“I know all that, Ma.”
“But?”
“But Jordan’s are my namesake!”
“Oh, for crying out loud, boy!”
“Jordan’s are my namesake,” he said again. “You named me Jordan fourteen years ago, and I don’t even own a pair. I haven’t had a pair of Jordan’s since Vito --”
He cut a quick look at his mother after realizing his error. He knew the pain that name had put her through. He made it his business to never bring him up. “Sorry, Ma,” he said. “I forgot.”
Kari looked away from him. Jordan was only eight when she left Vito, but he remembered a lot of those terrible days and nights. She hated that he lived through that. But she couldn’t change her past mistakes. All she could do now was to work the rest of her life trying with all she had not to make those same mistakes again. She prayed. She went to church. She was trying to live a better life.
She squeezed Jordan’s arm. “It’s alright,” she said. “And you’re right. We were doing better financially when we were with Vito. But the rest of it wasn’t good at all. It’s the rest of it that counts more than money ever will.”
“He gets out next week,” Jordan said.
Years ago, Kari had requested that the prosecutor notify her when Vito was scheduled for release, and the prosecutor did. But even though Kari told Jordan the date of release, they never really discussed it. They never really discussed Vito at all, not in the six years since they left Chicago and Vito behind. It might have been a mistake not talking about it, but what good, she felt, would it have done? They ran away from Vito for good cause. He was verbally abusive to Kari for years, and had struck her child. She wasn’t trying to run back to that. “Yes,” she said. “The parole board approved him for an early release.” Then she looked at Jordan. “Do you want to see him when he gets out?”
Jordan thought about it, then hunched his small shoulders. He had always been small for his age.
Kari understood his ambivalence. Vito was not his father, and their relationship had always been contentious even when they lived together. Kari ran her hand across his soft hair. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Okay?”
Jordan smiled. “Okay,” he said. His mother was his stabilizer.
“But if you see him,” Kari added, “or anybody associated with him, you let me know. Don’t go anywhere with them. I mean that. Okay? Just let me know.”
“I know the drill, Ma, even though we never had to use it. But I never forgot it.”
Kari smiled. “You always make me feel better.”
“But you’ll make me feel better if you buy me a pair of Jordan’s.”
Kari smiled and shook her head. “You’re a mess, you know that?”
“But for real, Ma. At least let me get a job.”
“You have a job. At Ralph’s Grocery Store. He let you help out sometimes.”
“But it only pays peanuts! I would have to save for years to buy one pair of tennis shoes. It’s vital that I keep up with the styles in my community.”
“I told you it’s not good to be so materialistic, boy,” she said, as her car inched closer to drop off.
“It’s about being a kid in the modern age. Every kid’s materialistic. That’s how you fit in.”
“Don’t always be so quick to want to fit in, Jordan. Fit out sometimes.”
“Oh, I’ve got fitting out down to a science,” Jordan said, nodding his head rapidly. “Fitting out? Check. That’s me. I’ve got that down pat!”
Kari laughed, but inwardly she was concerned. Because it did feel as though the world was passing them by. Even as she sat in that line of cars waiting to get to the drop-off point. All of the other parents that were dropping off kids were driving Jaguars and Mercedes and BMWs and Lexuses. And Kari knew for a fact that many of them were single parents like her, and some of them lived in big, fancy houses to go along with their fancy cars. How could they afford all of that? She worked double hard. Nobody outworked her. But she was barely making ends meet.
She finally made it to the drop-off station. One of the hall monitors opened the door for Jordan.
“Be good and smart,” she said as her son grabbed his backpack.
“You know me, Ma,” he said, as he began getting out.
“That’s why I’m telling you,” Kari responded, and both of them smiled. She knew she had a good kid.
But as soon as he got out of her car, that feeling of dread overtook her again. Vito getting out next week could either turn out to be nothing, or a monumental problem for them. If last night was any indication, it was going to be monumental.
And who was that guy in that sportscar anyway? Was he a part of the Pataki crime family like Vito? Was he there on their orders? They wouldn’t harm her. They made it their business to never go after the women and children, and they generally stuck to that. But that fool last night came awfully close to violating that rule. But they weren’t above sending the women and children powerful, scary messages. But what would be the message, if that was it, that they were trying to send to Kari? That Vito was getting out, and wanted her back?
She prayed that wasn’t it, because she’d rather eat acid than go back to Vito.
But that had to be a problem for another day, she thought, as she drove away. She had work to do for now.
Alex opened his big, blue eyes quickly, and then leaned up on his elbows, as if he had been startled awake. He woke up in a cold sweat. Ever since the funeral, he couldn’t recall having a good night’s sleep, even in his own bed. Waking up now, in some strange bed in this unfamiliar hotel room, made it worse.
He laid back down. Jonathan, especially, tormented him. He was a kid he could have done more to help. Cate was a lost cause. She was too much like her mother to be redeemable. But he could have done more for Johnny. That was why it hurt so bad. That was why he wished he could return to that day, grab that gun, and kill himself before he had to witness his own son’s death.
