by Jessie Cooke
She hailed a cab at LAX and took it to the address Vinnie Tucci had given her. The flight and the cab took most of the money she had left in her savings. If Tucci didn’t give her a loan, she might not even be able to eat for the next month or two. The address turned out to be a nightclub in North Hollywood. Tucci had told her to be there by ten. It was ten-fifteen. She hoped that he would take L.A. traffic into consideration. After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she raised her hand and knocked on the wooden door. She was about to knock again before she heard the locks being disengaged. The door was opened by a big Mexican guy in a flannel shirt and jeans. He had what looked like prison tattoos on his neck and a teardrop tatted underneath his left eye. “I’m Kat Brown, here to see Vinnie.” The big guy didn’t speak, he just stepped back to give her room to step inside. He took his time locking the door back up and raking his eyes over her body as he did. She knew she was taking a huge risk, being there alone, but it was the only way Tucci would have it.
“You armed?” he said, when he finished locking the door.
“Nope.”
He gestured at her to hold out her arms and then took his time again, this time touching her body. He pulled the papers she was carrying out of her pocket and looked through them, leafed through her wallet, and felt parts of her that most men had to buy her a drink to touch. If Kat had a knife, she might have slit his throat before he was finished. “Follow me,” he said at last when he was done molesting her. She followed him across an expansive bar and dance floor to an office in the back. He knocked and a man’s voice called out for them to “Enter.”
The Mexican man left her at the open door. Vinnie Tucci, immaculately groomed and wearing a dark and very expensive-looking suit, sat behind the oak desk. He ran his dark eyes over her almost as slowly as the Mexican had. She wanted to slit his throat too. “Miss Brown, have a seat.” Kat sat down and waited for him to speak first. “How was your flight?” She didn’t want to make small talk with this asshole, but she reminded herself why she was there and said:
“It was fine, I slept.”
“Good. How long are you in town?”
“My plane leaves at three this afternoon.”
“Quick trip.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, tell me what it is you want from me.”
“I need a loan and I’ve been told that you’re the man to come to.”
“Oh, really? Can I ask by whom?”
“I lived in L.A. for five years; you hear talk.”
“And you lived with my employee’s fat, gay brother-in-law, I hear.”
She gritted her back teeth. She hated letting him get away with talking about Gavin like that. She really wanted to hurt him. “Yes, Gavin was my roommate.”
“What is it you’re doing in Massachusetts? Not making movies, I’m guessing.”
“No. My father is very sick and I’m helping run his bar.”
“Oh, a family bar, how nice. So, what do you want this loan for? Business improvements?”
“No. My father needs a transplant and he doesn’t have insurance.”
He put his hand over his heart. He was wearing a gold ring on every finger except his thumb. Kat imagined cutting them off one by one as he said, “So sad…and what a great daughter he has.”
She shifted in her chair and with just a smidge of attitude she said, “Look, I don’t have a lot of time. Can we just get down to business?”
He cocked a busy black eyebrow at her. “I’d watch that tone if I were you. Remember, you need me, I don’t need you.”
“I’m sorry,” she lied. “I’m just a little on edge with all that’s going on.”
“Understandable. Family is everything. Where is your mother?” She was stabbing him furiously in her mind as she said:
“She’s dead, since I was seven.”
“You poor thing. Okay, well, how much money are we talking about here?”
She cleared her throat. “A couple hundred grand.”
Vinnie Tucci looked at her like he thought she was kidding and then he laughed. “I was going to ask if you were kidding but I could tell by your face that you weren’t. Honey, you’re asking a hell of a lot for our first business deal. Most people start with fifty and go up from there…after they have a proven track record. I liken it to a credit card company that increases your limit when you make your payments on time.”
“I wish that fifty thousand would cover it, but transplants are expensive.”
“Let me ask you this, where is he getting this transplant from?”
“Me.”
“Your kidney?”
“Liver.”
“So you’ll be incapacitated yourself for a while?”
“It’s a six-hour surgery, five days in the hospital, six to eight weeks back to normal activity.”
“If all goes well.”
“Yes.”
“Who will be looking after your business during this time?”
“I’m working that out.”
“So, if you aren’t able to go back to work for six to eight weeks…how is it you plan on making your first payment to me in four?”
“Four weeks? That’s the turnaround time?”
“For a loan as big as the one you’re asking for. And then there’s the collateral.”
“Collateral?”
He laughed. “Surely, you didn’t think I’d just hand over that kind of money without some kind of guarantee from you…besides your word?”
“The only think I have is the bar…and my bike.”
He smiled and practically licked his lips. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I’ve seen that bike. I was a contributor to that last film you worked on…the one with the, uh, unfortunate accident. You put a hell of a lot of money into that Harley.” Kat had spent almost every dime she made for the first three years she worked in California on modifications to her bike. She didn’t use it for any of the scenes where she had to wreck what she was driving, but she had gotten more than one movie part as an extra, riding in a motorcycle gang, thanks to the bike. The Harley was probably worth close to a hundred grand on its own.
