AT 29 (92 page)

He followed the neatly sculpted pathway to the house. The lights were on and loud music was coming from the great room inside. As he approached the steps to the front door, he cast his eyes to the right where the large pool shimmered in low light from underwater lamps. Four muscled bikers were sitting along the pool's edge, stripped to their briefs. Two young women were in the water a few feet away, frolicking topless. The party was getting underway. He girded himself as he turned the doorknob. No telling what he might find inside.

Jimmy entered his darkened townhouse, flipped on the lights and placed the Gibson against the wall. He spotted the brown paper bag in the corner, walked over to pick it up and quickly pulled out two bottles. He placed one bottle on the table and carried the other into the kitchen, twisting the cork stopper off as he opened the cabinet and retrieved a glass. He downed this first drink and poured another. He carried it into the living room and plopped onto an easy chair next to a side table with a telephone resting on top. He picked up the telephone and dialed the fourteen digit international number. As he waited for the call to ring through, he downed the second drink, a feat for anyone not accustomed to large amounts of alcohol. For him, it was simply a veteran drinker quenching a mighty thirst. After fifteen seconds he heard the familiar beeping, but it was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Jimmy boy, open up.”

In a panic he returned the telephone to its cradle. He leapt from the chair and rushed into the kitchen, emptying the glass in the sink and hiding it with the half empty bottle in the cabinet. He hurried back to the living room just as Ellis shouted through the door again.

“You in there?” His agent knocked louder.

He scooped up the other bottle from the table and put it back into the bag, making sure to wrap it closed before placing it on the floor beside the chair. Then he went to the door.

Ellis wasn't smiling when stepped into the room. He looked around then he took his client's arm and pulled him close.

“Say something so I can smell your breath.”

Jimmy wrenched his arm away and retreated into the room. “What are you doing here?”

Ellis continued to give Jimmy a sharp study. “You're supposed to be at the concert.”

“Seems to me that you should be there, too.”

“Are you going to Winfield's breakup party?”

“Thinking about it. You?”

“That's why I'm here, to make sure you do.”

“Why?”

“So I can keep an eye on you. We both know something's not right.”

Jimmy slid into the chair. Ellis watched, spotting the paper bag on the floor.

“What's in the bag?” Jimmy averted his eyes without answering. The agent's shoulders slumped. “Don't bother to answer. I already know.” He moved across the room and took a seat on the couch opposite Jimmy. “When did you start drinking again?”

Jimmy gave up his pretense. “A few weeks ago, Atlanta.”

“Cindy saw the signs.”

“McCabe?”

“He doesn't know.”

“It's only temporary. I'm leaving the stuff behind when we go to Australia.”

“That simple, huh? It took you six months the last time. Now, you think you're going to break the habit nice and easy?”

“It's not as bad this time.”

Ellis shook his head. “It's always bad. You need to own up. Detox a couple of years ago, six months of hell last year when you almost lost your career. Now, it starts all over again. Jimmy, when's it gonna stop?”

“I told you, Australia.”

“What's so different about Australia? Why not now?”

Jimmy thought about the engagement ring, and Les. “I'll get it under control.”

“Cindy wants to know if you're going to the party.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. She asked me to call and let her know. Look, let's go together. Leave the booze. Better yet, stop right now. I'll take the booze off your hands.”

Jimmy didn't want to argue. “Go ahead and take it.”

Ellis left the couch to pick up the bag. He pulled out the unopened bottle. “Where's the rest?”

“Finished the last one. That's all that's left.”

Les waited for her luggage. She scanned the terminal looking for the exit that would take her to the taxi queue. After an interminable wait, she spotted her suitcase and hurried to retrieve it before the rumbling carousel made another revolution. Outside, she hailed a cab, delighted to take in some fresh air. She was exhausted from the thirty-hour sojourn. Hopefully, she'd have time to take a shower and put on some fresh clothes before Cindy arrived. Apart from the welcome relief of finally being on the ground, she could think of nothing but the thrill of seeing Jimmy.

