If Tomorrow Never Comes (12 page)

           
Jake's pitiful expression and
ridiculous insinuations were indeed humorous.
 
Choking down an unexpected giggle, searching his face for a trace of the
man she'd seen in the picture found only eyes barely recognizable.
 
Hands propped on hips, she countered, “If you
think for one minute I'm going to help you for nothing, you're a bigger fool
than I thought, Morgan.
 
I'm not sticking
my neck out just for freedom.
 
If I
survive, you're going to make it worthwhile.”

           
One of Jake's hands went to his hip,
the other stretching up as if he were going to smack Jordan senseless, began
rubbing a neck stiff from tension.
 
In
desperate need of fresh air, spinning around he put space between them
wondering what was worse, Jordan’s clean fresh aroma, or the old stench.
  

           
A migraine was threatening and if it
got out of control, he wouldn't be worth a shit.
 
Getting rid of the thorn in his side was
necessary.
 
The sooner they began, the
sooner they'd finish then, she'd be out of his life for good.
 
Desperation made him turn and, without
conscious thought, sputter, “Name it.”
     

           
Surprise collided with
disappointment.
 
Jake had given in so
easily Jordan was tongue-tied.
 
What she
wanted, she had no idea.
  
Margaret had
confused her by exposing her feelings and senses to a foreign but pleasurable
way of life.
 
The time spent with
Margaret made her believe that if an old fool woman could manage alone,
meagerly, and survive, she could as well.
 

           
“You are to stop shouting at
me.
 
I hate yelling.
  
You have to shower and shave as often as you
expect me to.
 
I want twenty thousand
dollars and an airline ticket to where ever I want to go when we're
through.”
 
Jordan’s face registered
wonder, so astounded was she by such unleashed demands.
 
She didn't know where such ideas came from.

           
Feeling the heat climbing up his
face frying his eyeballs, thrusting his hands into the air Jake bellowed,
 
“Where, in hell, do you expect me to get that
kind of money?
 
You must think I have a
counterfeit machine hidden under my bed, for Christ sake?”

           
Plopping into the chair, folding her
arms and legs Indian style Jordan pretended indifference while studying the
television screen.
  
Breathing in and out
trying to calm her anger, seconds later she spoke confidently.
 
“You'll retrieve a thousand times that in
drugs when you get Scorpio.
 
My requests
are a drop in the bucket compared to the notoriety, promotion, and raise you'll
receive when you get him.”

           
Completely at his wits end in no
time he reached the chair.
 
Leaning over,
his fingertips practically penetrating the padded arms brought his nose within
inches from hers.
 
The dark looks he was
giving should have made her flinch; instead, she gave them right back.
 
Her eyes pinning his, her dainty pink tongue
slipping slowly between her lips tantalizing him, the dancing gold flecks of
her eyes, were weapons that finished him off.
 
With extraordinary long lashes temporarily distracting him the woman
child filling his field of vision was sure as hell intriguing enough to ruin
any man.
 
It was that reflection, plus
another whiff of her sweet, clean, fragrance, that caught him completely off
guard and forced him to seal the deal, “You've got it.”

           
Dumb struck that she'd bargained and
won, Jordan felt not only skeptical but also surprisingly reluctant.
 
Now knowing she had no choice but to do what
he demanded she slowly stood and walked woodenly to the bedroom.
 
Lethargically opening the garbage bag, she
dumped the contents onto the floor.
 
With
every item of clothing she was wearing when he found her now laying in a heap,
she was more aware than ever her life was in crisis and for the first time in
years she had difficulty putting on her disguise.
 

           
If Margaret's apartment had not been
so orderly and clean, her white towels smelling like a bouquet of flowers, her
hair shiny and crisp, Jordan probably would have never noticed the dirt on the
clothing, or smelled the odor.
 
Realizing
how low she’d sunk, embarrassment flashed high inside. Hesitantly smoothing the
camouflage on the palms of her hands, over her face and into her hair, she
tugged at the short sprigs forcing them in varying directions.
 
Finally satisfied, she listlessly entered the
living room.
 

           
Leaning against a wall, arms
crossed, Jake waited impatiently. He wore layers of clothing, resembling hers,
and an old hat pulled snugly over his head.
 
Camouflage disguised his face, and the wavy, long hair falling across
broad shoulders that resembled hers years ago, she suddenly began to envy.

           
Before embarking on their dangerous
mission, he reminded her of the weapon in his pocket its sole purpose to shoot
her if she made one wrong move.
 
A
warning that ended with the chilling fact he had a reputation of being deadly
accurate.
 

           
Exiting through the bedroom window,
down the fire escape and into the alley they entered Jake’s car.
  
All too soon, they arrived at the forbidden
South side of Chicago four blocks from where Jordan lived.
 
Walking on opposite sides of the street, they
covered the remaining distance over ancient, cracked, and heaved sidewalks,
passing prostitutes, pimps and drug pushers, windows and doors protected by
iron bars.
 
Polluting the night air were
boom boxes screaming rap tunes, people shouting expletives, tires screeching,
revving engines, motorcycles racing up and down the street, and an occasional
gunshot.

