“What do you want me to do? I look like a circus sideshow attraction.”
“Maybe you just need a little help.”
“What do you mean?”
“A little Chinese medicine, something to help the body relax.”
“I don’t like to take anything, you know that.”
“Now, we’ve talked about this.”
“Let me sleep on it. Maybe all I need is a good night’s rest.”
“Maybe. I’m still going out for a walk. I still need to think about the money and where it came from.”
“Do you want company?
“Sure, okay, what do I ever do without you?”
“Pee.”
“That’s about the only boundary you respect.”
“Let’s face it, brother of mine: we’re close.”
Ten: Dirty Work
Shawn Riley was not a lucky man. There was the whole soccer thing gone bad, the steroid abuse, the heroin addiction, expulsion from school, falling in with the wrong element in order to feed the monkey on his back, and so on and so forth. He was like the Antichrist; storm clouds would gather on the sunniest day as soon as he stepped outside. Open freeways would grind to a halt the moment he put his key in the ignition. It had taken him two and half hours for a one-hour ride out to Shinnecock Bay and the section of the cove he knew was always deserted. Lightning crackled as he dragged Vincent’s body out of the trunk. The spade handle broke when the grave was just a foot deep, and he had to dig the rest on his knees with his hands choked up around the spade. Six feet never felt so deep.
He shot dope shortly after getting there to take away the nausea. He put his head back against the sandy mound that was growing next to the grave and passed out. He woke up when his cell phone rang. It began to pour.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“Hey, World Cup, how’s it going?” Cooper asked.
“That’s not funny. You know how much that hurts me.”
“Sorry. Uh, how’s it going?”
“I’m living the dream, man, how do you think it’s going? I’m out here in the pitch black, digging a grave in the pouring rain. Life’s a bowl of cherries.”
“You have to make sure that body is never found. Don’t do a half-ass job and bury him where someone’s dog will find the body.”
“Don’t you worry about the body being found—you just take care of your end.”
“I’ve already scored your junk. I’ll meet you in the morning.”
“Early!”
“What’s the rush? I gave you enough for a week.”
Shawn laughed. “It was a short week, man, what can I tell you?”
“All right, I’ll meet you in the parking lot outside Best Buy at 9:00 a.m.”
“Best Buy, which one?”
“Bayshore, off Sunrise Highway; you know where it is. You take care of the other thing?”
Shawn paused. His brain was still dull from the recent heroin spike, and he needed time to string his thoughts together. “No good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I couldn’t follow her.”
“What happened? Did you lose her in a high-speed chase?” Cooper said sarcastically. “I mean how hard is it to follow a pretty little girl in a BMW?”
“Look, I waited for her outside the Legal Aid office just like you said. I was there almost two hours when she finally came out and went straight into the bathroom.”
“So she had to take a leak; so what?”
“Listen, ballbuster, she never came out. I waited almost fifteen minutes and nothing. I finally knocked on the door and went in. You should’ve seen some of the looks the women gave me in there. You would’ve thought I was some kind of child molester.”
“And?”
“And nothing, she wasn’t in there.”
“C’mon, man, that doesn’t make sense. Were you wasted or something? You didn’t pass out waiting for her, did you? You sure she didn’t slip out while you were in Never Never Land?”
“No, I didn’t pass out. If it wasn’t for the fact that we were on the third floor, I would’ve checked to make sure she didn’t go out the bathroom window.”
“So where did she go?”
“I’m telling you, asshole, the girl went in and she never came out. I don’t know what else to tell you. You want to give it a rest? Maybe you want to get your lazy ass down here and help me dig this hole in the pouring rain—how about that?”
“Just dig that grave deep enough so that the body’s never found, or tomorrow I’ll be a no-show and you can find someone else to score your dope.”
“Hey, don’t you pull that shit with me, Cooper.”
“Just dig the grave, asshole.”
“Eat me.”
“Just dig the goddamn grave!”