And the doctors said it was going to get easier over time.
“Doctors,” Alex said aloud with some degree of bitterness. “What the fuck did they know?”
He got out of bed, with another good night’s sleep unattainable, and headed for the shower.
But his cell phone rang just as he did. It was Jim Hines.
“What you got?” he asked as he answered the call.
“It was a rental, alright,” Jim said, “and it was paid for under a fake name. The person paid big bucks, and paid in cash, so no questions were asked.”
“Mob,” Alex said. “Just like I thought.”
“You think this woman is involved in the mob?” Jim asked.
“No. But something’s up.”
“We don’t need that kind of trouble, Boss. These hicks around here are already scared we’re bringing gangsters to their town. We need to keep it lowkey. We need to do nothing to ruffle feathers.”
Alex understood that too. “Talk to you later,” he said, and ended the call.
CHAPTER TEN
The wording on the plate-glass window of the storefront office was prominent: Maid for Mom, the first line read. Premier Cleaning Service, read the second line. Both lines were in semicircular etching.
Kari Grant parked her Toyota Tercel in front of the storefront office, got out with her briefcase in one hand, and a Styrofoam cup of coffee in the other. Ralph across the street, the owner of the Ma and Pop grocery her son sometimes bagged groceries for, threw up his hand as he swept up trash around his establishment.
Willis next door, the manager of Lucinda’s Diner, grabbed packages out of the trunk of his car and was making his way to the entrance. “How are you, Kari?” he asked as he walked.
“Good. You?”
“It’s early. Ask me later.”
He smiled. She smiled. He entered his establishment, and she entered hers.
But Dezzamaine, Kari’s secretary and right-hand woman, had nothing to smile about. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she said.
But Kari sure could use some good news for a change. “What is it now?” she asked her loyal assistant as she stopped walking to hear what she had to say.
It was a small, two-room office to begin with: with two desks up front: one for Kari against the back wall; one for Dezzamaine against the side wall; and cleaning supplies in the back storage room. To use the bathroom, they went to the diner next door.
It wasn’t exactly a five-star situation.
But even that simple office was becoming an unbearable expense. An expense that was about to become even more burdensome.
“We just lost Malvington,” Dezzamaine said.
Kari couldn’t believe it. Her big, dark-brown eyes got bigger. “What?”
“We just lost Malvington, Kari. I couldn’t believe it either. Not now. Not when we need our biggest contract more than we ever have.”
“Get Phil on the phone,” Kari said, as she continued to walk to her desk.
“I already talked to Phil. I already asked that man every way to Monday what could we do to keep that contract. The decision, he said, is final.”
“Get Phil on the phone,” Kari said again. After leaving RCC, she built this business by the sweat of her brow. She wasn’t about to let it go up in flames without a fight. And losing the Malvington Motel contract would definitely be a fire starter.
Dezzamaine, understanding Kari’s stubbornness, went to her desk to get Phil Malvington on the phone.
Kari sat behind her desk and waited. Her elbow was resting on her desk mat, her fingers were rubbing her forehead with grave anxiety; her coffee was forgotten and getting colder.
Dezzamaine pressed the hold button. “Line one,” she said to Kari.
Kari picked up her desk phone quickly. But before she could say a word, Phil beat her to it. “The decision is final, Kari,” he said.
“Has any one of my maids ever failed to do a superior clean job in any room, Phil?” she asked.
“It’s not about that.”
“Have they ever received anything lower than five stars since I signed that contract?”
“It’s not about that either.”
“Then what is it about? You can’t find a better maid service to clean those rooms, I don’t care where you look.”
“I know that, Kari. I wish to God I could keep your girls on. But I can’t. This economy is kicking my butt! I can’t afford it anymore.”
“But you have a motel to run, Phil. Somebody’s got to clean those rooms!”
“And somebody will.”
“Who?”
He exhaled. “We’re going to have to keep it on site.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kari asked.
“Our front desk clerks are going to have to clean the rooms, too,” he said.
Kari couldn’t believe it. “That’s not smart, Phil. You have full bookings because your motel has a reputation for cleanliness. If you start cutting corners like you’re about to do, you’re going to lose business and decimate everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”
“I know it’s a risk. You don’t think I don’t know it’s a risk? But what can I do? I don’t have the money. And unless your maids are willing to work for free, or pull cash out my ass, I can’t use them anymore.”
Kari closed her eyes. It was the worse news she could have heard. “Effective when?”
“End of this week,” he said. Another blow. “After this week, their services will no longer be needed. Now do you want me to tell them, or will you?”
Kari opened her eyes and shook her head. Was he joking? They were her responsibility. “I’ll tell them,” she said.
“Thanks,” Phil said. “And I’m sorry, Kare. Maybe after the economy rebounds, I can hire your ladies again. But it’s out of the question now.”
And just like that, her biggest contract went down the toilet.
