That evening was never discussed again. We fell back into our normal routines like it never happened—no covert glances or stolen looks. We both must have committed to ourselves the same thought: It never happened. It couldn’t happen. And it was erased from memory.
There was one positive thing that came from that talk, though—Sarah Jo. Knowing she wasn’t romantically involved with Grunt opened up an avenue I wanted to explore: friendship. I was growing to love Moe, but honestly, communication was difficult. Grizz and Grunt were men. The thing with Jan was a disaster. I wanted a girlfriend.
I asked Grunt for her phone number. Grunt and I had gone back to being comfortable around each other like we were on the drive over to Blue’s that Thanksgiving. I made first contact with Sarah Jo, and it was instant chemistry.
It didn’t start out easy, though. Her father resisted our friendship at first. I think Fess was uncomfortable with her being friends with the underage wife of a notorious gang leader. And who could blame him?
Her father wasn’t the hardened criminal one expected to find in a motorcycle gang. He actually fell into it by accident. Fess’s nickname was short for Professor. He taught at a local college. Back then, he was juggling his teaching career, three small children and a dying wife. It was all too much for him.
Three months after his wife died, he was approached by the parent of one of his students. The student was failing his class, which would have prevented him from graduating.
Fess didn’t have to be bribed. He already felt like he’d let his students down by not being there for them during his wife’s illness and ultimate death. He told the parent to not worry; his son would pass.
That parent happened to be a narcotics detective. He told Fess he would make it up to him no matter what. Whenever Fess needed a favor, no matter what it was, he would be his man. Fess got the distinct impression that when he said it didn’t matter what it was, he meant it.
Less than a month later, Fess was drowning his sorrows at a bar and met a young, up-and-coming motorcycle gang leader. Grizz.
Fess was not only missing his wife, trying to raise three small children and hold down a job, but he was terribly in debt. His wife’s illness was long, and even though he had insurance through his job, it wasn’t enough for all the care she required. He needed money. He was going to lose his house.
That’s how it started. Grizz’s network of inside informants. Fess called in that favor and the parent was only too happy to oblige. Grizz paid well. That’s what Fess did. He kept a ledger for Grizz of informants and other people who worked for him in other capacities. Fess kept records of who did what and how much they were paid. He never passed money. He never made contact. He never used his real name. There was never anything to tie him to Grizz.
He eventually bought himself a Harley and would occasionally come out to the motel, but he never wore the jacket. The only reason Sarah Jo was friends with Grunt was because Fess felt sorry for the little boy at the motel. He later became extremely fond of Grunt. Grunt had potential, and Fess saw that.
Sarah Jo confided in me that Fess regularly visited Moe in her room when he was there. Jo knew how much he missed her mother, and he was only human. She thought her father might have feelings for Moe. But if they cared about each other, they hid it well from the rest of us.
Sarah Jo told me she did recognize me when she first met me. But, of course, she knew better than to say anything. She attended my rival school, Fort Lauderdale High School. My school, Stranahan, and her school had been archenemies as long as I could remember. But she had enough friends at Stranahan to know about me: the honor student who’d gone missing. It was assumed I’d run away.
She told me all about her boyfriend, Stephen. She’d been with him for two years and was currently torn between her love for him and the interest a new boy was showing her.
Our friendship was difficult for us in the beginning because of my limitations on where I could go, and neither one of us had a driver’s license. We had to rely on Grunt, Moe, Grizz, Fess or whoever was available to drop us at an occasional movie, the beach or an out of the way mall.
Still, in spite of the obstacles, the friendship flourished. She was my maid of honor when I married my husband. I was hers when she married her husband. She was there when I gave birth to my two children. I was there when she had her three children. She was waiting for me outside the execution viewing room the day Grizz died.
She was, and is to this day, one of my very best friends.
* * * * *
Thanksgiving had come and gone. It was now only a couple of weeks before Christmas. I’d managed to shop a couple of times with Sarah Jo. I had a nice Christmas gift planned for Grizz, but it was going to take some time. I told him it would be late. I think he assumed it was something I was making for him since I had no money of my own and wasn’t going to touch his money to buy him a gift. He was more concerned about a gift for me.
