The Nightlife: New York (The Nightlife Series) (11 page)

CHAPTER 12

Talco pounded pavement for three nights straight, passing
around the artist’s rendering of the blonde tramp to every pimp, prostitute,
and hustler he could find.  Not one person recognized her.  No one had ever
seen or heard of her before.  She’d never worked these streets, at least not
anywhere near 60th and Palmetto.

He considered it a risk to speak with most of these people. 
Many of them were ex-cons.   The rules of his probation forbid any contact with
felons.  It was completely absurd.  How should he know if someone was a felon? 
Was he supposed to ask every person he met?  “Hello, my name’s Talco, oh … by
the way, are you a felon?  I was just wondering because I’m on probation.”

What an awesome way to make friends and influence people.  How
can a man get anywhere in life saddled with such ridiculous rules?  In most
cases he could tell whether or not a person had been to prison before by simply
looking at them.  But out on the streets?  In the ghetto neighborhoods?  Talco
suspected his probation could get revoked simply for being in these areas.  It
looked way suspicious.  And it made him extremely nervous.

This whole idea seemed stupid.  Escorts and their dates don’t
find each other on street corners, it’s foolish and suspicious, and a sure way
to get tossed in jail.   Girls didn’t need to do that anymore.  Not with free
classified ad websites.

The more time he spent on this pointless, high risk activity,
the more pissed off he became.  He was certain she wasn’t out walking these
streets.  So … why was he beating the streets looking for this puta like a
retard?

After three consecutive nights of wasted time he gave up. 
He’d have to find some other way to placate
Los Demonios
.  Probably have
to pay them off.  The detectives certainly weren’t giving him credit for his
efforts without results.  This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

He had a wife and newborn baby at home who needed him.  He
definitely didn’t need this shit.  When he came home at midnight, Evita awaited
him with a kiss and a smile, six month old Mateo held in the crook of her arm. 
They were the best thing that ever happened to him.  He’d gained so much in so
little time, but he stood to lose it all with this foolish business.

“What’s wrong, baby?  Que paso?”  Evita smoothed away the
tension from his forehead with her free hand, baby Mateo cooing quietly in her
other arm. 

She was so beautiful as a mother.  She’d truly blossomed
with Mateo’s birth.  Talco couldn’t imagine life without her and his son.  He
knew if he went to prison again, Evita might not be there by the time he got
out.  There were only so many mistakes a girl would put up with.  Her golden
skin, spicy Colombian attitude, and beautiful hazel eyes would surely attract
another man if Talco went down for too long.  He had to find a way out of this
mess.  He had to stop chasing the easy money and go legit.  He had to get away
from those bastard detectives.

He answered Evita as he embraced her, “Todo está bien mi
amor.  I’m okay.  You know I love you?  Tu eres mi vida, mi corazón.”

She had cooked his favorite dinner, fajitas Evita-style,
with freshly prepared salsa and guacamole on the side.  Beyond being the most
gorgeous Colombian woman he’d ever met, she was also a damn good cook.

Evita Rodriguez, formerly Evita Valenzuela, had come to New
York on a visa paid for by Colombian cartel, her stomach filled with tiny latex
balloons of high purity cocaine.  It was a fairly common way to catch a paid
vacation to New York for Colombians who otherwise didn’t have a dime to their
name.  She survived the ordeal without a single package bursting in her belly,
collected her $5000 dollar payoff, and promptly disappeared into the streets of
New York City.

Barely twenty when Talco met her, she began selling her body
to make ends meet.  They became close after several months of working together.
 She told him she loved him.  Many girls say that, but rarely do they mean it. 
And then came the night of his arrest.  She proved just how much she loved him when
she spent herself broke paying for his legal defense.

By the time he started serving his sentence, he demanded she
get off the streets and marry him.  She did exactly as he wished, working a
waitressing job at a local Denny’s for the entire year he spent locked up.  She
stuck by him, wrote letters every week and visited the prison every weekend.  She
was his rock.  She paid off the worthless defense attorney’s bill from her tips
and overtime at the restaurant.

