Young Wives (62 page)

“Where are you keeping the money, Michelle?” he asked. “I need to know.”

And then she took a deep breath and snapped out of the poisoned dream. She looked out into the parking lot to check that the Volvo was there. She let her eyes glance over at the corner table where Bill had a loaded fork halfway up to his mouth, but nodded slightly. She looked at her husband. “You’d say anything to get the money back wouldn’t you?”

“I
have
to get the money back. I won’t get out of this if I don’t get the money back,” Frank snapped. “And you know it’s the right thing to do. It’s right for me, and it’s right for you.”

“I used to think you did know what was right for me and for you. But I don’t anymore,” Michelle told him. “I thought this meeting was going to be about how you hit me. Instead it’s about how you need the money? You’ve lost your right to make decisions for both of us, Frank. I’m the one who has to make the decisions for me and the children. You kept me in the dark. You’re probably lying to me now. How could I know?” She leaned away from him.

“Michelle,” he said, and leaned in closer toward her. “I’m not negotiating. It’s my money and I need it, and I need you to give it to me. I know the lawyer’s creed—a client is innocent until proven broke. Bruzeman will leave me twisting in the wind. I want to get up from here and go get that money, my freedom, wherever it is right now. And if you don’t agree, I’m going to implicate you.”

“What?”

“I’m going to tell the district attorney how you were in on it, how you acted as a mule, whatever it takes,” Frank told her. “I’m not going to let this fall apart under me. You have to do what I tell you to do.”

Michelle could hardly believe it. Two minutes ago, she’d been thinking about what it might be like back in their home again, all together. Now he was threatening her with prison? She didn’t know this man, and she had to remember that every minute. Her children were better off without him, and even if she never slept with anyone again for the rest of her life, she’d still be better off as well.

She began to stand up. He reached for her arm, but she snatched it away. “There’s a restraining order out,” she said. “Don’t forget that. Don’t touch me. Don’t follow me. I won’t talk to you again. I won’t talk to Bruzeman again. You can speak to my lawyers if you have to get in touch with me.”

His face paled. “Michelle, I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Don’t go. Hey, I was just—”

“Good-bye, Frank,” Michelle said, and got up and walked out of the diner.

She was still shaking when she parked the Lexus at the clinic. Angie and Bill pulled up first. Angie rushed over to her side of the car. “Wow! You got out of there fast,” she said. “Are you all right?”

Michelle nodded. Bill came up behind them, holding the tape recorder still partly covered with duct tape. He’d placed it under the diner table before she’d sat down and recovered it after Frank left. “We listened to it in the car,” he said. “Holy shit!”

Michelle didn’t have anything to say. “Are you okay?” Angie repeated.

“He didn’t follow me, did he?” she asked.

“Jada will know,” Angie said. “She should be here in a minute or two. But I think it’s time for you to come in and talk to Michael about a call to the DA. Don’t you think so, Michelle?”

In which bills collect, a light goes on, and money rolls in

Jada had gotten back from Price Chopper a little bit late. She’d had the opportunity to work two extra hours, and she’d grabbed it—not that the nine dollars in additional take-home pay would make much of a difference. The apartment was quiet now, giving her time to think and plan. She sat at the dinette table and went through the mail that Clinton had handed her the last time she’d picked up the children.

For the first time in almost four years, she was getting way behind on bills. She opened them now, wincing at the ugly red stripe or the rubber stamp of
PAST DUE
on most of them. Of course, the phone, the electricity, and the mortgage had to be paid, but how? Her first Price Chopper paycheck had been ridiculous—it wouldn’t even cover the phone bill, since it appeared that Tonya had made a lot of toll calls to White Plains.

Jada jotted down everything outstanding and then pulled out her checkbook. She still hadn’t gotten around to closing out her account at the County Wide Bank, but she’d noticed they had been very quick to reinstate their monthly charge and their charge per check since she was no longer an employee. Before all this had happened—back in the Pleistocene era—she’d managed to be a few thousand dollars ahead. But that was already gone, and even paying just the minimums on her charges would wipe her out very soon. And that wasn’t counting alimony and child support.

