Nine Minutes

by Beth Flynn

  “No,” I answered. I held up my left hand. “I need you to work your creative magic with this,” I said as I practically shoved my ring finger under his nose.

  This time, I didn’t faint.

  ____________

  It was Sunday morning. Two days after Grizz’s execution. My husband and I sat in our den waiting for the phone to ring. We had gone to a sunrise Mass to be home in time for this phone call. In retrospect, I wish we’d missed the call. Just like climbing on the back of Monster’s motorcycle twenty-five years ago would change my life, the damage resulting from this phone call was irrevocable.

  When the phone rang, he hit the speakerphone button and said, “We’re here, Leslie. You’re on.”

  Leslie stammered a little. She must have sensed we were weary of the interview process and was hesitant about her first question. I knew what was coming.

  “I guess I really wanted to ask Ginny what that little communication was about right before Jason’s execution,” Leslie said, her voice growing steadier. “I mean, it’s obvious there was something going on between you two, and I think it’s probably important and would be a good way to wrap up the interview. You know, the end to this epic love story.”

  “That was nothing,” I said firmly. “Grizz was just trying to be in charge again. An old joke. He was messing with me. Not important and totally not relevant to this story. You’re not missing anything.”

  She didn’t say anything for a minute. Then she blurted, “But the love story. That’s what I really want to play up. The love between the hardened criminal and the sweet, innocent girl. That’s what the readers want, a love story, and I need something to make the conclusion pop.” She cleared her throat. “That signal he gave you. It must have meant something. Can’t you give me something here, Ginny?”

  I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I hadn’t realized I’d been sitting at attention.

  “The only thing I can tell you, Leslie, is I’ve spent three months letting you interview me, and the real love story was right under your nose the whole time and you didn’t see it. A story about a man who has loved me from the very beginning, from the first glance. The man who always was and still is my soul mate. That’s the only love story now. Yes, I loved Grizz, that’s true. That story is over. Don’t romanticize it. I’ve built a new life with—”

  She cut me off. “She doesn’t know, does she? You haven’t told her yet. I suggest you do before she reads it in my article.”

  Who was she talking to? I looked over at my husband. He didn’t answer her. He pressed the disconnect button on the phone.

  “Well, that’s one way to end an interview,” I said to him.

  My husband, Tommy—I never used the gang name Grunt anymore, just as he never called me Kit—just smiled and winked at me.

  But then he turned serious. “Gin, I need to tell you some things. Some bad things.”

  I practically scoffed. What bad things could Tommy possibly have to tell me? I seriously doubted he could surprise me with anything.

  “Okay, I’m listening. It can’t be that bad.”

  But it was.

  There, listening to Tommy tell me the story of Leslie’s accident three weeks ago, I was stunned. I felt like I was hearing the story in an out-of-body experience, like it was being told to someone else and I was just there, watching from above.

  I don’t know how to explain it. I knew the major players. I’d spent enough time in Leslie’s company to understand her personality, to actually know how it played out with her and Grizz.

  As Tommy told me the details, I felt like I was watching a movie unfold. And I wanted to throw up.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Leslie Cowan sat confidently at the metal table. She’d interviewed hundreds of people and had a bit of a smug attitude about the upcoming interview.

  She’d caught wind of this story through a friend of a friend and thought it would go great with Rolling Stone’s expose on celebrity bikers. She’d spent most of the last couple of months interviewing the other main character in this story, and she had exactly one hour to wrap it up with the sole person who would not be around to answer any questions in the coming weeks.

  Jason Talbot was to be executed in a matter of weeks. She wasn’t going to put much credence in what he had to say. She felt she’d gotten the meat of her story already. She was really here out of sheer curiosity.

  She’d heard of his brutality, but she was not the type to be intimidated by anyone. She’d interviewed street gang members, drug dealers, rapists, murderers. The worst society had to offer. This would be a piece of cake.

  She wanted to ask him about his relationship with Ginny Lemon, now Ginny Dillon. It would be interesting to ask the man, who was so cruel to others, why he’d had such tender feelings for a fifteen-year-old girl? Why didn’t he kill her? Why did he keep her with him as long as possible? Why would he go to the lethal injection table for her?

  She was pretty sure Ginny had exaggerated his feelings toward her. Leslie wanted to find out what he really thought. She would be able to get the truth out of him. She was a top-of-the-line investigative reporter. She could wrap the worst interviewee around her little finger. She’d done it before, and she’d do it again.

  A man who was facing death in a couple of weeks would be so vulnerable. He would be putty in her hands and spilling his guts in a matter of minutes.

  She looked up when she heard the door open. A guard came in, followed by a man of incredible size. She’d seen pictures and knew he was big. But she didn’t expect him to be this big.

  Behind him was another guard. The prisoner, wearing an orange prison-issue jumpsuit, was handcuffed and shackled around the waist. He took small steps, and she could hear the shackles around his ankles clanking. Her gaze wandered up until she met his eyes.

  The mesmerizing, green eyes Ginny had mentioned more than once. She had only seen pictures that didn’t do them justice. She thought that, too, had been exaggerated. She was wrong.