Two years had gone by, and Evita hadn’t worked the streets
since.  Talco was determined she would never again sell her body to pay the
rent.

Evita was his angel, a godsend.  How could he ever let her
go?

Upon his release from prison he made it his mission in life
to give her a child.  The doctor told them the date of conception for Mateo was
probably within the first week of his freedom.

He had never been happier, married to this gorgeous woman
whose devotion had withstood every hardship imaginable, and a beautiful son to
show for it.  If only he could keep it going.  If only he could avoid ruining
all their lives with his mistakes.

He thought of opening a restaurant; let the New Yorkers have
a taste of his wife’s fabulous cooking.  He’d even name it after her,
Evita
’
s
. 
With the birth of his son, Mateo Rodriguez, he had new inspiration, a new
reason to make something positive of his life.  He began plotting and planning.

He spent endless hours working with the Small Business Administration––SBA. 
They had the business plans, financial plans, and guidance he needed to make it
happen.  He worked up a menu, designed the graphics for the neon sign, and even
calculated twelve month projections of overhead and income.  The SBA could
provide small loans for business startup, but Talco needed to have a certain
amount of his own cash vested in the project.  That was the catch.  He needed
more money.

By his estimates he had two to three months left of running
his little
escort service
to save up enough cash to start the restaurant.
 But that was before the devil sent Oberman and Konowicz into his life to
torment him.  All his grand plans screeched to a grinding halt when
Los Demonios
began taxing the life out of him, threatening everything he was trying to
build.

Evita gave him that angry stare.  The girl a real stinger
when she knew he was up to something.  “Papi, I want you to stop.  You don’t
need the girls.  We don’t need that much money.”

“I know baby, but we’re so close.  We’re almost ready to
start the restaurant.”

“Papi, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t care
about the money.  I want us to be happy.  If you quit working with the girls
you can get rid of those detectives.  They can’t get to you if you’re not doing
anything illegal.  Don’t you see how this is hurting us?”

“Hay corazón, you don’t understand how probation works.  And
these cops are
dirty
.  You don’t even know how fucked-up they are.  It
doesn’t matter if I’m doing anything illegal. 
Los Demonios
can lock me up con nada más que un acusación. 
I
gotta do what they want or I’m goin’ back to prison.  Ain’t no judge or jury
for me.  If the pigs start pointing fingers, I’ll be revoked like that!”  He
snapped his fingers in demonstration, “That’s the way it is.”

“Please Papi, just quit it.  Do it for me … can’t you do it
for me?”

“Si
,
querida.  If that’s what you want, I’ll
quit.  Right now.  I’m done with this shit!”  He assured her vehemently.  And
he meant it.  “I’m gonna call all the girls and tell ‘em they’re on their own.  Talco’s
goin’ legit.  Next time the detectives call I’ll tell ‘em to stick it where the
sun don’t shine!”

* * * *

CHAPTER 13

Konowicz stood with Oberman outside the front door to
Bemichis Restaurant with Trish Anstrom, a thirty-something single mom who
worked nights as a waitress.

“I saw her pick him up off the ground, and take off running
down the street carrying him.  It was the damnedest thing ever.  Yeah, like I
said on the phone, I heard a noise like a gun shot, and by the time I got a
chance to look out the door here, that’s what I saw.  I think the police
arrived a few minutes later.  I couldn’t really see well.  It was midnight and
the streetlamp is over there.”  She pointed across the road to the light post, huffed
another huge whiff off her cigarette and continued, “Like I mentioned on the
phone, I hope it wasn’t Aaron.  But he hasn’t been to work since he left that
night, and all this happened not ten minutes after he walked out the door.” 
Finishing her cigarette, she reached into her pack for another one to light from
the still glowing butt of the first.

