It Should Happen to You

by Kathleen O'Reilly

  "I'm sorry," he said, then gently he kissed her.

  "It's not your fault," she said with a sniff.

  "No, but I don't like to see you in pain."

  It sounded so melodramatic, so pathetic when he said that, and she laughed. "I'm fine."

  And he knew that was a lie. "Of course you are, but does that mean I can't hold you, or kiss you if I want?"

  "You want?"

  "I always want."

  And he kissed her where it hurt. Right over her heart.

  Jessica says: "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"

  Mickey says: "Are you cooking? What preternatural event warranted that?"

  Jessica says arrogantly: "I'm getting better."

  Mickey says, being moderately sarcastic: "I'm sure you are."

  Jessica says: "You can bring Dominic."

  Mickey says: "AHA! Ulterior motive at work here. I can't anyway. Plans."

  Jessica says: "Like what?"

  Mickey says: "We're going out with some of his friends."

  Jessica says: "Now you just wait one minute. Talk about your &#*&#% double standard. That is soooooooooo not fair. You can meet his friends, but we can't meet him? I'm sneezing here, Mickey. Can you tell? I'm sneezing ."

  Mickey hands Jessica a virtual tissue.

  Mickey says: "It's something that's important to him."

  Jessica says: "And we're not important to you?"

  Mickey says: "Of course you are."

  Jessica says: "Fine. Go off with all his trucker buddies and just leave us to sit alone and knit."

  Mickey says: "You're married. You're not going to knit."

  Jessica says: "But I could because I suddenly have all this spare time."

  Mickey says: "Good night, Jessica."

  Jessica says: "I DON'T LIKE THIS"

  Mickey logs off.

  Between Wednesday and Saturday, Dominic made great strides. He'd reported in twice, pleased with the Captain's praise. Over the past week, a "reliable source" had let a couple of union names slip and now two of the treasurers were going to quietly step down from their posts for getting kickbacks from organized crime guys.

  He had taken a bound-for-nowhere case and made it. Or almost made it. The last name was just out of his reach.

  There had always been rumors of a corrupt trinity between the Outfit, the union and city council. Vinny had been awfully sure that his construction company would get a piece of the development project down by the old stockyards. Too sure. Dominic would bet his shield that the reason for Vinny's confidence was that the last name of the trinity belonged to an alderman.

  Everything was going okay. Well, not quite. The date on Saturday bothered him. Dominic almost called it off. Almost went back on his word. But he needed this case too badly. He had a grand plan. Get Frankie out of the life, get Amber away from Vinny for good and put Vinny away for a long, long time. It was ambitious, above and beyond where the case had begun. Success was starting to taste sweet. Success and something even sweeter. Redemption.

  It was the thought of redemption that kept him focused. So on Saturday night, he found himself driving Michelle to Grant Park.

  They met up with Frankie and Amber and started out toward the band shell. Frankie, the romantic, had other thoughts.

  "Let's go see the fountain."

  Dominic rolled his eyes. The fountain was the biggest make-out spot in Chicago. Of course, if he didn't get to make love with Michelle about every night, he'd probably be interested in the fountain, as well. In fact, if he was really paying attention, he should have noticed the way her eyes lit up.

  Okay, he was a world-class schmuck.

  "You know, I was going to suggest that myself," he said.

  They walked across the lawn and Michelle rucked her hand in his. For a minute he could forget this was work. Damn, he should take her out on a regular date.

  Something romantic and meaningful, not seedy and felonious. She was his lifeline. His connection into the part of the world where he desperately wanted to belong. He wasn't about to let her go.

  Amber took off on a fast walk, pulling Frankie behind her. "I've never seen the fountain at night. It's supposed to be gorgeous."

  Dominic held Michelle back. "Thank you for coming with me. I owe you big-time for this."

  She looked surprised. "You don't owe me for going out with you."