  Without taking his eyes from hers, he slid into the seat across from her as the guard unshackled his handcuffs from the chain around his waist and re-shackled them to a steel bar on the table.

  She looked away then and said to the guard, “Thanks, I can take it from here.”

  The guard refused, told her under no circumstances was anyone ever to be left alone in a room with Jason Talbot.

  “But he’s shackled,” she replied with dismay.

  “Doesn’t matter. You got a problem with that, you leave. We’re staying here with you.”

  The taller guard locked the door behind them, and they both leaned up against opposite walls.

  She started to argue, but it was no use; the guards calmly and firmly expressed the rule one more time.

  “This is for your own safety regardless of the shackles,” the shorter guard said.

  She huffed like he was being ridiculous, and the guard said, “Then consider this interview over.”

  He started to unshackle the prisoner but she stopped him. “Fine. Stay. Whatever.”

  She looked back at Jason then, and a chill ran down her spine. She had never been the focus of such a penetrating look. His eyes were cold, and she was trying not to tremble.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Jason,” she began. “You know I’ve been interviewing Ginny the last few months. Seems you two have an interesting past. I was hoping you could tell me more about your relationship with her.”

  “I’m sure Kit told you everything. I don’t have anything to add.”

  She was starting to feel something she had never felt before in an interview. She was getting a little giddy. There was something about his power and intensity that was extremely attractive, and she was losing her focus. She felt silly that he could make her feel this way. He exuded raw sexuality like no one she’d ever met.

  She tried to imagine being only fifteen and having to deal with him. It’s a miracle Ginny survived.

  “Well, why don’t you tell
me something then that Ginny didn’t know. Surprise me.”

  “Oh, I’d like to surprise you, darling.”

  A shiver ran down her spine. Could she actually be enjoying herself flirting with this murderer?

  She pasted on her coyest smile and kept asking questions. He replied with one-syllable answers. These were questions she already knew the answers to, thanks to Ginny. So Ginny had been telling her the truth. Well, well.

  “Jason, this is all pretty standard stuff that I already know. Can’t you give me something else here? Something to shock my readers?”

  He stared at her for a minute. “I’ve answered every question. What exactly do you want to know?”

  She swallowed back her aggravation. “For one thing, I cannot believe that in all that time you spent with Ginny, there isn’t one secret that you kept to yourself. Something she never knew. Doesn’t know, to this day. I know the real-name secret already. That obviously had to come out.” She leaned in provocatively. “What else is there?”

  “There’s nothing. Why would I keep a secret from Kit?”

  “Um, because she kept a secret from you?” This was the moment she’d been waiting for. She’d been baiting him along this whole time to lead up to this.” God, I’m good.

  This got the rise out of him she was hoping for. He was such an egomaniac. There was no way he could fathom Ginny keeping something hidden from him.

  In a split second, the doubt in his eyes was gone, replaced by his natural arrogance.

  He gestured with his hands, motioned for her to bring it on. They were shackled to the table, but he still had some leeway.

  “Let’s hear it, then, reporter lady. What’s this supposed secret that Kit kept from me?”

  “If I tell you, then you’ll tell me something? Something you never told Ginny. You promise?”

  “Yeah, sure. Let’s hear it first.”

  “Okay. How about that Ginny lost her virginity to Grunt?”

  He laughed out loud then. “Stupid bitch. I knew that. I’m the one who told him to do it!”

  “You’re not listening to me, Jason. Ginny lost her virginity to Grunt. Not that disgusting billy-club you told him to use.”

  She knew she was wrong to tell him. But, as she quickly reminded herself, she’d promised Ginny it wouldn’t be in the article. She’d never promised Ginny she wouldn’t tell Jason.

  Leslie knew she’d surprised him. She knew instantly this was one thing he definitely never found out. Well, screw him. Stupid idiot. Let him chew on that for a minute.

  With the look of someone who’d just devoured her victim, she leaned toward him and, in her haughtiest tone of voice, purred, “So, now, you owe me—”

  Faster than lightning and before the guards could intervene, Grizz used both feet to kick Leslie’s chair out from under her. This quick action and the fact that she was already leaning toward him caused her to fall face forward and within his reach. He was able to grab her head and smash her face into the metal post that was keeping his hands fastened to the table. There was the sickening sound of teeth breaking as blood spurted everywhere.

  The guards got to them as quickly as they could. One pulled Leslie out of his grasp as the other started beating him down with a stick. He never flinched. He just laughed.

  “You motherfucker!” she screamed.

  She was bleeding profusely from cuts on her forehead, nose and mouth. It was hard for her to talk. She was definitely hurt, but she hadn’t started to cry. She was in shock.

  The guard got her on her feet and started half-walking, half-carrying her toward the door.

  As she was leaving, she heard Grizz call out, “You wanna know something? I’ll tell you something. Come back and see me.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I stared at Tommy. “That’s why she looked like she was recovering from an accident at the execution? Grizz did that to her?”

  “Yeah, he did it.”

  “Oh, Tommy. He knew. He knew before he died what happened between us.” I put my head in my hands. “He must have been so hurt. Felt so betrayed by us.”

