by Lisa Libby
“Stop, I don’t need the details. Did he tell ya he’s engaged, and his fiancé is pregnant? They just announced it yesterday.”
The time has stopped, my ears are ringing, my dad’s lips are moving, but I hear no sound. She’s pregnant? She’s pregnant… I don’t believe it, or at least I don’t want to believe it. My chest is tight, I feel the urge to throw up.
“Ava, are you okay? I thought you knew.”
“I… Yeah, of course I knew, I just didn’t know it was officially announced,” I lie. “We broke it off, after he told me the news.”
“Ya just told me ya were with Johnny. Messin’ with someone like Johnny never ends good, I’m sorry ya had to learn ya lesson, but he isn’t the most honest person, I mean, most criminals aren’t.”
“Dad, it’s really no big deal. We were just having fun.” The lies pile up.
“I hate to end our breakfast, but I have a lot of errands to run.” Another lie.
“You just called me Dad, wow, how cool. If yah up to it, this Friday my friends are throwin’ me a homecoming party. Ya will be there, won’t ya?” he asks.
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it. Just call me with the details.”
We awkwardly hug, and he calls one of the bears over to take me home.
I hold back the tears until I get home.
I can’t believe she’s pregnant. Our relationship is over, this changes everything. He will never leave her, it will always be her over me, like it hasn’t been in the past.
These last couple days have been stressful and lonely. Suicide enters my mind. It would be so easy. All my problems would be gone.
I need to get Johnny out of my mind, so I take a shower, get dressed and sneak out the back door to head for the bar down the street. I dress casual, but sexy. A long beige sweater dress with high black over the knee suede boots. I throw my hair up out of my face and put in some simple hoop earrings. I may as well go out since I’m not going to get any sleep. I walk to the closest bar to my house. It’s a local hipster bar full of MIT and Harvard students, not my scene. You can tell this place is a bar because there are large floor to ceiling windows that open in the warmer months. There’s bright lighting, stainless steel elements; it’s over decorated with industrial fixtures. Many faces are familiar, but I don’t know the names that go with the faces. Paul used to frequent the bar, until he started to develop paranoia, anxiety and whatever other social issues he’s diagnosed himself with.
I get to the bar in under ten minutes. There’s hardly anyone at the bar and a few pool tables vacant, which is usually never the case. I head to the middle section of the bar and take a seat. I order a double shot of whiskey and a beer from the only bartender. He is in his mid-forties at least. His arms are covered with tattoos, hair slicked back, his beard and mustache neatly trimmed. He has worked at this bar since I can remember. He is extremely untalkative for a bar tender, but friendly enough so you don’t think he’s rude.
I sit with my drink pretending to watch the hockey game. Every TV mounted on the wall is tuned into the hockey. They should have Jeopardy playing on the TV’s, it would be more fitting for tonight’s crowd. I finish my drink quickly so I can leave to find another bar or maybe just go back home. I wave to the bartender to close my tab, but a young man interrupts.
“This seat taken?” says the young man.
“No.” I reposition my body so I’m now staring at him.
My interest is peaked, looking back at this young man. His amazing blue eyes shine though his thick oversized glasses. My immediate guess is that he’s a college student.
He orders two beers and gets comfortable next to me.
“It’s no coincidence that I’m sitting next to you,” he says in a quiet voice. “Paul sent me to look for you.”
He hands me a piece of paper. All that is on there is an email address.
“Did he say anything else to you?
“No, he just wanted me to give you this.”
He grabs his beer and leaves the bar.
I’m so confused. Why would Paul send someone? I was just at his house.
I pay my tab this time and leave the bar to head to Paul’s house.
I buzz his apartment over and over, but he never answers. I sit on his front apartment steps for a minute to think. I hear a cat meow from the bushes. It’s Paul’s cat – now I’m scared that something has happened to Paul. Without Paul, I’m shut out from the dark web completely. He’s my only source and my payout from the Atlantic job would be lost. Then there’s Mr. Alterman who’s turned his back on me. A loneliness suddenly creeps up on me, like fog in the morning. I feel my back against the wall. I have no one on my side I can trust; everyone has left me. Paul’s cat finds its way onto my lap. I decide to take the cat to my house until I can find him. I hate cats, but it’s the only thing I have left of my friend Paul. I just hope he’s okay.
