by Lee Perry
Wallace stood in the arched doorway; his arms folded across his chest, “And thank you for not calling me Wall-ass…” he muttered as they walked away, “I’m a white male… I can’t help it my ass is as flat as a pancake…” smiling when he heard Jordan snicker.
They walked along the drive on the north side of the buildings, “We’re going to rely on online weather reports to warn us of things like approaching storms…” Jordan remarked as they strolled along, gazing out to sea and the wide expanse of sandy coastline that extended north. “But I think we’re on our own when it comes to paying attention to the wind.” They walked at a leisurely pace as she dug an elastic band from her jeans pocket and gathered her hair into a ponytail, “Remember the wind up here can gust up to sixty-five miles an hour.”
Catherine turned and walking backwards asked, “What is that last building behind ours?” she pointed.
“It used to be the mess hall… but now it’s the park’s visitor center.”
“Mess hall?”
“Yeah,” Jordan stuffed her hands into the pockets of her three quarter-length peacoat, “there were sailors stationed here as lookouts during World War Two…” she turned and also walking backwards, pointed, “There used to be a barracks across from it but I think they tore that down in the sixties when they built the naval facility over…” Her voice faded as she craned her neck, “I can’t really see it from here… we should be able to see it from the road on the other side.”
“I didn’t realize we were so close to a military base.”
“We’re not,” Jordan turned, walking up drive, “it was closed down.”
Catherine turned again and as they walked side by side, Jordan pointed at the other structures as they passed them, “That up there is the replica water tower where we get our wireless from… and that big white thing is the cistern.”
“It must have been a hard life…” Catherine remarked, “living here… especially before the highway was built.”
Jordan agreed; “Even with other families around…” she shook her head. They came to the end of the loop and continued down the asphalt drive, “year after year… and in such a small community too. The isolation must have been overwhelming.” Jordan felt her phone vibrate and she pulled it from her pocket, “It’s a text…” she murmured, stopping to turn and shield the screen from the bright sun, “I asked an evidence tech,” she looked at her, “one I trust, to pack some of your clothes and send them here.” She pocketed her phone, “Well, not here… the bureau office in San Francisco, then an agent will drive the box here… it should only take a couple days.” She looked at her, “I also asked her to find your phone and any personal mementos, like photo albums… I figured your phone is loaded with pictures…” she shrugged, “You don’t have anything here of yours or your kids, so…” Catherine’s eyes blurred with tears and wrapping her arms around the taller woman’s waist, squeezed her tight. Jordan’s eyes opened wide in surprise, but she hugged her back, “I don’t want to make this any harder for you than it already is…” she murmured into soft hair.
When Catherine let go she shook her head, “You’re not…” She swiped at the tears that escaped down her cheeks, “Thank you, Jordan…”
“Sure.” she said softly. They walked in companionable silence and when they approached the barn, Jordan waved to her, “We have the key…” she wagged her eyebrows suggestively and Catherine gave her a small grin.
Jordan opened the door and they entered, black and white and color photos of the light station lined the walls and they found the museum-quality placards Wallace said they moved from the head keeper’s house and fell silent again, progressing slowly as they read the cards.
“They didn’t have a lot in the way of livestock, did they?”
Jordan shook her head, “I guess not.” She pointed to one of the cards, “Although it makes you wonder how many of their chickens blew away in the wind before they got the idea to tie twine around a leg and tie them down.”
Catherine snickered soundlessly, “At least they didn’t have to worry about their horses.”
Jordan opened a door leading out the opposite side of the building, “Oh wow…” she exclaimed softly, “look at that.”
Catherine joined her and together they walked out onto a deck that overlooked the ocean on the south side of the rock. A picnic table sat on the deck and Catherine stepped onto the bench, cupping her hands around her eyes as she took in the view of coastline and blue ocean that stretched for miles. Jordan placed a knee on the bench beside her and gestured slightly inland,
“See?” she pointed, raising her voice over the wind, “See that dusty-looking cluster of buildings? That the naval station they used to have here during the war.”
