by Abby Weeks
—Let me check first, Jimmy said and stepped out through the door.
He came back a few seconds later.
—Jesus. Who’s your husband?
—Why? April said, her heart racing.
—There’s a black car at the end of the alley with two tough guys in it.
—Watching the exit? Jack said.
—Yes.
—Shit. Did they see you?
—Yeah, Jimmy said, but they’re not looking for me. If I take out the trash they’ll think everything’s normal.
There were some garbage bags in the alley and Jimmy went out and threw them into the dumpster. Then he came back.
—Who are these guys? he said. They really look like they mean business.
—Walter must have phoned Herb, April said.
—Is your husband some kind of criminal?
—I don’t know, April said. He’s a lawyer.
Jack and Jimmy looked at each other.
—It’s not going to be long before they come down here, Jack said. We’ve got to get out of this hotel. Is there any way we can get past them?
—I assume you’ve checked the lobby? Jimmy said.
—Two more guys.
—Ok, Jimmy said. This is what we’ll do. I’ll go out and bring a car around. I’ll bring it right to this door. You two jump in and we’ll run for it.
—They’ll be right after us, April said.
—Jimmy’s quite a driver, Jack said.
Something about the way Jack said it made April realize that being a valet wasn’t Jimmy’s primary occupation.
—Ok, she said. Let’s do it.
Jimmy went back out through the door. He grabbed a broom before he left so that the two watchers would think he was working.
—Where are we going to go? April said when she was alone with Jack.
He looked down at her and she was surprised to find that her heart fluttered. He was so handsome and the situation was so tense that she thought it might all be too much.
—We’ll lose those guys and get you somewhere safe, he said. Then you can explain what’s going on and we’ll figure out what to do.
April looked at him and hesitated before speaking. She knew what she wanted to say but she was afraid that it would come out wrong. In the end it was his calmness that gave her the confidence to speak.
—You won’t abandon me, will you?
—Of course not, he said and there was such tenderness in his voice that she felt reassured, at least for the time being. How could anything bad happen to her when she was with such a strong, self-assured guy?
—My husband’s dangerous, she said. The firm he works for is very powerful. They have high connections.
—I don’t doubt it, Jack said. We get all sorts at this hotel. You wouldn’t believe the kinds of things we see.
—Have you ever dealt with someone like my husband before?
Jack shook his head.
—We’ll have to wait and see. Your husband’s no ordinary guy, is he? I mean, it’s not normal that a guy can get four armed guards to watch the exits of a hotel in a matter of minutes.
—I know he works for a law firm, April said, but I have no idea what they do or who they do it for.
—It’s ok. We can talk about all that later. The important thing right now is to get you out of here.
They waited nervously. Jack didn’t want to draw attention by opening the door so they listened till they heard the sound of an engine and tires skidding out in the alley.
—Let’s go, Jack said and pushed open the door.
She followed Jack into the alley. The two tough guys were already on the move. April’s heart pounded in fear when she heard the loud roaring of their engine. Jimmy had leaned across the front seat of the Camaro he’d brought and pushed open the door. Jack practically lifted her into the seat and then squeezed in next to her. There was no back seat. Her head flew backwards as Jimmy put his foot on the gas. The engine screamed and the tires spun. The acrid smell of burning rubber reached April and she looked back to see the black car of the bodyguards rushing toward them. She screamed.
She was pushed up against the gearstick but luckily Jimmy could still use it. He jammed it into second and the car leapt forward, just in time to avoid being rammed by the car behind. He threw it back into first as the car slid out of the alley and across two lanes of oncoming traffic onto K Street. It was night and luckily traffic was light. April watched as Jimmy brought the car up to fifth gear and raced west along K Street, speeding past buildings and intersections and parked vehicles. They kept hitting green lights at the intersections and Jimmy weaved through whatever traffic there was. The black car was following close and April could see the round BMW logo on the hood. The car looked so powerful she could almost feel the rumbling of its engine. At the Pennsylvania Avenue underpass Jimmy dropped to fourth and the car roared back up the other side. They hit their first red light at the bridge over Rock Creek and April screamed as Jimmy sped through it. They narrowly missed the cross traffic.
Jack put his hand on April’s lap.
—Jimmy’s a pro, he said. If anyone can lose these guys, he can.
She made to look back again but Jack took her face in his strong, cool hands.
—Don’t look back, he said. You’re ok now. You’re with me.
They were on the raised segment of the Whitehurst Freeway, speeding past the second floor windows of office buildings on both sides. April tried to remain calm as their speed climbed higher and Jimmy threw it back into fifth gear. They bypassed all of Georgetown and she closed her eyes as they careened off the freeway and through the lights at the bottom of Canal Street. She opened her eyes just long enough to see the Exxon station fly by. On the open straights of Canal Street the Camaro was really able to get into its own and they opened a wide gap between themselves and the BMW. By the time they were on Foxhall the bends allowed them to break line of sight with their pursuers completely. Almost as soon as they did, Jimmy pulled the emergency brake and April was flung against Jack as they skidded onto P Street, burning tyre-rubber all the way around the ninety degrees of the turn. They were now on a quiet, tree-lined residential street and Jimmy flipped the light switch, putting them in almost complete darkness. He pulled into a driveway with the lights out but kept the engine running at a low hum. April looked back onto Foxhall and within seconds saw the black BMW fly past and continue northwest in the direction of the GWU Mount Vernon campus.
