by J. L. Fynn
I swallowed the bile that crept up my throat and lifted my arm. It felt a thousand times heavier than normal, and I struggled to keep it raised, my hand open and poised for the first blow.
“Well?” Marie raised a thin eyebrow. “What are you waiting for? You're the one who was in such a hurry a second ago.”
I clenched my jaw and blew several short breaths through my nose, trying to psych myself up like a boxer before a prizefight. I drew my arm back another inch and...
Nothing. My hand refused to move. “Fuck!” My arm dropped to my side. “Jesus, I can't do it.”
Marie's nose wrinkled with disgust. “You're about as useful as tits on a bull, you know it?”
With a heavy sigh, Jim shouldered himself away from the wall. “It’s fine, Tommy. Let me.” He slipped off his jacket and draped it over a chair, then unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over his jacket. Now in just his undershirt, he took my place in front of Marie.
“Didn’t want to get your pretty clothes wrinkled?” she asked.
“It’s not going to look good if I have your blood all over my shirt, is it?”
I looked down at my own shirt, and the jacket I’d borrowed from the hostess downstairs. I hadn’t even thought of taking it off, but then, I hadn’t really let myself acknowledge what I was going to do while wearing it either.
“Ready?” Jim asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Jim lifted his hand. My neck twisted, almost involuntarily, so I was staring at the patch of tile visible through the bathroom door instead of at the two of them. I heard him land the first blow, an open-handed smack by the sharp popping sound it made. Marie did her best to keep from crying out, but a strangled whimper made its way to my ears.
“Sorry,” Jim said. “You okay?” There was real concern in his voice, and I was relieved that the two of them might also be coming to their senses now that things were getting real.
In answer, though, Marie coughed out a bitter laugh. “Are you kidding? I barely felt that. I gotta say, I expected a little better from you Wiley Jim.”
I turned back in time to see Jim smack her again, this time with the other hand. Marie's face jerked sharply to the right, and she whimpered again, louder this time. In an instant, her head had snapped back so she was facing Jim again. Both cheeks were red on their way to purple, and there was a small trickle of blood at the corner of her lip, but she apparently wasn’t done taunting. “Jesus, maybe all those rumors about you being a sissy-boy are true. You sure hit like one.”
Now it was Jim’s face that purpled. I saw his jaw go tight, and this time when he hit her it was with a closed fist. Marie, clearly unbraced for this particular assault, crashed to the floor with a thud. The sound that came from her was more a surprised, “oh”, than a cry. Still, she was back on her feet with alarming speed. The trickle of blood at her mouth had become a stream, but that didn’t stop her from twisting her broken lip into a cruel smile. “This feels a little like foreplay, Jim. Is this how your boyfriend likes to get things going?”
Jim didn’t move. I watched him struggle to control his anger. His hands were clenched into fists at his side, and his jaw twitched like bacon in a hot skillet.
“But then again,” Marie said, wiping the blood from her chin with the back of her hand. I silently begged her to just shut up, but it seemed she had a little more venom to spew before she was done. “Maybe you just can’t get into it when there’s pussy involved, huh? Your daddy must be so ashamed. One son a pathetic gimp, the other a nasty little cock jockey.”
Her taunting had done the job. Jim lost the struggle against his anger, or maybe just gave into it. Either way, Marie wouldn’t have the opportunity to say anything else. Jim flew at her, shoving her back against the wall with his hand closed around her throat. He smacked her with the back of his free hand, and then brought his open palm crashing back into the other side of her face. Back and forth with the precision of a metronome.
I opened my mouth to shout, to make him stop, but my stomach lurched and bile surged in my throat. I barely made it to the bathroom before everything in my stomach spilled out into the marble sink.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I STILL HAD the bitter taste of sick in my mouth when we rejoined the party. The timing was perfect, just as we'd planned, but it also meant we had to be careful to blend in with the crowd, like we'd never left the party in the first place. Most guests had crowded into the front lobby to hear the speaker who’d taken up a perch on the carpeted butterfly staircase. He had close-cropped salt and pepper hair, and a well-tailored tux that had to cost several grand, at least. The owner, I guessed, though his age surprised me.
In my imagination, all hotel moguls were in their sixties with bad rugs, but this guy couldn't have been much older than forty. That kind of success took a sharp mind, which meant he wasn’t any old gull. Still, Michael had assured us he'd go to great lengths to protect the image of his new hotel, and I comforted my nerves with the thought that a man like that might just be willing to hand over a million bucks to hold on to the success he'd worked hard for. Still, after what had just happened upstairs, a scene I’d likely see over and over in my dreams for a long time, I wasn’t sure if a million was worth it.
I picked up a half-empty glass that someone had abandoned on a table in the lobby and lifted it to my mouth, pretending to drink. I had half a mind to gulp it down, but the threat of my stomach rebelling a second time kept my lips clamped shut. I strolled around one side of the lobby while Jim, who'd taken a stairwell at the other end of our hallway, emerged from the restaurant and sidled up next to a young woman who leaned in the doorway watching the speaker. He bent his neck to whisper something in her ear, and after her initial flash of confusion faded, she smiled and nodded.
