by Lara Reznik
We stopped at Bodine to retrieve Katie’s Saab from the parking lot and drove it the three blocks to Main Street. Joey struggled to climb the stairs on his crutches.
When we entered the apartment, Chris and Ben seemed friendly enough. Ben patted him on the back. “We’re willing to let bygones be bygones.”
“There ain’t no bygones,” Joey said. “I didn’t do nothing wrong. Your friend Angel forced me to take that suitcase to Taos. I didn’t steal it.”
Ben rolled his eyes at Chris.
“It’s true,” I said. “Angel’s friend Paulie put a gun to his head.”
Chris placed his hands over his ears. “We’ve heard enough.”
Joey nodded. “Fine by me.”
“Let’s forget about it and get stoned,” Ben said. He pulled out the bong and handed it to Chris. “Ivy left some rice and veggies in the kitchen if anyone’s hungry.”
“Where is Ivy?” I asked. I certainly didn’t miss having her around.
“Her grannie died,” Chris said. “She went upstate to attend the funeral.”
We all sat on the floor in a circle and they passed the pipe around. The pungent odor smelled more like garlic and oregano than weed. The water in the pipe gurgled each time someone took a hit. When the pipe came to me, I held up my palm. “I need to pick my friend Katie up at Bradley International airport. Better not get shit-faced.”
Chris placed one hand on each of my cheeks and pressed his forehead against mine. “Take a hit. This shit is amazing.”
“I’ll try some when I return.” I grabbed my peacoat.
Chris gave me a peck on the lips while I glanced at Ben on the couch. Denise and Joey looked glassy-eyed. They waved at me as I headed to the door.
KATIE’S PLANE WAS OVER an hour late. She finally sauntered down the escalator to baggage claim dressed in a baby-blue pants suit. I’d never seen her wear something so 1950s conservative. As she got closer, I noticed dark circles under her eyes.
She waved at me and yawned. “I’ve barely slept since I left Bridgeport.” She pulled at the lapel of her jacket. “Don’t make fun. Mother made me wear this thing to the brunch this morning.”
We stood watching the bags go around on the carousel until a black garment bag shot out. She grabbed it along with a small black valise. “Her wedding was so straight. White dress, veil, bridesmaids in ugly pink chiffon dresses.”
“I’ll never have a wedding like that,” I said.
Katie clenched her teeth. “I’m never getting married. Why bother when you can just live together.”
“Never say never,” I said. “What about when you have kids?”
“Who needs them? The population of the world is already exploding.”
She asked me to drive since she was so exhausted. I assumed I’d drop her back at Bodine Hall. But when we reached Bridgeport, she insisted on going to see Ben.
“Did he say anything about me? You did see him, right?” she asked.
“Well, yes. I brought Joey and Denise over there.” Ben hadn’t said a word about Katie. Best to keep that to myself.
Her eyes lit up. “Wow. Then it’s a party, right? No reason for us not to stop by.”
When we pulled up to the family house on Main Street, I saw a Harley zoom off. A cloud of smoke flew across the Saab’s windshield. Was that Doc? Too bad he didn’t stop to say hello. He was the only one in the family that made me feel welcomed and valued.
“Laila,” Katie began, “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go to Bodine and change out of this ugly outfit first. You go inside. Tell them I’ll be over soon.”
I looked at the clock on the dash. “It’s 12:30 already. Why not just wait until tomorrow?”
“Put the car in park and get out. I’ll see you in like fifteen minutes.”
I stepped out of the car and Katie slid into the driver’s seat. She sped off in the direction of the dormitory in search of a sexy outfit to seduce Ben with.
When I entered the apartment, I found Chris sitting alone on the couch rolling a joint. His lip was bleeding and there were purple bruises on his face. His hands shook so badly that flakes of weed were spilling all over the coffee table. He looked at me with crazy eyes. Something was very wrong.
“Chris, my God, what happened?”
“Get the hell outta here, Laila.”