Catherine nodded, “Deserted places like that always look so sad…”
A sudden gust of wind made Catherine lose her balance and Jordan immediately grabbed her; wrapping an arm around her waist she lifted her easily, sweeping her smoothly off the bench and set her safely on the ground.
“Okay,” she kept a hand on her shoulder, “I know you weigh more than a chicken so I won’t have to tie your leg to the barn… but that was scary.”
Catherine smiled, “Thanks again…”
“Come on,” Jordan grinned, “let’s lock up before I forget.” Catherine fished her key ring from the pocket of her navy blue barn coat and Jordan noted how the ends of the soft, black scarf she wore around her neck flapped in the growing wind. They stepped back inside the barn and Jordan called Wallace on her radio, “Hey Wally…” she called to him.
“Hawks, this is Wally.”
Jordan caught the amused look from Catherine. “What can you tell me about the wind right now? It was a little breezy when we first came out here but it seems like it’s getting pretty gusty out there.”
“There’s nothing out of the ordinary I can see from the instruments they have here… it just looks like the usual…” his voice faded and they heard the squelch pop when he took his thumb off the mic then heard it again, “But we are due for a pretty sizable storm in a couple of days.”
Jordan’s brows arched high, “Should we still drive up to see Doctor Wooley tomorrow?” Catherine locked the rear door from the inside and Jordan followed her out the front.
“We should be okay.” They heard his mic click off then back on again, “Oh yeah, and before I forget again; you probably didn’t notice but you guys have a nice TV and blu-ray DVD player in the living room, plus you can pipe in TV off the internet…”
They looked at each other in surprise and before Jordan could key the radio’s mic Wallace added, “And you have popcorn too.”
“Oh, well…” Jordan responded, “Okay then, I guess that’s all we need.”
Catherine snorted quietly and fingerspelled, “P-O-P-C-O-R-N?”
Jordan stuffed the radio back in her coat pocket and demonstrated the sign for
popcorn; holding her hands palm in, she raised them alternately, flicking the tips of her forefingers off her thumbs in a popping gesture. Catherine copied her. “That’s it.” Jordan grinned, watching her as she locked the front door. “If you like we could always save the carpenter and blacksmith shop,” she pointed to the smaller building farther up the drive, “and the lantern room for another time.”
“I’m actually ready for something more substantial than toast.”
“Really?” Jordan’s brows rose in pleased surprise, “Great, let’s head back then.” They walked back to the head keeper’s house by way of the south side of the circular drive and when they got back inside the house they shed their coats, exchanging them for the hooded sweaters they left on the coat rack inside the front door.
Jordan followed Catherine into the living room, finally noticing the flat screen TV, “So,” she pointed to the screen and player, “can we really get TV shows from the Internet on here?”
Catherine peered at the connections and turned to her, “Probably, but I think I can boost it a little.”
“Ah…” Jordan grinned and walked back out into the hallway, headed for the kitchen, “I knew you had mad-hacker skills.” Her hands tingled and she rubbed the palms together, trying to rub away the sensation and realizing that more than anything, what Jordan really wanted was to hold Catherine Bernard again, if for just another fleeting moment.
Darien, CT
She napped after eating the crackers and sliced fruit, not waking until she heard a soft knock on the door. It was Rose, bringing her a dinner tray of soup, salad and a chicken and rice entrée. Before leaving, she pointed out that she left newly purchased “under-things and a nice leisure suit,” in the top bureau draw. She found a comb, brush, soap and shampoo, conditioner and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the connecting bathroom, stamped with the logo of a popular Las Vegas hotel. She took a shower then sat at the table in the plush white terry robe she found in the closet. She forced herself to eat as much of the dinner as she thought her stomach would safely tolerate. Having liquid shits is still better than nervous barfing… she told herself firmly. When she finished she crawled into the large bed and snuggled beneath the heavy comforter.
Hours passed as Alex stared into darkness, knowing she would lie awake until the sun came up. It feels like Cathy’s funeral was weeks ago…. she mused thoughtfully. How did my life come to this? Images from her nightmarish day crept into her thoughts and she pushed them away, convinced in an exhausted, incoherent corner of her mind that she could hide from the horrific mental pictures by squeezing her eyes tightly shut against them.