Jimmy breathed a long sigh of relief.
—Nice driving, Jack said.
They pulled out of the driveway just as the homeowner’s lights turned on inside the house.
—Let’s get to your place, Jack.
Jack nodded and they made their way back downtown and then north to U Street using only backstreets.
April hadn’t been to that part of town in years. The street was lined with jazz clubs, dingy bars and ethnic restaurants. The sky was just beginning to change color with the coming dawn and there were still people on the streets, stumbling out of the bars or standing in doorways lighting cigarettes. Jimmy pulled up outside a modern, designer furniture store.
—We can park around back, Jack said.
April looked out at the street.
—Where are we?
—My place, Jack said, and she was relieved at how calm and self-assured he still sounded, even while they were on the run from thugs in black BMWs.
—You live in a furniture store?
—You’ll see, he said.
Jimmy took the car down a narrow alley and parked by a fire escape at the back of the building. They got out of the car and Jack opened the delivery doors leading into the back of the furniture store. It was kind of a warehouse back there, storage for the store, with some steps leading up to the second floor. She followed up the stairs to another steel door that Jack unlocked.
Through the door was something quite unexpected. Jack’s apartment was a spacious loft with high ceilings and dark, wooden floors. There was
a beautiful piano by one wall with a cello next to it. There was also an assortment of other instruments strewn around the room, two guitars, a trumpet, a saxophone, a number of percussion implements.
—You’re a musician? she said.
Jack laughed. —You sound surprised.
—I am surprised. He’s a professional getaway driver and you’ve got a recording studio in your apartment.
—People aren’t always what they appear, Jack said and locked the door behind him.
He went to the kitchen which occupied a corner of the living space. Close to the kitchen was his large and very messy bed. There was an old fan that looked like an airplane propellor pointed at the bed and there was a black cat lying on one of the pillows. Next to the bed was a small stack of books and a lamp. There was also a door leading to the bathroom. Apart from that small living area, the entire space was given over to musical instruments and recording equipment.
Jack put on the kettle.
—Let’s have some coffee, he said. Then you can fill us in on what the hell’s going on.
April went over to the bed and sat next to the cat. She stroked it a few times before lying down next to it. She was fast asleep before the kettle even came to the boil.
II
WHEN APRIL WOKE, IT WAS light outside. Jack’s cat was asleep next to her on the bed but Jack and Jimmy weren’t there. She got out of the bed and glanced at herself in a mirror. She was a mess. She had just been through a hell of a night and it had taken its toll. There was a handwritten note on the table in the kitchen. It said the guys had gone out to get some breakfast things and would be back soon.
She looked around and wasn’t at all sure what to do with herself. Her life was in tatters. She’d fled from Walter and the rest of the partners in the arrangement and they’d used professional body guards to pursue her. Maybe they were even trying to kill her. Things had escalated drastically. She knew there was no way she could just go home. She couldn’t expect her life to continue as it had. The firm wouldn’t trust her anymore. The whole point of the arrangement was control, and Herb would feel like she was a wildcard. People like him had no use for a woman they couldn’t rely on to be absolutely obedient.
And apart from that there was the fact that Walter had been trying to kill her, or at least horribly mutilate her. She wasn’t sure what he was about to do to her but there was no way she could go home and continue living with him. He’d turned into a complete monster.
She knew there was a chance that if she approached Herb and explained everything that had happened, he might let her come back. If she said she’d been running away from Walter because she was afraid of him, but wasn’t trying to get away from the firm, he might be able to accept that. That way she could continue her life at The Oaks. More importantly, she could still get access to her children. Herb kept a close tab on her ability to contact them but he did let her talk to them, so long as she did exactly what he wanted. If she gave Herb her complete obedience she could depend on him giving her access to her children. It would always be on his terms but it would be better than nothing. If she didn’t go back it would be very difficult for her to get to her children at all, of that much she was certain. The Greenwood Academy was like a fortress that held the children for Herb. They knew that it was Herb, and not her, who had the final say regarding those children. Without Herb’s permission they wouldn’t let her anywhere near the girls.
She began to panic. The thought of Herb and Walter keeping her children from her was too much. She found it difficult to breathe and sat on a chair by the table and tried to catch her breath. How would she get out of this situation? How would she ever be able to look after her two young daughters? If she didn’t go back to Herb, what chance was there that she’d be able to play any meaningful role in their lives? She had to be there for them. And the only way she could see that happening was if she went back to Herb and begged for his forgiveness. She sat at the table till her breathing calmed.
