The Juke (Changes Book 2)

by Ted Persinger

  “Fuck!” he said under his breath. He tensed. Though he didn’t want to, he immediately took her in with his eyes and recognized everything about her. She had put back on the weight she had lost the last time he had seen her and some extra on top of that. She was still wearing too much makeup, now covering up more than before. Her dress didn’t fit her well, and her dye job was a single color…out of the bottle. Her eyes were grayer.

  Claire looked up at him. “You okay, Frank?”

  He smiled back in her direction. “Yeah, fine, Claire.”

  He came around to the front of the counter, and Shelly turned to face him expectantly, like a prom date waiting to be taken to the dance. Everybody pretended to be working, but all eyes were riveted on them.

  He stepped up to her. “Hi, Shelly.”

  She cleared her throat. “You’re in the welding business now?”

  “Yeah.” He could feel the weight of the stares in the office. “Let’s step outside.” He walked to the door, and pulled it open for her. She stepped out, and he pulled it closed behind him. She wore new perfume now, but he knew her movements and recognized every swing of her arms, every sway of her hips. Though he would have hated to admit it, he felt the familiarity in her proximity. Almost comforting.

  They walked for a bit…he wanted to get some distance from the prying ears. He walked out to the parking lot and then past the handicapped spots. He stopped when they neared his truck. The sign said Reserved, Owner. He slid his elbow onto the tailgate.

  “Is this your truck, Frank?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tony used to have a black pickup like this.”

  “His was an F-150. This is an F-350. Both Fords, though.”

  “Well, you know I don’t know anything about trucks.”

  His eyes flashed at her. He remembered Tony’s truck clearly and the last time he saw it. “You’re not here to talk about trucks, are you, Shelly?” He shoved his fingers through his hair.

  “No,” and her eyes went down to their feet. Through her heavy makeup, he could see she was blushing, and her ears were red.

  After a pause, he asked, “Then why are you here?” His voice was direct, with a hint of acid. More than a hint.

  “I saw you on television. It was nice to see you after all these years. I thought I would come see you.”

  “Does Tony know you’re here?”

  “No, Frank. He doesn’t.” Eyes still down to the ground.

  “Shelly, I don’t have all day. I have a job. What do you want?” He faced her directly and shoved his hands into his pockets. He jangled his keys and coins.

  “I just wanted to see you again, Frank. You’re my ex-husband. The father of our children. Is that so bad?”

  “Shelly, you fucked my best friend and dumped me when I lost my job. You left me without anything. You took the kids, and I haven’t heard from them in years.”

  “You can call them any time you want, Frank.”

  “Call?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah…I have to call my kids. Nice.” His hands were now on his hips, as if he were scolding a wayward child. But he hadn’t called his kids and felt the shame of that self-admission.

  “Frank, please don’t be angry.”

  He took a deep breath and looked away. “Why are you here?”

  She looked up at him, and their eyes met. She looked back down again, away from the steel in his gaze. “I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was soft, just above a whisper. She took a half-step closer to him. “I wanted to see you again and talk to you.” Her hand went out to touch him, but his disapproving look made her pull it back.

  “Talk about what?”

  “Talk about the kids…talk about…us.” She looked up again, and then her gaze went back down.

  “What about the kids? Are they okay?”

  “Yes, they’re fine,” she lied instinctively. “They’re good.”

  “You’re all down in LA?”

  “Yes.”

  “In Tony’s house in Hermosa Beach?”

  “No, we moved to San Pedro.” Her face flushed again. She knew he was drawing conclusions from every word she said, and there were places she didn’t want to go. She wanted to take back the conversation. “I’m very happy you’ve landed on your feet, Frank. You seem to have come through quite well. I somehow always knew you would…you’re too smart…you were always too smart to let anything defeat you…”

  “Thank you,” but it was cold.

  “I was thinking that since you have put your life back together…I thought…” and her voice trailed off.

  “You thought what?”