“The Goldsmith Hotel will be the new destination for business travelers, jet-setters, and vacationing families alike,” the man on the stairs said, his arms stretched wide to mirror the broad range of guests they hoped to accommodate.
The knot in my throat refused to budge no matter how much I swallowed, and I felt sweat trickle down the back of my neck. I met Jim's eyes across the room and followed his gaze when it flicked toward a man in a suit who stood off to one side of the grand staircase. He didn't look like any security guard I'd ever seen, more like a banker or insurance salesman. But the way he stood at attention scanning the crowd told me he was just the guy I needed to see. I bobbed my head once in a slight nod to let Jim know I'd gotten the message and positioned myself by the bank of elevators.
“That's why we decided on this location, in one of the finest neighborhoods our fair city has to offer,” the hotelier said.
The security guard continued to monitor the crowd, scanning from right to left.
“This is more than a hotel. Our restaurant and spa, our conference spaces, our reception hall. Together they will make us a fixture of downtown Chicago.”
The speaker paused for a round of polite applause, and I checked my watch. The eyes of the security guard moved over the crowd once more. Right to left. From Jim to me.
I arranged my features into a look of deep concern and raised my hand to catch his attention. His gaze hesitated on me a moment, and he frowned, seeming to consider how to respond. I waved again, this time curling my fingers over my palm to beckon him forward.
He glanced around and then strode toward me. “Can I help you with something, sir?” His tone was much friendlier than his expression, and I relaxed just a little.
I crossed my arms over my chest, checking my watch again before I answered him. “I'm a little concerned about something I saw earlier, and I thought you might be the person I could speak to about that,” I said.
He nodded. “Of course. I’m happy to hear any concerns you might have. And if I'm not the right person, I can at least get you to whoever that might be.”
I smiled in a way I hoped conveyed relief. “I appreciate that. And, you know, maybe it's not a big deal, but I thought I'd mentio
n it anyway. Just in case.” Now my smile was apologetic. “I'm probably just being paranoid.” I checked my watch again, and then glanced up. The wrought iron arrow, that indicated where the elevator was, moved slowly toward the ground floor.
“What is it, sir,” he said impatiently.
“Well, it's just that I saw a man walking around, leering at the women. He didn’t look like he—” The elevator cut me off with a musical chime that told us it had reached our floor. We both turned to look as the doors slid open and Marie stumbled out, bloody and dazed. I stepped back in horror that didn't have to be faked. Her eye had swollen to a slit, and rivulets of blood streamed from her mouth and nose, and from the raw edges of a cut on her cheekbone. She teetered for a second then lurched forward, falling right into the stunned security officer’s waiting arms.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“JESUS TOMMY, SIT the fuck down. You're wearing a path in the carpet.” Jim rolled his eyes at me. He'd made himself comfortable on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.
His comfort pissed me off, but I bit down the epithet about to fly off my tongue, and opted for stony silence and continued pacing instead.
“We're basically home free. The hard part is over. Now we just have to sit back and wait for the offer. Why are you so freaked out?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” So much for stony silence. “Can you honestly say you're feeling fine about what happened tonight?”
Jim frowned. “I don't know if fine is what I'm feeling, but it's done. Why not focus on what's ahead of us instead of what's behind.”
“Well, sunshine, I'm not so sure that what's ahead of us is any better.”
“Come on, Tommy. You saw how fast that guard got her out of the lobby. They’re on a mission to keep this quiet, and the only thing that stands between them and a squeaky clean image is us. They’re going to pay to keep it quiet, no questions.”
I couldn't shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop, and when it did, one of us might be right underneath it. “It's just,” I hesitated, and then mumbled, “something doesn’t feel right.”
Jim threw up his hands, grunting in disgust. “For Christ's sake, Tommy. Suck it up man.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe you have your head too far up your ass to see that this could still go completely tits up, if we're not careful?”
“Will you two assholes keep it down before someone calls security?” Marie said, emerging from the bathroom. Her face had been cleaned and a butterfly bandage had been used to close the split in her cheek. Cotton was packed into one nostril so when she spoke she sounded almost cartoonish. “Have they called yet?”
“Not yet,” Jim said. He swung his feet off the bed and slid to the edge. “Do you want some more ice?”
She waved the offer away. “Unless you're offering the kind of ice that glitters and comes set in 24 karat gold, I'm fine.”
“You don't look fine,” I said. “Maybe you should sit down.” I couldn't bring myself to look at her full-on, so this suggestion was directed to a space on the wall behind her head. She took it anyway, and without any snark, for which I was grateful. Once she was settled in an armchair, I resumed pacing.
“Will you tell him that everything is fine, please?” Jim asked Marie. “He’s driving me up a wall.”
“It’ll be fine,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that’s helpful. Sure put paid to any fears I had, anyway.”
Marie actually had the nerve to look wounded by my sarcasm. “Well, it is. You should have seen how scared they were that I might tell someone what happened in their perfect little hotel. They practically begged me not to call the police. Said I could if I wanted to, but they’d prefer to take care of it ‘in-house’.”
