ONE SMALL VICTORY Page 8

  Considering how hard she’d worked to quit smoking two years ago, she wasn’t thrilled with this part of the charade, but Steve had emphasized it was important to be seen doing this. And from a distance – if they were watching her – the pushers wouldn’t know she was smoking regular tobacco.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You’ve changed, Jenny.”

  “No I haven’t.”

  Carol put her hamburger down and gave Jenny a hard look. “You can’t bullshit me.”

  Jenny looked around the small café that was comfortably full at the tail end of the lunch rush. Anywhere but at her friend. The silence at their table thundered in contrast to the chitchat and bursts of laughter from a nearby table of ladies with name badges that proclaimed they worked at J.C. Penny.

  Finally Jenny sighed and made eye contact. “Everything’s changed since Michael died.”

  “It’s more than that.” Carol paused to sip her Coke. “You had the time after the funeral when you were quiet... sad... remote. Then that frenzy of physical fitness. But now...”

  She paused again as if searching for the words. “It’s like you’re unavailable. For me. For your kids. For anybody.”

  “I’m available. I’m here.” Jenny tried for a smile.

  Carol glared. “It took a week to set this lunch date. We used to get together on an hour’s notice. And how many of Scott’s soccer games have you made?”

  Jenny lost her smile. “Maybe you’d understand if you’d lost a child.”

  The pain that washed across the other woman’s face twisted her normally pleasant image into a grotesque mask of anger and pain, and Jenny realized that of all the things she could have said to her friend, this was the worst. How could she have been so thoughtless?

  “I can’t believe you said that.” Carol took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out in a loud whoosh. “You never used to be cruel.”

  “I’m—”

  “No. This is beyond apologies.” Carol stood, her chair scraping across the wooden floor with a screech. “When the real Jenny Jasik shows up, have her call me.”

  After slapping a ten-dollar bill on the table, Carol slung her leather bag over her shoulder and walked out.

  Of all the— Jenny shoved her plate, nearly toppling the bottle of catsup to the floor. What kind of friend simply stomps off like that?

  The kind who’s been left in the dark, another voice in her head answered. The kind who deserves some explanation, not a verbal injury.

  It was more than the stares of other customers that made Jenny blush as she grabbed the check and stood. She left Carol’s money on the table. The thought of touching it made her skin crawl; almost like she would be some kind of Judas if she took it. It wasn’t exactly blood money, unless it did symbolize the death of the friendship, but it was tainted with her friend’s anger and that was reason enough to walk away from it.

  Not for the first time, regret reared its ugly head and sneered at her. See what you’ve done? Something more important than revenge is at stake here.

  It’s not my fault. None of this would be happening if Michael hadn’t—

  That terrible thought faltered Jenny’s step and she would have fallen if not for the back of the chair she grabbed. The blonde woman who occupied the chair, turned, her expression of annoyance turning quickly to concern. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” The words soured in Jenny’s mouth as she made her way to the cashier. What a crock of shit.

  The transaction of paying and receiving the change barely registered. It was almost as if she’d been transported in some emotional time machine. Maybe Carol was right. Maybe the real Jenny Jasik was someplace else and an imposter had invaded her body, like a remake of the old Quantum Leap television show.

  Jenny pushed the door open and stepped outside, hoping for some emotional relief, but it didn’t happen.

  The sun was like an assault and the breeze was more a slap than a caress. Was she being punished? For what? For risking everything for some kind of revenge? For that awful thought about Michael?

  Anguish slammed her against the front of the building where she leaned for support until her legs might find strength again. How could she be angry with him? It wasn’t like he’d chosen to die. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths, trying to tame the beasts of anger, shame, and guilt. Oh, God. Please tell me I haven’t made a huge mistake.

  “Jenny?” The voice and the touch jerked her from the misery. She opened her eyes to see the same look of concern on Mitchell’s face as the blonde woman in the restaurant had worn. For a moment, she wondered why he was there, then remembered he had a delivery scheduled about this time; a birthday arrangement to a women in the real estate office two doors down.

  He kept his hand on her arm to steady her. “Lunch didn’t agree with you?”

  Jenny let the humor calm the storm of emotions. “It’s just been a rough time.”

  “Well. If I can be so indelicate, it shows.”

  A gentle squeeze offered the comfort his words were missing and Jenny smiled.

  “Wish I could help. But short of taking over the whole store, I don’t know what there is.”

  “You’ve done plenty. And I do appreciate you covering for me as much as you have.”

  “No problem.” He started to walk toward the van parked at the curb, then turned back. “Will you be in later? We’ve got that big Homecoming order.”

  “Just give me a few minutes to clear my head.”

  “Live dangerously. Take a half-hour.”