  “I thought that if I could just see you again that we…” and she again let it hang.

  “You thought we what, Shelly?”

  “This is hard, Frank.”

  He waited. He knew what she had to say, but he wanted her to say it. To commit to it. He wanted to spurn her as she had spurned him all those years ago. “Just come out with it. Tell me why you came to Phoenix.”

  “I thought maybe you and I could give it another try. I thought we could try to start over.”

  “You what?” He was purposely incredulous.

  And her eyes rose up again and saw the bitter coldness in his. “You loved me once, Frank. Maybe you still do. I know I still love you. I thought I didn’t. I was wrong. I was just mad that you had let that happen to you that night.”

  “Let that happen? You mean get beat up in a bar fight protecting my best friend who was fucking my wife and then beat up by a sheriff who killed himself and his wife?”

  “I didn’t understand all that, Frank. I didn’t know what had happened. Nobody knew.”

  “You were my wife…you were supposed to stand by me no matter what. In sickness and in health…for richer or for poorer. But rather than do that, you jumped out. Jumped out with a man you had been fucking behind my back for at least two years. Longer, probably.”

  “I was worried…about the kids…”

  “You had been fucking Tony for a long while…I just gave you a reason to bail completely.”

  “I had to think about the kids…” Her voice was pleading now.

  “The kids? Don’t act like sleeping with my best friend and then leaving me for him was somehow noble, Shelly. You don’t get to have nobility out of that.” He had squared up toward her again. His shoulders were rolled forward, and his hands pulled into angry fists. “You can’t pretend to be a good person for doing what you did.”

  “I’m not saying that, Frank…but I felt…compelled at the time.”

  “Did Tony tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Had he told her? For a moment, Frank thought he would tell her…tell her the truth about her husband. The gun. The parking lot. Your husband set me up and pissed himself when I pointed a gun at him. He wanted to crush the last of her little world. But the words didn’t come out.

  He changed the subject. “So you thought that after wiping me out and taking the kids, you could just fly here, and I’d take you back?”

  “We have four children together, Frank. We’re not just two people with a past. We have a family.”

  “Had.”

  “Have. Those children are yours forever.”

  “I haven’t heard from them in years.” It stung him to say those words.

  “We didn’t know how to get ahold of you, Frank.”

  “Did you ever look?”

  She changed the subject. “We can rebuild, Frank. We can start anew. Our love was so strong once; we can have it all again. We can go back to church. The Lord will help us, if we let Him.”

  “The Lord?”

  “Let’s go back to God, and let Him…”

  “God?” he scoffed. “The woman who fucked my best friend and ran off with him wants to talk to me about God. That’s nice, Shelly. Very fucking nice.” His volume was steadily increasing.

  “Frank, only the Lord can heal us now. Only the Lord can heal these wounds.”<
br />
  “You think you put on a mask and I won’t recognize you?”

  “Recognize me? Frank, I…”

  “I know the real you…I saw her in divorce court. You are great at wearing the mask of whoever you want to be or wish you were, but peel it off, and you’re ugly and hollow. I saw you…I saw you…” He squinted against the afternoon sun.

  “Frank, please don’t say things like that…” and though her voice trembled, her eyes were dry. Frank looked at her and felt nothing. Worse than nothing. Rage. Disgust. In the darkest corners of his mind he wanted to put a fist into her mouth. She had destroyed him financially, and he wanted to destroy her physically. Payback. But he knew he could never do that.

  But he wanted her to know. Wanted her to understand she was dead to him. With a cool heart, he leveled his eyes and said, “I am with somebody else now, Shelly. Somebody I love more than I ever loved you. I have a new family now. And you’re married to my former best friend. You deserve each other…go home to him.” And those words cleansed his soul. In his eyes now she looked small, a lost child who needed someone to find her.

  She grabbed his right hand with both of hers. “Take me back, Frank. We can make all this work again. We can put all the bad things behind us. We can go back to church and rebuild our lives.” Her eyes were still dry, but red and imploring.