  "Well, it's not exactly a steak dinner at Morton's, and Frankie, well, he's a little confused in the pursuit of monetary rewards."

  "Can't you forget about work for a little while?" she said, staring him down from over her glasses.

  He blinked twice. Forget his work? He couldn't do that. The work kept him honest. It was always there, looking over his shoulder, making sure he did right. "You make me forget about it," he told her. "And that can be a dangerous thing."

  She looked at him, all serious, her eyebrows pulling together. "You've got to take care of yourself, okay? No risks or extra moves. You know when the bad guys start shooting? You don't jump in front of innocent bystanders, okay? You pull out the biggest gun you have and shoot."

  Dominic smiled at her. "You don't worry about me." He was never gonna be Clint Eastwood. Clint always came out on top. Dominic was just happy to stay in the game.

  Quietly they walked over the grass to the giant fountain. The colored lights danced among the brass sea horses, catching the drops in their spell. The pattern changed and the water splashed down, bathed in gold, like tears from an angel.

  And heaven decided to laugh at him. He heard the voice first.

  "You bitch!"

  Vinny was here.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dominic's instincts took over, his walk changing from casual to predatory. He motioned Michelle back, out of the way. Safe. Then he pulled his 9 mm free and tucked it behind his back.

  First he'd try the charm and reason route. Directly in front of him, Frankie stood between Amber and Vinny. Vinny had already bypassed the charm and reason route, going directly for the gun.

  Shit.

  Dominic walked up slowly, careful not to startle Vinny in any way. He'd handled a couple of situations before, but Vinny's fuse was short. Too freaking short.

  Dominic pulled to the side where he was in Vinny's peripheral vision. Go with the charm first. Don't blow the case . "Vinny, you here for the blues? You should head on down to the band shell. Come on, we'll get a beer on the way."

  "You're here, too, huh?" asked Vinny, his deadly eyes still pulling a bead on Frankie.

  Dominic tried again. "Hell, half of Chicago's here tonight. Amber, come on now, we can go find some supper, or maybe a pizza. You know, Giodorno's got a great pie."

  "You need to stay out of domestic disturbances, Dominic."

  His hand found the cold steel of his gun. "Ah, Vinny. You know I can't do that. It's the way I was raised. My mom, God bless her soul, was a firm believer in Lancelot or Galahad. I can never get the names straight. She used to whip my butt if I didn't open the damned door for women first. Trust me on this, Vinny, all you need to do is to cool off a little and we'll all be fine," lied Dominic soothingly.

  Amber chose that moment to voice her opinion. "I ain't going back with you, you philandering, two-bit goombah. Not tonight. Not ever."

  Dominic winced. Not the best way to calm down volatile situations.

  Vinny might have been angry, but the gun never moved. The .38 was leveled straight at Frankie. "You been screwing around on me, haven't you, you little slut?"

  "And what if I have? You've been delivering more packages than the U.S. Postal Service. What about Stella Roberts? Or Marian West? Do you think I don't hear these things? Do you think people aren't laughing at me?"

  Vinny cocked the trigger and pointed it right between Frankie's eyes. "Then there's one less story that nobody's going to hear about."

  Dominic edged a half inch closer. "You don't want to do this, Vinny."

  "Shut up, Dominic."

&nb
sp; Charm wasn't working. Dominic pulled out his gun.

  "No, you don't want to do that, Vinny." He placed the barrel against Vinny's head.

  Then everything happened fast.

  Vinny pulled the trigger.

  Boom. Frankie went down, a red rose blooming on his shoulder.

  Amber screamed.

  Dominic fired.

  And Vinny fell to the side, a neat bullet hole in his brain.

  Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded. Low and sad. The cavalry had arrived, but it was too late.

  Mickey stood, frozen, not knowing what to do. She couldn't catch her breath. No matter how she tried, air wasn't coming into her lungs. She wanted to run to Dominic, but there was a gun in his hand. And the cops were there, already taking him away.