Konowicz addressed her, “So let me see if I got all the
facts straight.  His name is Aaron Pilan, he’s twenty-two years old, about five
feet eleven inches, approximately one hundred seventy pounds with dark brown
hair and eyes, lives in the Reisner Apartment Building over on 52nd street,
about ten blocks down.  He doesn’t answer calls or text messages, and his
voicemail is full.  He was last seen leaving here at midnight August 26th, and
somebody called asking for him.  You think it was his roommate who hasn’t seen
him in days.  Is that correct, Ms. Anstrom?”  She nodded yes repeatedly through
the haze of cigarette smoke.

“Was there anything you could think of to add to this?  Have
you ever seen the woman who you said,
picked him up and ran off with him
? 
Did you recognize her?”  Konowicz pressed, still evidencing a slight nasal
quality to his speech.

She finished her second cigarette, stomping it out in the planter,
and again shook her head no.  “Like I said before, I’m not even sure it was
Aaron.”

Oberman showed Trish the artist’s rendering of a blonde
woman.  “Do you recognize her?  Was this the girl you saw that night?”

She frowned.  “Maybe.  Couldn’t see real well.  I really can’t
say for sure.”

“Do you have any pictures of Aaron?”

She started shaking her head.  “Wait a minute.”  She turned
and entered the restaurant, motioning them to follow.

“Here, on the wall, a picture from a wedding party we did a
couple months ago.  I’m sure Aaron’s in it.”

“Yeah, dat’s him alright,” Oberman mumbled to Konowicz.

Konowicz turned to her abruptly.  “Thank you for your time,
Ms. Anstrom, you’ve been very helpful.”

“You’ll let me know if you find out anything?  He’s such a
sweet boy.  I’m worried about him.”

“Sure thing.  We’ll be in touch.”  Konowicz’s toothy smile
did not reach his eyes.

* * * *

In the evening, as their official workday came to a close,
Konowicz brought glad tidings to his partner, dropping a scrap of paper with a
scrawled note on his desk.

“I got the address connected to that cell phone for the
Pilan kid.  He’s in number 204 at the Reisner Apartments.  You got time to go
pay a visit?”  Konowicz smiled at Oberman.  He could feel they were getting real
close.

Oberman grinned, his first genuine smile of the day.  “Looks
like we’re doin’ some overtime.”

* * * *

“Hello, I’m Detective Oberman and this is Detective
Konowicz.  We’re with the 124th precinct, New York P.D.  We’d like to ask you a
few questions if you don’t mind.  May we come in?”

Kyle instantly went on guard.  These two characters looked
like they had real badges, but he smelled something malicious and sinister––apart
from their body odor.  He didn’t trust them enough to allow entry.

“Well, I’m not sure what this is all about.  Is there a
problem?”  He didn’t like the idea of these two inside the door.  They were
pushy.  Oberman actually slid his foot in the door as they stood there staring
down Kyle with their you-don’t-want-to-mess-with-us looks.  He stared right
back and let them continue speaking from the hallway.

“We’re here to see Aaron Pilan.  Is he here now?  We need to
talk with him.”

That struck him weird.  Aaron was about as harmless and
law-abiding as they came.  He couldn’t imagine what these two might possibly
want with Aaron.  He paused for a moment, and then decided to play along.

“No, actually he’s not.  Um … I haven’t seen him in days.  If
he’s in trouble I’d like to know about it, and how I can help.  He’s a good
friend.”  His instinctive reaction was to make sure they didn’t catch Aaron by
surprise.

“You know anything about his involvement with this woman?” 
Oberman showed Kyle the artist’s rendering of Michelle and pushed his bulk into
the door a couple more inches.  Kyle held his ground, letting the door push up
against his body as he tried to look casually at what was a pretty damn
accurate drawing of Michelle.  He pretended not to notice how they watched him,
or how they tried to force their way into his door.  They pretended to care
about his rights and privacy.  None of them were very good actors.

“No, I’ve never seen her before.  Can you tell me what this
is all about?”  He knew if he gave up Michelle he’d be giving up Aaron, so he
continued to stonewall.