  Frank yanked his hand free, more fiercely than she was ready for. She winced, as if she saw a blow coming. Instead, his words came with hot jet fuel; his eyes threw blades. “Take you back? Take you back?” he knew he was far too loud, nearly yelling. No doubt everybody in the office was listening now. “You’re a careless woman, Shelly. You expect someone to take care of you, and when you thought I couldn’t do the job, you ran off with your lover. Now that he’s obviously failing,” he bitterly pointed to her cheap dress, “then you want to run back to me.

  “You and Tony destroyed my life. You laughed at me when you took everything I had in my entire life. My home. My children. I almost swallowed a bullet over it. Now you want me to take you back?

  “Nobody can replace you, Frank. You were always a good man. The most dependable man. The right man…”

  “You should have thought of that before you opened your legs to my best friend. I was all those things once, but while I was providing for you, you and Tony were fucking behind my back. He then fucked over my life to win you, and now you’re stuck with him. Get used to it.”

  “Frank…it wasn’t like that…”

  “No, you listen to me, Shelly.” His finger was like a pistol in her face. “I have finally started to rebuild my life. I’ve started to build something I can be proud of. Something I own completely. You’re my past. A painful past. I’m moving on to a new life, and you’re not in it. There’s no going back now.”

  “Frank…”

  “No!” and now his voice was booming, “You leave now, Shelly, you horrible fucking bitch! Get in your car,” he waved his hand toward the rows of cars, “and get the fuck out of here. I’ve worn my masks. I’m done. I’m not changing who I am anymore. I am going to be me, and you’re not part of me. I’m going back inside to my business, and if you come back in, I’ll call the police. Imagine explaining that to Tony!”

  He spun on the heel of his work boot, and stomped back to the front door. In the glass, just above his company logo, he saw her reflection, still standing where he had left her. He entered and ignored the stares of his employees.

  “Claire, if she comes back in, call 9-1-1.”

  “Will do, Frank.”

  He moved past the counter, and then out to the shop floor. He threw on some coveralls, and grabbed a mask and torch. “Perry, you need a hand with that chopper?”

  XXVI

  “I can’t believe how much deeper your voice is, my son.” He was wiping tears and swallowing hard.

  “It’s been a decade, hasn’t it?” Brusque.

  “I’m so sorry I’ve missed these years, Matt. I’m so glad you landed on your feet.”

  “It wasn’t easy. I could have used you there.”

  “I’m so sorry. I have no excuse.”

  “So what do you want now, after all this time?”

  “I want to help. I have gotten myself together. I was in a dark place before, but now I’m doing better.”

  “Congratulations.” There was the snide.

  “What I mean is, I want to help you with grad school.”

  “I don’t need your help, Frank.”

  Frank? “Matt, I don’t blame you for being upset…”

  “I don’t go by Matt anymore. I’m Matthew. You’d know that had you been here.”

  He was trying to sift through the bile, looking for gems that weren’t there. “I deserve that, I guess. But I’m back now…”

  “Look, you want to help, Frank? Call Mark. He’s getting in trouble. Since Mom and Tony split, he’s been running with the wrong crowd. He’s on his way to jail if he doesn’t turn around. He’ll end up fucked-up if things don’t change…fucked-up like you.”

  He knew it was pointless now. “Okay, I’ll try to reach him.”

  “Good.”

  One last try. “Do you need any help with college? Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  “No. Full ride, and I present my thesis this May. Good thing, too…both of my fathers are worthless to me.”

  “Okay, but…”

  “Bye, Frank,” and the line went dead.

  He put the phone on the receiver and put his face into his hands, feeling his warm breath. He knew he deserved it. He knew everything his son said was right. He had left them. He had run off. No matter the reasons, his son went through his teenage years without him. He felt bad that he took satisfaction that Tony, apparently, hadn’t been there for him either. No matter who didn’t do what, his son was angry and hurt and deserved his feelings. Frank could only blame himself.

