Lamentation (20 page)

“It’s what I do, Jay. We provide insurance to half these companies.”

I pointed at the folder. “Answer me one thing, Fisher—Anything in there prove Lombardi had prior knowledge of another company’s bid?”

Fisher didn’t answer.

“Didn’t think so. Lombardi is the biggest construction outfit up here. It makes sense they’d land the job.”

“Still need to submit a proper bid,” Fisher said. “And be sure it comes in lower than all the others. No way to guarantee that.”

“Adam’s been doing this a long time,” I said. “I’m sure he knows how to manipulate numbers to land a job.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Charlie asked. “Since when did you join the Adam Lombardi fan club? You were as freaked out by those bikers as I was. Someone sucker punched you in your own apartment. Pete Naginis is dead. You brother is still missing.”

“No, he’s not missing,” I said. “He was starring in a Lombardi Construction security video last night.”

“You saw these tapes?” Fisher asked.

“Yes.”

“Had the date and time stamped in the corner?”

“Yes. This morning. 2:48 a.m. I remember exactly.”

Fisher thumbed through pages, settling on a telephone log. “You see that call?”

I stared down at a local number I didn’t recognize, calling another in Concord I didn’t recognize. There were several calls between the two over the past several days.

Fisher pointed at today’s date. “Last night. 2:57 a.m.”

“So?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that after Adam Lombardi’s construction site is broken into in the middle of the night, the first number he calls isn’t the police, but his brother?”

This time it was my turn not to answer.

“It’s three in the morning, Jay.”

“What’d you do? Get his phone records?”

“It’s not hard to do,” said Fisher.

“You don’t know what they were talking about.” It was all I had.

Charlie held up a finger in another “aha” moment. “We could find out. Don’t forget, I work for the phone company. Be easy enough to tap the line.”

“Listen to yourself. You’ve been working at the phone company for how long? You’re going to”—I lowered my voice—“illegally tap Adam Lombardi’s phone line? Forget losing your job, Charlie, you can go to jail.” I stood up and pulled out my wallet, counting out bills, then gathered my coat.

“Where you going?” Charlie asked.

“To see my son.” I took a final swig of cold coffee, exiting the booth and making for the door.

“If you see Brody,” Charlie hollered down the aisle, “you might want to ask him about his Commanderoes buddies.”

Cutting across town to Jenny’s, I was praying that she and Aiden would be alone. Despite Charlie’s parting shot, I had no desire to talk to Brody. Not about bikers. Or gangs. Or anything else. I only wanted to see my family. I knew Jenny’s mom, Lynne, often watched Aiden during the day, but I didn’t bother calling to check because I couldn’t stomach the disappointment of the answer not coming back in my favor.

I didn’t see Brody’s truck in the duplex parking lot. It was a little after noon. His shift at the plant didn’t start until three. Maybe he was grabbing lunch with a buddy, or picking up parts for his truck, or getting an early start. I didn’t give a fuck. As long as he was gone. This was my family first.

“What are you doing here?” Jenny asked.

“I wanted to see my son.”

“Um, sure,” she said, taken aback by my unannounced visit. “Come in. I was about to put him down for his nap. He’s in his bedroom. We were reading stories.” She started toward the room, then stopped. “Would you like to read him one?”

I nodded.

Aiden’s eyes lit up when he saw me. He shot up off the chair and ran over, and I bent down and scooped him up. I hugged him tight as I ever had.

After I read him a few stories, the last a long one about a talking chicken named Buck Buck who worked on the railroad, I tucked him in and gave him a kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair to the side. He seemed so happy to have his daddy there and when he started to fuss
about me leaving, I told him that if he didn’t cry, and went to sleep like a good boy, we’d go to the petting zoo in Crawford soon. I promised. I knew I made a lot of promises. But it was high time I started keeping them.

I quietly closed the door.

Not a peep.

“He was giving me fits before you got here,” Jenny said. “He loves seeing you.”

“Please. Don’t make me feel worse.”

“What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

I must’ve sounded particularly pathetic, because next thing I know, Jenny’s got her arms around me, and, normally, I’m not the kind of guy to break down. I don’t fall apart. You keep that shit bottled up, take your hits, keep moving. There’s nothing worse than a grown man crying. Today was different. Maybe it was the stress of everything going on with Chris, or the warring going on inside of me, feelings intensified by having to drive to visit my own kid after refusing help from Charlie and Fisher at the diner. I didn’t want to look into Lombardi and the ski resort, the construction contracts, and the murder, because I didn’t want to give a shit anymore. Whatever finally broke me in that kitchen, I didn’t fight it, I gave in, collapsing under the strain, and I let her hold me for a long time.

Jenny was so sweet—cradling my head against her breast, stroking my hair, my face, whispering that she was there and I didn’t have to be alone—that I surrendered. In all our time together, I’d never once cried in front of Jenny. Not even when Aiden was born. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had cried. I knew I had cried at my parents’ funeral. But that long? Had I really not cried in almost twenty years? Apparently, I had a lot bottled up. I was sobbing.

Then something weird happened. Jenny started kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, everywhere but my mouth. She kept doing it. Until I felt my arms wrap tighter, constrict around her, and then
she’s pushing me back toward the bedroom, and I realized I’m not crying anymore, and that the whole time we’re doing this awkward dance, we’ve been peeling off each other’s clothes, my skin hot, every inch of flesh burning like a bad fever about to break.

