We stood in silence once again. Agent Davidson was flipping through the binder.
Tick, thump, tock, thump
Tick, thump, tock, thump
Tick, thump, tock, thump
Tick, thump, tock, thump
This game was driving me insane. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t think straight. All I could hear was my heart racing. Even the clock seemed to be in on the torture. My chair felt uncomfortable and too hard, and now there was even a faint buzzing noise coming from the light above us.
“Do you need me to lower the temperature in here?” Agent Davidson asked with slight concern.
“No, I’m fine. Why would you ask?”
“Well, you’re sweating, it looks like, and this suit is starting to get a bit hot for me,” Agent Davidson said.
I wiped my brow and noticed it was damp. Drying my hands on my jeans, I assured Davidson I would be fine, and we should just continue. He agreed and plopped the binder on the table. The face that stared back at me turned my anxiety right back into anger.
“I see I won’t have to ask if you know this man,” Agent Davidson said with a weird smirk.
I instantly realized I’d made my first mistake. That solid poker face had unexpectedly dissolved. There was still time to salvage it, though. My anger was justified; I was sure Agent Davidson already knew our history.
Jacob Reynolds—that bastard should never have crossed my doorway. I was angry and hurt, looking back; I was just too vulnerable. He was supposed to be Harvey’s best friend. I thought I could trust him. I did trust him, and all he ever did was beat me.
In part, it was my fault. I grieved for Harvey by taking it at first, and Jacob gave it. The fights and the beatings just never stopped, though. My kids witnessed it, the townsfolk saw the bruises and black eyes, and business even started to decline. No one wanted a cake from a lady who always had a bloody nose. Staring at him now, I remembered the last time he tried to put his hands on me.
**** **********. ***************
Flashback
Breakfast was being set, and I was trying to get the kids to settle down. It was only the four of us at that point. I had just found out a couple weeks prior that I was having twins. Jacob was not happy about it. He said, and I quote, “Great, now we have even more mouths to feed.” As if I ever asked him for anything.
He grew even more distant once he found out, which no one in the house complained about. It actually seemed to lighten the mood. Johnny was excited to have new siblings. Nina wouldn’t stop giving me name ideas. Tommy convinced Rosie she was going to be replaced like Marsha from The Brady Bunch, which caught on like fire with the other kids.
There was finally laughter in the house—a small taste of peace before the storm. Jacob came over one night randomly after leaving the bar. The smell of him entering my bed instantly made me think of Daniel. Here I was again, pregnant, getting cheated on, and this time, he would act if I spoke up too much about it. It still never stopped me from speaking my mind.
“Well, I got some… some… good news. Hiccup. I got some… some… bad news. Which-a you want first?” Jacob said, like the stuttering drunk he was.
“Give me the bad news first,” I said, annoyed.
“I need that loan I been… I been… asking you about. I ain’t asking no more. I want the money. I know you got it. Everybody in town knows you got money. Give me what you owe… owe… owe… me. Nu… nu… nu… now,” Jacob said, getting loud.
“What’s the good news?” I asked, sitting up and leaning toward my nightstand.
“I got the job in Wyoming. I’m getting transferred,” Jacob said eagerly.
“Well, ain’t that just amazing for you. And what’s gonna happen to your kids? Will you be sending for us when you get settled?”
“Now… now… now… you know I can’t do that. You got the shop and the garden here. I’ll send you some money once my check gets in order. You… you… you… know I’m good for it. But I need my money to get there and get straight. Quit… quit… quit playing now.”
“Ain’t even the rooster up yet. Where you expect the money to come from right now? You go on home and meet me at the bank tomorrow.” My hand was on the nightstand now.
“I ain’t playing with you, Laura Harrisburg. This ain’t time for your games now. I need my money, and I want that money.” Jacob stumbled forward in his drunk stupor, slamming into the bed frame and grabbing my leg.
“Now, I told you to get, and I won’t tell you twice,” I said, pulling out a heritage revolver from my nightstand, cocking the hammer and rotating the bullet into the chamber.