  He stood up, feeling exhausted. Legs jittery. He heard Perry in the front yard, practicing his free throws on the hoop he had installed on the garage. It was too quiet inside.

  “Mariah?” he called out. “Mariah?” He went up the stairs. He could still smell the glue from the new carpeting. “You up there, babe?” he called. No reply. He climbed the stairs. “Honey?”

  When he opened the bedroom door, he heard her shallow breaths. Pants. She was lying on the bed, arm still tied off, empty needle next to her. Arm bleeding onto the white duvet.

  He knew the routine and all too well. He untied her arm, wiped the blood with a warm washcloth, and laid her on her side. He watched her for a second, to be sure her breaths were steady. Her color was good…not too white. Lips had color, if light.

  He put her fixings in the cigar box. He took the needle into the bathroom and rinsed it. He worked the plunger to push out the last of her blood. He put the cap on it, put it in the box, and put the box in the closet.

  He heard the front door open. “Mom? Dad?”

  He didn’t want to shout over her, so he moved to the top of the stairs. “Up here, Perry. Down in a second.”

  “There’re a couple men here to see you.”

  “Oh?” He took a couple of steps down the stairs, but didn’t go farther.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, tell them I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay.”

  He went back to the bedroom. He grabbed the fixings kit out of the closet. He took the folded paper that contained the heroin, along with a balloon that contained more. He flushed them down the toilet. He cursed under his breath; in their new neighborhood it was harder to maintain anonymity.

  He came down the stairs and saw the two men in suits at the door on the other side of the screen. The slender suit mumbled something to the larger man as Frank approached. Frank knew they were cops immediately. As he approached, the slender man opened his jacket and slid it open with his hand, putting his hand on his hip. His shiny badge was on full display now, as was his smirk.

  “Everything okay, Dad?” Perry asked. His f
ace showed worry.

  “Yeah, I’m sure it is,” Frank smiled at him, patting him on the shoulder. He stepped up to the screen. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He donned the mask of a man with nothing to hide.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Joseph. Sorry to disturb you.” He flipped open a thin leather wallet and displayed his badge and ID. “I’m Officer Michael Morrison of the Lancaster PD, and this is Deputy Marshal Bill Lawrence. May we come in?”

  “What’s this about, officer?” Frank knew that inviting an officer in was often considered granting a consent to search. “Lancaster PD?”

  “Yes, sir. We’re here investigating a cold case, a robbery and shooting dating back eight years or so. We’d like to come inside and ask you a few questions about it.”

  “Why me?” Frank’s mind flashed images of breaking glass and an exploding Pepsi bottle.

  “Well, sir, I’d like to come in and talk with you about it, if you don’t mind.”

  There it was. A decision point. Send them away and call a lawyer, or see what information they had. “Sure, okay. Sorry.” He opened and pushed the screen door and let them in. He walked them to the dining room table. He could see the panic on Perry’s face. “Perry, why don’t you go check on your mother?”

  No reply, but hurried movements up the steps.

  As the men pulled up chairs, Morrison began speaking. “Thank you for letting us speak with you, Mr. Joseph. We have to do our due diligence in these cases. On the morning of January 1st, 1998, there was an armed robbery at the 7-11 on the corner of Manlove and Grand in Lancaster. The owner, Hadur Fadrusz,” he pronounced the name slowly, “an immigrant from Hungary, was wounded and lost his arm.”

  Lost his arm? Frank looked back and forth between the men. Officer Morrison had a practiced, disarming smile. Deputy Marshal Lawrence was a small, slender man who gave off tension.

  The deputy marshal spoke. “We have video of the event if you’re interested.”

  Frank put on a crooked smile. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I don’t know what this has to do with me.” He thought he was a better actor than he was, and the officers saw through his mask.

  “We’ll get there in a second,” Lawrence continued. He began unzipping a black case and produced a portable DVD player. He had hard eyes, and Frank knew he would be Bad Cop. “First, we’d like to show you the video.”