Angry Jonny

by Joaquin Emiliano

  “Where’s Eli?” Jessica called out.

  “Who?”

  “Eli!”

  “Took off! Didn’t say where he was going!” Dinah shambled over to Jessica, face alight. “You and I, on the other hand; we’re moving out of this dump!”

  Jessica stalked to the stereo, cut the volume in half. “What are you talking about?”

  “I went down to pay our den mother a little visit,” Dinah boasted, still bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Ripped into her. Told her where her and Daedalus could shove their central air, and their goddamn lifestyle center. As of now, we are officially done with our lease!”

  “Dinah, slow down.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t even a big deal. I signed our notice to vacate, dated it –”

  “What did you sign?”

  It finally occurred to Dinah that she was the only one celebrating. Stopped dancing, confused. “A notice to vacate. Notice of something, just standard –”

  “Shit!” Jessica kicked the stereo, shutting it off. Kicked one of the speakers over for good measure. The gin, Jack, and mini Absolute bottles jumped along with Dinah. “Shit, Dinah! What did you do?”

  Dinah was stuck with her mouth open. Blond curls drooping.

  “Never mind,” Jessica said, yanking at the front door. “I’m going down there.”

  “I’ll go with you –”

  “No!” Jessica barked. “You just stay right where you are. You stay. Stay. Drink some goddamn coffee or something, get yourself together.”

  “I can’t,” Dinah whimpered.

  “What?”

  “They shut off the water again.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes, slamming the door as she left.

  ***

  From the moment Jessica saw Katherine’s peppy smile, she knew it was over. She had known as much the instant she kicked the stereo into the wall. But someone had to answer for Dinah’s mistakes. And as long as Dinah was broke and out of work, that someone would have to be Katherine.

  “Jessica, hi!” Her greeting put them both on the same page. “I assume you’re here to get a copy of your notice to evict?”

  “Let’s have it.”

  “Here you go.”

  Jessica had figured their form would differ from the previous management’s. She scanned the agreement, never thinking she would have to stop and read the second paragraph three times over. Four times, then a fifth before she finally threw it across the desk.

  “You can’t possibly expect us to pay that,” Jessica said. “In fact, I don’t care what you expect. We won’t.”

  Katherine watched the form swing in the air like hammock, all the way to the floor. “You know, if someone else leases your unit after you two leave, then you won’t be looking at too many rent checks.”

  “And if they don’t?” Jessica was narrating the worst-case scenario as it played out in her head. “You’ve got demolition teams moving into our building at the end of October. And how long is that construction going to last?”

  “We’re working as fast as we can to better –”

  “Jesus Christ, you really are a cyborg.”

  “Your aunt’s signature is her agreement to pay rent on unit K3A until someone else occupies the space, or until your lease is up.”

  “Our lease is up at the end of next May! That’s nine months at six-hundred, fifty for an apartment we’re not even using.”

  “Well, like the previous management, we do have a payment plan –”

  “Fuck your payment plan. I won’t do it.”

  Without so much as a frown, Katherine folded her hands on the desk. “Then we’ll take you to court.”

  “Not if I don’t take you there first.”

  “On what grounds? It’s Dinah’s name on the lease. You were a minor at the time the renewal was signed. Your name is nowhere, we are not legally bound to you in anyway.”

  “You really want that kind of publicity?” Jessica laughed, crossing her arms. “Daedalus just rides into town, takes over our building. Cuts a backroom deal with Pantheon to get us undesirables out, so you can jack up the prices for a bunch of spoiled college kids from Jersey and upstate New York. You don’t answer our pages, you’ve got construction waking us every morning –”

  “We were ready and willing to relocate anyone while construction was taking place –”

  “This is our home.”

  “And this is my job.” Having won the battle, Katherine finally dropped the smile. “Dinah signed the form.”

  “She was drunk.”

  “Well, I’m no lawyer, so I don’t know how that’s going to look in court… never mind that she’s the main suspect in a series of brutal attacks. Never mind that her niece, Jessica Kincaid, has recently been implicated in a recent newspaper article as… I think the term is, person of high interest.”

