Going For Broke (38 page)

             
“Jack told me.”

             
“Jack?  When did you talk to Jack?”

             
Trip walked the window and looked out at Michigan Avenue below him.  “I talk to Jack every day.  He’s my attorney, Victoria.”
             

             
Of course he talked to Jack every day.  “Did he tell you I was frantic?  Did he tell you I had to drive back to my mother’s house in a trailer?  Did he tell you that your children were traumatized, not knowing where you were you were?”  Two out of three were true, she thought.

             
“I knew it was only for a little while.  We’re all back together now.  It’s all good.”

             
Victoria looked at Trip and for the first time that he may be more than just a bit unbalanced.  “Trip, they’re going to find you.  You can’t hide out in the Peninsula forever.”

             
“Of course not.  We’re going back tomorrow.”  He walked over to the desk and picked up a file.  “I’ve got a plane taking us out tomorrow.”

             
Victoria couldn’t believe it.  “Where exactly are we going?”

             
“Belize!  You’ll love it.  I found a fantastic house on the beach.  It’ll just be us, the sand and the surf.  Help is cheap and the weather is beautiful.”

             
“So I can see.  What about our children, Trip?” she asked.

             
“They’ll love it.  We can all learn Spanish together.  It’ll be an adventure!”
             

             
“I can’t do anything today,” Victoria needed to buy time.  “I can’t do anything tomorrow either.  Give me a couple of days.”

             
“Victoria, we need to move fast.”

             
“Posey’s in a play,” she said.  She didn’t know how it popped out.

             
“A play?”

             
“A school play.  Tonight.  I have to go.  I can’t go to Belize.”  Now that the shock of seeing Trip again was wearing off, she was just exhausted.  She stood up to go. 

             
“Wait, Victoria!  Let me come with you.”

             
The was the last thing Victoria wanted.  She could only imagine her mother - or worse yet, Mike - catching sight of her fugitive husband.

             
“I’ll be back. Tomorrow afternoon.  I promise,” she had to make him think she was on his side.  She wasn’t sure who’s side was who’s.  She looked around at the bags.  “Stay out of the stores.”

CHAPTER 25

             
The next morning, she was up and out before anyone else.  Bud had agreed to get the kids to school on their last morning.  She was sad she had to miss it.  Their little school was starting to grow on her.  Just a little.

             
She got to Mercedes’ office well before it opened.  She didn’t have an appointment, but couldn’t take no for an answer.  With her fugitive husband holed up in five-star comfort, she needed legal advice and needed it now.  She stood leaning against the door to the Legal Aid office and felt like one of the homeless people that littered the surrounding blocks.  Delores, the receptionist arrived early and let her inside to wait for Mercedes.

             
She sat in the little waiting area and flipped through magazines halfheartedly, too distracted to read.  She laughed as she picked up the latest People magazine that had Andrea’s face on the cover.   ‘Single and Loving It!’ it read.   No mention of the married co-star, but this was People after all.  They ran stories of puppies that saved their owners and ‘where are they now?’ articles about child stars.  Leave it to the trashier tabloids to get the real dirt on Andrea’s torrid affair.  Single or no, Victoria was pleased to see that Andrea had booted John and Kate up to the corner spot.

             
Mercedes interrupted her.  “Do you just come here for the reading material?”

             
Victoria jumped up, ready to hug Mercedes.  “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

             
“If I had a nickle...” Mercedes said.  She looked at her watch.  “Honey, we don’t have an appointment, do we?”

             
“I’m so sorry.  It’s an emergency.” Victoria clasped her hands, pleading.

             
Mercedes looked at her client and thought of the demanding woman she had met the first time Victoria had walked through her door.  She had grown to respect and like Victoria, and wanted to help her.  “Come on - do you want to split my bagel?”

             
Mercedes laid it out for her: If she turned Trip in, she could cut a deal.  Chances are, she’d probably get some, but not much of the money.  Trip would owe it all in remuneration and penalties.  She would walk away.  If, however, she didn’t, they could go after her.  Great, either rat out my husband, or go up the river with him.  Great options.

             
“What about filing the divorce papers?  Doesn’t that show - I don’t know - prior intent?” Victoria asked.