Anthony Rossi sat quietly at the heavy oak desk in his library and sipped from a small demitasse cup he set down amid a clutter of breakfast dishes. He didn’t care to eat in the kitchen unless he could eat alone; he preferred to start his day in peace and quiet, reflecting on the events of the previous day while he mentally organized his agenda for the morning and afternoon; I’ll meet with Alex first… then make some calls, have some meetings. Arching back in his chair, he scratched at his hard, protruding gut; I think Alex will throw in with me… He shrugged and scrubbed his face with both hands before carefully smoothing back the thinning dark hair. This would be so much fucking easier if Ed hadn’t fucked up… He leaned back in the chair and sighed audibly, We’ve known each other since we’re kids… he never fucked up a message job before. Rossi got up from his chair and wandered to a wide window and looked out on a white expanse of snow, It was a simple job; shoot that little fanook lesbo, tell Alex to get back to work, and leave… Rossi sighed again, That’s all he had to do but no, he panicked and shot the fuckin’ kid too… and he left his prints! He’s never left prints behind on a job before! Jesus! Rossi sniffed and shook his head, All his life he’s been as loyal as a fuckin’ pitbull, always followed orders… no matter what they were. He craned his neck until it popped then returned to his desk, pouring more espresso from a small pot next to his breakfast dishes, I guess it’s just time… he’s been loyal and maybe it’s just time he retired. He sat behind his desk again and sipped at the thick coffee, I’m gonna’ set him up real nice in the Bahamas somewhere for the rest of his life, just drinkin’ booze while sweet young things suck his cock... He shrugged; maybe all he really needs is a long vacation to get him back on track.
It was still worth it in spite of the fuck-up though… that Alex Sparrow is gonna be worth her weight in gold… no, fuck that, MY weight in gold… He felt a tingling sensation in his groin and grinned. There was a time, my dear Miz Sparrow, he grinned wickedly, that I would have done my best to convert you off women… Or at least I would’ve let you and your little fanook lesbo wife take turns sucking my cock… He snorted softly. But I had plenty of pussy in my life. I can live without it now. Sex ain’t nuthin’ compared to the rush of real power and infinite wealth.
In truth, Anthony Rossi had become impotent over the years; unable to achieve what his doctor called, ‘an adequate erection,’ he forbade him any prescriptions for erectile dysfunction drugs, explaining, “Your heart couldn’t take it, Anthony.” His doctor already had him on so many medications for his cholesterol, high blood pressure and diabetes, that when Rossi asked him for a prescription for “boner pills,” he had refused, telling him he would be flirting with blindness and stroke at the very least, and death at the worst.
Just like Augustus, I created my business out of clay, and I’ll turn it into friggin’ marble. I’ll get Alex all the dyke whores she wants, as long as she creates those programs for me. He thoughtfully picked his nose, And if she can’t or won’t, I’ll have the boys get rid of her and look for someone else… Rose can have that kid to raise if she wants... He shrugged inwardly, Why not? Let her start over, I think she’d like another shot… He flicked the dried mucus from the end of his finger; she can raise him like he was her own.
There was a soft knock on the door and he cleared his throat before calling, “Come…” His Aunt Rose opened the door and walked in with Alex, who held Cameron on her hip. Both women had dark circles under their eyes; he assumed Alex had a lot on her mind, and he knew Rose spent the night getting up with the baby, who evidently kept waking up to fuss and cry, Thank Christ for that sleep apnea machine and sleeping pills... “Alex…” he smiled and stood.
“I’ll get him his breakfast,” Rose nodded to Alex, holding out her hands for the boy. Alex handed him over and clutched her hands briefly in front of her, “Thank you…” she murmured softly before turning to Rossi, “Mister Rossi…”
“Please,” he smiled, gesturing grandly for her to sit in a chair in front of his desk, “regardless of your answer to my offer, you should still call me Anthony now.” Alex nodded, forcing herself to relax in the straight back chair while Rossi walked around to sit at his desk. “Did you sleep well?” he asked politely. He could see his question threw her and he amended, “probably not… I’m sorry, but I have to have your answer.”
