Cory's Dilemma

by Dan Petrosini

  He got off the FDR Drive and drove north on Second Avenue. He swiped the second call from Tracy away. How was he going to explain to her what happened? To the record label? He couldn’t even think of his kids. Would they ever understand?

  Cory pulled to the curb. He didn’t clear the fire hydrant, but he left the car there and headed to Murphy’s. The fire-engine-red exterior gave him pause, but when he stepped inside the dark bar, his anxiety eased a bit.

  He took a stool at the far end of the bar where he could watch the door. The bartender had an Irish accent. “What can I get you?”

  “What’s the best bourbon you have?”

  “Wild Turkey, but it’s twenty a glass.”

  “Bring me the bottle.”

  Cory had four drinks. It was time to go. He put a hundred dollars on the bar and started walking to his car before flagging down a yellow cab.

  * * *

  Jet-black hair greased back, Barney Tower wore a shiny silk suit. Cory recognized the lawyer as one he’d seen on TV. He put a fat cigar in an ashtray and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Cory almost wiped his hand after shaking Tower’s.

  The lawyer cleared a stack of files off the corner of his desk. “Sorry about the mess, we’re preparing for a trial.”

  Cory nodded.

  “You look like you could use some coffee.”

  “No. Got anything harder?”

  “Sorry. I don’t drink, never have. You said you were in trouble. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  As Tower positioned a yellow pad in front of him, Cory said, “If I tell you everything, will it be kept private?”

  “Yes, our conversations are protected by law. However, I usually recommend that if a client killed someone, not to tell me. So, it’s okay to—”

  “I shot Joe Bonner, but he’s not dead.”

  “Is he getting help?”

  “I called 911. I didn’t mean to shoot him. I only wanted to scare him, but he tried to take the gun and it went off.”

  “It sounds like a possible self-defense situation. What precipitated the incident?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “I understand your reluctance, but the information may help explain the circumstances and bolster a self-defense claim.”

  “But my reputation . . .”

  “If we can keep it or parts of it confidential, we will. If it’s vital to a defense, we’ll reframe it.”

  Cory stood. “Okay, uhm. Bonner was blackmailing me.” As Cory paced the room, he told Tower about stealing the music and the demands from Bonner that led to the confrontation.

  “How much money have you paid him?”

  “I lost count, but over half a million.”

  “That’s substantial. What made you decide to confront him?”

  “I was having money problems. My manager stole from me, and then Bonner. I asked him to wait as I was going on tour and would make a lot of money to pay him, but he kept pushing . . .”

  “How much will the tour generate for you?”

  “I don’t know now, but last time we took in over five million, and I just started, so we should have done better this tour, but now . . .”

  “I see. Is there anything else?”

  “No, but my family. It’s a mess. My wife is divorcing me, and she wants to take the kids away from me and—”

  “You’re concerned about how this will affect that situation?”

  “Definitely, my divorce lawyer is going to go crazy when he hears.”

  “I’ll handle him. Who is it?”

  Cory told Tower, who said, “Based upon what you’ve told me, I have a strategy in mind, but I need to work through it. There’s a strong likelihood Mr. Bonner will tell the police you shot him, and they’ll arrest you.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Mr. Lupinski, you shot a man. Even under the most extenuating circumstance, the police would bring you in.”

  Cory shrugged.

  “At this point, you can’t go home. I have a contact at the New Yorker Hotel on Eighth Avenue. I’ll book you a room under my name. They won’t ask questions. Don’t leave the room. Order room service. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You do what I say, and you’re going to be okay.”

  Tower picked up the phone and asked an assistant to get a black car to take Cory to the hotel.

  “A car will be here in five. Brenda will escort you there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Try not to worry too much. Don’t tell anyone why you went to see Bonner or about the blackmailing. It may hurt the case. Keep quiet and let me handle things.”

  “Trust me, I don’t want anybody to know but . . .”

  “You better get going. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Tower’s assistant opened the hotel door and handed him the key card. “If you need anything, call us.” She gave Cory a card and left.

  Cory went straight to the minibar. He unscrewed the cap off the two Dewar’s bottles and downed them. He closed the drapes and put the TV on. Cory cycled through channels, looking for news on the shooting. There was none.

  His cell rang. It was Tracy. He had to tell her. He took a deep breath and answered. “Where are you?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I . . . I shot someone.”

  “You did what?”

  “I know it’s crazy, but I shot someone.”

  “Oh my God, is he . . . dead?”

  “No, he was hit in the leg.”

  “Was it an accident?”

  “Not exactly. My lawyer says it’s self-defense.”

  “Who’s your lawyer?”

  “Barney Tower.”

  “Tower? He’s a mob lawyer. Where did you get him?”

  “A friend in the security business. He’s supposed to be good.”

  “He is, but . . . Okay, what did he say is next?”

  “I don’t know. He’s working things out.”

  “I hope this isn’t going to interfere with the tour. Will it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Let me come and stay with you. I can help you deal with this.”

