Chapter Fifteen
Joel shoves his hands in the pocket of his trench coat as he walks through the streets of a neighborhood he shouldn’t be in past nightfall. This is where his contact likes to meet. Joel doesn’t let his eyes linger on the shifting groups of people at the corners, the discreet way they hand off money and packages. They don’t look at him either. It’s understood that anyone here is up to something not quite legal. It’s a tenuous trust, and Joel will be fine as long as he remains inconspicuous.
It’s true, Joel hasn’t been working Jack’s case, even though he’d promised his friend he would. Joel had only gotten enough information from his contact inside the NYPD to let Jack know when he needed to run. After Jack fled from Manhattan, Joel tried not to think of it again. As far as Joel was concerned, he wasn’t obligated to do much more. He’d kept Jack, his life long, loyal friend, out of jail with no regard to whether or not Jack’s guilty.
Joel left the case alone, because he was afraid of what he might find out. Either his friend is a murderer, or, Golding and Holderman had something to do with it. Joel is well aware of the true nature of the law firm his father founded, the dark deeds they did, anything to win a case. It’s possible Jack Larsen Senior got on the wrong side of them, and they took him out. If that’s true, Joel doesn’t want Jack to find out. Surely Jack would hold Joel responsible, and never forgive him. And if Jack knows to much, Golding will surely send one of their thugs after him.
Jack was supposed to leave and never come back. He wouldn’t go to prison, and Joel wouldn’t have to answer for his father’s sins. But it didn’t work out like that. Jack had to meet Amber, the Angel of Chaos, as Joel likes to refer to her, and together, they can’t leave well enough alone. It’s obvious that Joel has become one of their suspects. After being questioned by Amber, and Jack not answering his calls, it’s crystal clear. If there’s anything connecting Golding and Holderman to the murder, Joel wants to find it before they do.
Why aren’t they looking at Henry? Joel wonders, taking a shortcut through a park. There’s a rusted jungle gym, sharp and dangerous, next to a slide with no steps leading up to it. It looks less like a playground for children more like surreal, modern art. Everyone knows Henry’s a sick fuck.
Or, does Jack know? Joel is pretty sure Jack was blacked out that night. Lucky fucker, Joel thinks. He wishes he could forget those desperate eyes behind that mask, the choked screams and sobs. Henry was holding her down on her knees, a knife to her throat, when Joel approached with his cock out, prepared to slide it into her mouth. The woman looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and mouthed, Please don’t. Joel’s cock immediately went flaccid in his hand.
“Don’t be a pussy,” Henry scolded. “This is part of it. Rape fantasy. She wants it. Really.”
Joel didn’t know what to believe. If Henry was telling the truth, this woman was one hell of an actress. With Henry’s resources, he could’ve hired a porn star, so it wasn’t that hard to believe.
Still, Joel couldn’t bring himself to take part in this “fantasy.” He wanted to leave and take Jack with him, but Jack wouldn’t budge. Jack had that blank look on his face, his eyes focused on another realm. Joel wanted to make sure that Jack didn’t participate either, just in case Henry was full of shit, so he stayed. Joel stared at his leather loafers while Henry fucked the girl. She’d stopped crying by then, seeming to have accepted her fate.
The next day, Jack and Joel went out to lunch. There was a dark cloud hanging between them. Something was off. Their conversation didn’t flow as usual. Joel waited for Jack to bring up that empty ballroom, but he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want talk about it. Maybe he didn’t remember it. Joel decided it was in his best interest to keep quiet as well. That was the lawyer in him. His father always told him, “If you don’t have to say anything, don’t.”
Joel turns into an alley, conceals himself behind a dumpster, and waits for his contact. His chest is twisted with regret. He should’ve said something then, he should’ve let Jack know exactly who Henry is.
Which is no different than any of us, egomaniacs who think they’re above the law and rules of society.
A gust of wind blows. Joel hears the decrepit jungle gym creaking. If he grew up as a child in this neighborhood, where the playground is as dangerous as the streets, what would he be? He wouldn’t be wearing this trench coat that cost more than six months rent on one of these apartments, or these shoes, custom made for his uniquely arched feet. Regular shoes are uncomfortable for him, and put too much strain on his calf muscles. If he was a regular man with regular means, he’d be walking around in pain all day.
A dark figure appears at the entrance of the alley. He’s wearing a ski mask, as always, and a thick bomber jacket. He walks passed Joel without looking at him. He slips Joel a compact disk, and Joel hands him an envelope full of money. It’s a practiced move, fast and discreet, even though there are no cameras on this block. Joel doesn’t speak to the contact. This isn’t the time or place for that. This is all about the transaction. He walks one way, and Joel walks another.
Joel gets a few blocks away, then hails a cab. The compact disc is a little too wide in his pocket. He pictures the silk lining of his trench coat stretching around the sharp corners. In the back of the cab, he decides what he’ll do with the tape. If it implicates Henry, he’ll run as fast as his feet will carry him to Jack. If it implicates the law firm, he’ll destroy the evidence, and figure out where to go from there.