“Or maybe they saw right through you, and just wanted the honor of calling the police themselves,” I said. I knew I was being somewhat unfair. Marie was naive, but out of all of us she might have been the most desperate for this to work. She was barely out of pigtails, which meant she had a long life of ruin staring her in the face. Now she’d been offered a life even better than the one she’d lost by getting dragged, and I couldn’t blame her for chasing after it with everything she had. Hell, the promise of a better life was the only reason I was here too. But it was Maggie’s promise to be waiting for me that kept me going. And I worried that if she ever found out what really happened here, she might think differently of her decision.
“There isn’t a chance in the world they’re calling the cops,” Jim said. “They wouldn’t have let her come back to the room if they thought she was up to something. No, right now they’re sitting down at a big old conference table with their lawyers and accountants figuring out just how much it’ll take to keep this little incident under wraps. Hell, they probably have these kinda pay-offs built right into their annual budget.”
“I’ve heard that.” Marie’s face lit up as much as it could under the bruises and cuts. “Big companies’ll have pools of money to pay out because it’s cheaper than going to the trouble of making their products safe.”
Jim laughed. “See? So our little game is basically just part of their business plan.”
Lord help me. “That’s not exactly how it works.”
“Oh yeah?” Jim pursed his lips to one side. “You become a big business tycoon while you was gone?”
Something told me that bringing up the business courses I’d taken wouldn’t help the situation. I let the argument drop, and silently promised myself that Jimmy Boy and the new baby would both get the best education money could buy, even if I had to con their way to the top of a mile-long waiting list for some ritzy private school.
The thought almost made me smile, but my face froze along with the rest of my body when the phone rang. Jim looked to Marie, who scurried to the bedside table and picked up the receiver. “Hello?” She paused for a long moment, listening. She met Jim’s eyes and smiled, but the weepy tone she’d answered the call with remained. “Of course. I’d be happy to meet with him. I just want to put all of this behind me as soon as I can.” Another pause. “Okay. Tomorrow morning sounds great. And, I’d like my brothers to come along, if that’s all right. I don’t feel safe going nowhere on my own. I’m sure you understand. They’re awfully protective. It was all I could do to keep them from tearing this place apart looking for that man, but I promised them that you gentlemen were taking care of things. I hope you won’t make a liar of me, ‘cause there’s no telling what they might do.” She winked at Jim, who grinned and nodded his encouragement. “That’s wonderful. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She hung up the phone and Jim let out a whoop I was sure they heard on the street below.
Marie smiled so broadly I was afraid her lip might start bleeding again. “Mark my words boys: by this time tomorrow we are gonna be livin’ in high cotton.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
THE SUN REFLECTED off the canal and lit the high polish of the mahogany conference table with early morning light. In another circumstance, I might have admired the bank of windows that made up the entire exterior wall of the room or the burnished leather chairs I was too anxious to sit in.
Jim and Marie had taken seats as soon as the Jackie O look-alike at the reception desk had shown us into the conference room, but I’d opted for standing behind them, my arms folded in a way I hoped passed for confidence. We’d been told the owner would be with us shortly, but twenty minutes later we were still waiting.
Marie pulled at the collar of her sweater, and I wondered if all her bravado was finally starting to fade. Her eyes flickered to Jim every few seconds, but she kept her head down. Something about her sudden nervousness bothered me, but I couldn't exactly fault her for feelings I'd been experiencing since we'd arrived.
“What's this guy's name again?” Jim asked. When Marie stayed quiet, still plucking at her collar, he turned in his seat to look at me.
I shrugged. “No clue. I saw him for about t
wo minutes last night. Didn't the security officers tell you who this guy is, Marie?”
She jumped when I said her name and shook her head. The vague sense of unease I'd had when I noticed her demeanor a moment ago crept toward panic. Something was wrong here. “What's going on?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, still refusing to look at either of us. “I just want to get this over with.”
“Don't we all,” Jim said. “I can’t wait to see the look on Michael's fat face when we get back home with all that cash. You know, I honestly think there was a big part of him hoping we'd fail.”
Marie's shoulders stiffened, and she turned to look at the door. From where I stood I could see her knees bouncing under the table. I reached for the back of her seat and spun it toward me.
Her eyes went wide, and she clawed the arms of the chair with both hands. “What the fuck, Tommy?”
I covered her hands with mine, pinning them to the chair, and leaned forward so we were eye to eye. “Took the words right out of my mouth. Tell me what's going on, Marie.”
“Tommy, what the hell?” Jim said. He pushed his chair back from the table and stared at me in alarm. “They're going to be here any second. How's it going to look when they find you standing there like you’re about to tear her throat out.”
“I'm starting to think they shouldn’t find us here at all,” I said to Jim, although my eyes stayed locked on hers. “That thing you said about Michael wanting us to fail? I’m pretty sure you were dead on.”
“He was.”
We all turned to look at the door. The owner of the hotel stood in the doorway flanked by two of his besuited security officers. The one on the left, the same man who'd gotten Marie out of lobby last night, brushed his jacket back, revealing a holstered pistol hanging at his waist.
I let go of her chair and stepped back.
At the same time, Jim sprang from his own chair to stand next to me. “What the hell is this?”