We fell back onto the bed, and she lay on top of me, and now she kissed my mouth. She kissed it deep, hard, our tongues wrapped around and probing, desperate hands groping, fumbling, searching, the click of buckles, the tear of cotton, and then her warm hand was on me, and that must’ve been the emotional release I needed because I was harder than I’d ever been. I could literally feel the blood racing, pulsing, throbbing; I was so hard it was painful. We kept our mouths smashed against each other, and I had my fingers inside her, slick like glistening sugar water, and then I was in her, and she pushed back on me deeper and deeper and deeper. It was like we couldn’t get enough of each other, both trying to swallow the other whole, devour, possess entirely. Insatiable. We came together almost instantly, collapsing in exhausted heaps beside one another. I’d never experienced anything more natural in my entire life. Higher than any drug I’d ever taken, drunker than any booze I’d ever drunk.

Back in the kitchen, neither of us said anything, though I could see she had to work not to smile. And I did too. She asked if I wanted coffee. I mumbled okay. I didn’t know what any of this meant, and I didn’t want to ask. In that moment, I was back with my family, and that’s all that mattered. And I knew something else: it’s where I belonged. I silently begged that clock above the sink to stop. Don’t let another minute go by. I didn’t want to leave, or have one of us say the wrong thing, which would inevitably lead to a fight, because it always did. I didn’t want this feeling to end.

Jenny waited with her back to me until the last of the coffee finished percolating and the timer beeped. She poured two mugs, grabbed some cream and sugar, brought it all to the table, and sat down. She did her best to keep a straight face, as did I, but neither of us could suppress it any longer, and then she turned away not to get caught, like we were a couple of teenage kids again. Jenny was biting her lip and I tried to
catch her eye, but she wouldn’t let me, turning her head more, and I kept following her, until she giggled and said to stop it.

Funny how one of the worst days of my life could quickly turn into one of the best.

I spooned sugar into my cup. “Where’s Brody?”

“Down at the bank working out the loan details. Then he’s going to work.”

“He’s not coming back?”

“Not till his shift ends, probably. Why?”

“I was thinking. When Aiden wakes up, why don’t we take him down to the petting zoo in Crawford? He’d like that. My mom and dad used to take me there when I was little.”

“It’s closed, Jay,” she said, rather coolly. “Closed down years ago. And even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t be open in the winter.”

“Oh.” Hadn’t thought about that. “How about, like, the Chuck E. Cheese in Pittsfield, then? It’ll be fun. We could get a pizza and let him play in the ball pit. He likes pizza.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Jenny shot up and snatched my coffee, even though I hadn’t taken a sip yet, and brought it to the sink. “You can’t take me on a date, Jay. I’m not your girl anymore.”

“I know,” I said, “but we’re still Aiden’s parents, and … what about what happened in there?” I practically whispered it, though I don’t know why.

“What about it?” she said, now as icy as last night’s storm.

I pulled my cigarettes.

“You can’t smoke in here. It’s bad for Aiden.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“All cold and distant. Five minutes ago, I was inside you, and now you’re acting like …”

“Like what?”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed, mean, the way they did before she unleashed a torrent, only she pulled up this time. She’d balled her little
fists and was ready to let go on me. But she stopped. Christ, I’d never understand women.

“What’s going on with you, Jay?” She said it so still and perfectly calm.

“With me? You’re the one who jumped me back there, and now you’re acting like you don’t know me.”

“I can’t do this,” she said.

“Do what?”

“This!” Jenny shook her head side to side, as if she had to work to keep the thoughts from getting too comfortable in there. “Nothing’s different, Jay. That … was … nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t change anything. My boyfriend is down at the mortgage broker’s getting us a loan on a house, and we’re going to move to Rutland, because that is what is best for my son. Just because you’re all screwed up in the head over your brother and feeling lonely—”

“I’m not screwed up in the head over my brother—Okay. Maybe I am, a little bit. But not for the reasons you think. And I’m not saying these things because I’m lonely.” I got up and moved toward her.

“Don’t.”

“Why? I want to be with you. I fucked up some shit, I know. Didn’t give you everything I had, and I’m sorry, but I’ll do better this time, Jenny.”

I kept moving toward her, and she kept backing up.

“Stop,” she said, now pressed against the counter. I tried to move in to kiss her again, but she wouldn’t let me, kept turning her head, pushing me off. “I mean it, Jay.”

“I know you still love me too.”

“We have a child.”

“Don’t give me that. That’s not how you still love me. You still love me like you did back there. Don’t you think I felt it? You can’t fake that.”

“It doesn’t matter if I do.” She strained to push me away, but I didn’t give an inch. “Stop it.” She stared out the window, through the open blinds. “People can see in here. Please. Move.”

I looked out the window. The streets were barren and white.

“No one can see anything.”

“Let me go. I mean it.”

I had begun to back off when a key turned in the tumbler and the door shoved open. The two of us froze like deer on the Turnpike, right before they get flattened by a big rig. Brody kept his hand on the door handle, mean mugging our way.

“What are you doing here?” Jenny asked.

Brody yanked the key out of the lock, glowering at me. He tossed his giant, clanking ring on the table. “I live here?” He made for the fridge, snagged a beer, and slammed the door. “What’s he doing here?” Brody didn’t turn to look at me as he asked. Using the countertop, he popped off the bottle top and chugged his beer.