One night, I was sitting cross-legged on the bed doing homework. Grizz, who had just come out of the shower and was drying himself, had been pestering me about what I wanted for Christmas. I kept telling him I didn’t need anything; I had everything I could need or want.
“There must be something, Kit. Anything you want,” he said, a white towel wrapped around his waist as he crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to me, his body still damp. “You name it. It’s yours. I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care if it’s something you think is hard to find. Anything, baby. Anything.”
I closed my book, touching his arm lightly. “Really Grizz. I’m serious. There isn’t anything.”
He pushed my books out of the way and laid me gently back on the bed. Then in one swift movement he straddled me and brought his face close to mine. “Okay,” he said, grinning down at me and kissing my forehead softly. “How about a trip? We can get a house in the Keys for a couple of weeks. Just the two of us.”
I just looked at him and smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him. And after a few seconds something did occur to me: something I’d been wanting to do.
“You know, yes, there is someplace you could take me.”
“Name it, baby. I can have Eddie get you a passport. We could go to Mexico, Paris, anywhere. Name it.”
“I want to go to church.”
As hard as it may be to believe, I missed church more than I missed my home. I’d come to rely on my faith for survival from a very young age. I missed the feeling and sense of peace I got when I was there—the knowing that I was loved unconditionally, that I didn’t have to do anything to earn that love. I wasn’t required to cook or pay the bills. I was required to do one thing only: accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I did that when I was nine years old.
Grizz scratched his chin and sat up. “I was wondering when you were going to get around to asking that.”
I looked at him questioningly.
“I know you went to church every Sunday.”
Of course he did.
“Kit, I can’t take you to your church. I don’t even think it would be a good idea to take you to any church on this coast.”
Years later, I found out Grizz’s connections had told him it was my church, and one nun in particular, who’d pushed investigators to search for me. Sister Mary Katherine had taken a special interest in me. She was worried about the young girl who attended Mass every Sunday by herself. She’d become my friend and my confidant. I missed her more than I missed Delia.
When I allowed myself to think about it, I didn’t miss Delia at all. I just missed the familiarity of a home. I knew what to expect in that home. Living at the motel was frightening in that it was fraught with uncertainty. I rarely allowed myself to think about what was going on outside the door of number four.
That’s how I was able to cope for years with the reality of my husband’s criminal behavior: I ignored it. I actually pretended it didn’t exist. Of course, there were some things I couldn’t avoid or ignore, so I played a little mind game with myself. I called it “that didn’t happen.”
When investigators refused to cooperate with Sister Mary Katherine, she used Catholic churches up and down the east coast of Florida as a way to keep my disappearance in the spotlight. Even if it was just within the church circle, it was kind of her to do it.
“Why not?” I asked him now. “If we went just a little north or even south toward Miami, I think it would be safe.”
“I just think there’s more of a risk of you being recognized. But I’ve got an idea. Trust me. I’ll take care of it.”
And he did. For many years after this conversation, early every Sunday morning, Grizz either took me himself or had someone else drive me across Alligator Alley to the west coast of Florida. It was about an hour and a half drive. Sometimes, he would take me over on Friday or Saturday and we would get a hotel. He never attended church with me. But he was always waiting for me when I came out. I eventually started attending on my own coast as development migrated west. But he kept his word in those early years.
Christmas and New Year’s soon passed, and I was approaching my real sixteenth birthday. I wasn’t sure if Grizz knew when it was. I was wrong. Grizz knew everything. Well, almost everything.
I woke up that morning and busied myself like I usually did. Grizz was outside doing something with Chowder. He peeked his head in number four and asked me to come outside. When I got outside, there was a shiny new black Trans Am parked in front of the motel. He was smiling at me.
“Do you like it?”
“You got a new car? Of course I like it! I love it! Take me for a ride.”
“No, you take me for a ride,” he smiled. “It’s yours. Happy birthday, Kitten.”
He hugged me and kissed me on the top of the head. I didn’t know what surprised me more—the fact that he remembered it was my real birthday, or the fact that he bought me such an unexpected and expensive gift.
“The keys are in it. Let’s go,” he said. “You drive.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I blushed. “Because I don’t know how to drive.”