Jimmy and Ellis reached the dock just as Nigel and the rest of the Blossom entourage exited vans in the parking lot. It was midnight and Jimmy concluded that they had come directly from the Orange Bowl without stopping in between. Everyone was in a partying mood, even Jimmy. The group came together with handshakes and backslaps as it made its way down the stairs to the launch led by an ebullient Benson with Chase at his side. The last U.S. concert had gone extremely well, a sellout with good play by all. Now, it was time to enjoy the rewards of the long tour with only the last two venues ahead in Sydney and Melbourne. No one took notice of the Harley's.

Miles caught up with Felix in the hotel bar. He knew his security man had spent the afternoon scouting Winfield's venue for the party.

“They showed up at the dock around eight, twelve of them like my son said.”

“Winfield?”

“I didn't see him, but I assume he's there.”

“So what's the deal with, what did you call them? The Vultures?”

“All I know is what my son told me. He said the Bronx DA is building a case against the whole bunch, drugs, guns and whatever else he can dig up.”

“Then I should be concerned.”

“Maybe not tonight, but like you said, we should think about heading off any trouble in the future. I've changed my mind about that Chase guy. You should cut him loose. LaSalle, too, if you can live without him.”

“Nobody's so important that I'm going risk Blossom's reputation.”

“Good. After the Australia shows, get rid of them. What about Winfield?”

“I'm going to settle up with him in January. Then he's done. Look, Cindy is going to this thing tonight. Are you sure she'll be safe?”

“If she was my wife, I wouldn't let her near the place.”

The party was already wild. Shouts and loud music greeted the launch when it docked. Up the hill, the big house was lit with floodlights shining into the night sky. They exited the launch behind Benson, Chase and Nigel, who hurried up the path. Travis fell in with Ellis and Jimmy who lagged behind. As the group rounded the path, the huge pool opened up to their eyes on the right. A dozen women were in the water and milling about. Many of them were topless and a few, completely naked. Ellis stopped to look, halting the others who came up on either side, also gawking. A boom box blared loudly from a corner where ten men, most wearing bandanas on their scalps, stood talking and laughing with more scantily clad girls. The odor of pot was everywhere in the air.

“Who are those guys?” Ellis asked, directing his question to no one in particular.

“Bad bunch,” Travis replied, “more of them than usual, Chase and Benson's mates. Mr. Winfield has them at his parties sometimes.”

***

Nicky Aldridge tossed fitfully in the upper bunk of his dormitory room. The other three boys, who had been carefully selected to share his space, were too deeply asleep to notice. This was another of Les' experiments to see if the youngster could assimilate. While she was close everything went well.

Her assumption that the little boy understood everything she'd explained about her departure, especially that she would be back soon, was wrong. Yes, he knew what absence meant. His mother had left him many times and for long periods. Each time it resulted in another temporary foster home, where neglect or worse followed. He was convinced that with the morning light, he would be shunted off to more of the same. He cried quietly in his tiny bunk, unable to sleep and fearful beyond reason.

At five a.m., the first glimmer of impending dawn shown through the small window above his bed. He shook nervously. Soon they would come to take him away. He peered down at the floor beside the lower bunk where another boy was still fast asleep. He had to get away and hide where no one could find him. With stealth that only a frightened child can summon, he slipped down to the floor, careful not to make a sound. He made for the door, looking back to make sure no one was watching as he reached for the knob. The hallway was empty and dark, but he knew where he wanted to go.

The night shift attendants went off duty at six a.m. Normally, the attendant assigned to Nicky's floor would make one last round at five-thirty, but this morning she was sick with a cold. It had been a long night, shuffling papers amidst sniffles and sneezes. When the appointed hour for her last walk through came, she was dozing at her desk. Only the sound of footsteps, the day shift's arrival, woke her in time to avoid embarrassment. Nicky had found his way to Les' upstairs office by then. He huddled inside the cubbyhole beneath her desk, making sure to pull her big chair in behind him so that no one would know he was there. Feeling secure, he relaxed. Soon, the lack of nighttime sleep overtook his tiny body and he drifted off.