The offices of Golding, Holderman, and Associates are dark. Everyone has long gone home. The cleaning crew has come and gone. Joel can tell this from the faint scent of pine sol hanging in the air. He does a lap around the desks and cubicles to makes sure he’s absolutely alone. He wishes he could trust that the law firm wouldn’t turn on him if he found something incriminating, but he can’t.
Even though no one’s here, Joel locks the door of his office. He doesn’t turn on any light besides the small desk lamp. He slides the compact disc into his computer and the machine immediately begins to whir and grind. The video program pops up, revealing a dark, grainy view of the street outside of Larsen International. It’s street surveillance. The video is only thirty seconds long.
Joel hits play. Two figures walk into view. He recognizes Jack right away, and the stumbling walk he has when he’s fucked up. The person beside him is female, smaller, with longer hair. The two of them stop and talk outside of the office. Jack puts his hands on the woman’s waist, gives her a sloppy kiss, then turns and walks into the office. The woman pulls out her cell phone and films him walk inside.
Joel breathes for the first time since he started the video. The woman doesn’t look like one of their plants. As far as Joel knows, no women are on the payroll. So, who is she? Joel pauses the video, and zooms in on her face. He doesn’t recognize her, which is good.
She had to be filming for a reason. She must’ve known what was going to happen, and that this evidence could be used to prosecute Jack. The question is, who is she working for?
*
Eva doesn’t like to be in the vicinity of Henry. It makes her skin crawl. His chiseled, handsome face and flawless appearance fill her with a deep disgust. Now that she’s living in a building he owns, he thinks he can come over any time. He has a skeleton key to all of the apartments, and just lets himself in.
Today, he’s sitting on her bed when she gets out of the shower. She clasps the towel tightly around her chest while Henry eyes her bare legs. She wants to yell and lash out, demand that he leave, but she needs him. She’s happy to see him now, which makes her hate herself more. He gives her a cocky smile, then produces a packet of white powder from his pocket. Eva snatches it from his hand and backs away.
“Sorry I’m a little late,” Henry says. “I hope you haven’t had a headache.”
“I’m fine,” Eva says through gritted teeth. She doesn’t mention the nausea that kept her up all night, or the tension in her muscles that makes every part of her ache. She shamelessly opens the packet, dips her fingertip inside, and snorts a little up her nose. Henry gives her a satisfied smile.
“You see there? I always take care of you.” Henry stands from the bed. He positions himself behind her and rubs her damp shoulders. “And I always will.”
Henry hooks his fingers under the towel, rubbing his thumbs over her shoulder blades. Eva knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to loosen her towel so it falls to the floor. Eva steps away from him before that happens. She turns to him, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.
“You said you wouldn’t… not anymore,” Eva says.
Henry lowers his forehead, his eyes saying, “Try me.” For a moment, she wonders if he’ll force himself on her no matter what she says.
“Don’t worry, Eva. I’ll uphold the terms of our agreement. You’re very valuable to me.” He steps towards her, his arm outstretched. “But if you ever change your mind-“
Eva shakes her head forcefully, and Henry backs off. He stares at her silently for a few tense moments before finally speaking.
“You know what you have to do now?” His voice is cold, businesslike. “It’s time to make your move.”
“I don’t want to lie to her,” Eva says. Eva doesn’t have any girlfriends, so her coffee dates with Amber fill a void she didn’t know was there, even though it’s all fake. She likes to imagine that under different circumstances, they actually would be friends.
Henry nonchalantly straightens the cuffs of his sleeves. “It doesn’t matter what you want. I pay you to do a job, so you do the job. That’s how it works.”
“She’s a good person. And she’s not who you’re after.”
Henry swings his head towards her, a half smile on his face. “Now’s not the time to have a moral center. After all you’ve done, it’s much too late for you.”
Eva balls her hands into fist. She’s pissed off because she knows Henry’s right. Amber would never be her friend, not if she really knew who Eva was. She’s a liar, a thief, a manipulator.
It’s him. He makes her do those things. But she bears the responsibility.
Henry sighs dramatically. “Amber’s collateral damage, is all. I can’t break Jack with her around. She’ll keep digging and digging. That’s the foolishness of people who think they’re in love.”
With a gentle smile, Henry encloses his hand around hers, the one holding the drugs.
“Make this last,” he says, pinching her cheek. “You’ll get more after your job is done.”
Henry kisses her forehead. He turns and exists the bedroom door, then the front door, not bothering to close either. Eva rushes to the front door and slams it closed. She looks out of the peephole to make sure he’s gone. When she doesn’t see him, she rushes to the bathroom to fetch her needle.
The liquid relief swims through her veins. She lowers herself onto the ground, sighing audibly. Eva has been abused all of her life, as a child, and now as an adult. Henry’s right, it’s too late for her. And this is the only peace she’ll ever know.