Eleven: This is a Surprise
Ax had cleared out of the house before I woke up. As usual, he did not leave a note. He was probably at the dojo training or instructing. He lived and breathed the martial arts. He never filled me in on his schedule, so I rarely knew where he was. All I knew was that he was always there for me when I needed him; the rest of the time was a mystery. He never volunteered and I never questioned him. Our arrangement had always worked out well.
Nine hours of sleep did not do the trick. My left and right eyes were still strangers: the right eye, the one I knew and loved, and the left eye, Allie’s eye, the hazel one, the one I didn’t want. I stared at the mirror and focused on my blue eye. I tried to make the hazel one match it, but it didn’t happen. My powers were still intact. I made my left ear smaller and my nose wider. I was able to reverse the changes at will, but that one lousy hazel eye had settled in for the duration. I made my jaw square like a man’s and changed it back. I changed my hair color from auburn to blonde and then back again, so I knew that I had control over pigmentation. I tried to work on my left eye again, nothing.
It was a good thing I loved my new shades so much. I threw them on before I ventured outdoors and was determined not to take them off for any reason.
Anyway, with the discrepant eyeballs and all, I really needed something to cheer me up; you know, buy yourself a little bauble to help wash away the blues. What the hell, I reasoned, let’s put a deposit down on a new BMW. Now if any of you can shoot a hole in logic like that, speak now or forever hold . . . didn’t think so. Game on with Plan A.
Gabi met me just after eleven, which I figured was a good time for a member of the nouveau riche to be picked up. The agenda was BMW shopping and then I would treat Gabi to a chic meal. Gabi and I didn’t get the opportunity to eat in many swanky restaurants, so I figured it would be a thrill. By the way, Gabi didn’t know about any of this, not about the new infusion of cash or my plans for the day. As far as she knew, we were just hanging out.
Gabi was smartly attired in her warm-weather best, which consisted of jeans and a loose fitting top. She did a spin to show off her outfit. “What do you think?”
“Totally fashionable. You’re the quintessence of Suffolk County couture.”
“Girlfriend, I’m digging the new shades. Tar-zhay?”
“No,” I said pretending to have been offended. I answered in my best gansta voice. “These ain’t no Target Store bargains, these be Bollé.”
“Get out, really? They knockoffs?”
“No, they ain’t knockoffs.”
“Where’d you score those?”
“At the mall, sista. Used my debit card and everything.”
“You hit the lottery and not tell me?”
“Small windfall. Hey, you want to do something crazy? Let’s go car shopping. I totally want to check out a convertible BMW.” I pushed up my boobs. “I didn’t wear the Wonder Bra for nothing. Let’s have some fun.”
“Girl, have you lost your mind? French sunglasses and German sports cars: what’s going on here?”
“I can’t tell you; just go with it okay? And I’m thinking about hitting Pace’s for lunch.”
“I can’t afford
that place.”
“I got it, I got it. No worries, your BFF be picking up the tab today, no worries, my sista.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am so sure. Let’s just have some fun for once. We’re either working or studying all the time—I just want to feel like a rich girl for one day.”
Gabi smiled this full-moon smile; I mean it stretched ear to ear. “Okay, I can dig it. Where are we heading, the BMW dealer over in Smithtown?”
“Absolutely. There’s a hot little Space Gray 128 convertible I’ve been drooling over. Let’s drop the top and take it for a spin.”
“You think they’ll let us take a BMW for a drive? I mean we’re driving up to the dealer’s front door in a smart car. It doesn’t exactly scream discretionary income”
“Really, you don’t think two Suffolk County girls pulling up in a red Cozy Coupe is going to give the car salesman a woody?”
“Nah-ah!”
“Bitch, I got the fancy sunglasses, the knockoff Prada bag, and my outlet center Seven Jeans. I got cleavage, pumps, and a willing smile—ain’t no way they’re gonna turn us away.”
“I love it when you scheme like that.”