Alex nodded, feeling acutely uncomfortable in her sweats and slippers and feeling naked with no makeup, “Yes…” She cleared her throat and patted at her clean and combed but un-styled hair, “My answer is yes, I’d still like to work for you.”
Rossi’s brows arched high in surprise and his grin was genuine when he stood, “Excellent!” he beamed, “That’s wonderful news…” he shook a finger at her as he walked around the desk, “With your computer brains and my business finesse, we will know riches and the good life for the rest of our days…” Alex stood awkwardly and they shook hands. A long, uncomfortable moment passed as Rossi regarded her, “But first,” his grin faded and he looked solemn, “First I have amends to make…” He turned and walked to the door. Opening it, he motioned for someone to come in and Alex’s eyes widened in fear as a large man briefly filled the doorway when he entered the room.
“You remember Ed?” Rossi said quietly.
The color drained from Alex’s face and she sank back in her chair, certain her quaking knees were going to buckle.
“I asked Ed to come in here and apologize to you, Alex,” Rossi spoke quietly as he sat back at his desk, “I only sent him to your house that day to deliver the message to keep working on those programs for me…” He shook his head, “Your wife Cathy and your little daughter startled him, he thought you were in the house alone… he didn’t mean to shoot them, Alex, it was a tragic mistake... and before I can really expect you to work for me and live here with your son, we need your forgiveness.”
Alex swallowed reflexively, she wanted to answer but Rossi’s words made her throat suddenly dry. Oh my god… is that true? Her lips trembled and she turned to regard the hulking man behind Rossi who had neither moved nor spoken. She licked her lips, noticing for the first time that Ed Coastanoa was an older man, perhaps Rossi’s age. She nodded uncertainly, “Alright…”
Rossi pursed his lips, “Look…”
“I’m sorry,” Alex gripped the arms of the hard wooden chair she sat on, “I-I… I wasn’t prepared for…” she licked her lips nervously, suddenly acutely aware that her life depended on
her next words, “I’m afraid I didn’t sleep at all last night… but thank you,” she turned to the man who shot her wife and daughter, “that means a lot to me…”
The smile returned to Rossi’s face and he turned to Ed, dismissing him with a nod, “Of course, and I won’t keep you, Alex, look,” he walked back to his desk, sitting on the edge and Ed left the room, silently closing the door behind him. “I know you’re gonna need a few days to rest and settle in. We can get everything you need in the way of all that technology stuff, computers, servers, whatever you want. And to be clear, you cannot contact anyone from your life right now, understand?” Alex only looked at him uncomprehendingly and he clarified, “You can’t call or otherwise contact your parents, or anyone else you know outside of here for a while, given that the feds are looking for you, okay?”
“Oh…” Alex blinked, finally understanding, “Of course.”
“Excellent.” He held out his hand to her and she took it as she stood, following his lead to the door, “For now,” he opened it, gesturing down the hall, “have a nice breakfast then you can take your time for the next few days, but get started, okay?”
Ed stood just inside the sitting room near the front door and watched as Alex walked silently in her sweats and soft slippers on the thick carpet. He waited until she disappeared in the kitchen before allowing himself to exhale.
Eduardo Coastanoa and Anthony Rossi grew up together near Ozone Park in Queens, there was no question they would join an outfit together, and after their very prominent boss was convicted of running a multimillion-dollar gambling enterprise, he knew Anthony would strike out on his own and that they would stick together. They got their start in chop shops; Anthony recruited the mechanics and sold the parts, and Ed stole the cars.
He sighed and interlacing his fingers over his protruding belly, waited patiently for Anthony to call him into his office. Those were the days… he thought wistfully. Ever ambitious, Anthony expanded his business from stripping stolen cars for their parts to stealing truckloads of shrimp and lobster, Ed’s favorite merchandise to steal. He and a friend would flag down a driver a few blocks from the wharf, pay him and drop him off at a motel then drive the truck full of stolen fresh lobster to the finer restaurants in town. By the time desert rolled around the evidence was gone… A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, nostalgic for the good old days. Those drivers were good guys… always nice when we returned their trucks…