“I don’t understand. Katie’s on her way.”
He dropped the half-rolled joint. “Don’t let her come,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Something terrible happened while you were gone.”
I heard muffled voices in the attic. A girl crying.
“Who’s up there?”
He spread his hands over his face. “It happened so fast.”
I looked around the room. “What are you talking about? Where are Joey and Denise?”
A pitiful wailing sound now resonated from the attic. I raced up the steps and found Denise moaning on the bed. She sat cross-legged holding her knees. Why was she only wearing a bra and panties?
I sat down next to her. She peered at me with vacant eyes.
“Denise, are you okay?”
She acted like I wasn’t there.
I yelled, “Denise,” then shook her shoulders.
Still no response.
Vapor seeped into the room. I could barely breathe. Ben stood at the broken window staring outside. A gust of wind blew papers, clothing, toiletries off the shelves into the air.
“Ben. Can you tell me what’s going on?” I said.
He turned to me. His Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed. His eyes were watery.
I stepped next to him and looked out the broken window. A couple dozen stars and the eye of a yellow moon pierced light through the sky filled with smog. I followed his gaze to the view on the ground below us.
Crumpled in the weeds was a lifeless body with wild eyes, a bushy mustache, and sweet smile. I stared at the body until I recognized the half-hidden face, visible from the left side.
Down below us was Joey.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
A Woman Scorned
Austin, Texas, 2012
The news of getting fired has barely sunk in when Eduardo’s name flashes on my iPhone. I slide the ANSWER key but an obstruction in the channel of iPhone technology prevents me from speaking with my husband. Not only is Ed not on the other end, but I make three calls to his Blackberry and get no response. Did he call to tell me our marriage is over?
After hours of mindlessly channel surfing through hundreds of shows on TV, I head to bed. Even with the help of a Xanax, I can’t escape into the solace of sleep. I lay awake thinking about how much I love Eduardo. If only he would come home to me. I reflect on all the missed opportunities of our marriage. Had I really been there for him when he lost his job? Taken the time to understand how devastating that was for him? The reality check of my losing my job seems so secondary to everything else. Finally at 2:04 a.m. I take another Xanax.
The next morning doorbell chimes awaken me. Pulsating temples remind me of a college hangover although I’ve had nothing to drink, not even my usual glass of Sauvignon Blanc before retiring last night. Then I remember the Xanax.
The clock says 7:10 a.m. Who’s at the door this early? I throw on a robe and head to the deck where I can view the front porch below. A muscular man in navy shorts and a matching shirt is standing there with an envelope in his hand. A FedEx truck idles in the cul-de-sac.
I trot downstairs and sign for the delivery, then tear open the envelope. It’s addressed from the U.S. District Attorney’s office, Austin, TX. A bunch of legalese later, I assess it’s a subpoena for me to appear for a statement related to Joey Costello’s 1970 missing person’s case.
I’ve never been involved in a legal proceeding in my life, and now two in one week. If this one goes as poorly as the last, I’ll be behind bars in no time. I grab my iPhone and start to call Katie to see if she received one too, but change my mind when I realize it’s only 5:00 a.m. in L.A.
Just then my p
hone rings and EDUARDO flashes on the screen.
“I’m back in Austin, honey,” he says casually as if returning from a trip to Disneyland.
“When did you get here?”
“Last night. I called you right before I boarded a flight in Albuquerque,” he says. “You flew?” That explains why he didn’t answer my three calls. “Why not drive back with Ms. Bonita?”
“It’s a long story. Do you mind if I come up to the house?”
Would I mind winning two hundred million dollars in the Texas lottery? “Of course not.”
“Are you leaving for work?”
“No worries about that. I got fired yesterday,” I say.
“Steve told me what happened at mediation, although he didn’t mention you got canned. Said you gave a good deposition.”
I snort. “Yeah, the one that got me riffed. I received the e-mail shortly after the meeting.”
“How ya holding up?”
I press my temples. “I’ve had better days.”
