fact not even a counter for her to sit behind. I looked to the left and right, but I only saw cubicle-sized offices without furnishings or people. I stepped back, holding open the elevator doors. I must have gotten off on the wrong floor. I stepped inside and looked up at the floor indicator. No, it showed this as the twentieth floor, no question about it.

  I stepped out again, pausing to get my bearings without looking straight ahead at the bank of windows and the stomach-wrenching drop to the ground. I’d really developed a hatred of heights.

  It was dead quiet. I was even too far up to hear the noises from the street below.

  “Hello?” I finally tried.

  I heard the sound of a desk drawer slamming somewhere around the corner of the hallway. Waiting patiently, a distant male voice called, “Be right there!”

  I quickly checked my hair and straightened my skirt. When I looked up, he was standing in front of me.

  It was Chris.

  “Wha…what are you doing here? I’m here on an interview.”

  I felt the tears rising to my eyes. He looked so handsome, so tall and strong and safe. I wanted to throw myself at him, to cry and tell him I was carrying our baby and how much I’d missed him and I’d be willing to live with him as his mistress if he’d just take care of the baby and me and let me be with him….my god, I’m rambling. Speak, you idiot!

  “Hello, Lillie.” His voice was tentative but I could see emotion in his eyes.

  “I don’t understand…”

  “It’s okay. You’re in the right place.”

  “What? But this is an empty suite of offices. What is this, Chris? Another elf job?” I couldn’t keep the bitchiness out of my voice. He’d dumped me and I deserved to be a little bitchy.

  “You look wonderful,” he said softly, taking a step toward me. I instantly took an identical step backward.

  “Chris, what’s going on?”

  “Okay, follow me.”

  For once in my life, I did as I was told, without argument. I trailed him down the hallway and around the corner. He stopped in the doorway of a large room and waited for me to pass by him.

  The room was gorgeous. I could only describe it as being the female version of an executive suite. There was a large, teak desk with ornate carvings and brass fittings. The chair was high-backed and covered with tapestry. Matching drapes glamorously revealed the floor to ceiling windows and huge, potted palms stood in groupings with uplights and a fountain that fed a soothing sound into the room. There was a small sofa, upholstered in a solid green and matching side chairs with a teak side table between them. The lamps were stained glass in a Tiffany style and thick, oriental carpets covered the floor. I could see through a glass half-wall into the next room which was patterned after this one, although in a more sedate fashion. It probably belonged to a secretary.

  “What do you think?” he asked me.

  “It’s breathtaking, but frankly, it doesn’t look like you, Chris. I see you in something more modern, maybe glass?”

  “That’s because it’s not for me.”

  “Okay. Is the assignment to work with someone else? Are they here?”

  “They’re here, but it’s not someone else. It’s you. This office is for you, Lillie.”

  I shook my head, backing out of the doorway. “No, no, Chris don’t do this.”

  “Why? What’s wrong? Don’t you like it? We can change it around. Order whatever you like.”

  “No! Now stop it!”

  “Woah, Lillie! Why are you so upset?”

  “Listen to me, Christopher Tolliver. I know you have a lot of money and a lot of power, but you hooked me with those before and I ended up alone in a Ramada Inn for the past two months. I’m out of money and I’m desperate, but I’m not going to become your elf or whatever weird job you can put together for me just so you have someone to sleep with. Not going to happen.”

  I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. “My god, Lillie, is that what you think this is?”

  I stopped, but I didn’t turn around. I said nothing. Let him hang himself.

  “Come in, please and sit down. We need to talk. I have a lot to tell you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like why you haven’t heard from me in almost two months, for one.”

  I felt a spark of hope in his words. Could he have a logical, perhaps even reasonable explanation? Other than he was a confirmed bachelor? He had no idea what I was carrying and wouldn’t know. I had to protect the baby. He had a lot of money and could probably get custody if he wanted to. I went on the defensive.

  “I really am not interested. There isn’t anything you could say to undo the hurt I’ve felt.”

  “You were hurting?”

  I kept my back to h
im.

  He grabbed me by the shoulder and twirled me around. “Lillie, answer me. Were you hurting?”

  The tears bubbled up and I nodded, looking downward.

  He wrapped his arms around me. “My god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to hurt. I thought you were full of fire and plans to build a future. I had to let you be on our own until… well, come and please sit down, Lillie. I really need to tell you.” He bent down and kissed my lips, wet with tears. He pulled me hard against his chest and finally, in that moment, I felt the strength I’d dreamed about. I wanted to pour out my soul and woes, but my stubbornness was holding me back.

  I stiffened with resistance.

  “Damn it, Lillie. Listen to me, hear me out. I swear you won’t be sorry.”

  I gave up, defeated. I had nothing left to fight with. I nodded and he led be to the sofa and gently pushed me to sit down. He took a few steps and tapped a button, opening a built-in bar. He poured two brandies and held one out to me. I went to take it, but remembered and waved it away. “I haven’t eaten,” I said as an excuse. “It’s too early.”

  He didn’t argue but went back to the bar and returned with a soft drink and a glass. That, I took. My stomach was gurgling.

  He sat down on one of the side chairs opposite me, taking a deep gulp from the brandy before setting the snifter down on the table.

  “I need you to do me one favor. Please, please, sit there and hear me out. You will want to hit me, you will want to leave. But, please, Lillie, just hear me out. Can you do that for me?”

  What on earth does he have to tell me? Did he get married? Of course! I looked at his left hand, preparing myself to see a ring, but there was none. Maybe he’s just engaged and not married yet.

  “Lillie, will you hear me out?”

  I had nowhere to be and I was dressed for the day. I may as well stay. At least I’d know the finality of it and just maybe I’d leave this building and get into the car. I’d drive south until I hit the ocean and I’d start my life over again.