I’m so exhausted that I forget about the envelope Mr. Alterman has given me. I hope it has the answers I am looking for.
I open the envelope and find a handwritten letter from Mr. Alterman and a bunch of legal documents from a lawyer’s name I don’t recognize.
Ava,
I have already told you how disappointed I am in you, so I won’t waste it in this letter. I did some digging after your father’s visit. The Mob’s lawyers are pinning it all on you and this can get you up to ten years in prison, and that’s the good news. I don’t know what you have possibly done to piss them off, but I can assure you they do not have your best interests in mind. Their lawyers are showing you one deal, but they have made deals with the FBI to get Susan off with no charges. I have enclosed advice I sought from a lawyer who is a friend of mine; you can trust him. When you are ready for his help, just call him. He will be expecting your call. I have already paid him upfront for your consultation. However, if you request his services for court, you will need to pay for his services.
I will be in touch only after I find it safe, please don’t reach out to me.
Mr. Alterman
After I’m done reading the lawyer’s letter, I flush it down the toilet. I send myself an email including the lawyer’s phone number and first name. I might need this in the future with the trial less than a month away.
JOHNNY
CHAPTER 22
With Child
Casey jumps on my lap with a white stick in her hand, pushing it in my face. Her smile is bright, wide and excited. It makes me smile back, without knowing what I’m smiling about. I just love to see her happy; it brings all her beauty to the surface. I’m with my normal morning erection and her jumping up and down on my lap makes me want her.
“What is this?” I say, grabbing it from her hands. I sit up with her still on my lap and lean one shoulder into the bed, staring at a pregnancy test. There’s two lines. I don’t know how to read a pregnancy test, but by the look on her face, she must be pregnant. I’m disappointed but hide it from her. I grab her face and give her a long kiss. I know how long she has wanted to be pregnant and she’s getting her way.
I don’t want children. A child doesn’t fit into my lifestyle. It gives my enemies a way to hurt me and something to use against me. I think of Ava; it will devastate her. This could end our relationship and fuck up my position with the Mob. It’s a possibility she could lose this child. She has had two miscarriages in the past. Then I think, I should have left Casey when I had the chance. When she found out about my affair with Ava. Ava is the affair that has lasted the longest. I even admitted to Casey that I was in love with Ava one night after drinking.
“Are you happy, baby?”
“Come on, course I am, what kind of question is that?”
“I can’t wait to announce the pregnancy.” She jumps on top of me.
“Don’t you think we should wait until you’re further along? Also, shouldn’t you confirm with a doctor?”
> “Yeeeeaaah, you’re right,” she sighs, heading for the shower.
I light a cigarette and lay back down with one hand behind my head. I just stare at the ceiling, thinking about the future. I can’t picture me as a father. It’s doesn’t feel right. I have a bad feeling. I can’t shake it.
Casey breaks my train of thought walking out of the bathroom naked, drying her hair with the towel.
“You can’t see her anymore, now I’m pregnant I won’t put up with the cheating, it’s me or Ava,” she says.
“Whatever.” I get up and walk to the bathroom.
“I mean it Johnny; you better end it.” She follows me into the bathroom.
“It’s not that simple, my job…”
“Fuck you and that fucking job.”
“Fuck my job, fuck my job, how the fuck do you think we pay the bills?” I scream. “You don’t understand my lifestyle; it won’t change, I have told you this a thousand times. My job comes first. This conversation is over.”
“You’re a dirtbag.” She walks out of the bathroom and slams the door.
All we do is fight. She envisions a different life but doesn’t understand it’s not possible. She lives in a world she’s created in her mind and now she’s pregnant. I don’t know how to tell Ava. I need to tell her before she finds out from someone else.