  He looked over at her and his eyes were shot full of pain. At that moment, she got a glimpse of the hell that he lived through. Her own neat, tidy existence was a place where the bad guys didn't use real bullets.

  Now, she realized the good guys used real bullets, too.

  He looked as if he was going to say something, but she took a step back. It wasn't a big step, but he noticed just the same.

  Slowly her body came back to life, her lungs expanding, expanding, her frozen blood starting to warm and pulse. Her brain began to process the images that had transpired.

  Yet her feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

  The last time she saw Dominic, he was sitting in the back seat of a cop car, staring straight ahead. Not looking at her at all.

  It certainly wasn't the high point of Dominic's career. He was "arrested" and spent twelve hours being processed at Cook County jail. His captain, ticked off at being pulled away from his wife's best meat loaf, had dug him out of jail. It was a bad thing when copsespecially undercover copskilled a suspect.

  The captain put him on leave, pending an investigation. Right now, the investigation into the late Vincent Amarante and the mysterious alderman was closed. End of discussion. And Captain Freeman was headed back home.

  "Don't bother me again," were his last words.

  Right now Dominic wasn't up to bothering anybody. A man couldn't be any less astute than to miss the shock on Michelle's face. She was scared and rightly so.

  He'd always led a life that was more than a little colorful and he always would. That's the way he thought, the way he lived, the way he was.

  When Dominic got back to his apartment, he tried to drink a glass of water, but ended up losing it all in the sink.

  His first kill.

  Silently he made his way into the chair in his living room and turned on the TV, putting the volume up loud, because he didn't want to hear himself think anymore.

  Not that it helped. His mind kept pounding away at him anyway.

  Dominic had become a cop in order to do the right thing. To protect people. To make it up to his brother.

  So what had happened?

  Dominic, obsessed with being the hero, the almighty protector of all things frail and fragile, had gotten cocky and careless. He was so sure that things would work out okay. Again.

  And somebody had died.

  Again.

  For the last ten years he'd been living in his corner of hell, pretending everything was fine. He'd been wrong.

  From the other side of the room, his phone chirped, and he walked over to check the calls. Four from Michelle. He should call her.

  Yeah, honey. Back home from jail. Sorry about the little mishap in the park. These things happen.

  How could he explain his life to her? He couldn't admit the truth to his own father. Somewhere deep inside him, Dominic knew it was time. Coming clean was something that he should have done years ago. In order to start over, he needed to own up to the past.

  He started to dial the numbers, playing over the words in his head.

  Dad, I need to tell you something.

  When it came time to punch the final button, he couldn't do it.

  He didn't have the couragenot yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  He threw the damned phone across the room, then sat back down in a chair and let the darkness take over.

  Mickey was frantic. No word from Dominic at all. The police had taken her and Amber to the hospital, where they waited for Frankie to come out of surgery.

  Amber waited, rocking in the cold plastic seats, her hands clasped together in a tight ball. "He'll be okay," she kept saying, her eyes fixed on the gray doors at the end of the hallway.

  "He'll get through it fine," murmured Mickey, trapped in her own thoughts, wondering exactly how much reality the cops would lend to Dominic's cover.

  Eventually the doctor came. They were moving Frankie to a room where he would stay for the night. He was going to be fine.

  Amber started to cry.

  Unable to maintain the rock-hard calm any longer, Mickey escaped to the gift shop, where she bought a pink elephant for Frankie. He'd like that.

  Then she checked the battery on her cell, queried her answer machine. No new messages.

  The glass shelves were lined with stuffed animals and get-well cards and bright balloons. Then she passed a man carrying a bunch of red roses, the same color as Frankie's blood.

  She doubled over, her body giving up to the panic inside her. Hot tears started first. Then real sobs. She needed someone. Dominic.

  It seemed so selfish to fall apart. She was just a bystander. She hadn't killed anyone, hadn't been shot at, hadn't watched the man she loved go down.