At seven, the morning bells rang. The orphans, accustomed to the daily schedule, roused from their bunks, padded off to the lavatories, then returned to their rooms to dress. The morning attendants supervised it all from key positions in the hallways, counting heads and urging the boys not to dally. It was another routine morning. No one seemed to be missing. Nicky also heard the bells. He awoke with a start, realizing that this was the moment when they would come for him. He hunched deeper into the cubbyhole, drawing his knees up to his chest and pulling the chair farther inside to hide his presence.

At eight, classes began. No one was looking for Nicky. The reason was simple enough. Les always took him at this time. It was their morning hour together, the time when they went into the garden to read stories. The schedule she had so carefully prepared, retained this timeslot, but the attendant assigned to fill-in called in sick. No one thought to take her place.

By nine, hearing neither footsteps nor calls for his name, Nicky once again relaxed. He was hungry. He remembered the candy Les often produced from somewhere in her desk whenever she brought him to her office for consolation. He pushed the chair back and crawled out of his hiding place to stand. A ray of sunlight came through the windows behind the desk. It reflected off the cabinet on the other side of the office where several footy balls, trophies from the days when Nigel led Saint Malachy's to the city finals, were displayed behind a locked glass façade. Nicky climbed up onto the chair and
began opening the desk drawers one by one. The candy, several bars of chocolate, was in a side drawer. He took one and quickly unwrapped it, thrusting its delicious contents into his mouth. It was consumed in an instant and he took another.

He sat in the big chair, chewing and surveying the office with growing confidence. He studied the pictures on the wall for a moment then turned his attention to the things on Les' desk. He was familiar with most of them; a stapler, several pens and pencils, a calendar, although he could not read it nor understand what it was for, a ruler and a green box filled with papers. A gold pen interested him and he picked it up, turning it in his hand. Soon, he tired of the pen, but he did not put it down as he lifted his eyes to the cabinet with the footy balls. He recognized their shape and size and he knew what they were for. Many times Les had scolded him when he sat on the floor of the office, smudging the glass that protected the balls with his fingers while he waited for her to finish what she was doing and take him on her lap to read. In truth, he was trying to get at the balls, but the glass doors would not open. He couldn't get inside to touch the playthings, so he pushed on the glass in a fruitless attempt. He decided to do it again.

With the gold pen still in his hand, he slipped off the chair, came around the desk and dropped onto the rug in front of the cabinet. He placed his hands on the glass and pushed without success, frustrated that this one time, when Les wasn't there to chastise him, he still couldn't get inside to touch the objects of his desire. Eventually, he forgot his fear of discovery and began hitting the cabinet, driving his palms into the glass with increasing force, but again, to no avail. He became more frustrated as the vibrating pressure of each slam stung his fingertips where he held the pen.

He almost gave up, but the pen gave him an idea. It was made of metal and had a sharp point. He turned the instrument in his hand, thinking hard about how it might help him. A thought emerged and he acted on it quickly. With all the strength he could muster, he reared back and brought the point down into the center of the glass. It shattered at the spot where the pen made impact. He was startled by the sound, even as his wrist scraped along the jagged edge, opening a series of deep cuts. Blood oozed out, but he felt little pain as he let the pen fall to the floor and studied the tennis ball sized hole he'd successfully made. It did not occur to him that the hole wasn't large enough to pull the footy balls out.

He reached inside to touch the closest ball, blue and white with big letters he could not read. The jagged opening was just large enough to admit one hand, which he recklessly used to coax the ball off its perch, but that was all he could accomplish. He brought his hand back out and picked up the pen again. This time he clutched it tight and got to his knees for leverage. He lifted his bloody hand high over his head and rammed pen and fist into the glass a second time. The entire façade gave way as his wrist came down again on the sharpest points of broken glass protruding from the bottom edge. There was no way to stop the momentum before the razor-like edges sliced through the veins that delivered fast moving blood to his fingers. The red liquid spurted out in front of his eyes, momentarily stunning the little boy as he tried to understand what happened.