           
With his heart resonating above all
the tumult, Jake watched Jordan, her head held high, undeniably brave, cross-hell’s
invisible forbidden borders.
 
Along the
way groups of gang members glancing at her nonchalantly returned to the
mischief they were planning, and as his heart thudded louder, he had to wonder
if they ignored her presence due to her being unworthy of their trouble, or,
because they revered her courage.
 
He
chose to believe the later.

           
No man in his right mind would enter
the alley she turned into, desolate, crawling with danger, with its
sinister-looking recesses deeply shadowed.
 
For a brief second he wanted to run to her, pluck her from Satan’s jaws
and return her to the safety of his apartment.
 
It was too late.
 
Out of nowhere,
the alley took on life.
 

           
Like insects seeping from cracks
people converged on Jordan, a colony of varied shapes and sizes, all ages
dressed identically with unseasonable heavy clothing.
 
Wide eyed he scrutinized them as they
scrounged in garbage cans, as mangy looking men relieved themselves against
brick walls, revelry's that battered his mind.
 
Suffocating from the sultry air and heavy layers of clothing, the
pavement beneath his feet seemed to move bringing his back hard against the
mass behind him.
 
Suddenly he wanted to
know who Jordan was, where she came from, how long she survived this hell and
how.

           
The vigil dragged on as, through the
haze forming over his eyes, he observed homeless people crawl inside cardboard
huts to lie on scraps of this and that.
 
Watched as Jordan did the same awaiting her delivery, a time when his
chest twisted into a, gigantic, throbbing, painful knot.
 
Why didn't he notice all of this before?

           
It was one a.m. and two packs of
cigarettes later before a figure carrying a package entering the alley tossed a
parcel inside Jordan’s hut then disappeared through the veil of darkness.
 
As soon as the stranger vanished, with Jake a
safe distance away, Jordan made her way to an apartment complex.
 
When she entered, minutes dragging on
mercilessly made him more and more anxious.
 
Never did his heart beat so loudly, so fast, that it sounded like a drum
in his ears.
 
Never did he know such
trepidation, smoke so many cigarettes, or experience the inability to
breath.
 
Never did he feel so guilty.

           
What kind of monster was he to
expect a woman to do his dirty work, a task few men would do?
  
His plan was insane he decided and just as
he was about to enter the building to pluck Jordan from what he believed to be
the jaws of death like a super hero she reappeared unscathed.

           
It was dawn before they returned to
the apartment in impenetrable silence.
 
Without
a word or expression, Jordan hurried into the bathroom to peel off with frantic
haste the clothing clinging to her damply.
 
Holding her breath, she eagerly stuffed them into the bag, then
dutifully showered before slipping into the clothing Margaret claimed she
secured from a teenager in the complex.
 
In a trance like state, quietly entering the bedroom, she positioned
herself on the floor by the bed.
 
Pulling
her legs tightly to her chest, her arms encircling them, she rested her
forehead on her knees and dwelled on her hungry friends who lacked shelter and
hot water feeling guilty that all at once she had it all.
 
Shame exploding turned into nausea.
  
Never before did she feel so alone, so
frightened.
 
She wanted to cry, but
couldn't.
 
Do more to help, but
couldn’t.
 

           
Reality rising its ugly head was
telling her when this insanity was over she'd return to the life that only
today thanks to Margaret she began questioning.
 
Then again, maybe tomorrow would never come, she decided.
 
Feeling exceptionally lethargic, she forced
new fears to join the multitude of others deep in the caves of her mind until
sleep became a savior.

           
Jake sat in the kitchen, no beer in
hand, no cigarette, suddenly too aware of the risk he was asking Jordan to
take.
 
Feeling like the cockroach running
across the table, he decided a long hot shower was overdue.
 
Draining the hot water tank, scrubbing his
body red did nothing to alleviate the shackle's remorse placed on him.
 

           
Finally mustering enough courage to
check on Jordan, from the doorway, he heard her now familiar whimpers, her
mumbling.
 
Part of him wished he could
decipher what she was saying another wasn't all that sure he wanted to know.
Creeping closer, he watched until he could stand the tiny noises no
longer.
 
Bending down ever so slowly he
gently lifted her small body into his arms.
 
Though she never moved, the sounds stopped.
 
Laying her on his bed, this time, very
carefully, he watched her curl into a fetal position hugging herself as if
providing protection from some horrible blows.
 
Seconds later, the sounds resumed shaking her from head to toe and
although barely audible wails, they were all the more terrible because they
were choked behind her tightly clenched teeth.

           
Jake felt so powerless.
 
He’d forgotten what it was like to be
comforted, so he didn't know how to offer it himself.
 
As he covered her with a blanket tucking it
around her, a moan caught in his throat and for the first time in years, he
struggled with an overwhelming urge to weep.

           
Positioned in the folding chair, he
no longer questioned its hardness, tonight especially, he felt fortunate to
have it beneath him and while watching Jordan he began a self-examination that
turned his eyelids to steel.

CHAPTER 13

           
Wearing a teddy of white silk and
French lace with coordinating high-heeled slippers, Marla stood at the portable
bar preparing a Martini for Scorpio.
 
The
lucid blue sky promised a beautiful day with temperatures to reach eighty-five
according to the weather forecast.