AVA
CHAPTER 23
Deep Water
Still hungover from last night, I return to the same bar where I bumped into Paul’s mysterious nerdy friend. I’m hoping to see him again. I’m lost on what my next move should be. It’s as if I’ve lost my sight; I’m blind without Paul’s assistance. I take shot after shot, chasing them down with beer. I keep replaying Paul’s last conversation with me. I want to call Johnny but decide to text him instead.
Congrats on the baby
I am SOOO happy for you
When’s the wedding?
Asshole
Fuck you
Dickhead
I stop myself from texting more. It’s pointless and not making me feel better. I feel the urge to throw up; I hurry to the restroom.
I push the first stall open and drop to my knees and throw up uncontrollably. It’s coming out of my nose and mouth. The smell and look of it is making it hard for me to stop. Before I can get up on my knees, I hear the stall door open and look up to find a man with a black bag – it’s over my head before I can react. My hands get zip tied behind my back. I feel a foot kick me in the side of my head and another one, this one hits my nose. I’m scared, even more so than the last time I was in the trunk of a car. I’m in a public place. I try to scream, but the music in the bar is louder than I am. It’s no use.
The man drags me by my arms, my shoulders burning with pain. I feel the cold air hit my face, and it gets lighter. I must be outside. I hear a car peel up and I’m pushed into the back seat. The smell of vomit under the bag is making me nauseous. The bag over my head is wet from blood gushing from either my nose or head. I pass out.
I wake up cold and to the smell of ocean water. For a moment, I forget I’m kidnapped. We are moving, but not in a vehicle. I’m in a boat… I’m in a boat. They’re going to dump me in the ocean. Panic sets in; I need to get my hands free.
“HELLO? HELLO?” No one answers me. “Why are you doing this? I think you have the wrong person. Do you know who my father is? He’s Jimmy ‘The Coroner’ Coonan.”
All I can hear are the waves hitting the boat.
“Ooh, we’re so scared little girl. Don’t worry – your body will never surface, people will think you just ran off,” one of the kidnappers says.
I hear a second voice ask, “Who’s Jimmy ‘The Coroner’ Coonan?”
The other responds, “I don’t know”.
“WHY … why are you doing this?” I beg, the tears rolling down my face.
“It’s the boss’s orders.”
“I can pay you double their offer, whatever you want. And, I’ll, I’ll disappear, leave the country. You can collect both pay outs. Please, I’m begging you.”
They’re silent. I don’t want to die, at least not at the hands of someone else. If I find no way out, I need to get them to kill me before they throw me in the water if my hands are still tied – but if I can get my hands loose, I can swim back to Boston or to one of the surrounding Boston Harbor Islands.
“Please, I can’t swim.” A lie.
“The bosses ordered you to be drowned,” the second kidnapper chimes in. His accent is distinct.
I start twisting my wrists and rubbing them against the wall of the boat. The zip ties cut into my skin. My guess is it’s been about ten minutes since the boat left the harbor. That means we can’t be doing more than 40 mph. I’m trying to do the math in my head; we’re maybe seven miles from the shore, but that depends if we are heading south. I can’t be sure of how far I am from land.
I hear the kidnappers talking to each other about tying weights to my legs. I feel one of them grab my leg and suddenly he’s dragging me. I kick at him, flaring my legs so they can’t tie anything to them. He manages to tie a rope around one of my legs. I feel the second kidnapper grab my shoulders. I’m praying to God, asking for forgiveness. I don’t want to die, not now. I don’t want to be murdered, by people I don’t know and for reasons unknown. My legs are cramping and getting tired, but I can’t stop kicking at them or I’m dead.
“Bitch, stop moving; let’s just shoot her.”
“No, that’s not the plan, we have to do it exactly the way the boss requested.”
“Oh, you are a fucking pussy, the boss, the boss. Who cares?”
“Listen, fucker, it’s the boss’s way or no way. If her body washes up full of bullet holes, you think the boss will be happy?”
They are too busy arguing and it’s my opportunity to jump to my feet. I can’t see anything, but I’m standing. I don’t know which way to run. The boat is rocking back and forth. I feel one of the kidnappers grab my shoulders. I kick him and swing my head into his forehead. We are now wrestling, and I’m overpowered. I step backwards and my thigh hits the side of the boat and I fall backwards into the water.