The door opened, and Tommy was standing there holding Nina in his arms. They both looked confused at the sight. Nina started crying and screaming; Tommy yelled something to Jacob. With everything going on, I couldn’t make it out. My gun was aimed at Jacob and ready for him to make the wrong move. Tommy ran past him and jumped in the bed. He stood between us while still holding Nina, who was crying.
I pulled them back to me with my left hand and kept the gun aimed at Jacob. Shaking and trembling, not only from myself but from the kids’ vibrations as well.
Jacob slowly stepped back toward the door. My hand didn’t move from that doorway. Jacob yelled something about the bank in the morning, and then the front door slammed violently.
Once the kids were off to school, my only goal was to get to the bank. It was not out of fear or malice. There was an electric feeling in the air that morning. The embers of the phoenix began to smolder. My smile was genuine, and it seemed as if the universe was aligning.
Johnny, before leaving, assured me everything would be fine. It resonated through me. I’m sure, looking into my teary eyes, there was an understanding between us. With a devilish wink, we both hugged each other before he ran off to catch up with the others.
The bank manager was even shocked to see me there so early. I made the coffee while he did whatever he had to do. The staff came in shortly after and were stunned to see me. As expected, we withdrew Jacob’s money, with no sign of him. Having time, I went to my shop and grabbed them a cake. I stopped at the salon and got Mrs. Jones to touch up my makeup real quick.
Then I headed to Jacob’s place, with the bank envelope on the passenger seat. Grabbing my .380 out of the glove box and putting it in my purse, I banged on Jacob’s trailer door so hard it caused all the dogs in the park to erupt in bewilderment.
He stumbled to the door, upon which my declaration of paying his debt back and him being free to do as he pleases, just leaving me and mine alone, began. I threw the envelope at him and got in my car, driving off and leaving his gawking neighbors—and him—in the dust.
****** ********* *****. *******
Agent Davidson got a call and excused himself from the room. This gave me a minute to calm down and collect myself. That folder was tempting me, and now it was right in my hands. Flipping through it, I found it was everything I thought it was. This guy was here for business, and he was organized.
The folder was, in fact, filled with all my lovers. In chronological order, every detail about them. Witnesses he had interviewed. A couple of pieces of evidence. My mind raced, thinking about how long he must have been building this case.
But my heart stopped when I saw the picture of my peach tree. He had been in my yard, in my garden, around my family—and I had no idea. My stomach turned almost violently. The sound of footsteps alerted me, and I quickly put the folder back. The door opened, and Agent Davidson walked in. I was not prepared for what he had in store now.
The pages of the folder flipped—first slowly, then he gained pace.
“My fault. I overlooked one thing we should’ve looked at earlier. You don’t mind if we backpedal a bit?” Davidson said, finally settling on a page in the folder.
He slid the folder over, revealing an enlarged photo of Marcus Benoit’s passport. I couldn’t help but caress it slightly. My melanated white knight amidst the chaos of the world. The dark chocolate that made me feel so rich and creamy.
Betty got all her artistic talents from him, for sure. His stoic attitude transferred over as well. Being a minority in this town was not easy for her, I know. But she made the best of it over the years—the same way we all have, in our own ways.
“What did you want to know?” I asked.
“Can you tell me what happened the last time you saw Mr. Benoit?” Davidson asked.
**** ************ **************
Flashback
Marcus came into my shop with his camera hanging around his neck, a pen lodged behind his ear, and a notepad in his breast pocket. It was a brutal summer day, and sweat had pooled on his shirt. His thick Canadian accent caught everyone’s attention.
Simultaneously, we all exchanged a look, silently asking each other where this tall, well-built, dapperly dressed, obviously foreign Black man had come from.
“You must be mighty parched. Let me get you a glass of water… or would you like some sweet tea?” Rebecca Hylandier said cheekily, grabbing a glass in haste. “You’ll find our little town is very progressive and open-minded. I might be a little more than most,” she added with a smile, eyeing me directly.
Why on earth I kept letting this snake into my shop, I had no clue. I was sure even her own shadow didn’t trust her. I tried my best to be civil with her. It was hard enough over the years to keep a friend, and this little friend group was the best I’d had. If dealing with that two-faced self-demon was a con, then so be it.