“I’m proud of you, Laila.”
“You are?”
“You told the truth. That’s what counts,” he says.
“Did Steve tell you it was all for naught. That Darlene capitulated to her ridiculous fantasy of her and Bob E. getting together in the future?”
“He did. It was still the right thing to do.”
“I need that job,” I say.
“We’ll manage, I promise.”
I gulp, “We will? I wasn’t sure there was a we.”
“I’ll be home in an hour. We’ll talk about it then.”
MY HEART SKIPS A FEW BEATS when my handsome husband ascends the stairs to the living room. He wraps his arms around me and we kiss like two teenagers. When was the last time we smooched like that?
“What happened with Juanita?” I ask.
“The night after her mother’s funeral she stayed at Mama’s place. Let’s just say she got very drunk and—”
“And what?”
“Somewhat flirtatious.”
I force a smile. “I’m sure you hated that.”
He grabs my wrist. “Truthfully, I found it a turnoff. Especially when she said something about wanting a view of a lake.”
I laugh. “She’s pinning her hopes I’ll go to prison so she can move in here with you. I tried to tell you the day I found her in the house.”
He lowers his eyes. “I was so mad at you for lying about your past, I didn’t hear you.”
“But you hear me now. That’s all that counts.”
“Juanita’s driving back for the inquiry. Have you been served yet?”
I hand him the paperwork. “Is she going to stay in Austin?”
“I have no idea what her plans are when that’s done. Her FBI friend thinks he has enough evidence for a grand jury to reopen the case,” Ed says.
“Those people will perjure themselves to get off the hook,” I say.
Ed shakes his head. “Steve will be there for you. He feels terrible about what happened at LBJ. And of course, I’ll be there too.”
“Then nothing else matters,” I say.
Once again we kiss. And then we spend the rest of the day in our bedroom.
THAT NIGHT I SLEEP like a baby for the first time in months. When I awake, there’s a cappuccino waiting on the nightstand. The aroma of pancakes and eggs drifts in from the kitchen. I change into a pair of sweats and join Ed who is turning his famous raspberry-cornbread pancakes in the frying pan. The newspaper sits on the kitchen table.
“Ready for a pancake?”
“Do you have to ask?” I squeeze his arm, take a seat at the table, and pull the Austin American Statesman from its plastic wrap.
LBJ CEO, BOB ENGLEWOOD, RESIGNS AFTER SEX SCANDAL
I turn on the TV and click the remote to the local news channel. “In a surprising turn of events,” says the local newscaster, “LBJ head turns his resignation into the board. We go live now with Jennifer Simms in Westlake.”
A crowd of journalists with long camera lenses, iPads, and smart phones are perched on the lawn of an elegant home with walls of glass.
The camera zooms in on a cute blonde reporter holding a microphone. “I’m standing in front of the home of Bob Englewood, CEO of one of the largest electric co-ops in central Texas. According to the Austin American Statesman, his wife, Trudy, has made a statement claiming her husband confessed he’d been having an affair with Corporate Vice President, Darlene McIntire. She believes her husband is now involved sexually with board member, Ivy Foreman. Mrs. Englewood will be giving an exclusive interview in the next few days. There’s talk it may be with Stone Phillips on Dateline.”
The story breaks back to the newsroom studio where the announcer clears his throat. “KVUE has just received news that Ivy Foreman, wife to U.S. Congressman Ted Foreman, of the Williamson County, has just resigned from LBJ’s board of directors. Mrs. Foreman adamantly denies having a sexual relationship with former LBJ CEO, Bob Englewood, but says she believes it’s in the best interest of LBJ to step down at this time.”
My iPhone rings as I’m clearing the breakfast dishes. LBJ flashes on my LCD.
I click it on. “Hello, Laila, this is Victor.”
“Guess you’ve seen the news,” I say.
“Everyone around here thinks Englewood got what he deserves. They’re bringing back John Bell temporarily while they search for a new CEO,” Victor says.