She had ignored George Creskin’s bill, except to send him a fifty-dollar check and a note saying that she planned to pay every penny, no matter how long it took. It hadn’t worked. Now, it appeared, Creskin was going to put a lien on their—well, Clinton’s—house. At the time, she thought it was funny, but now as she opened the last envelope, she realized how spiteful and stupid she had been.

In front of her was a letter from the Westchester Court System explaining that she was in contempt because of her late payments and her failure to pay legal bills. She stared at the letter. What more could she do? She was a working mother, putting in sometimes two shifts, at little more than minimum wage. Her children had been taken from her, and she was paying for their father’s mistress to take care of them. Yet she was in contempt? Jada got so angry that she crumpled the letter up and hurled it across the room. Unfortunately, that was the moment Michelle walked out of the hallway.

“What’s with that?” Michelle asked.

“I might be the first Deadbeat Mom in the history of our country,” Jada said. “Cover of
Time? Newsweek
?”

Michelle picked up the letter, spread it out, and looked it over. She shook her head. “Almost dead,” she agreed, looking sympathetically at her friend. “You can’t do another graveyard shift, Jada. And beat…well, last night you fell asleep with a mouth full of food. It wasn’t a pretty picture, let me tell you. But deadbeat, as in irresponsible?” Michelle shook her head. “The whole system is crazy.” She handed the crumpled letter back to Jada. “Maybe Angie and Michael can help you handle this.”

“Forget them. I told them already that I don’t care about an appeal. The whole system is ridiculous.” She looked at her watch. “Come on,” she said. “If I’m going to beat the system, I’m going to need your help now.”

She ran and got their jackets and they struggled into them as they picked up their purses and walked out the door.

“Come on, Pookie,” Michelle called. The dog was more than ready.

“Oh please,” Jada said. “Do we have to take the damn dog? I don’t know how Angie puts up with it,” Jada said. “Can’t we just have a little freedom from that pooch?”

“Hey. Come on. Don’t you like Pookie by now?” Michelle asked, and she seemed really hurt.

“Not really,” Jada said. “I admit that he is better than Clinton to live with. He seems to be in touch with his inner puppy. But he’s still a pain in the butt.”

Michelle looked crushed. “I didn’t know you really felt that way,” she said. “I’m so sorry. Do you think Angie hates having the dog here, too?”

Jada shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just nervous. Pay no attention to me. I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t mind driving with Pookie. Dogs don’t step on the imaginary brake.”

With Pookie in tow, they all got into Michelle’s Lexus, and she drove, much faster than usual, over to the school. Jada searched through her big black bag to find the stopwatch she needed. “Wow,” Michelle said, impressed. “Where did you get
that
?”

“I stole it from one of those efficiency experts when they were doing those studies at the bank,” Jada admitted.

“You’re kidding?”

“Uh-uh. It was just out of spite. I didn’t know I would need it to commit a crime.”

They got to the school just as the bus was pulling out. “Damn it,” Jada said. “We’ll need to get here earlier tomorrow. Maybe while the kids are boarding. I have to see where the best opportunity is.”

“Well, it can’t be in front of the school, in front of everyone,” Michelle said.

“You never know,” Jada told her. “Maybe a note on that court stationery, that they’re being picked up.”

“It might have worked if you hadn’t crumpled up the stationery,” Michelle agreed. “Wouldn’t it just be easiest if I pick them up?”

“Only if you want to go to prison for kidnapping,” Jada said.

“Not way up there in my priorities,” Michelle admitted. “But I’d do anything I could for you, Jada.”

“I know it. But I can’t ask you to go to prison.” Jada was busy taking notes, detailing each bus stop, and the time. “Are those the Brewster kids? I know Mrs. Brewster. Maybe the kids could get off there…”

The school bus lurched around a corner, causing traffic mayhem as it always did. They were only one of the many cars behind it, since it was illegal to pass a school bus. Jada kept jotting down each of the stops and the times for each one. None worked. She couldn’t just board the bus and snatch them.

“If I leave when I have a visit with them, I have the problem of Ms. Patel,” she said aloud to Michelle. “I’d be reported immediately. But if I pick them up off of the school bus, I don’t have Sherrilee. I can’t just go busting into the house and get Sherrilee.”