It wasn’t like she planned to move anywhere, but every night I prayed she would just tell one person she was or even thought about it.
“I’m actually looking for Mrs. Harrisburg, the owner of the shop,” he said, looking at me with a provocative stare. “I’m from the Ontario Valley Times. We’ve been collecting stories across the U.S., and you are one of the pieces I’ve been following. These meat pies must be something, to have everyone carrying on about them. I’ll be in town for the week and would love to get an interview with you.”
Marcus sampled some pies before he left. He toured my garden the next day and took me out to dinner the day after. I was hesitant at first when he asked me to return to his hotel room. After another Long Island Iced Tea, though, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
That week turned into two, then three. His publicist was calling more frequently now, always about a deadline. I knew what was coming, but this time, I felt things would be different. The week he actually had to go to California, Rebecca was suddenly extra helpful around the shop and garden.
“Has he called you yet? When does he plan to come back? You just can’t keep a man! Do you need me to watch the kids so you can go out and drink? I know you’re depressed—I would be too if men just used me like that!”
To her surprise, and everyone else’s, Marcus did come back. He pulled into town every Friday night and left each Sunday morning. This went on for about four months as he handled business throughout California, Utah, Nevada, and Phoenix.
Around this time, I found out about Betty. Marcus was more than overjoyed, to say the least. He took me out and bought the whole bar a round to celebrate. That was just the type of man he was—kind, generous, and out of my league.
I noticed a few side eyes in the crowd—friends of Harvey, friends of Jacob, friends of Carlos, friends of Daniel, and the attempted seducers of Leslie.
Some friends they were, still drinking with the devil they claimed to hate so much.
I’m sure one of them tried to warn Marcus of my tainted past in this town. I’d been waiting for him to ask about my past lovers. Yet he never did, only talking about the future. What a ray of light in such dark times. Which was also the irony of our situation—the brightest thing in town was the darkest in complexion.
One Friday, though, sticks in my mind to this day. He was finishing up his West Coast tour. We sat outside on a porch, and he held my hand. Looking into my eyes, he asked if I knew who Geoffrey Chaucer was, to which I replied I didn’t—which I’m sure he knew.
Marcus was always quoting someone or explaining where a coined phrase came from. He was always so eager to teach me something new, to give me an actual understanding of things I say day-to-day.
“But at the laste, as every thing hath ende, She took hir leve, and nedes wolde wende,” he said, smiling and rubbing my belly.
“What does that even mean?” I giggled.
“All good things must come to an end,” he said, kissing me.
I was taken aback at first, but then I understood.
Marcus was ready and understood what it meant to be a jolly.
We kissed and made love that night, never uttering more than a few words between us. Marcus packed up to head out of town that Sunday morning.
*** ******** ************
“Well, that’s my two birds. I see here Marcus also left you some assets and funds in his will, once his family declared him dead,” Agent Davidson said, slipping the picture back into its sleeve.
“Yes, it was unexpected but has set Betty up for college,” I replied.
He acted as if he didn’t even hear me, fumbling through the folder. Finally, he stopped at a ruby-colored tab. The face that greeted me always brought a smile to my face. Gerald DeMarco—the gambler, the mobster, and Tommy’s dad.
We tore this town up for one solid summer, and then his friends came to tear it up the next fall. I already knew what Davidson was going to ask. It was the same thing anyone who knows Gerald wants to know.
What happened to the money?
******** ********* ************
Flashback
School had just started, and the town was buzzing with life. Gerald drove an Oldsmobile Cutlass with Detroit plates. The trunk was filled with designer leather bags and perfumes. He went door to door and shop to shop selling his wares. The men began using him as a sports bookie.
He quickly became the go-to man in town for fashion and other goods. The women in town waited for his pop-up shop like cows to a hay bale. It wasn’t long before he was a regular in my shop. My Boston crème pies and Hennessy-infused donuts were his favorites.
His trips between Vegas and his other business, though, Gerald kept close to the chest. I knew better than to pry too much with him. As sweet as his demeanor was, there was a dark side I never wanted to see.