“A sick mind is a terrible thing to waste,” I giggled and settled back in my seat. Gabi put the smart car in gear, and we rolled away from the curb. “I just need to blow off a little steam. Been a rough couple days.” I sighed. “At least the criminal case is over.”
Gabi mashed the brakes. The car screeched to a stop, and her head spun around as if it was mounted on ball bearings. “What! So fast? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”
“We settled.”
“You settled? You let him off? How could you? He needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Look, don’t judge, okay? The bartender never got it out of his pants. He spent a couple of nights in jail, and that’s all I wanted. I’m sure I scared the crap out of him.”
“I have to tell you, I’m still unclear about why you went out with him in the first place.”
“I told you, Gabi, I thought he was cute.”
“He was totally flirting with you at the bar.”
“I know, I know, I’ll have to pick out my next date more carefully, and I will, but for now can we just have a little fun?” Gabi had no idea that Cooper’s attempted rape was not against me but against Allie, the woman that I had copied. She knew nothing of the fact that Ax and I had framed Keith Cooper to teach him a lesson he would never forget. We had hoped that the arrest and a few nights in jail would keep him from ever slipping drugs into another girl’s drink again. Gabi didn’t know that Keith had drugged me. This was justice as Ax and I had chosen to administer it.
“So you say you settled? How much?”
“Enough for an all-day shopping spree and a fancy new ride.”
“You’re serious?”
“Ever so.”
“I don’t know, it may take me a little time to get my arms around this. I mean—”
“No problem, but can we go look at cars and grab lunch while you’re weighing in on world peace and global climate change? I made a decision. I’m good with it, and I want to move on.” I gave Gabi a needy look. “And I’m counting on you to be there for me.” I poked her playfully in the side. She laughed in spite of herself and put her foot back on the gas, glancing at me furtively as the car accelerated. It wasn’t her happiest face, and I knew that I had violated an ethical code that all women shared. The bottom line is that I had been the judge and jury in the case against Keith Cooper. I had set the stage, put him on trial, and decided the outcome.
I reached over and hit the radio button. WBAB was playing “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” Twisted Sister’s rebellious anthem. Dee Snider, the lead singer was a Long Island boy, and the regional radio station played the group’s marquee song about eight hundred times a day. I looked over and Gabi was still cutting me down with a disappointed glance. I accompanied Snider in my most rambunctious singing voice ever, but Gabi did not look any happier.
“Do you hear what they’re singing? ‘We’re not gonna take it!’” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I folded. Look, do you want to stop somewhere and smoke a joint because you coming down on me like this is not exactly a mood-enhancing experience.”
“Sound judgment: rock a joint and take an expensive sports car out for whirl. And the hits just keep on coming.”
“Holy crap, Gabi. Look, I’m not the criminal.” I was getting choked up. “For God’s sake, would you give me a break?”
“I’m just so surprised, Lexa.”
I turned my focus toward my toes and noticed that my ruby-red nail polish was starting to wear away at the tips. “Look, Gabrielle, I’m sensing a lot of tension, and I really don’t need any right now. I’m not saying that you’re not entitled to your opinion, but there’s a time and a place, and this isn’t the time and the place for me. So, maybe we should call it a day.”
Though I hadn’t intended it, my suggestion seemed to hit Gabi very hard. I saw the expression on her face turn from accusatory to one of sadness. We drove for a few minutes in absolute silence before turning off a residential street onto the multilane mayhem of Nesconset Highway. Although I never verbalized it, I knew that on some level Gabi had an issue with her self-esteem and needed the company of a “popular” girl. Damaging my best friend was the last thing I wanted to do. “What do you say we blow off the current agenda and cruise out to Port Jeff? Let’s hit the Steam Room for a bucket of fried clams and some cold beer?”