Still, Michelle kept following the bus and Jada kept taking notes.

“I need to pray.” Then, as if in answer to her prayer, the idea came to her. “Church!” she said.

“You want to go to church? Now?” Michelle asked.

“No. No, I mean it can be done from church. Maybe I can take them to church. I could do it from there.”

Michelle’s eyes opened wide. “There is a God,” she said.

That evening Jada called Samuel Dumfries. She had spoken to him twice since the meeting in Boston, but hadn’t had good news to report. Now she excitedly told him about the way she felt she could scoop up the children. “But I might need some help,” she admitted. “I can’t ask my girlfriends. It’s just too dangerous. Perhaps my mom and dad—”

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “They’re too old and it’s too risky. I’ll come up.”

“You?” Jada asked. “Mr. Dumfries, I’m not certain I can pay your expenses, much less a bill.”

“I’m not doing this for financial gain,” he said. “I’m sure I can help you get to Barbados. As you know, the problem is that this will be the most obvious place for your husband to look for you. Barbados does present some significant legal questions.”

Jada had forgotten how formally the man spoke. “Mr. Dumfries, it can’t present more problems than I have up here,” she told him. “I’m determined to do this and I want to thank you, in advance, for all your help.”

“Well, there is a favor I need to ask of you,” he said.

“Yes, of course. Anything I can do,” Jada said, wondering what she could possibly do for him.

“Would you mind calling me by my given name?” he asked.

“Not at all, Samuel,” she told him.

Michelle hated to be sneaky, but she didn’t know any other way to help. She waited until Jada was off the phone—the apartment was so small and crowded that there was almost no privacy—and then she asked to use it next. Jada had spoken to her lawyer friend from Angie’s bedroom. Now Michelle went in there, lifted the phone, and hit the redial button. When the telephone was answered by an official secretarial voice, for a moment Michelle couldn’t remember the name of the remote relation that Jada had mentioned. Then part of it came to her. “Sam, please,” she said, and after a moment of silence she was put through.

“Samuel Dumfries here,” a brisk British voice said.

Could this be right? Michelle wondered. “Hello,” she began lamely. “Umm…are you a relative of Jada Jackson?”

“What is this in reference to, please?” Sam said.

“Look, I’m Jada’s best friend. My name is Michelle Russo. And I have a way of helping her, but I need to know the best way to do it.”

“Why don’t you discuss it directly with Mrs. Jackson?” the man asked.

“Well, it involves a lot of things. But mostly it involves money. Would a lot of money help Jada in Barbados?”

“Money is almost always helpful,” Mr. Dumfries said. “But it would be most helpful if Mrs. Jackson had enough to go elsewhere. Why don’t you explain a little more.”

And so Michelle did.

It’s in the bag

Michelle let Jada drive her in the Volvo. The whole bank thing was risky, but so was everything they were trying now. She figured it was best for her to not be very visible. She also had no idea if anyone from Bruzeman’s office, the DA’s, the police, or Frank followed her in the Volvo or not. And she had no idea whether or not she was putting Jada in danger. But she told herself this was necessary.

She sat back, as low as she could in the seat, hoping that no one would follow or notice them as they drove toward the First Westchester Bank. She tried to focus on other things than her fear: the passing scenery, the hum of the Volvo. “Isn’t the motor making some kind of clunking noise?” Michelle asked. Just what they needed, for the car to break down while they were on their way back with the haul.

Jada listened. “I think it’s going.” She sighed. “If it’s got balls or wheels, it’s going to give a woman trouble,” she said, and kept on driving until she pulled into the bank parking lot. She parked without saying a word. She had never asked Michelle a single question about the safety-deposit box, and Michelle was deeply grateful for that trust. She’d never had a friend as loyal, as strong, as funny, or as right-minded as Jada. How odd that her best friend in the world was an African-American. What had Jada called her? Sisterfriend? That’s what Jada was to Michelle.

She thought about all of her high school friends back in the Bronx, and how they’d been back-biters and gossips. They’d also all been bigots who talked about “spades” and “jungle bunnies” and a lot worse. But they were idiots, not fit to even know a person like Jada. Michelle glanced over at Jada with enormous affection—no, love.