Our rooms were always filled with new perfumes and lotions—Chanel, Dior, and other designers I couldn’t even name. Rosie and Nina adored the dresses and outfits Gerald brought when he stopped by.
It was Christmas that year; we all went to Vegas. I saw who Gerald really was, and it scared me. The day was going perfectly, but once we put the kids to bed and went down to the casino, everything changed, and I couldn’t believe the transformation.
Gerald and I started off playing roulette. It was fun, even though I lost. He promised we could recoup at blackjack, which was when I should’ve gone back to the room. But the allure of that Vegas dream kept me by his side. He assured me our luck was bound to turn around.
It wasn’t long before his luck—and money—ran out. Before long, we were sitting in the office of the casino manager. They seemed like they knew each other from the exchange of pleasantries. Gerald was given a credit of $20,000 that night.
Again, I should’ve gone back to the room with the kids. But we went back down to the casino floor. This time, Gerald had a look in his eyes I’d never seen before. It was like a child about to get into trouble and looking for a place to hide.
I’d never seen him like this before—just scanning the casino, likely searching for something to change his luck. Before all this, my heart believed Gerald loved me; now, riding the escalator down, I realized that was far from the truth.
We started back at the roulette table and blew a few hundred on black. We moved to the baccarat table next, and he lost a few thousand within minutes. Gerald went to the slots to cool off while I sat next to him, dialing my spot machine back and waiting just like him. Finally, he hit a jackpot. It was nothing more than $3,000, which would’ve covered what he’d just lost.
I implored him to stop and walk away, even. My pleas fell on deaf ears. Our next stop was the craps table. His luck from the slots had already run out. A group of tourists from Japan invited him to join them in playing pai gow poker.
My stomach started to turn, and it wasn’t from the liquor. I had a really bad feeling, which Gerald must’ve noticed. He grabbed my hand and assured me everything would be fine. We’d “clean them out” and leave.
That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I watched as he lost five thousand dollars off his first few hands. The translator in the group asked us if we wanted to join another private game they had. Before even hearing the game, Gerald accepted and followed them to the back rooms.
The upset stomach I’d had earlier was turning into knots. When the doors closed behind us, it felt like they’d closed our tomb. Security guards scattered throughout the hallway watched us silently. We might as well have been lambs heading to the slaughterhouse.
This all started to feel surreal.
“Oh boy,” Gerald said, “this is let it ride,” as we sat down at the dealer’s table.
Over the next hour, I watched as he lost all the money given to him. Gerald began to remove his watch, and I pleaded once more. He grabbed my arm with such force it stopped me in my tracks.
“Maybe you should go to the room. I’ll be up shortly,” Gerald said, giving me a look of ferocity. I could only nod and get up from the table.
Around seven a.m., there was a loud banging on our hotel door. He stood at the door in only his underwear, with a busted lip. His eye was swollen, and he looked like somebody had really gone at him. The white underwear he wore was covered in dirt and shoe prints.
Without saying a word, Gerald walked into the room, grabbed his suitcase, and went into the bathroom. The kids were still asleep, except Johnny. He always seemed to witness my weakest moments. I went and sat next to him, turning on the TV.
Time just seemed to drift by. After a few cartoons and some cereal, Gerald finally came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, and told me to take my time with the kids. The hotel offered us a complimentary breakfast, and he said he’d be waiting in the car whenever we got ready. In the same breath, he handed me two hundred dollars and told me to buy them some souvenirs before we left.
I found out I was pregnant about a month later. Gerald was more than overjoyed. There wasn’t a weekend that everyone in the local bars didn’t hear about it. His strong Detroit accent was always the most defining in the room.
Tommy came not long after that. I’m not sure how he did it, but Gerald left that casino with $300,000. I remember Johnny telling me he pulled into my shed like a bat out of hell, came in to feed and check up on them, then stayed in the shed for a few hours.
When I got home that night, Gerald was in my living room with all the lights in the house off. The kids were already in their rooms. I could hear them talking amongst themselves; they never could whisper, and I was sure Gerald had bought them toys and clothes.
I didn’t recognize the car in the shed.
He never told me about any money.
I never saw Gerald after that night.
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