I shake my head. “Karma is certainly the law of consequence and action.”
“Speaking of karma, Laila, I still haven’t filled your old position. Now that Bob E. is gone, would you like your old job back?”
“Can I start tomorrow?”
CHAPTER FORTY
Out The Window
Bridgeport, Connecticut, 1970
The nightmare engulfed us. Ben wrapped his arms around me. Denise retreated into a bizarre catatonic state perched on the bed, still dressed in only her under garments. The attic where I’d lost my virginity to Ben, slept countless nights with Chris, spun around like a merry-go-round out of control.
Chris stumbled back into the room and craned his head out the window. “We gotta do something, man.”
Reality set in. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
Ben gulped, “I-I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“But we have to,” I said. “I mean, what else—?”
“He’s dead.” Chris said.
My eyes welled up with tears. “How can you be sure?”
“Doc checked him out. There’s nothing we can do for him now,” Ben added.
The room blurred. Voices amplified. Joey was DEAD. He’d been cracking jokes just a few hours ago. I screamed, “What happened?”
Chris looked at Ben with a pinched expression. He took my hand. “Calm down, Laila.”
I pulled my hand away. “Would one of you tell me, please?” My voice quivered.
Ben let out his breath. “He… he leaped out the window. I warned him about that PCP.”
I squinted. “What PCP?”
“We were smoking the shit before you left.” Ben said. “Didn’t you notice the weird odor?”
I recalled whatever they were smoking smelled more like Italian herbs than weed. I started to cry. “We’ve got to call the police or somebody.”
Ben pointed at Denise. “Look at your friend over there.”
She remained seated on the bed like a zombie. Her dilated pupils covered the blue iris of her eyes.
“We should get her to a hospital.” I said.
Chris put his arm around my shoulder. “Doc says she’s okay. If you take her to the hospital, they’ll put her in the psycho ward.”
I ran my fingers threw my hair. “I-I don’t know.”
“Trust me,” Ben said. “Doc gave her a Seconal. It should kick in any minute and she’ll sleep it off.”
Chris lifted my chin with his hand. “Remember how Doc took care of me when I OD’ed on the Windowpane? He knows more about hallucinogenic drugs than a
ny of the physicians in the ER.”
Ben glanced back out the window. “We need to get rid of him.”
I couldn’t fathom what he meant by ‘get rid.’ “What are you talking about?”
Our conversation was interrupted by a voice below. “Hello. The door was unlocked so I just came in.”
“It’s Katie,” I said.
“Where’s the party?” she yelled.
Before anyone could stop her, she’d sprinted up the stairs and landed in the attic with a big grin on her face. “What you guys doing up here?” Her expression immediately turned dour as she checked out Denise on the bed in her underwear. She gazed over at the three of us huddled in the corner. “What the fuck?” Her eyes rotated to the shattered glass and she headed to the window and viewed the scene below. “Oh, Jesus!”
“He got too fucked up and jumped out,” Ben said.
Katie stood still as stone.
Ben said that Joey was confirmed dead. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.”
Katie pulled at a loose strand of hair and asked the same questions I had about calling the police or an ambulance.
Chris glared at her. “Do you want to go to jail?”
She pressed her palm against her forehead. “Why would that happen?”
Ben winced. “There are drugs in the house. Your friend Denise over there is fucked up. If we call the authorities, there’ll be lots of questions.”
“You’re now an accomplice,” Chris said.
An accomplice to what? The reality sunk in that transporting that suitcase of marijuana back from New Mexico made me an official part of the family operation. Katie should leave the house before she got sucked in, too. “Go back to Bodine,” I said. “Forget you ever were here.”
Chris shot a piercing look at Ben, who cleared his throat. “We’re all in this now. There’s no going back. The best thing for all of us is to get rid of the poor schlub.”
Katie’s nostrils flared. “What about his family? His parents?”
“He’s dead. What difference does it make in the scheme of things if we bury him ourselves?” Chris said.