“Yeah, I did.”
“You could sell it and make some quick cash.”
“I will, if you’re not interested in doing business with me.”
“What about the bar? How much property comes with it?”
“It sits on a four-acre lot. It’s worth about three hundred grand as is.”
“I want the title to the bike and the deed to the property. I’ll extend your first payment to eight weeks. The first missed payment doubles your interest, which is thirty cents on the dollar. The second missed payment, the bike is mine, third, the bar.”
Kat was trying to control her breathing. Her heart was racing as she laid everything she owned, and everything Dillon owned, on the desk in front of the old gangster. “The deed and the title are both there. But…I won’t miss a payment, so I’ll be wanting those back.”
He smiled like a crocodile and said, “Of course, as soon as I have my $260,000.”
Kat’s stomach rolled at the thought of what she was about to agree to, but once again she reminded herself that she didn’t have any other choices. “So, how do I go about getting the cash?”
He laughed. “I like you, Kat Brown.” She didn’t say it back. She thought he was a vile creature, more poisonous than a rattlesnake, and she felt unclean just being in his presence. By the time she walked out of the bar with the money and hailed a cab to the closest Bank of America, she felt like she’d been raped.
Kat spent the next three hours going from one bank to the next. She would have rather taken the cash back with her, but getting on a plane with it would cause more questions than the banks would ask about the fifty thousand dollar deposits she was making. The IRS would be breathing down her back by the end of the next business quarter, but that was a bridge she’d have to cross when she came to it. By the time she got on the plane, she was glad that it was a six-hour flight
. She slept the entire way again and her seat-mate had to wake her up when they landed. She was blurry-eyed and dead on her feet when she made her way to the exit at Logan International and ran into David before she got there.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the hospital with Dillon.”
“Welcome back, nice to see you too.” She sighed. She wasn’t in the mood to fight.
“I’m sorry. Nice to see you. How’s Dillon?”
“He’s fine, the same. Dax came by to see him. He said he’d stay until I got back.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.”
“So how was California?” he asked as he opened the passenger door to his car for her. She waited until he went around and got in on his side before answering him.
“It was sunny.”
“Warm?”
She couldn’t believe she’d spent a good part of the day with a loan shark and now she was talking about the weather with the man she’d fucked the night before. Her life was ridiculous. “No, but warmer than this place. Looks like we got some snow.”
“Little bit,” he said. He got quiet while he maneuvered the car through the thick traffic making its way to the Harbor Tunnel. Once they were underway he said, “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re giving Dillon part of your liver?”
She sighed. “I’m going to sue that hospital for giving out my private medical information.”
He chuckled. “I heard the nurse talking to Dillon about his transplant and I acted like I knew what was going on, so she confirmed it. It wasn’t that far of a stretch to figure out who the donor was.”
“May be,” she corrected him. “They haven’t confirmed I’m a match.”
“Well, maybe I should let the doctor tell you this, but that’s what the nurse was telling Dillon…that his donor was a match. Dillon doesn’t know it’s you though, does he?”
“Nope. I didn’t see any reason to get his hopes up.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t see any reason to share my personal business with you.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Jesus, David, what do you expect? You act like because we had sex and I told you the truth about what happened all those years ago, we’re supposed to just go back and pick up where we left off. There’s a lot of water under that bridge.”
“I don’t expect anything from you, Kat. I just want to be here for you and I’d like to be your friend. Beyond that, no pressure. Can we start there, please?”
“Fine, but that means you have to stop saying you love me.”
“Okay, but I do.”
“David!”
“Fine, I won’t say it. So, when is your surgery?”
“I don’t know yet. There are still some tests they need to run and I have to figure out the bar.”
“Dax already seems to have that handled.”
“What do you mean?”
David shrugged as he pulled off the exit toward Dorchester. “I heard him talking on the phone to one of his prospects about opening it up. I thought you talked to him about it.”
“No…” Kat didn’t know if she was annoyed with Dax or happy that it was one less thing she had to worry about. She decided to go with the latter. “But I guess I appreciate it. I wonder how they got in.”
David smiled. “You’ve met Dax and the rest of the Skulls, right?”
Kat smiled too. “Yeah, dumb question, I guess.” She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. David didn’t bother her until they were in Dorchester and almost to the hospital. As he was turning onto the street that would take them to the parking garage he said:
“Is it dangerous, the operation you’re having?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. She could see real concern on his face. No one had been concerned for her, for so long, that she wasn’t sure how to react to it. “No,” she told him. “Minor surgery,” she lied. The doctor had told her that they’d have to take 40% of her liver, and making sure they cut it perfectly to line up the blood vessels with Dillon’s liver would require a large cut in her abdomen. She’d lied to Vinnie Tucci too. The doctor had told her it would be twelve weeks at least before she could return to “normal” activity. But it was her business and no matter what anyone said, she had already made up her mind about it.