  Jessica was seconds away from lunging across the desk and strangling her.

  Katherine cut her off with a simple fact. “No, there’s nothing you can do about it…” She broke eye contact, rolled back to the filing cabinet. “Come see me about that payment plan when you’re ready.”

  Jessica had exhausted her ammunition. So thoroughly crushed, she even stooped down to pick up her copy of form. Bowing before her masters, then ducking out of the room with a serious problem awaiting her come September.

  ***

  Dinah was hunched over the table, crying into the ashtray as smoke spiraled upwards from her cigarette.

  Jessica sat across from her. Legs kicked up. Sipping on tonic water, listening to her aunt’s sobs paint the walls. August had the summer heat at its meanest. Blind’s drawn to keep the press and unsightly construction out, light diffusing throughout the room in a sunflower supernova.

  “I’m sorry.” Dinah’s voice wet from crying. “I messed everything up.”

  “It’s alright, Blondie. Have yourself a cry.”

  “I was just trying to do something. Anything.”

  “I know. It’s alright.” Jessica figured even the most outrageous lie at this point was better than torturing her with the awful truth. “We’re going to be fine.”

  With the stereo broken, it was up to the neighborhood to make music.

  Dogs barking, children digging their last few weeks of freedom.

  Ice cream truck coming up the way, making it all the more sweet.

  Dinah continued to cry, and Jessica had no choice but to keep listening.

  Chapter 63: Take the Long Way Home.

  A little more faith in humanity might have convinced Jessica that the decision to fire her had been reached after her shift. But even with that extra bit of faith, it was still a tall order. The Prescott had been booked for a private wedding anniversary. All hands on deck. Putting herself in Nora’s shoes, Jessica might have done the same. Let the young, desperate girl work through the banquet. Take orders, clear dishes. Help pour the champagne.

  Wait for the dust to settle.

  Wait for the husband and his buddies to run out onto the golf course and wrestle each other. Wait for the wives to finish glaring passively at younger, emphatically more available women. Wait for the singles to start pairing off, settling on their sleeping arrangements for the evening.

  If Jessica had been Nora, that’s when she would have taken herself aside.

  And that was exactly when Nora led her into the office to discuss the conditions of her termination. A basic cable rerun of their previous conversations. But on this third time around, Jessica didn’t lash out. Didn’t give them any attitude. She nodded contritely, asked a few polite questions. Finally accepted her two weeks’ notice without much to add.

  “One last thing…” Jessica said as opened the office door, ready to head home. “Supposing everything about Dinah and me turns out to be wrong… can we have our jobs back?”

  “Of course,” Nora replied.

  “Immediately,” Evan agreed. “You just come right back, and I will personally –”

  “Well, I wi
ll be back tomorrow, anyway.” Jessica interrupted. “I still got two weeks here, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Jessica wandered through the kitchen, ignoring the upbeat banter of another evening in the trenches. Bitterly amused with Nora and Evan’s reaction to her complacency. Fleeting glimmers of confusion slipping out from behind their masks of feigned concern.

  Maybe they had been hoping for more of a showdown. Some catastrophic catfight that would have left them with no choice but to fire her right on the spot. A little more faith in humanity might have convinced Jessica that they were simply worried about her.

  On the other hand, with a little less drama in her life, Jessica might have found the strength to fight a little harder.

  ***

  Jessica took her familiar jaunt across campus.

  She rounded the parking deck near the Center for Human Genetics, walked up the shrouded path leading to the back of Pantheon Chapel. A thin layer of fog hung in the air, gumming up her footsteps. Echoes muffled by damp insulation.

  She stopped, let her intuition momentarily take the stand.

  Glanced over her shoulder.

  Nothing more than orange ghosts floating just beyond the pine trees; streetlights and lethargic needles. The chapel’s towering spire kept watch from above.