Hitting the water feels like hitting an ice rink. The water is horribly cold, and my body goes into shock. I shake the bag off my head. I kick my legs to try to get my head above the water to get air. Only my lips get above the water for a quick inhale. I swallow salt water with the little air. I’m choking underwater and slowly sinking. I keep trying to pull my wrists apart twist to loosen the zip ties. The water lubricates around the ties and I get one hand loose, leaving the zip tie around the other wrist. I quickly swim up for air, gasping and choking on the saltwater I swallowed. The kidnappers’ flashlights skim the water while they argue back and forth.
“Where the fuck is, she, we have to make sure she’s dead.”
“You’re a fucking idiot, we should’ve killed her then dumped her in the water.”
I swim underwater towards the opposite side of the boat, away from where the kidnappers are as quietly as I can. Something rubs against my foot and I yelp, it freaks me out. My kidnappers spot me and start shooting in the water. My teeth begin to chatter. I try clenching my teeth together to stop it, but it’s no use. My muscles are cramping, and my body is becoming tired and shaking uncontrollably. If I don’t get out of the water, I will die from hypothermia. Even if I was closer to the shore, I wouldn’t survive the swim. I feel the vibration from their boat engine start. They are leaving me to die. I panic, feeling around the outside of the boat, looking for a rope or something to hang onto, but there’s nothing. I see a bright light shine over the top of the boat; it’s another boat. I must get the attention of the people on that boat. It’s my only change to survive. If I’m lucky they’re not with my kidnappers.
“HELP, HELP me, they’re trying to kill me.”
I wave my hands in th
e air. The boat spotlight is on me, it’s blinding.
I hear more gunshots, and duck under the water.
“This is the coastguards, put your weapons down.”
The kidnappers’ boat’s engine takes off. Something hits the water in front of me. It’s a flotation device with a rope on the other end. I grab it and feel it pull me closer to the boat. I’m praying this is really the coastguard. They pull me on the boat, and immediately wrap me in blankets. The coastguard puts his arms around me trying to warm up my body.
“Are you injured?
“Just cc…o…l..d.”
The other coastguard brings a warm cup of tea and helps me sip it. I’m too tired, I just fall asleep.
I wake in an ambulance with an oxygen mask over my face and an IV in my arm. I lift my head and look out the ambulance doors and see a news reporter. My head feels heavy and quickly falls back onto the stretcher. I fall back into a deep sleep.
I hear machines beeping around me, but I don’t open my eyes, I can’t – that’s how exhausted I feel. There’re heavy warm blankets stacked on my chest. I hear a familiar voice in the distance beyond the beeping hospital machines. It’s the FBI agent, Connor. He’s speaking with the doctor. The doctor recommends he come back tomorrow morning because I need rest. I fall in and out of sleep.
It must be morning; the sun is peeking through the window. The burning sensation in my chest has my full attention. Each inhale feels like knives slicing and dicing the inside of my lungs. The sun is shining so brightly that I can see the white particles in the air. The oxygen under my nose feels cool and refreshing. I lift my hands, my wrists are wrapped in white gauze, blood stains seeping through. I turn my head to the door and see the day, date and time written on the small white markerboard. It doesn’t feel like I’ve been here two days. In this time, I’ve had the craziest dreams that feel real. There were Indians chanting around my bed throwing red powder on my face and I swear I can still smell the incense from my dream. Drums were beating slow, then faster and more intense. My father was there amongst the Indians wearing a strange robe and headpiece. The Indian sliced my father’s arm and positioned it so the blood would drip into a bowl. The Indian added sticks and sand to the bowl, like a witch making a potion. They forced me to drink the mixture from the bowl. I felt like I was choking and couldn’t breathe. I looked at the ceiling to find hundreds of red birds flying around gracefully. They looked like Cardinals. The window opened and the birds flew out leaving my room empty and quiet. Everything in the room transformed into pure white. My mother was sat in the chair. She looked up from her book and smiled.