* * * * *
For someone who knew every detail about my life, this seemed an important one that he missed.
“I know you don’t have a real license, but Ann Marie O’Connell does,” he told me; Eddie had made me a new license after we were married.
“But, Grizz, I don’t know how to actually drive. You know, steering and gas and all that.”
“What do you mean? I saw your driver’s permit last year.”
“Yes, I took a written test to get a driver’s permit last February, but drivers ed classes weren’t until summer school. I don’t need to tell you why I never got to take them.”
The look on his face was comical, and he started laughing hard. “How’d I miss that?”
I started laughing, too. “I don’t know, but you did.”
“Hop in. Let’s go. You’re going to learn to drive.”
For the rest of the month, I got driving lessons from Grizz, Grunt, Chowder and Moe. Whoever was available took the time to give me lessons. But it was Grizz I spent the most time with. There were certain rules he insisted on. At least in the beginning, I was never to go anywhere by myself. I was never to go anywhere near my old neighborhood. I could live with those rules, but he made one exception that angered me: I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere alone with Sarah Jo.
I’d argued back that he’d told me I couldn’t go anywhere alone, and if Sarah Jo was with me, I wouldn’t be alone. Besides, he himself had dropped the two of us off at the movies a few times. But it was no use—he didn’t like it. It wasn’t about Sarah Jo; he just didn’t like the idea of two young girls riding around in a Trans Am.
“Then you should have bought me an ugly old clunker,” I yelled.
It was our first real argument, and I fought him tooth and nail. But of course, I didn’t win. I stayed mad at him for days. I ignored him. I wouldn’t cook for him. I definitely didn’t sleep with him. I locked myself in one of the unused motel rooms and did my homework and read my books, only coming out to eat and check on Gwinny. He left me alone, which only made me madder.
Then something happened that I didn’t expect: I realized I missed him.
I guess it was because I’d been taken from a home where I’d been virtually ignored. Here, Grizz lavished me with attention and gifts. At this point in our relationship, he’d never denied me anything, other than my freedom. Not counting my first sexual experience with Grunt, he’d never hurt me.
Actually, he spoiled me rotten.
Grizz was quiet. He didn’t talk a lot, but he was affectionate. And it wasn’t always the sexual affection. He was touchy, always holding my hand whether in public or strolling out to the pit. If I walked out to the pit alone, he would pull me down to sit on his lap. I woke up every single morning wrapped in the warmth and protection of his arms.
I tried to think what I had given him in return. Well, I gave him me, if that counted. I gave him my loyalty. I certainly could’ve figured out a way to escape and warn Delia and Vince. But was loyalty enough? By then, I’d started feeling guilty, so I made my way back to number four. I didn’t know if he would be there or not.
He was there, relaxing in his recliner with his eyes closed. I knew he wasn’t asleep. The stereo was on. He was listening to one of my albums. Seals & Crofts. “Summer Breeze” was playing.
I’d accumulated my own record collection by now. It was rare that Grizz and I agreed on the same music. He liked hard rock, and although I liked some, I also enjoyed easy listening: Loggins & Messina, Bread, Paul Davis, ABBA.
I stood over him. “Since when do you like Seals & Crofts?”
“Don’t,” he said, his eyes still closed.
“Then why are you listening to them?”
“Because you love them and I love you and I missed you.”
Did he just say he loved me? My heart thudded.
Grizz opened his eyes then and looked at me.
“Does that surprise you, Kit?” His green eyes were warm. “That I’m in love with you?”
I didn’t know what to say. Even after last year’s explanation of the reason behind his obsession with me, I’d never heard him talk about love.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled the recliner—and him—into an upright position. Then I sat down on his lap and wrapped my arms around him.
“I love you too, Grizz,” I said.
And I meant it. It was probably more of a shock to me than to him.
He kissed me then. “Can you do me a favor, baby?”
“Yes, Grizz, anything.” I answered him, smiling. I knew what he was going to ask for, and I was willing.
“I have a bad headache. Can you get me some aspirin?”
I pulled back and looked at him, surprised. “Sure.”
“What’s wrong?” I said, returning with aspirin and some water. “Have you been in the sun or something too long? You never get headaches.”
“Nah. I think it’s from listening to your music.”