  Jessica kept walking. The path curved upwards, towards an outdoor passageway linking the south side of the chapel to another set of buildings. Beyond those masonry stone arches, a set of steps led down to the central lawn, stretching out over several hundred yards.

  A vast, wide-open perimeter, surrounded by sentinel lampposts.

  That was where Jessica wanted to be.

  Casting one last glance behind her, she doubled her pace.

  Made it to the passageway, ready to step through the second set of arches and out into safety.

  A wiry tentacle wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her waist. Screams trapped in her throat by a grainy palm locking over her mouth. She was dragged along the passage, towards a dark alcove. Shoved against a heavy timber door, one of the many gothic knockoffs leading into the chapel.

  Jessica was pinned down, iron hinges digging into her back.

  “Don’t scream, Jessica.”

  It was that familiar voice that brought the struggle to an end.

  Her eyes crossed, corrected themselves into sharp focus.

  Nose to nose with the man who would be Eli Messner.

  “Don’t scream,” he ordered. “For just two minutes, can you not scream?”

  Jessica nodded tasting the dusty grit on his fingers.

  He removed his hand. Left arm still wound behind her back, steel fingers latching onto her wrists.

  “If you’re looking for your poker chips, tough shit,” Jessica panted. “I guess you know where they are well as I do.”

  “Damn it, Jessica…” Eli looked as though he were about to cry. “Why would you do something like this?”

  “That’s the dumbest question anybody has ever asked me.”

  She brought her knee up, hard.

  Eli had been expecting it, left leg angled over his right.

  Another brief struggle ensued, but it was little more than a show.

  Jessica could have let out with a good shriek at any point.

  Instead, she settled down. Played good girl for the moment.

  Another truce. Only this one didn’t come with much of a shelf life, and Eli knew it. “OK listen.”

  “Are you following me? How long have you been –”

  “I parked at the Prescott and followed you here, would you just listen?” Eli took a few measured breaths and plunged in. “I came to Verona to destroy Jason Castle.”

  “Yeah?” Jessica was still straining to catch a glimpse of anyone that might be wandering near the arches. “Well, mission accomplished, Eli.”

  “No, that’s just it,” Eli hissed. “All right, so yes: I was there the night Jason Castle was attacked. Yes, I’d been staking out his home for a good couple of weeks before that night at Spiro’s. But I didn’t do it.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know. I followed Castle to the restaurant. Bumped into him on the way to his table, lifted his keys. Paid some kid to make a copy of them while the old man was eating. I stepped out to grab a smoke, got the copies. Somewhere between Castle’s fit about the wine and his problems with the goddamn food, he went to the bathroom. I joined him, pretended to find his keys by the sink. Gave them back.”

  “Brilliant. Also, who cares?”

  “I saw Angry Jonny.” Eli’s frightened eyes flashed right back to the beginning. “I wasn’t planning to do anything that night. I just wanted to walk around his house. To feel it. Knowing that I could do anything I wanted to him. I came in through the garage entrance. Up from the woods. I was in a room near the kitchen when I heard the back door open. I’d left it unlocked. I panicked. I hid behind the door to the room I was in and…”

  “What did you see?”

  “It was too dark. I was looking through a crack in the door. All I saw was a shadow crossing the living room. Soon as he was gone, I ran out the door.”

  “Bullshit.” Jessica laughed right in his face. “And you just stuck around Verona for your health, I suppose.”

  “You don’t understand. For over fifteen years, I’ve been stuck grinding it out at card tables. I can’t get a real job, I can’t get health care. I can’t even vote. Taking Jason Castle down was my life… When Angry Jonny took that away from me, there’s not much place else I had left to go.” Eli closed his eyes, face swathed in shadow. “I wandered around this godforsaken city like a ghost. I didn’t know what I was going to do. Had no idea what the rest of my life was supposed to look like… and then there was you. You and Dinah –”

  “Don’t even –”

  “It’s the truth. I thought maybe I could have a real life here.” Eli’s fingers tightened around her wrists. “And every time Angry Jonny resurfaced, I told myself I should run. I had the money, a brand-new identity. But after all those years focusing on how much I wanted to hurt someone else, I thought… I met you, Jessica, and I thought maybe there was more to life than just… Anger.”