She looked around the apartment. She hadn’t noticed how many old things were in there before. There was a record player and a stack of old jazz albums beneath it. The clock by the bed was an antique with a radio built into that was tuned with a wooden knob. The stove in the kitchen used solid fuel and could probably heat the entire apartment in winter. The place was like a retreat from the stress and worry of the world outside. She felt safe and relaxed there for the first time in a very long while.
Of all the things rushing around in April’s head, the only thing that she was certain of was that there was no way her life could go on without her children. She’d allowed them to be taken from her for long enough. That couldn’t continue, whatever else happened to her. She got up from where she was sitting and slowly walked over to the phone. It was a heavy, black, Western Electric model with a rotary dial. She began rotating the dial to the number of Walter’s office. She felt a clot of emotion welling up in her chest but she stopped herself from crying. She had to do what was right for her children. She had no choice.
She knew that she would get the receptionist at the firm. She didn’t want to speak to Walter but she was hoping she might get a hold of Herb, or perhaps Frank. She trusted them more than Walter and thought if she explained to them what had happened and why she had run away she might be able to get them to understand. She wanted to protect Jack and Jimmy too. There was no reason their lives should be endangered, or even for them to lose their jobs, simply for stepping in to assist her. She wanted Herb to take control of the situation and make sure Walter couldn’t harm her. She wanted to go back to her life at the Oaks where Carla and Midge would be waiting for her. Most of all she wanted to be able to see her daughters again. She knew she was surrendering, giving up her chance at freedom and autonomy but she didn’t have the strength to continue fighting.
As she went through the slow process of rotating the dial to each of the numbers she looked at the stack of records on the floor. There were a few John Coltrane albums and others by Herbie Hancock, Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker. She was no jazz expert but she knew what that music sounded like, how it made a person feel when they sat back and closed their eyes and listened to it. She looked at the worn books on the shelves and in piles on the floor by the bed. They were books that had been read and reread a hundred times. Their spines were cracking, their pages were leafed and worn. They weren’t for show. Someone actually sat down with them and took the time to see what secrets their pages contained. There was a little paper bag of coffee on the counter in the kitchen and a plastic spoon sticking out of it for measuring. Next to it was a butter dish and a bread board covered in crumbs and bits of crust. As she looked around the apartment she realized this was what a real life looked like. Everything didn’t have to be luxurious and perfect. There were no servants here, no Italian marble, no partners expecting full sexual access to her whenever they felt like it. This was a real life.
—KWP. Good morning? The voice on the other end of the line jolted her from her thoughts.
KWP. Kingsley, Wellington, Prentiss.
—Hello? she said uncertainly.
—How may I help you?
It was the receptionist at the firm. She was no longer certain of what she was doing. She had no idea what Herb would say to her. She had no idea if she was doing the right thing. All she knew was that no matter how much she didn’t like it, the firm had her children and she couldn’t leave them behind.
—Could I speak to Herb Kingsley, please?
—Who may I ask is calling?
—It’s April Masterson.
The tone of the receptionist’s voice changed immediately.
—Oh, April. It’s pandemonium over here this morning. What the hell happened last night?
—What do you mean?
—Security details. Drivers. The works. I shouldn’t even be saying anything. Herb isn’t here. Can I put you on with Walter?
—Oh God, no.
—Is something wrong?
April didn’t know
the receptionist’s name but she realized the receptionist knew quite well who she was. She’d probably been involved in arranging all sorts of details regarding April’s move to The Oaks.
—Something’s very wrong, she said. Just tell Herb I called. Tell him I wanted to speak to him only, not Walter.
—Alright, the receptionist said.
She sounded a little confused by the situation but she would pass on the message. April hung up. She looked out the window and saw a woman walking on the street below, holding the hand of a little girl. It almost broke her heart to see how easy it was for that woman to be with her child. She would give up all the wealth and privilege in her life just to be with her two daughters like that. Just to walk them down the street to school in the morning would be worth more to her than all the limos and spas and hotels and fancy clothes in the world.
She began dialing the number of the girls’ school.
—Greenwood Academy.
—April Masterson calling for Lucy and Mary Masterson, please.
—One moment.
She found it frustrating that the school acted like a corporation. Every time she called she was put on hold while all sorts of internal checks were made. It was like making a phone call to a prison inmate. She knew it wasn’t normal for a school to act that way. She was kept on hold for five minutes and knew they were checking the girls’ file to see if she was approved to call them.
—Mrs. Masterson, there appears to be a problem with the file.
—What are you talking about? I had this sorted out just yesterday.
—Your name’s not on the pre-approved list.
—You’re kidding me. I went through all of this already. Herb Kingsley had my name added to the list yesterday. I’m their mother.
—I understand that, Mrs. Masterson, but there’s been an amendment to the file.
—What? Who made the amendment?
—I can’t tell you that.
—What do you mean? These are my children. When was the file amended?
—It says this morning, at five twenty-one.
—Listen, please, I’m not crazy. I’m just their mother. I’m having difficulties with their father and he’s using this against me. Can you just tell me who made the amendment to the file?