“Thanks, Phil, for giving us a chance in the first place,” Kari said. He once again assured her that he would give her another chance when and if the economy rebounded, and they ended the call.
She threw the phone on the hook and leaned back in her chair. Dezzamaine wanted to talk to her, to ask her questions, but she got up and went to the back of the office: into the storage room. There was a back window, a burglar-barred, prison-looking window that overlooked a brick wall, but she stood at that window staring at that wall.
Everything she touched seemed to fail. Every corner she turned seemed to lead to another dead end. She put all of her savings, every dime, into making this business work. Now it was failing too. And miserably.
And Vito was getting out next week.
Tears stained her eyes as she shook her head.
What was paramount on her mind was Maid for Mom. It was supposed to be her ticket out. But it was barely survivable. And those walls of protection that she called her freedom, her independence, her self-respect, were tumbling down all around her. Again.
“What does it mean, Kari?”
She thought she was alone. She wiped her tears away, and turned around. Dezzamaine was standing in the doorway.
“Hey,” Kari said.
“What does losing Malvington’s Motel mean for us?” Dezzamaine asked. “They’re our biggest contract. What does it mean?”
Kari exhaled. “It means we’re going to have to downsize.”
“Again?”
They just let go half of their workforce two months ago. “Yes,” she said. “Again.” Her cellphone began to ring.
“How many this time?”
“I don’t know, Dez,” Kari said as she pulled the phone out of her jacket pocket and looked at the Caller ID. “But without Malvington there’s no way around it.”
Dezzamaine understood.
Kari answered her phone. “Hey, Faye, what’s up?” Faye Church, a real estate broker, was her closest friend in town. The fact that she and her husband, Benny, were two of only a handful of African-Americans in that town helped, too. Especially Benny, who had been a big help with Jordan. He was teaching him, through his daily example alone, how to be a positive black man doing positive things in a world that was often unfair to men of color.
“I have a job for your ladies,” Faye said.
Kari perked up. “What job?”
Dezzamaine heard the word job and perked up, too.
“You know that house on Whimble?” Faye asked.
“The blue two-story? What about it?”
“It’s been furnished and rented. The renter will be moving in later tonight. I know this is short notice, but in my line of work that’s all we get: short notices. Think you can get a few girls over there to spruce up the place?”
“Absolutely.” Kari would pull girls from assignments if she had to. Faye’s clients paid extremely well. Faye worked out the payments herself.
“And by sprucing up the place,” Faye said, “I mean cleaning the hell out of it. The man whose renting it is none other than Alexander Drakos.”
“Who?” Kari asked.
“Oh, I forgot. I’m talking to the least politically plugged in person I know! Never mind. But you are going to the meeting tonight. Right? You do know about that?”
“I heard about it, yes. That’s all they’ve been talking about around here. Some guy wants to build a casino here. I didn’t even know they let you build casinos in Florida!”
“It’s a new thing,” Faye said. “This new independent governor we have has pushed it through. But the local municipalities have to approve if somebody wants to bring one to their town. You are going to show up, right?”
“After the morning I’ve already had,” Kari said, “and last night, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Faye knew about last night, and the fact that it could have been some
of Vito’s boys up to no good. Kari had phoned her last night and talked to her about it. But she didn’t know anything about this morning.
“What kind of morning you’ve had?” she asked her.
“I lost the Malvington contract.”
“Oh, no, Kari! Really? That was your biggest, right? What did that jerk Phil do now?”
“It’s the recession. I don’t think he could help this one. Everybody’s tightening the belt.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Business isn’t as robust as it used to be for me either. But that’s all the more reason your butt has got to be there tonight. These nuts around here are fighting progress. They don’t want that hotel/casino in our beautiful bedroom community, they claim. But that casino is going to affect our bottom lines far greater than any recession. Especially for my real estate business. People will start moving here in droves if we get that casino, and they are going to need houses. Maids, too, some of them. Your business, potentially, could boom too.”
“If I still have a business by then,” Kari said.
“Come on, girl. Where’s that Kari fight? We were two broke sistas just trying to make it in this world when we both came to this town separately. Now we both have businesses. They may not be thriving, but we’re out here trying like hell. You’ll make it. You know that, right?”
Kari wasn’t feeling it. She knew the reality of their separate situations. She knew she was alone, and Faye was married to an attorney. “Sure,” she said. “I know.”
“Good! I’ll see you tonight then. And get those ladies over to Whimble asap. Tell one of them to drop by my office to pick up the key.”
“Okay, Faye. Thanks,” Kari said, and ended the call.
“What is it?” Dezzamaine asked. “A reprieve?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kari said, leaving the storage room. “But at least it’s a job,” she added.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The G-Wagon stopped in the driveway behind the Toyota Tercel and Alex wondered if it was possible. Could the woman from the diner be here too? It was certainly her car. That wrecked bumper proved that it was her car. But was it her?
Alex Drakos: His Forbidden Love Page 5