David parked the car and then turned to her and said, “Can I help you, after you have surgery?”
“We’ll see,” she said, getting out of the car. The idea of David fawning over her for weeks was both thrilling and depressing at the same time. He was moving too fast for her. She’d barely gotten used to the idea of being around him again. She wasn’t sure she was ready for more than sex and conversations about the weather.
31
Kat checked in on Dillon but since it was so late and he was sleeping, she agreed to go home with David and get something to eat and a good night’s rest. She was scheduled for more tests in the morning and she didn’t want to end up passed out on the floor because she was too exhausted or hungry again. On the drive to his apartment, David tried asking her more questions about her trip to California. Kat could have made up a story about work or her apartment or her roommate…but, despite what most people thought of her, she hated to lie. Instead she’d just told him it was “personal” and none of his business and he finally let it go.
As soon as they walked through the door of his apartment, his phone rang. It was late and Kat found herself wondering if it was a woman. The look on his face when he looked at the caller I.D. wasn’t a happy one. “There’s take-out chicken on the kitchen counter. You can heat it in the microwave. I’m sorry, I have to take this, it’s work,” he said.
“Sure.” Kat went into the kitchen, but she could still hear him on the phone in the other room of the small apartment.
“Hey, Sarge, this is Brady. You know I’m on a few days’ leave, right?” He paused to listen to what was being said on the other end and then he said, “Munroe? I don’t think I’ve ever talked to him. Did he say why he’s calling so late?” He listened again and Kat kept her body pressed into the wall near the door, listening as well. “He’s in Boston? Okay, give me his number and I’ll call him. Thanks.” He was quiet for a few seconds. Kat was putting the chicken and side dishes on two paper plates that she’d found on top of his refrigerator. She carried them over to the microwave and that was when she heard him say, “Detective Munroe, this is David Brady.” He was quiet then for a long time. She heated up the food and carried it out to the living room. David still had the phone pressed to his ear and he looked very interested in what whoever was on the other end was staying. Kat set his food on the coffee table in front of him and sat down with hers in his recliner. She was more interested in his conversation suddenly than she was in the food. David listened for a long time to whoever was on the other end and then finally said, “There’s a Starbucks next to City Hall, I’ll meet you there at eight.” As soon as he ended the call she said:
“Was that about my mother?”
“Maybe. That was a detective from New Orleans. He’s in Boston and he wants to talk to me. He said that he got my name and number from Detective Botts.” Botts was the detective that had handled her mother’s case. He had since retired, but Kat knew David had been in touch with him over the years. The old detective hadn’t been happy when the case went cold, and he had told David once that it almost killed him to retire and leave it open.
“Have they found something new?”
“I don’t know. He’s a cold case detective, so he might just be following up on loose ends.”
“Then why would he be calling you instead of Dillon, or me?”
“I don’t know,” he said again, offering her a small smile. “But after I talk to him I promise I’ll let you know exactly what he says, okay?” She nodded. If not for her appointment with the transplant surgeon at nine the next morning, she’d go with him. Her mental wheels were already turning as she tried to figure out if she could reschedule it. “He
y,” David said, drawing her back in. “Try to eat something and don’t worry about it tonight, okay?”
She nodded again, but it was easier said than done. Her appetite was all but gone and once she was in the shower, her mind was transported back in time. She was too young to completely understand what happened to her mother when it first happened, but she knew it was bad. She knew the police were accusing her father of doing something, but at seven, eight, even nine years old, when they were still knocking on the door and asking old questions, she refused to believe Dillon would ever hurt her mother. She was about eleven when she watched a show on television that set a lot of things into motion. It was one of those true crime stories about a woman that ended up dead and the man who supposedly loved her being arrested for her murder. As Kat watched the program, questions began to emerge in her young mind about her mother and father. She’d asked most of them at one time or another but Dillon never seemed to give her a straight answer. Something about that program prompted her decision to do her own research. She pulled out Dillon’s laptop that night while he was at work and Googled her mother’s name. She got hundreds of hits, mostly news reports about the murder. She realized as she read through them that Dillon had never told her exactly how her mother had died. The news reports said she was strangled and the trachea was crushed. Kat’s stomach was sick over that and she had to stop reading after a while. The next day she was back to it, though, reading up on the “evidence” that led the detectives back to Dillon. The staff at the hotel where her mother worked reported that she went there that night, arriving around three a.m. and seeming upset. The article said that her mother “kept” a room there. Why would she do that? As she read on, Kat realized that the articles were insinuating that her mother was having an affair. The cops’ theory was that Dillon found out about it, followed her there that night, and strangled her.