  “He was, Gin. That’s why he gave her one more phone interview before he died. He told her something. Something she’s going to put in her article. Something you don’t know. Something that will hurt.”

  Before I could ask him what it was, he added, “Grizz was sorry, you know. I talked to him after he talked to Leslie. He said after the anger wore off, he was sorry he told her. Hell, he was going to order a hit on her from prison so it didn’t get printed. I talked him out of it. I didn’t want her to die because of a secret coming out. The time for killing is over. I hope you agree.”

  “My heart hurts knowing he died feeling betrayed.”

  “He didn’t die feeling betrayed. I spoke with him, and you saw him nod at me. He understood.”

  Then something occurred to me. “Oh no, don’t tell me he told her about Miriam being his daughter. Please don’t tell me that’s it.”

  I didn’t think this would have been a hard one to figure out if someone took the time to calculate Miriam’s birth date and my marriage to Tommy. Nobody really seemed interested and, surprisingly, I was never asked. I just wouldn’t have wanted it printed for Mimi to read.

  “No, it’s—”

  I cut him off. “Is it the real story about the first time he saw me? Not in Guido’s driveway when I was thirteen like we told everybody? I was only six. You know that story, don’t you? Grizz told me he went ballistic when Delia and Vince took me to Woodstock. That’s when he put Guido next door. That’s not too big a deal. I don’t see how that could hurt anybody.” I was rambling.

  “Yeah, I know that story. It’s not that.”

  Tommy took a deep breath and started to tell me about Grizz’s childhood. Grizz’s real childhood. Yes, Grizz had told me the truth about his mother, but he didn’t go into specifics. I’m not surprised. The details Tommy was providing were too horrific for me to even imagine. It ended in his parents’ death by his own hand. Both of his parents. It shed some serious light on why he was the way he was. I don’t know how anybody could have made it through a childhood like his and come out unscathed.

  I interrupted Tommy. “Well, it’s an awful story, but I don’t see how it could hurt me.”

  “No, Kit, it’s not that either,” Tommy snapped. “Let me finish.”

  I was stunned. Not only did Tommy never raise his voice to me, but he hadn’t called me Kit in almost fifteen years.

  “He just wanted you to know everything. From the beginning. It obviously started with his childhood, but that’s not what he told Leslie.”

  And then Tommy told me.

  Not just the secret that Grizz told Leslie out of anger, but another one, as well. He was right. It hurt.

  I wished it was the story of Grizz being Mimi’s biological father. I wished it was the story about Grizz first seeing me when I was just six years old in front of the convenience store. Grizz told me that story the day he married me.

  No, it was much, much worse.

  Like a deer caught in the headlights, I listened in stunned silence as my husband told me of Grizz’s betrayal. Secrets Tommy knew from the beginning. Secrets he’d kept from me. Secrets that made me feel my heart had been removed from my chest and placed on my lap.

  The first one didn’t surprise me too much. It concerned Delia. It stung, but it actually made some sense.

  But the other secret I was certain I would never fully recover from. It would be in Leslie’s article.

  And I would look like a fool.

  For the second time in my life that I could remember, I used profanity.

  “Grunt, you son of a bitch.” I stared icily at him. “You shouldn’t have stopped him from ordering a hit on Leslie.”

  Epilogue

  The two men sat and gazed at each other over the unremarkable but rather large wooden desk. They were in an office, though the owner of this particular office, located in a maximum-security prison in norther
n Florida, was apparently a minimalist. No trinkets or knickknacks adorned the only bookshelf. No awards or degrees were displayed on the walls. The desk was sparsely furnished with the necessities. A telephone. A blotter, which also served as a desk calendar. A container with pens and pencils. No plants, no family photos.

  The only indication that this office was used regularly was sitting on a small knee-high table that was up against a wall. A chess set made of ivory. The pieces were elaborate and detailed in their design. It was obvious there was a game in progress. The small table that it sat on was flanked by two cushioned chairs with wooden armrests. A warm light glowed over the table and its contents from a wall sconce. This small setting was in such sharp contrast to the rest of the office décor that one might have to blink to see if it was indeed reality.

  The chair behind the large desk, which the bigger of the two men occupied, was oversized and comfortable. The chair of the person facing the desk was hard and uninviting, probably on purpose. If someone was to look down on this scene, they would never have known that one of the men, the larger man behind the desk, was to be executed by lethal injection in less than a week. He didn’t look like a prisoner. He didn’t look like someone who was scheduled for execution. He wasn’t wearing prison-issue clothing. He was in jeans and a T-shirt. He exuded power and confidence. He seemed to be in a position of authority.

  “Okay, what have you got?” Grizz asked.

  Blue looked at him without answering. The expression on his face caught Grizz off guard. It was an expression Grizz didn‘t recognize. Blue looked uncertain, hesitant maybe. They locked eyes. Neither would look away.

  Blue finally said, “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I’m not going to like what?” Before Blue could reply, he snapped, “You know what, it doesn’t matter. First things first. Has Leslie been handled?”

  “Yes. She’ll need more convincing, but I’ve got it handled.”

  “The other thing?”

  “Done. Flawless. Just like you said.”