Lights Out (28 page)

The doctor at Brookdale, the one who set Ryan’s right leg in the cast after the surgery, told him that it could’ve been a lot worse.

‘If you tensed up when the car hit you, you wouldn’t’ve gone over the side. But you must’ve been relaxed - that’s what saved you.’

Ryan knew the doctor was only trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working. Yeah, Ryan was glad he wasn’t dead, but he was afraid it was only a matter of time. He knew that car hitting him was no accident. That guy was out to get him, he was sure of it, but he still had no idea why.

Rods and screws had been implanted into Ryan’s leg and he was out of it; he couldn’t think much about anything. While he was in recovery, his parents came to visit.

Rocco just said, ‘Hey, kiddo,’ and stood to the side, but Rose-Marie was crying and hugged Ryan and kissed him and told him again and again that she loved him.

Then she started to calm down and said, ‘Did you hear they caught the guy?’

‘What guy?’ Ryan said, dazed.

‘The one who ran you over,’ Rose-Marie said.

‘Who was he?’

‘His name was Arturo Perez.’

Ryan had no idea who this was.

‘The police caught him while he was speeding away,’ RoseMarie said. ‘He got into another accident or something. But the police say hitting you wasn’t an accident. He did that on purpose.’

Feeling nauseous and dizzy from the pain meds, Ryan said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘He said .. . he said you slept with his wife. Is that true, Ryan?’

Then it came to him - why the guy had looked so familiar. He was in the picture on the dresser at Elly’s house - the guy in the Yankees cap.

Ryan realized his mother was staring at him, waiting for him to answer.

‘I don’t understand,’ Rose-Marie said. ‘You told me you were in love with Christina.’

‘I am.’

‘So why would you go sleep with some man’s wife?’

‘Okay, let’s just let the kid rest,’ Rocco said.

He touched Rose-Marie’s arm, and she swatted his hand away.

‘I didn’t sleep with anybody’s wife,’ Ryan said.

‘Then why’d he tell the police you did?’ Rose-Marie asked.

‘I have no idea,’ Ryan said weakly.

A nurse came to check on Ryan; his parents went out to the hallway.

Ryan hadn’t felt like getting into a whole thing about it with his mother, and he still wasn’t sure what the hell was going on anyway. He didn’t know how Elly’s husband knew to wait for him outside the deli, or how he’d even recognized him, but he was too exhausted to think about it anymore. He had to stay at the hospital overnight for observation. He wasn’t allowed to use his cell phone, so when Rose-Marie came in to say good-bye, Ryan asked her to call Christina, to let her know what had happened and that he was okay.

‘And don’t tell her about what that guy said,’ Ryan told his mother. ‘I mean, about me and his wife. And if she heard about it somehow, tell her it isn’t true.’

Later Ryan managed to fall asleep, but he had awful nightmares. The nurse had told him that, as a side effect, Vicodin could cause dreams of being chased, and Ryan had them all right. He was running for his life from wild dogs, cars, and people with guns, and when he woke up he felt like he’d been through hell.

He closed his eyes again, drifting in and out of sleep, and when he opened them Detective Noll was looking down at him. Ryan thought he was having another nightmare.

‘Remember me?’ Noll asked, smiling.

‘Jesus,’ Ryan said, trying to get his heart rate under control.

‘No, not Jesus - Noll, Sixty-ninth Precinct. This is getting to be a regular thing, huh? I see you more than I see my goddamn wife.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Actually, I’m here with some interesting news. You heard about our friend Arturo Perez?’

‘My parents told me he was the guy who hit me.’

‘Looks like he was also the guy who shot at you.’

Ryan still felt pretty dazed, and he wasn’t sure if Noll was bullshitting, trying to get him to confess or something.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘We found a gun on him when we took him in. We’re still running tests, but it looks like we’ve got a match to the gun that was used in the drive-by.’

‘I thought that guy from the projects shot me.’

‘Looks like we made a mistake. It seems like a simple case of a husband looking for some payback. I guess his wife was that woman you scored with the other night.’

‘Maybe it was; maybe it wasn’t.’

‘Come on, you told me she lived on Snediker Avenue - that’s where Perez and his wife live. You also told me her name was Elly, which happens to be the name of Perez’s wife. You’re gonna tell me that’s all a fucking coincidence? I also think you’re missing a pair of boxers, am I right? Perez said that’s how he found out about you, and then his wife told him your name and where you live. He drove over and tried to take you out with a couple of bullets. When that didn’t work he went for the hit-and-run. Good thing we caught him. Third time might’ve been a charm, if you know what I mean.’