  “I can’t. My lawyer doesn’t want me doing anything but stay in my room, alone.”

  “You’re in a hotel?”

  Cory went back to the minibar. “Yeah.” The only booze was a small bottle of wine. He flipped through the menu.

  “But—”

  “Let me call you back, my lawyer’s calling.”

  Cory hung up and called room service. He ordered a burger and bottle of Koval bourbon.

  He ate and poured another drink. Cory swiped the third call from his agent away and shut the lights. He was about to sit when Tracy called.

  “Hey, sorry, I was about to call you back.”

  “It’s all over the news. It’s not good, Cory. They’re saying you drove to Brooklyn and shot a man. Did you?”

  “Yeah, it’s true, but I didn’t mean to shoot him, he came at me.”

  “But where did you get a gun?”

  Another call was coming in. He stared at the screen. It was Donny. He let it go to voice mail. “I had one to protect myself.”

  “They said you didn’t have a permit for one. Don’t tell me you didn’t have one.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh, Cory, what the heck is going on?”

  “I need to talk to Linda. I have to explain this somehow. She’s going to think I lost it. How is Ava going to understand this? Can you call Linda for me? Tell her—”

  “I talked to her, she called me.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Obviously, she’s upset and couldn’t believe it. She wanted to know if you were hurt.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes, I told her you were okay and we were waiting to see what the lawyers were going to suggest.”

  “
I need to talk to her.”

  “She doesn’t want to speak with you. At this point, she’s angry, and you’re better off not speaking to her.”

  “But—”

  “Uh-oh. Are you watching the news?”

  “No. Why?”

  “They just reported that an arrest warrant for you has been issued.”

  “What? I got to go and call my lawyer.”

  Cory put the TV on and called his lawyer. “Mr. Tower, it’s Cory Lupinski. The news said I’m going to be arrested. I can’t go to jail.”

  “Just take a deep breath, Mr. Lupinski. We’re in the early stages at this point.”

  “But I’m going on tour. What can you do?”

  “I’ve advised the Manhattan DA’s office that we’re representing you in this matter.”

  “So, I’m not going to be arrested?”

  “We’re discussing the matter.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “At this point, we’re negotiating with all parties.”

  “Negotiating what?”

  “Various aspects of the charges. Look, your concerns are justified, but try and take it easy. Allow me to do what I do here.”

  “But what’s going to happen to me?”

  “Speculation at this point isn’t helpful.”

  “When will I know what’s going on?

  “I expect to have an understanding worked out by tomorrow morning, if not tonight. Try and get some sleep.”

  The talk with Tower did nothing to alleviate Cory’s fear of being arrested. The attorney seemed to be holding back information. He couldn’t go to jail for this, could he? He guzzled a quarter of the bottle of bourbon and paced the room.

  When he saw the breaking news banner roll across the screen, Cory guzzled another quarter of the bottle. Watching the broadcast made him dizzy. He shut the TV off and propped himself up on the bed. Cory took another gulp of booze and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Someone was banging on the hotel door. Cory woke up. He swung his feet off the bed and froze when the banging restarted. Was it the police? He crept up to the door and looked through the peephole.

  It was Brenda, Tower’s assistant. He opened the door. Brenda stepped in, pulling her head back. “Uh, why don’t you shower? Give me the key to your place, and I’ll pick up some fresh clothes.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Mr. Tower didn’t say. He just wanted me to make sure you were presentable.”

  “You have aspirin?”

  She dug in her pocketbook and handed him a packet of Advil. “Here. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  Cory swallowed the pills and took a shower. Trying to relieve the headache, he pinched between his eyes and wrapped a towel around his waist. He sat on the bed and saw the bottle of bourbon sitting on the desk. There was an inch left.

  He put the bottle to his lips and drained it. He hoped the warmth going down would be enough to offset the pounding in his head. Where was he going? To Tower’s office?

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Two black SUVs, turned onto Fifty-First Street, stopping in front of a building whose lower level was covered in black marble. It looked more like an office building than the home of NYPD’s Precinct Seventeen.

  Four men in dark suits and sunglasses jumped out of the lead vehicle. They stood by the Escalade carrying criminal attorney Barney Tower and his client Cory Loop.

  Tower pocketed his phone. “They’re waiting for us. You ready?”

  Cory nodded. “You’re coming with me, right?”

  “Yes, but when they process you, I’m unable to accompany you.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t have anything on you, such as jewelry or money?”

  “No, I left everything at home, like you said to.”

  “Good. Remember, don’t say a word and stay right behind me.”

  “All right.”

  Tower grabbed the door handle. “Here we go.”

  Cory pulled a denim jacket over his head and followed his lawyer out of the SUV. A throng of reporters surged forward. Cory put his hands on Tower’s hips as the security force pushed the media back. Tower repeated, “No comment,” as they made their way to the glass doors.

