ONE SMALL VICTORY

by Maryann Miller

For a moment Jenny sat mute, crushed by Scott’s words. Was he serious? He’d just up and leave? She felt a wrench deep inside, almost as if he was already gone. But that couldn’t happen. She couldn’t lose Scott, too.

  And on a very practical level she couldn’t risk more trouble with Ralph. “When did he say that?” she asked.

  “The last time I told him how weird you’ve been acting.”

  Jenny took a deep breath. “And how many times exactly have you called him?”

  Scott shrugged, and she touched him on the knee. “Have you thought this through? Or are you just reacting?”

  He didn’t respond, so she continued. “Could you just wait. A week, maybe two?”

  “Is that going to make a difference?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Scott laughed, a harsh sound that was anything but pleasant. ”You’ve been fucking up our lives for months and it’s all going to be okay next week?”

  Resisting another urge to slap him, Jenny fought for control. “Don’t talk to me that way.”

  “Or what? You going to send me to my room?” His eyes were cold and hard. “There isn’t anything you could do to me that matters any more.”

  The words stung and the pain almost took her breath away. “Don’t say things in anger that you’ll regret.”

  Scott turned away and into the dreadful silence came laughter from the kids across the street. Jenny watched them spin on the merry-go-round for a moment until a sudden memory of Michael and Scott in a similar park years ago slammed into her. Even as toddlers they’d had no fear of the merry-go round. They’d scrambled up on the scuffed wooden platform and told her to push, faster and faster until she’d stumbled over clods of dirt. Their laughter had rung through the park when she’d ended up on her ass in the dirt.

  Jenny wiped a trickle of moisture from her cheek, then laid her hand on Scott’s knee again. “Do you really want to go live with your father?”

  He shrugged.

  “I mean, I won’t stop you if you’re sure. But it’s been so long...”

  She purposely let the sentence fade and he finally spoke. “I just hate the way things are at home.”

  Jenny touched his face, forcing him to look at her. “I don’t like it either. But you’re going to have to trust me on this. It’s important.”

  “But you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on. And I know something is.”

  “That wasn’t my decision to make. Believe me.”

  A shadow of doubt clouded his eyes for a moment, then he sighed. “Two weeks?”

  “I hope.”

  “Not a day longer.”

  “I hope not.”

  ~*~

  Chico leaned against the passenger door of Frank’s Lexus, fingering the cool steel of the 38 Police Special in his jacket pocket. In a little while he was supposed to take that gun out and shoot a man. Could he do it?

  Despite all the macho talk and swagger he put on with the best of them, at heart Chico squirmed if he thought too hard about where his steak originated. But somehow he had the feeling that the answer to his mental question better come up ‘yes.’ Frank must’ve told him a hundred times how the Boss was counting on him. How important it was to the Boss to show this Johnny, and anyone else who was tempted to fuck with him, what the consequences were. Translation: if Chico fucked this up he could kiss his ass goodbye.

  The night grew darker as they left the busiest section of Denton behind and entered that section of Interstate 35 that didn’t host a gas station and fast-food joint every hundred feet. The access road bordered a stand of trees that cast vague gray shadow against the black sky.

  Some of those trees could have been there since the first settlers pushed down from the northern plains and claimed this little section of North Texas. And it was into those trees that Frank turned after exiting the freeway.

  “Johnny thinks we’re bringing him some stuff. So I’ll get a bag out of the trunk. We’ll both take it to him, and that’s when you pop him.”

  Chico remained quiet as Frank nosed the car down a narrow, rutted, dirt road. It ended near a clearing where an old shed stood on three listing posts, scraps of wood and tin clinging precariously to rotting timbers. Their headlights shimmered on a sleek, dark Miata that stood in sharp contrast to the aging building.

  Frank let his car roll to stop, then killed the engine. A door opened on the Miata and Johnny stepped into the glow of the headlights. Chico fumbled with the handle of the door and tried not to think about what he had to do. Frank was already out and heading toward the trunk.

  Johnny stayed by his car, and Frank called out to him. “The Boss says you should beef up your sales. We got some extra for you.”

  “New breed of students this year.” Johnny said. “Most of them are just saying ‘no.’”

  Chico tried to let the feeble joke relax him as he stepped out and waited for Frank to come around from the rear of the car, but it didn’t work. A trickle of cold sweat crawled down his spine, and his hand trembled on the butt of the gun in his jacket pocket.

  “Come on,” Frank said, stepping up beside him. “Time to rock and roll.”