“Look, we know he was with her a week ago.  We know he lives
at this address.  We can’t go into details because of the on-going investigation. 
If you know somethin’ and you’re not telling us, it’s only gonna hurt Aaron in
the end.  If you wanna help your friend, you need to help us find him.” 
Oberman played the standard authoritarian manipulation game.

Kyle knew there was very little these two creeps could do to
help Aaron.  Cops like this rarely ever helped anyone but themselves.

“I’ve already told you I don’t know anything.  I haven’t
seen him or heard from him in days.  His cell phone is disconnected.  I don’t
know what else I can do to help you.”  He put more pressure on the door,
forcing Oberman to back up a couple inches.

Konowicz stepped toward Kyle menacingly, as if he would shove
past Oberman and force his way through the door.  “Listen here.  We’re gonna
find out everything eventually.  We’ll find out all about you, your friends,
and all the comings and goings here at your little bachelor pad.  I’m pretty
sure we’re gonna find somethin’ you won’t like.  Maybe one of your buddies
smokes weed, snorts a little blow, maybe someone’s poppin’ somebody else’s prescription
pills.  It’s a given.  You would do a lot more for yourself and your friends if
you cooperate with us.”

“I don’t do drugs, and I don’t hang out with losers that do,”
he informed them calmly.  He waved his hand in dismissal of their bullshit. “You
can threaten all you want, I don’t know where Aaron is and there’s nothing
illegal happening at my apartment.”

Konowicz snapped back, losing his cool, “If I learn you’ve
been lying to us, I’ll book your ass for obstruction of justice so fast it’ll
make your head spin!  You’ll sit in lock-up just long enough to lose your job
and this shit-hole apartment you squat in!  Don’t fuck with me punk!”

“I’ve said all I have to say.  I’m done with you. Good day, Officers.” 
He shoved the door in the detective’s faces.  He heard cursing and some back
and forth whispering, and then they slipped a note under the door with an
N.Y.P.D. business card.

Call me with any new information you get about Aaron
Pilan and the woman.

Scott Konowicz

Kyle stood there for a moment, debating what to do about the
situation.  Should he tell them about Michelle?  Should he call and leave an
anonymous tip?  Should he just warn Aaron and stay out of it?  The detective’s
threats seemed to be mostly intimidation tactics.  They didn’t have anything on
him, and he didn’t know anything.  What you don’t know can’t hurt you … right?

Delia overheard parts of the conversation from where she was
standing a few feet inside the door.  “What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure, but I think Aaron’s in trouble and it’s got something
to do with Michelle.”

* * * *

“You have a voicemail from your friend Kyle.  He wants you
to call as soon as possible.  Is very important.”  Michelle handed Aaron her iPhone
after dialing Kyle’s number.

“Hey, Kyle, it’s Aaron.  Got your message.  What’s goin’ on?”

Kyle explained what happened with the two detectives, and
then told Aaron how he felt about them and their threats.  “Dude, I’m freakin’
out!  They weren’t messin’ around!  It seems pretty serious.  They were talking
about
abstraction
of justice!  Like they were gonna arrest me!  I didn’t
know anything, so I couldn’t tell them anything.  Is there something I should
know?  What’s goin’ on?”

“I have no idea.  Seriously.”  
Shit, shit, shit!

“Really?  So … how’s it goin’ with Michelle?”

Kyle had a suspicious tone to his voice.  Aaron wondered
what he was thinking.  What kind of assumptions he must be making by now.

“Ahhmm … She’s great, we’re good.  I’m telling you the truth,
Kyle.  I have no idea what those guys want.  Honestly, this is a total surprise.
 But hey, thanks for blocking for me, I appreciate it.  I really owe you one. 
Maybe I should get an attorney to call and find out what’s up.” 
Shit!  What
the fuck do I do now?  What if they find us?

Aaron’s mind raced through possibilities.  He didn’t know
what to say.  He felt like a fugitive in hiding every second that he lied to
Kyle.  He didn’t have a clue what to do if the detectives ever tracked him or
Michelle down.