  Jenny had to stifle a manic surge of laughter. Live dangerously? If only Mitchell knew. If only she could tell him. Carol. Someone. Guarding the secret was proving to be as difficult as living the secret.

  ~*~

  Scott sat on the empty bleachers and watched the football team practice. Michael used to tease him about not trying out for the team, but Scott hadn’t wanted to walk in the shadow of a star running back. God knows there was plenty of his brother’s legacy that he couldn’t avoid at school; honor student in history and math and a technical wizard in the drama department.

  If he ever decided to give up soccer, maybe he’d try basketball. Michael had never played.

  It felt weird to still feel so competitive. But then everything felt weird. He thought that life would get better as time went on. That’s what Ms. Kotcher, the school counselor, had said on one of the mandatory visits; that there would come a time when he wouldn’t think about his brother every second of every day. Even though he didn’t care for her cloying sweetness, he figured she spoke with some authority, but things hadn’t gotten better.

  The hole in his life was still a huge, open sore that bled anew every time his mother went out. It was bizarre. She’d never done this before – leaving them at night. She’d always said the family was too important for her to go out. So why now? Was family only important as long as Michael was alive? Do we not fuckin’ matter?

  What would Ms. Kotcher say if he asked her that question at their next session? A bit bizarre, but that’s how he felt and he couldn’t stem his feelings. Sure, his mother had stayed home one night after their last big fight. And as much as he wanted to dis her for just going through the motions to placate him, it had felt good to just chill out, the three of them watching a movie and eating every snack in the house. He’d even let his guard down long enough to hope that maybe she’d stay home the next night too. Ha. What a sap you are.

  The clatter of footsteps on the metal bleachers drew his attention and he turned to see Caitlin hurrying toward him. She wore a light, quilted jacket and clutched an armful of books to her chest. Just seeing her wide smile lifted the blanket of gloom. He could’ve sworn the sun even brightened.

  “Guess what?” She plopped down beside him. “I got the coolest dress for Homecoming. Mom and I went to the mall in Frisco last night. Lord and Taylor was having this awesome sale. So I got like this two-hundred dollar dress for half that.”

  S
cott smiled at her excitement, but the reminder of Homecoming made him wonder if his mother would remember to make the flower thing he was supposed to give to Caitlin. She’d said she would. She’d even seemed pleased that Scott had a date, but that was before the fight; before he’d gotten this feeling that he couldn’t count on his mother anymore.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The question startled him. He hadn’t realized he’d gone into the black hole again.

  “Sorry.” He reached out to run his fingers through the strands of her hair that lay like an auburn shawl across her shoulders. “So is this dress sexy?”

  She ducked her head, but not before he saw a new touch of red on her cheeks. “Wait and see.”

  He pulled her close, and she seemed content to lean against his shoulder in silence. There were times they didn’t talk much. Partly because he didn’t know what to say, and he was sure she felt the same way. It was like some incredible awkwardness seized them both, but he also kept silent because he couldn’t imagine saying some of the things that went through his mind. She’d dump him for sure.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The moon scuttled behind a bank of clouds, and Jenny hoped the rain would hold off until she got home again. It wouldn’t do to catch pneumonia in the middle of her super-hero act. She could see Chico leaning against the side of Whipple’s Laundromat, long ago boarded up and left to deteriorate along with this whole section on the outskirts of downtown. Small-town slums.

  He’d taken to meeting with her here since she’d increased the amounts she bought. Maybe the Dairy Queen parking lot was too open for the big buys. He’d also given her a card with a cell phone number and his name. She hoped that meant he trusted her enough for the next step in the game.

  Drawing closer, she noted that he was alone. That was odd. She’d never seen him without his shadow before. She knew that boy’s name, too, Leon. Was he waiting in a darkened doorway down the street? Was she walking into what fiction writers referred to as “a drug-bust gone bad?”

  “Yo, Mamma. Wassup?” A smile flashed white against the amber tones of Chico’s face.

  She controlled a shudder of panic and returned his smile the best she could. “Where’s your friend?”

  “Takin’ care of some bidness.”

  Jenny didn’t want to even consider what that bidness might be. Certainly nothing as innocent as picking up a few groceries at Tom Thumb or paying the electric bill.

  “I got a little business of my own needs taken care of.” She handed him a ten-dollar bill, making sure he saw her hands shaking.

  “Make it look good,” Steve had said. “You’ve got to convince him that you’re up against it.”

  Tonight, she didn’t even have to pretend to be nervous. She was never going to get used to doing this.

  Chico slipped her the baggie, and she stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Now is the time. Ask him. And remember to sound desperate.

  Remembering what that boy had looked like a few weeks ago, Jenny mimicked his fly on speed movements and looked up.

  “Money’s getting a little tight, Chico.” Jenny paused, glad that a sudden case of jitters put a tremor in her voice, adding authenticity to the improv. “Maybe I could move a little stuff for you. Help pay my way.”