Gabi’s smile returned, not because she loved the idea of guzzling a cold one and wolfing down mounds of fried shellfish, but because I had reached out with the proverbial olive branch. I may not be the wisest of souls, but I have the ability to know what’s needed and to offer it when it will do the most good. Gabi hung a U-ey at Browns Road, and we headed northeast toward the Suffolk coast and a rendezvous with heartburn. In due course, our conversation returned, and we were both careful to avoid the sore subject, the one that had preempted an afternoon of hoity-toity car shopping and fine dining.
After a couple of beers, Gabi managed another smile, but the pall had been cast and would not lift that afternoon. I knew in my heart of hearts that Gabi would dwell on this for a long time. The mood was gloomy, though the sun burned strongly in the sky. We hung out at the pier and watched the ferry load and embark for Connecticut.
It was late in the afternoon before we headed back home. Conversation was still not flowing easily. This time, it was Gabi who needed a break from the silence. She reached for the radio knob, and Dee Snider’s voice once again emanated from the smart car’s tinny speakers.
Twelve: Guilt is a Son of a Bitch
Hemingway once said, “All things truly wicked start from innocence,” which was just the way I was feeling. What had begun as a simple girls’ night out had now evolved into something truly vile. I was thinking about the night when Gabi and I had gone out dancing—just two close friends out to blow off a little steam after a tough week of summer session. We had been laughing and dancing and for once didn’t have a care in the world when Vincent’s drugs found their way into my margarita. Vincent was dead. Keith Cooper, the instrument of Vincent’s wicked plot, had made a visit to prison, and now I was sitting with fifty thousand dollars of blood money—money that had been extorted, money I had no right to. Guilt is a son of a bitch.
The gifts Ax and I possessed, the way we handled our day to day business—no one else in the world would manage their lives the way we did. We never did anything in a conventional way, and I doubt any two other people thought about life the same way that we did. Ax and I could copy almost anyone, and because we could, there were options available to us that were unavailable to anyone else, and so we thought in this way and lived in this way. Our solution to everything was to transform into someone else. Subterfuge is a sinister-sounding word, but it was the name of our game; though we never started out planning to hurt anyone, sometimes peopl
e got hurt, and now for the first time, a life had been destroyed. Yes, an unworthy life perhaps, but a life nonetheless.
I had alienated Gabi, my sister in all things; and now I was feeling very much alone. Ax was my other half and was always there for me when things went badly, but he was always so dark and aloof. I never knew where he was or what he was up to. Gabi had always been my emotional rock, and now . . .
It was time for life as usual: work and then school followed by more work and more school. But at the end of this week, there would be no dancing at the Suds Shack and no sisterly chat with my BFF. My life had really taken a nasty turn. Fifty thousand bucks. It was true what they said, “Money doesn’t buy happiness.”
I normally worked straight from eight until two, and then wolfed down some chow as I drove to campus.
Hester Moffet, DDS, my boss and fine human being, had been thirty minutes into a root canal—which, for a dental assistant, was the most boring thing in the world. It was slow, precision work, and all I could do to help had been to suction the patient’s saliva that would have otherwise run over her lip and down her chin. It was a pretty chin that came to a delicate point. I focused on it and thought that one day I would use it as some part of a face amalgam. Pardon the play on words, but I needed some form of escape in order to cope whenever boredom was at the max. This had been one of those times. I amused myself by picturing this woman’s chin as part of an artistic challenge, pairing it with someone else’s nose and yet someone else’s ears and hair. The combination I was envisioning wasn’t coming out very well. It looked something like Picasso’s Guernica, a juxtaposition of unrelated facial features that struck me as comical. I giggled inwardly before I wiped the vision from my silly little head.
“Suction, please,” Moffet said. He had been cleaning one of the tooth canals for at least fifteen minutes. God only knew where he found the patience. He glanced up at me. “That’s good.”
I was still dealing with Allie’s one creepy hazel eye. I couldn’t wear sunglasses in the office and had been avoiding direct eye contact with Moffet all morning. The patient moaned. “Did you feel that?” Moffet asked. The patient nodded. “Lexa, can I have a fresh syringe of lidocaine, please?”
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