Bad People (15 page)

“What doesn’t? What are we talking about? I have the impression you want to tell me something. Call me crazy, but I get that feeling, Barry. Erika? Somebody out with it already.”

“I suppose this isn’t the time,” said Barry.

“Oh bullshit. Talk to me now.”

“Go ahead, Barry,” said Erika evenly.

Barry took a breath. He poked at the phone and placed it on the table. Then he slid it across to Connie.

She shoved it right back to him. “I said
talk
to me Barry. Talk to
me
.” He looked at Erika. “Don’t do that. Look at me.”

“Erika?” said Barry.

“Dammit,” said Connie, a bit too loudly for a dimly-lit bistro.

“Go on, Barry,” said Erika. And then Erika put her hand over Connie’s wrist, and an effort that showed something like real sympathy. Something that she couldn’t have done merely to freak Connie out—or could she have?

“We’re finished,” said Barry. “Bankrupt. Completely.”

She stared at him until he dropped his gaze. Glen still was trying to interest himself, alternately, in something on his plate, or something on the floor. Erika just watched Connie.

“That’s all there is to it,” said Barry breaking the silence. “There’s nothing to be done.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” said Connie.

“Robb ruined us. He embezzled everything. More than we guessed.”

“And you
all
know this?” said Connie.

“Yes,” said Erika.

“That’s not possible. The companies are separate.”

“Not any more,” said Erika. “Not in the end.”

Connie ignored her, and questioned Barry. “You had oversight.”

“Robb forged my signature. He took out loans I knew nothing about. It goes deep.”

“You had oversight, Barry.”

“Don’t blame Barry,” said Erika.

“No?” And what about Erika herself? “And how is it that we’re only finding this out now. After months!”

No one answered.

“We
are
finding out about this
just now
aren’t we? Aren’t we? Barry!”

The boys were looking down still, as if hiding their faces in shame, and Erika was stone-faced.

“Why haven’t you told me, Barry? What else are you keeping from me?”

No one is doing that, Connie” interrupted Erika. “We are telling you now—”

Connie ignored her. How long, Barry? How long have you been keeping this from me?”

“Since we found out. About three months.”

Connie wanted to vomit. “Three months! How many times have you been over to my condo in three months. How many times have you called me?”

“A few. Several.”

“Dozens! At least!”

Erika interjected again. “Connie—”

“Shut up!” Connie barked at her, like an order, and Erika halted in mild surprise. Then the icy smile returned to her face. Check and mate, her smile said.

Connie grabbed under her chair for her bag, then got up.

Barry jumped up too. “Connie!”

“Let her go,” said Erika. Then something that sounded like,
she needs time
.

Connie stormed for the exit, not looking back at any of them.

Barry chased after her out into the street, until she wheeled to stop him. He tried to speak but she stopped him there too.

“You were supposed to be
my
friend Barry. Look after
my
interests.”

“Robb fooled us all, not just you.”

Connie swiped her hands in the air. “Shut up, shut up, already. I said I don’t want to hear it! Go back inside, Barry.”

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just go inside.”

“I don’t want you to be upset,” he said.

“It’s too late for that.”

“We were only trying to protect you.”

“You did a great job. You protected me right into the gutter. It’s not your place to protect me. Do you get that? Not your place.”

“Erika said—”

“Doesn’t matter what Erika said. Doesn’t matter what Robb did. We’re supposed to be a team, Barry. Partners.”

He looked down. “I know. Poor judgment on my part. I take full responsibility for what Robb did.”

“That isn’t it. You are not supposed to take
full
responsibility for anything! You should have told me immediately!”

He stood there helplessly. “Come back inside,” he said.

“No.”

“Look, we’re all friends. We have to get back to the theater soon.”

“The theater! I’m not going back to the theater.”

“But you’ll miss the second half.”

That stunned her. What in the world was going on in his mind!

“I know how it ends, Barry. The good guys sneak in a ‘gift’ they give the bad guys. They kill everyone in the city and drag the girl back home. We had it in school.”

She turned and he started to follow.

“Stay there!” she told him. “I’m not mad at you,” she lied, “but I want to be alone now and you have to respect that.”

“Maybe you have a right to be mad.”

Maybe! “Go inside,” she told him again. “Go be with our friends. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry I ruined the evening.”

“You didn’t. It was a disaster to begin with.”

“Please stay,” he said.

“No Barry. Let me go. For your sake now more than mine. Because if I did go back inside, and shrug it off, and try to finish my coffee, and smile nicely, while you all talk about how sad it is for me and nod in sympathy then I’m going to say or do something you don’t want me to say or do.”

“Like what?”

“Something I will regret. And
you
will. So just leave it now, Barry. Leave it for once in your life.”

“For
once
in my life? For
once
? I’ve been ‘leaving it’ for far too long!”

“You do not want to do this now. Believe me you don’t.”

He looked at her with dismay. With hurt in his eyes. Another neat trick. Another puppy trick, hang dog, that boys used, and men used when they insisted on remaining boys if it suited their purpose. She almost melted in spite of herself. She felt sorry for the things she was having to say, for the things she was doing, but she couldn’t take that on, she couldn’t let him do that to her now, not yet, she was still too raw, to little and weak. She made her face hard. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore tonight. I will call you tomor— in a couple of days. If you have any respect for me—any love for me at all, then allow me that.”