  Following a few steps behind, Chico swallowed hard. As Frank handed the bag to Johnny, he glanced back. The moment seemed to freeze in time as Chico considered the hard set of the Frank’s face. The directive was unmistakably clear. Chico willed his heart to stop hammering in his chest. It pounded so loud in his head, he was sure the other men could hear it. He needed to be calm. He needed to be clear. He needed to do the job he was brought here to do. Yet, he didn’t move as Johnny took a step away from Frank and reached for his car door.

  “Chico.”

  The word was less a question than a command and knowing the consequences if he didn’t, Chico tried to obey. But his brain seemed to have shut down. It still wouldn’t give the command to his arm to move.

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh, shit.” Frank drew a Glock out of his pocket and fired one shot. Johnny clutched his chest where the bullet had torn through his jacket and then his body. His blood oozed in a dark tide through his fingers. Then he slid down the side of his car, his gurgle of death the only sound to be heard.

  For a moment Chico considered whether he could run. And where he could hide if he did. Then Frank took one step toward him, gun pointing slightly down. Maybe he’ll let me—

  The thought was cut short as Frank raised the barrel of the gun. “I’m real sorry about this,” he said. “We never had no trouble. But it’s my neck if I don’t. You understand that, don’t you.”

  Chico almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that, but he knew the moment was beyond that. He nodded, then closed his eyes and said the prayers his mother always badgered him about. Did he even dare hope that God would rest his soul?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “And your Mom? She didn’t, like, ground you for the rest of your life?”

  Scott smiled at the incredulous expression on Caitlin’s face. “I think she was too upset about dinner being ruined to think of it.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Sometimes I can’t believe it either. It’s just like all these weeks of frustration just...erupted.”

  Scott looked over the railing separating the Food Court from the skating rink below, watching a girl cutting intricate figure-eights in the ice. She looked so carefree and absorbed in the moment. Unlike his state of mind which seemed splintered in a million directions.

  “So what do you think your Mom is doing?”

  “Haven’t a clue.” He continued watching the skater for a moment, then looked at Caitlin. “But maybe I should find out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I could follow her.”

  “You mean like some kind of private investigator?”

  “You read too many mystery books.”

  She reached over and punched him on the arm. “Be serious.”

  “I am. Can
you think of a better way to find out what’s going on?”

  Caitlin took a sip of her Smoothie, then sighed. “What about Alicia? You can’t drag her out late at night.”

  “You’re right.” Scott thought for a moment. “Think maybe you could watch her?”

  “I don’t know.” She twisted the wrapper from her straw. “I have that stupid curfew on week nights.”

  “That could pose a problem.”

  Speaking of which... Scott glanced at the crowd milling around the tables to make sure Caitlin’s parents weren’t nearby. They’d all come to the mall for Christmas shopping and split up a couple of hours ago; they could be back any time. It wouldn’t do for them to catch the drift of this conversation; especially if he got the nerve to ask Caitlin what he’d like to.

  But did he have a right to ask her to lie for him?

  She touched his arm. “What are you thinking?”

  “Just trying to figure a way.”

  If she sensed the evasiveness of his response, she didn’t show it. Her wide, blue eyes were full of concern, not questions.

  He took a deep breath. “Would you consider...uh...telling them you were sleeping over with Terry?”

  “What?”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s not like I’ve never lied to my folks.” She offered him a sheepish grin. “But this is like, big time.”

  “Forget it. It was a stupid idea.” Scott leaned back in his chair.

  Caitlin finished her drink, then set the cup back on the table. “We’d have to figure out some logistics. Like where I’d really spend the night.”

  He glanced at her quickly. “You mean you’d really consider it?”

  She intertwined her fingers with his. “It’s not like I’m sneaking out to do something awful.”

  “So, okay. You won’t feel guilty if we pull it off. But what about the risks?”

  “Minimal if we can—”

  “Figure out the morning thing.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “I can hardly come traipsing out of your room.”

  Bright spots of pink touched her cheeks, and Scott felt the warmth of a flush cross his face as he realized that they were both thinking the same thing. He covered his embarrassment with a swallow of his cola, then he looked at her, offering a small smile. “You’re right.”

  Her nod seemed to acknowledge the meaning behind his words and he felt the slight tension ease as her blush faded. It’s not like they hadn’t explored their sexuality a bit in the few months they’d been together, but Caitlin had let him know right from the start just how far she was willing to go. And he was always conscious of the heartache Michael had shared with him after a girl had dumped him last year. Michael had said the hurt was deeper because it was the first girl he’d had sex with.

  Scott could still hear the rest of his brother’s words as if he were sitting here right now. “Don’t let the other kids fool you. There’s more to sex than just a good time.”

  At the time, Scott had told him he sounded like Mom, and Michael had said, “Maybe Mom’s right about this one.”