  A pair of police officers and two assistant DA’s were waiting in the narrow lobby. One of the officers stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs. Tower said, “Is that really necessary?”

  “Standard procedure.”

  Tower motioned to the crowd outside. “Can we do this out of sight, please?”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  He grabbed Cory’s wrist and slapped a cuff on, spinning him around to cuff his other arm behind his back. Tower said, “It’s going to be all right. I’ll get you out after you’re arraigned.”

  “When’s that going to be?”

  “Should be this evening.”

  “It better be.”

  “Don’t talk to anybody about more than the weather. You understand?”

  “Yes, but hurry and get me out.”

  * * *

  Cory was curled up on the cement bench that hung off the cell’s wall. He wanted a drink almost as much as he wanted to get out of jail.

  A buzzer went off. Someone was coming in. Cory leapt up. It had to be Tower. He grabbed the bars and put his head as far out as possible.

  It wasn’t his lawyer. It was a woman officer. “Excuse me, ma’am. What time is it?”

  “Midnight.”

  “Is the court still open?”

  “Just for another hour, honey.”

  “I’m supposed to be arraigned and released.”

  The officer smiled and walked away.

  Cory realized he’d spend the night in prison. He got back on the bench, getting into the fetal position on the cold, hard surface. How had he gone from the plushest suites to this?

  He worried that Tower would forget about him or not care enough to do what was necessary to get him released. Why should Tower give a damn about him? He was just in it for the money, like most of the people around him.

  Cory missed Tracy. She could be tough on him, but she really seemed to care. But most of all he missed his wife and kids. Would he ever see them again? What if he was sent to prison for a long time? Would Linda visit? If she did, she’d never bring the kids.

  Ava was eight. He’d have to wait ten years before she could come on her own. Would she even remember him? And then there was his son. He was only a year old. Forget about teaching him to ride a bike like he taught Ava, they’d never even know each other.

  Cory wiped a tear off his cheek and pounded the bench with his hand. He wished he’d never taken the music. He wondered if coming clean about what he’d done would help fix things. Bruno said it was the only way, but would Linda and the kids think even worse of him? They were the most important people to him, but he also had a professional career. He’d be mocked by people he respected.

  And then there was Donny. Growing up, they dreamed of success but had sworn to stay true to the creative process. Donny would be so disappointed in him. Why had he treated him so badly? He doubted he’d ever find a way to repair the damage he’d done. Cory wished he’d turned the gun on himself and drifted off to sleep.

  Cory bolted upright, disoriented. Where was he? Realizing he was in a jail cell, he felt relief. He’d had a dream, a bad one.

  Cory was in a wheelchair being rolled down a dark hallway. He was just a kid, around six years old. Pushed into a room, a woman in a lab coat had her back to him. When she turned around, it was his wife. He tried to talk but couldn’t.

  Linda opened his shirt, exposing a port. She said, “Your cancer has spread.”

  A door opened and his children came in holding IV bags. Unsmiling, they handed them to their mother.

  As she connected the bags to the port, Cory saw a skull and crossbones on them.

  * * *

  Cory hoped Linda would be there. Tower had called her, asking her to appear as a show of suppor
t. She was noncommittal. Cory wasn’t concerned about her impact on the judge. He needed her there as proof she cared about him. He scanned the rows, noting Tracy and a record label executive in the audience.

  Searching again, his eyes were drawn to the wooden doors opening. Maybe it was her. When the door fully opened, his spirit soared.

  It wasn’t Linda but Donny who’d come. Tower hadn’t mentioned calling him. Cory’s eyes watered when Donny waved to him. His friend had a big smile on his face. Cory wanted to hug him, apologizing for how he’d treated his one and only true friend.

  Tower, who’d been huddled with the DA, sat next to Cory. He leaned over and whispered, “I need you to trust me here. Can you do that?”

  “Sure, but what’s going on? I’m going to get out, right?”

  “We’ll make our case, but ultimately it’s up to the judge.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  In shock, Cory stood beside Tower in front of the courthouse. A horde of reporters, microphones held high, shouted questions. The lawyer raised his hand, “Justice was done today, and Mr. Lupinski is a free man, grateful to get back to his family and music career. He won’t be taking any questions today, as he is anxious to be reunited with his family. Mr. Lupinski will issue a statement tomorrow, before he begins his tour.”

  Three security guards opened a path, and Cory and his lawyer climbed into a black Escalade.

  “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you so much.”

  “That’s what I do.”

  “But how? How did you get me off?”

  “Well, you didn’t want the news of the blackmailing to get out because it would ruin your career, right?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “It was all about negotiating with the DA and with Mr. Bonner. Blackmailing is a crime, and right after you mentioned it, I had one of my associates pay a visit to Mr. Bonner. We wanted to remind him of the seriousness of his extortion.”

  “You went to see Bonner, in the hospital?”

  Tower nodded. “After applying a little pressure and telling him he could keep some of the money he milked out of you, he saw it my way, agreeing to alter his story to line up with our self-defense claim.”