  Jessica didn’t know which she hated more; Eli’s attempts to draw her into his pathetic narrative, or the suggestion that there was anything in this world other than rage.

  And he didn’t even have the common courtesy to tell her his real name.

  She lunged forward, butting her forehead against his mouth.

  A searing pain sliced across her brow.

  Through pink flashes of lights, she was pleased to see things had gone far worse for him. Blood gushing from his lips, Eli stumbled back. She rushed him before he could recover and drove her fist into his gut. Brought him to his knees then down onto the floor. Fetal position, a newborn gasping for air.

  She knelt over him. “Who are you really?”

  Eli wheezed, eye bulging. “Guess the cops’ll figure that out for you real soon.”

  Jessica spied his car keys, hanging from his pocket like a hermit crab.

  She picked them up, jingled them in front of his face. “I’m taking these. Don’t try coming around our apartment. Got an undercover cop looking out for me, and if you think things are bad now…”

  Jessica sent her shoe into his stomach, a little something to keep him down.

  Ran from between the arches and out onto the brightly lit lawn.

  Didn’t stop until she was halfway home, and even then, she kept her wits about her.

  Glancing around every few minutes just in case she had made a major mistake in letting Eli go.

  ***

  She returned home to find Dinah passed out on the couch.

  Logged onto Facebook to find her friends gone from over a hundred, down ten.

  Clicking on the local news to see just how many people had read about Angry Jonny’s original letter, she was presented with the perfect end to yet another perfect
day.

  Al Holder had died in recovery.

  Last minutes on earth spent flat on his back.

  Chapter 64: Descent.

  Two days later, Jessica was elbow deep in her red notebook.

  Letters skewing to the right as she dug in with her pen.

  They buried Al today. Pinecrest Cemetery, just across the road. I wanted to go, wanted it so badly. But the local news is still buzzing. Not the heart attack, so much as me. Jessica Kincaid. Angry Jonny’s inexplicable benefactor. Even as half the city wanders the streets, petrified, the rest of them revel in his message.

  Malik was still missing in action. Chaucer remained the benevolent caregiver, never once giving away his true motives. Eli’s face had been plastered on the front page, courtesy of the VPD. Side by side with the mug shot of one Arnold Brennan, a seventeen-year-old sex offender from Georgia. Put on trial for statutory rape and sodomy in 1994. An election year for the District Attorney, Jason Castle, whose zealous prosecution of Arnold Brennan practically rewrote Georgia’s child protection laws.

  Arnold Brennan disappeared after several probation violations.

  Several years later, he had been presumed dead.

  Only to be resurrected in Verona, North Carolina.

  Donahue had broken the news to Jessica that morning.

  The prints on the poker chips had led them to Eli’s true identity. His DNA had matched the skin samples taken from Dr. Lazenby’s clothes. Without Eli’s profile in the FBI’s Combined DNA Index System, their original analysis hadn’t raised any red flags.

  But that news wouldn’t be available to the public.

  Jessica added it to the mix, kept right on stirring.

  Verona has exploded. Imploded. A powder keg that’s finally found a willing spark, or an empty stomach, so starved that it has begun to devour itself. History books are filled with slow, gradual steps towards the present. Looking back, we’re all privy to the moments that led us to inevitable outcomes.

  Yet all the testimonials bear a strikingly historical resemblance.

  One day everything seemed fine. The next day, we all woke up and the world had gone to hell.

  Angry Jonny’s followers have taken to the streets, homes and public buildings of Verona. A crime wave with no apparent leader, no apparent message. Just the enraged whims of anyone who has ever found themselves at the wrong end of injustice. Gangland hits are now tagged with his name. Jealous lovers, laid off workers, even white collar employees, their life savings mysteriously vanished… We are all candidates. Whether for destruction or as avenging angels, that’s what’s got everyone watching their backs.