  Yet she hurt. She could still hear the gun blasts echoing in her head. And the god-awful hell in Dominic's eyes. She wanted to hold him, help him survive. But he wasn't here.

  The salesgirl was apparently used to customers losing it in the shop. She patted her on the back, telling Mickey that everything would work out.

  Mickey started to laugh. Nights like this didn't go away. They got played over and over. Fast-forward. Slow motion. Reverse. Frame by frame.

  Eventually the laughter stopped and the tears dried. Now she was a part of his world, and everything that entailed. For better, for worse. Now it was time to deal. Time to grow up. She squared her shoulders, bought two extra balloons from the salesgirl and thanked her for her trouble.

  Mickey had always thought that love would be sweet and pretty, full of pink hearts and cute animals that sang in the chorus. It wasn't easy to admit, but she'd been wrong.

  The sun was blinding but Dominic squeezed his eyes open. He walked over to the window and stared at the morning light, letting the rays warm his cold skin. Tomorrow had come after all, but he didn't feel any better.

  Then he saw the plant.

  A dying plant.

  Oh, God.

  No, he wasn't going to let this happen.

  So he tried everything. First he watered it until the water pooled at the bottom of the drip tray. Then he fed it with fertilizer. Two scoops, just like the instructions said.

  Nothing.

  It was hopeless.

  Once again, he'd taken something good and ruined it.

  Still, he wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. He couldn't give up.

  The stupid plant couldn't die.

  So he began to talk to it. Talked like Mickey had told him to. What did a guy say to a plant?

  "What the hell did she name you?" he started with. "From now on, your name is plant."

  The plant didn't answer.

  "You know this is pretty stupid, don't you? If it wasn't for her "

  He collapsed into the chair and let his head fall back against the hard, wooden back.

  A man could change. Of course a man could change. The problem was, he'd been changing for ten years and he didn't feel any different. He didn't feel any better at all.

  Hell, Dominic, open your eyes.

  The plant sat there, brown, still dying.

  It was so easy to just let things slide. Ease back into the same routines. The same lines.

  No, this time he could do it.

 
Then he picked up the phone and dialed.

  One ring, two rings. Then his dad answered.

  First he did the usual greetings, the usual lies.

  "Michelle's doing fine. Yeah, we're still together." For now .

  "Maybe Christmas." Maybe never .

  No, he could do this. "Dad, I need to tell you something." Okay, that part was easy .

  "Sure, I can wait a minute." Dominic clasped the medal around his neck. For courage.

  "Everything okay now?"

  "It's about Antonio." I can do this. I have to do this .

  "Remember the summer before he died?"

  "Yeah, it was pretty hot that year." He could still remember the way Antonio would pull off his shirt and rub the sweat from his forehead. Just one more thing that Antonio had learned from him.

  "Dad?" I'm not who you think I am, Dad. I don't want you to hate me .

  "Yeah, I miss him, too." He shouldn't have died. He never should have died. I'm sorry .

  "No, I was just thinking about him."

  "I'll definitely be home for Christmas."

  "Right now? I'm in Florida. The beaches are great down here. You and Mom would love it."

  For thirty minutes he talked to his father, yapping like nothing was wrong, and after he hung up, he took off his medal and draped it over the brown leaves of the plant.

  It seemed that some causes were pretty much hopeless after all.

  By Monday evening, Dominic knew it was time. Time to tell her the truth about him and his life. When he knocked on her door, she opened it up and immediately launched into his arms.

  Longingly he held her, like he'd never let her go. Once again the consummate liar. He memorized each piece of her, her hair that fell against his cheek, the arms that always clung so tightly and the smellthe sharp, exotic perfume that he'd wake up to every morning for the rest of his life.

  Slowly she pulled away.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Not too bad."

  She looked him over head to toe, like she expected bruises or something. "I called and they said you were in jail. You're out now, right? They realized it's all a mistake, right?"