  He regarded her with cold, untelling eyes. “We’re good here.”

  The line in the sand was clear, but maybe it wasn’t too deep to cross over.

  “I know some folks in Dallas. They said they’d like to do business with a friend.” Jenny held his gaze, hoping the lie rang true. “Don’t push,” Steve had warned. “Just let the request lay there.”

  So she did.

  Chico fished a toothpick out of the breast pocket of his leather jacket and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. “It ain’t like buying a fuckin’ franchise, lady.”

  Jenny hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then realized she shouldn’t back down. Steve hadn’t told her what to do if Chico was resistant, but some instinct told her he wouldn’t expect her to meekly accept his first response.

  “You know what, Chico. I’m trying to be nice here. Not cut you out of the picture. But you keep treating me like I’m stupid, I’ll have to try someone else.”

  She turned her head slightly, hoping he’s say something before it became imperative that she actually leave.

  Chico took what seemed like forever to respond as he played the toothpick back and forth in his mouth. Finally he tucked it in one corner. “I gotta talk to my man about it.”

  “Sure. I understand. I’ll—” She clamped her lips over the torrent of words that rode her relief that he hadn’t said no.

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  Jenny nodded, then turned and walked the three blocks to where she’d parked her car. It felt a little strange to be happy that she was now going to be a drug dealer. But it means you’re one step closer to ending this whole mess.

  That thought buoyed her spirits as she got in the car and headed for home. Maybe she’d get lucky on two counts and catch Scott before he shut himself in his room for the night.

  ~*~

  The living room was dark when Jenny walked in. Damn! She went down the hall and stopped by Scott’s room where the latest offering from One-Inch Nails blasted from behind his closed door. The bass rumbled the floorboards under her feet. She tested the doorknob. Locked. She debated the wisdom of knocking. Not a good idea. Even if he could hear her over the squeal of guitars being tormented, interrupting would not be a good idea. Even in the best of circumstances Scott did not like to be disturbed, and this could hardly be considered the best of circumstances.

  The only positive thing Jenny had seen recently was that his grades were improving, but their relationship was in the toilet. Homecoming had bordered on disaster. No, he did not want to start the evening by bringing Caitlin over for dinner first. And did she absolutely have take pictures? He could give her one that the photographer took at the dance.

  He’d finally agreed to a half-hour at home to indulge his mother’s need for pictures, but his mood that night was dark. Jenny saw a frown of concern cross Caitlin’s face, but Scott had hustled her out before she could voice that concern.

  Since then, he’d shown the good grace to acknowledge Jenny’s gift of the Mum for Homecoming, but otherwise had barely spoken to her during the past week. He didn’t need words, however, to make his point. His resentment came across loud and clear. Despite the icy silences, there was no way she could miss how much he hated being left with Alicia so often.

  Jenny tried to limit her demands to two or three nights a week, but that consideration failed to register with Scott. And in her heart of hearts, she knew it was about more than having to watch his sister. He just hid his real feelings under his surly attitude. She’d learned to recognize that when Michael was fifteen and fought that same tension between the independent man who was emerging and the child who was afraid to let go of the security of dependence. Yet who could blame them. It was easier to let someone else tell you what you could do and what you shouldn’t.

  Jenny could feel the pull of that same desire. If her mother knew what was going on, she’d tell Jenny to quit this very instant, and being a dutiful daughter, she’d have to obey Mom, right?

  Stepping away from Scott’s door, she walked further down the hall. Alicia’s room was accessible and Jenny slipped in, thankful that the years with two teenage brothers had given her daughter the ability to sleep deeply in spite of thunderous music or the clomping of heavy footsteps in the hall.

  A shaft of moonlight shone through the slats of the blinds, casting zebra-like stripes across the bed. Alicia lay in a tangle of blankets and stuffed animals, and Jenny watched the light play on her daughter’s face. Two things consciously registered; how serene Alicia looked and the realization that the threat of rain must have moved off.

  On another level, there was a subtle emotional shift that Jenny was barely conscious of until resolve replaced doubt. One of the reports she�
��d read during her crash course in drug dealing indicated that consumers were getting younger and younger. How soon before the sales pitch was given to Alicia and her friends?

  Jenny was willing to do whatever it took to ward off that threat to safety and sanity.

  ~*~

  Chico pulled off Highway 720 into the gravel drive. It led to the house that sat on a bluff a good half-mile from the road. Hell it wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. Chico couldn’t wait until he could afford something worth even a fraction of what this place cost. He could have a family. Retire from the business. Be respectable. Maybe even join the church. With little tsks of admonition his mother continually warned him about the consequence of abandoning the faith. “You do not want to burn in the fires of damnation.”