             
“It would have had to be prior to the crime.” Mercedes explained.  Victoria crumpled a bit.  “I didn’t think so,” Mercedes said.  “Where’s your little buddy?” She said, tilting her head toward the reception area where Mike usually waited for Victoria.

             
Victoria turned to look at the empty sofa.  “I don’t know.”

             
“Well, if I were you, my friend, that’s where I’d start.”

             
             
             
             
             
###

             
After she left the Legal Aid office, Victoria started back to the train.  She stopped, and did something she really had never done before: She hailed a taxicab.  In New York, she never took cabs.  They were way too dirty, they smelled like some ethnic dinner and you always had to fight to get one.  No, she always had a car and driver.  The toughest part about that was trying to figure out which car was hers parked in line outside Bendel’s, a gala at the Met or Phillipe’s.  The cab, as feared, was both dirty and fragrant.  Today it felt like better than Meredith Sommer’s Bently. 

             
“The Peninsula,” she said and leaned back into the vinyl as if it were fine Corinthian leather.
             

             
             
             
             
             
             
###

             
Back at the Pen, Victoria knew exactly what she had to do.  She didn’t head directly up to Trip’s room.  Instead, she went to the bank of phones that were housed in small individual rooms, each with a phone, desk and bench.  Victoria had learned years ago when she was selling wine that the better the hotel the better the public restrooms and telephones.  She hadn’t needed one in years, but it was perfect for today.

             
She shut the door sat down.  She spent about five minutes fishing Mike’s business card out of her purse.  She had thrown it in there when he gave it to her months ago, and it was still there, a little worse for wear.  She picked up the phone and put four quarters in the phone - no credit card to bill to.   She took a deep breath, and began to dial. 

             
She got his voicemail.  The sound of his voice really shook her - more than she anticipated.  She wasn’t prepared for voicemail, so she hung up the phone. She didn’t want to leave a message.  She got the number for the Manhattan branch of the FBI and asked for Mr. Michael Towner.  She was transferred to another line, where a woman answered ‘Organized Crime’.  What the hell - was Trip involved with organized crime too?  She asked for Mike- and they told her to hold for Agent Towner.  It was the longest three minutes of her life.

             
“Towner!” he barked into the phone. 

             
Victoria hesitated.  “Mike? It’s Victoria.”  She wanted to be professional.  She could barely hear him, the static on the line was terrible.  “Victoria Vernon.” She yelled into the phone.  Thank God for the private phone room.

             
“Hello?” Mike couldn’t hear a word she said. 

             
“Mike, I need to talk to you.  Can you hear me?”

             
“Vivi?”  Was he under water?  Under fire?

             
“Mike, I need you to come to Chicago!” she was nearly screaming now. 

             
“...nothing.  I can’t hear you,” he was breaking up.  The line went dead. 

             
             
             
             
             
###

             
Victoria went up to see Trip.  She didn’t want him wandering around Chicago unsupervised anymore.  She knocked on the door and he answered it wearing nothing but a towel. 

             
“Hi there,” he said with a leering grin.

             
She walked past him, in no mood for any sexual banter.  “Get dressed, Trip.”

             
“Suit yourself.  Your loss,” he said as he headed back into the bedroom, but not before taking off the towel and using it to snap it at her.  Boy, he was tanned and looked good, Victoria thought.  It was remarkable that she could have looked at the same naked body for twenty years, and always had a fresh appreciation for it. 

             
He quickly returned wearing a just a robe.

             
“Don’t you want to get dressed?” Victoria urged.

             
“I’m good.  Besides, I’m waiting for them to bring up my suit.  I had it sent out this morning.  You don’t mind, do you?” he said, looking down at his robe.

             
“No, I don’t.  Really, there’s not much that shock me anymore,” she said, sitting down.  It was at times like this she wished she still smoked.  Instead, she looked through her purse for a mint.

             
“Don’t be nervous.  I don’t bite,” Trip said.

             
“Hard!” Victoria said, laughing.  The doorman for the building of their first apartment used to say that to Victoria almost every day.  It became a private joke between them, and always got one or the other to laugh.  It still worked today. 

             
“Do you remember that guy?” Trip said, happy to have softened Victoria up a bit.