Kyle replied, “Okay, man, cool.  Just be careful.  I’m
telling you those guys are creepy as hell.  I had to take a couple shots of
Patron to calm down after they left.  Oh … yeah … um … Delia’s here.  She wants
to talk to you for a minute.”

“Kyle, wait. I gotta go.  I don’t have time for her right
now.”

“Hi, Aaron, are you okay?  Those officers sounded serious.”

He wasn’t prepared to deal with Delia.  He’d written her off
as a thing of the past.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.
We’re fine
.”  He wanted off the
phone so he could talk to Michelle.  He had a whopping crisis to avert, namely
being hunted down by NYPD for assaulting an officer.  He hoped that by
referring to both him and Michelle as being
fine
together, Delia might catch
the subtle hint and leave him alone.

“Hey, Aaron, um … I was hoping we could meet and talk.  I
want to talk about … things between us.  Everything has happened so quickly.  I’ve
been thinking about you.  About us.”

“There’s not much to say.  You broke up with me.  You wanted
to see other people.  It wasn’t what I wanted, but now everything’s changed.  
I’ve
changed
.  I thought you wanted your freedom?”

She laughed nervously and stammered, “Well, yeah, but … I
understand that you’re angry.  I would be too.  I want you to know I think I
was wrong.  I want to see you again.  It’s hard to talk over the phone … she’s
probably there with you right now … listening.  Can we talk in private?  Can you
come see me tonight?  I’m here at the apartment.”  She sounded like she was
starting to beg.  It was kinda creepy.  She had never been like this before.

Aaron cut her off.  “Delia, I’m not mad at you.  I was, but
it’s over now.”

“I’m not asking you out on a date, okay.  I think we need a
chance to talk.  It’s only been two weeks since we split up.  Please Aaron.  I
really need to see you.  I want to make it up to you.  It’s all my fault.  I’ll
do anything you want …”

“Listen, this is a really bad time right now.  I’ve gotta
get off the phone.  There’s nothing to talk about.  Michelle is really good to
me.  I’ve moved on.  I’m sorry but I gotta go.  I’ll call back, maybe, in a
couple days or somethin’.  Take care.  Bye.”  He hung up on her.

* * * *

Kyle could see the wheels turning in Delia’s head.  It wasn’t
difficult to figure out what had happened.  If Kyle had a sexy thing like
Michelle in his life, he’d drop Delia like a bad habit.

Kyle imagined that devious little mind of hers cooking up a
scheme to get her hands on Aaron again.  He’d told Aaron more than once she was
a selfish brat.  It took Michelle’s influence to finally pull him from Delia’s
manipulations and mind games. 
What was she up to now?
 
Was she bold enough
to do something stupid with those nasty detectives?

“Hey, Delia, I know how you feel about this.  Everything
happened so suddenly with Aaron moving out, and you were real close for so long. 
I hope you’re not thinking of doing something with those cops.  Don’t mess with
them, Delia.  You call those detectives and you’re playing with fire.  Besides
you could get Aaron in trouble too.  Not just Michelle.  Let him live his
life.  If he’s making mistakes, let him deal with it.  He’s not yours to play
with anymore.  You let him go and now he’s gone.  You hear what I’m saying? 
Don’t get involved!”

“Alright already!  I heard you.  You don’t have to go into a
fit about it.  I never said I was gonna do anything!  And I can talk to him if
I want to.  She doesn’t own him!”

But Delia wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

* * * *

“Is wise that you stay away from the girl.  She is
dangerous, very selfish.  I can see she will be a
problème
if you get involved with her again.” 
Michelle looked Aaron directly in the eyes to see how he reacted to her advice.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Aaron asked with a smirk.

“You know she’s not right for you.  Is very difficult to
have close relations with people.  They are not like us.”  She pursed her lips
in admonishment as though above such petty jealousies.  “Is true I care for
you.  We are bonded.  What affects you affects me.  But I could never be
jealous about this girl.  She is an
enfant
terrible
, a spoiled child.  And she has an obsession with you.”