  Even now, Scott had to stifle the urge to laugh. Up to that point there hadn’t been much they’d ever thought their mother was right about; especially Michael. He’d argue with her about anything, and sometimes Scott had thought his brother would knock himself out to prove the sky wasn’t really blue if she commented on what a pretty shade it was.

  A sudden wave of sadness overrode his amusement, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Damn. When is that going to stop happening?

  He noticed a look of concern cross Caitlin’s face, and he wondered, not for the first time, if she had some ability to read him. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “Give me a couple of days to figure something out.”

  Scott started to respond, and Caitlin held up a hand. “Shhh. Here’s Mom.”

  He looked over to see Mrs. Bradshaw approaching, shopping bags in each hand. Mr. Bradshaw was behind her, parcels balanced precariously in his arms.

  He set his burden down, then pulled two chairs to the corner of the table. Caitlin’s mother sank into one of the chairs with a deep sigh. “I’m exhausted. How about you two? Finish your shopping?”

  With a jab of guilt, Scott realized that they’d spent most of their time sitting here after picking up a couple of things at the Disney store for Caitlin’s little brother. He glanced at Caitlin and saw her give her mother a smile.

  “We sort of lost track of time,” Caitlin said. “Guess you’ll just have to bring me back.”

  Mrs. Bradshaw turned to her husband. “Kids. Can’t count on them for anything.”

  Scott squirmed in the silence that followed that remark. It had sounded like teasing, delivered in that same exaggerated sarcastic tone his mother used to use; back when their life was normal. But at his house, laughter had always followed the comment. There was never any doubt about intention.

  Caitlin’s smile withered and her father averted his eyes, but Scott couldn’t read the expression on her mother’s face. He shook his head. Here all this time he’d thought Caitlin was exaggerating about her mother cutting her down. He’d even considered it a bit silly when she’d show up at school fighting off tears. But there was no mistake here today, and it wasn’t fair. Whether Mrs. Bradshaw meant it or not, it was rotten to dig at someone that way.

  With a sudden clarity, he realized that his mother had never done that. Not once. Sure she pissed him off plenty; especially lately. But she’d never cut him off at the knees.

  Thinking about her that way softened a bit of the anger he’d been clinging to for the past few weeks. Maybe he should quit hassling her about all this shit. Give her a break.

  Caitlin touched his arm, drawing his attention. “We lost you there for a minute.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You ready to go?” Mrs. Bradshaw asked. “We’ve got to pick Joey up from his friend’s house.”

  “Sure.”

  Amid the shuffle of gathering packages and tossing empty drink cups, Caitlin sidled up to him and slipped her arm around his waist. The gesture was warm and comforting.

  ~*~

  “It’s ruined.” Alicia slapped the knife down, splattering white frosting across the counter.

  “No it’s not, Honey.” Jenny pushed the top half of the cake back up. “Get some toothpicks.”

  Alicia grabbed the little glass vase full of toothpicks and brought it over. “Can you fix it?”

  “Sure.” Jenny used several slivers of wood to secure the broken section of cake to the bottom layer, then carefully filled in the crack with frosting. “There. Good as new.”

  “No it’s not.” Alicia tried to press a glob of frosting back onto the side of the cake. It fell off again, taking a hunk of cake with it and scattering chocolate crumbs off the plate. “It’s awful.”

  Alicia’s chin quivered, and Jenny thought her heart would break. “You did splendid for your first time. It was ages before I could do sides at all.”

  “But I wanted it to be perfect for Michael.”

  A wave of tears poured out of Alicia’s eyes, and Jenny pulled her into an embrace. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s enough that you did it.”

  “For real?”

  The words were barely intelligible amidst the hiccups of sobs, but the inherent hope didn’t escape Jenny. “Yeah. For real.” She blinked back the threat of tears. “Michael’s probably up there saying, ‘Way to go, Alicia.’”

  The girl pulled back and looked up. “You think?”

  Jenny nodded and touched the tear that crawled down her daughter’s cheek. “Now go get Scott so we can party.”

  After Alicia bounded out, Jenny set plates and silverware on the table. She was getting the glasses for soda when she saw Scott step into the doorway, jacket on and hands thrust deep in the pockets. “I’m supposed to meet Caitlin,” he said. “We’re going shopping again.”

  Forcing herself not to react to the hostile underc
urrent in his voice, Jenny kept her response as calm as possible. “Stay just for a little while. It’s Michael’s birthday.”

  “What?” Scott hunched his shoulders. “You thought I forgot?”

  “No. None of us will ever forget.”

  He glanced away, and Jenny felt a stab of pain. None of them had had a proper time to grieve – if there was such a thing. She’d steeled her heart just to get through, and perhaps that was the worst thing she could’ve done for all of them. They should be coming together in shared mourning. Instead, she was off chasing pond-scum, and God knows where the kids were channeling their feelings.