“I love you.”

She refused to hear that. “Goodnight,” she said. She turned and he did not follow. She imagined him there, half out of the restaurant, watching her recede down the block. In reality she didn’t know whether he was still watching her or not, and she didn’t allow herself to care. She found her way back to the parking garage. The level she parked on had half-emptied. Evidently she wasn’t the only one with no stomach for Acts IV and V.

She drove up out of the ground, but at the corner she had to pull over to the curb because she was shaking so bad. Everything gone. Everything and more. Money and reputation, but those could be recovered. Trust was gone, and how do you recover that? How could she even look at Erika again, let alone Barry? She sat there and made herself calm, and thought about what to do next.

The options came down to going to a bar and drinking alone, or going home and drinking alone. She had no one to talk to. No son to talk to, no spouse, certainly no friends. Too bad she’d deleted what’s-his-name’s number. He’d drink with her. Luke. No, he didn’t drink. Anyway he would be out now. Saturday night? But it was still early. Or not that late. What the hell. She took out her phone. She’d deleted the number from contacts, but it was still in the list of recent calls. He’d called her three times in the last week and she hadn’t responded. The last time was just a couple days earlier. It might still be there. She scrolled down, got lucky. Call number 29 of 30. That showed how much her phone traffic had fallen off lately. Thirty calls would be no more than a busy morning once upon a time. Now that Robb was gone, she was dropping off the face of the earth. Oh, people were still talking
about
her, as she’d just witnessed. They just weren’t talking
to
her any longer. She’d ignored Luke’s messages. Would he mind? No, he wouldn’t be sensitive to that sort of thing. He was self-assured, and anyway he shouldn’t expect her to not be busy. His messages never smacked of desperation. They were casual. She could still call.

She punched the button and the phone dialed. She watched the icon revolving and then counted the rings. Three rings and he picked up. She put the phone to her ear, said his name. “Luke?”

No. Wasn’t him. Voicemail. She hesitated at the tone, then snapped the phone shut without a word. She didn’t know what to say on the message, and anyway it didn’t matter, he’d be able to tell it was her number when he saw the missed call. She waited in the car in the dark for a few moments thinking he might ring right back. The phone was silent.

She put the car back in gear, pulled away from the curb, and drove home.

Chapter 17: Erika, Glen

Erika wouldn’t allow Connie’s abrupt storm-out at the restaurant to derail the rest of the evening, when Barry had murmured something about going after Connie.

“No,” Erika told him flatly. “Let her process.” And she shot a glance at her husband Glen to strangle his nascent ascent to Barry’s position. She wasn’t going to have Barry and Connie talking
ex parte
—not on her watch. Connie could easily manipulate Barry and that was not about to happen now that Erika had got him to see reality. Nor was she going to let Connie ruin the entertainment portion of the evening—not the entertainment was all that ruinable—and she vowed that it would be a long time before anyone talked her back into the theater again. But this is what they had set out to do. Besides it would keep Barry from scurrying after Connie. They three went back to the theater.

Then Barry staged a walkout of his own. Standing up, and galumphing out only a few minutes into Act IV. Erika had thought maybe he had gone to the bathroom, but he never came back.

After the show, Erika had to drive because, as typical, Glen had ignored her when she told him not to have another glass of wine at dinner. He couldn’t hold three glasses of wine in an hour—even leaving aside the drink before the play. He didn’t have the constitution.

“You’re quiet,” she said to him in the car.

“Mm?”

Oh, why do I bother,
she thought.

He looked at her quizzically when she didn’t respond to his non-responsive grunt, and she shook her head at him.

“What?” he said. Not letting it go.

“I said
you’re quiet
,” she told him.

“Just thinking.” He would have been better off to have left it at that, but he didn’t. Of course. In a moment he said: “Connie’s been through a hard time.”

She gestured in frustration, momentarily releasing the steering wheel. “Obviously.”

“Mm.” Another grunt.

“Naturally, that would be your greatest concern.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even grunt this time.

“Know what I mean?” she said. He knew what she meant all right. He still didn’t talk. And now he was hiding his face by pretending to look at something out his side window.

“What’s so interesting out there?”

“Scenery.”

“There’s nothing too see,” she corrected him. “It’s too dark, and there’s no scenery anyway.”

“Nothing then. I’m looking at nothing.”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.”

“No. That’s in your head.”

She had a sudden urge to swerve into another lane, to run right into the shoulder, crash into a pole. If she did, would he tell her
that
was all in her head too?

“The dream wasn’t in your head.”

“What dream? I didn’t have any dream. I don’t remember it.”

“You didn’t have it, or you don’t remember it?”

“Both,” he said, twisting in his seat. “I don’t remember it. How am I responsible for what happens in my sleep?”

“You aren’t. That’s it. You can’t control it. You can’t control yourself very much can you?”

“No one can control their dreams.”

“So you
did
dream about her.”

“No! I don’t know. That’s not my point. Even if I did, I can’t be held responsible for what happens in dreams.”

“So I’m supposed to take it?”