Ryan realized he must’ve told Elly where he lived, at least which block he lived on. Then Arturo, not Saiquan, must’ve been the one who’d asked Jamal which house Ryan Rossetti lived in.

‘So does all this sound right to you?’ Noll asked. ‘I mean, am I missing anything?’

Ryan looked into Noll’s eyes and said, ‘All I know is somebody shot me and somebody tried to run me over. It’s up to you to try to figure out who did it.’

Noll smiled widely, then he wished Ryan a speedy recovery and left. Ryan hoped he wouldn’t go talk to Elly now and find out that Marcus and Saiquan had been in the bar that night too. If he did that, Ryan knew he’d be totally fucked.

In the morning a doctor told Ryan that he’d have to wear the cast for four to six weeks and would need several weeks of physical therapy, but that he would probably have a full recovery. Then he was discharged and Rose-Marie drove him home.

When they entered the living room, Rose-Marie said, ‘Go sit down on the couch. I’ll bring you a nice warm plate of lasagna.’

Ryan settled on the couch and decided that, if everything worked out with the police, it was time to get the hell out of Brooklyn. He and Christina could move somewhere - anywhere. Florida, California, Arizona - someplace where the weather was nice and their sons could play baseball year-round.

He called her at work, disguising his voice by talking in a deeper tone, and Allison said that Christina had called in late today. He called Christina’s cell a few times; her voice mail kept picking up, and he figured he’d keep calling till he got her.

Rose-Marie brought him a tray of lasagna and a cup of tea and asked him if there was anything else she could get him.

‘No, Ma, thanks. But I really appreciate it.’

‘You just let me know if there’s anything else you need. I want you to relax, take it easy today.’

‘I will, Ma.’

Ryan had a few sips of tea and a couple bites of lasagna and then maneuvered his leg in the cast up onto the coffee table and turned on the TV. He flipped around to the different sports channels, trying to find out the latest about the statutory rape charges against Jake. He figured that Jake was probably really feeling it now, terrified that his whole career would be ruined, and Ryan wondered if he was still hiding out at his parents’ house. The first time around, he couldn’t find any coverage of the story on the major news or sports channels, but after surfing the channels several times he turned to the MSG Network, and a reporter was talking about the case while the station was airing a Jake Thomas highlight reel. There didn’t seem to be much new information, and Ryan was getting so sick of watching Jake hit home runs, steal bases, and make spectacular catches that he was about to turn the channel. But then the highlight reel stopped and there was footage of Jake standing next to Christina at the entrance to a house while answering questions from the media. At first Ryan was confused. He didn’t know if the footage had been shot the other day at the party or some other time in the past, but then he realized that the house was Christina’s house, and the reporter was saying something that included the words
earlier today
and
with his fiancee.
Jake had his arm around Christina, and Christina was saying that the charges against Jake were ridiculous and that he was the best fiance in the world.

Ryan picked up the thing closest to him - the mug of tea - and flung it at the TV.

Then he struggled to his feet and started yelling, ‘Ma! Ma!’ Rose-Marie came running from the kitchen and said, ‘What happened?’

‘Where’re your car keys?’

‘What? What’s going on?’

‘Your fucking car keys!’ Ryan screamed, grabbing the crutches.

‘Why do you need my car keys? What the hell’s wrong with you?’

Stumbling on the crutches, Ryan went over to the side table where Rose-Marie had left her purse.

‘What’re you doing?’ Rose-Marie said. ‘You can’t drive!’

Ryan went outside and struggled down the steps, and RoseMarie followed him, trying to convince him to go back inside.

When he reached the car, she grabbed his arm and said, ‘Please just tell me what’s going on. What’s happening?’

‘Lemme go, Ma,’ Ryan said.

‘But where’re you—’

‘Lemme fuckin’ go!’ Ryan pushed her aside. He got into the car and sped away.

When he reached Christina’s house, he left the car in the street with the motor running and went up to the door as fast as he could on the crutches. He rang the bell, then kept ringing it again and again. He didn’t care if she didn’t open up; he’d break the fucking door down if he had to.

The door opened and she was there, looking surprised, as if she were expecting somebody else.

‘Get in the fucking car,’ he said.

‘What the hell’re you—’

Ryan had both crutches tucked under his right arm and grabbed Christina with his left hand and tried to drag her out of the house.

‘Let go of me,’ she said.

‘I’m taking you away from here,’ he said, ‘till you get some fucking sense into you.’

Christina started screaming and grabbed on to the door frame as Ryan continued to yank her other arm. Then she broke free and ran toward the staircase, and Ryan followed her on the crutches.

Al came out of the kitchen, cutting Ryan off, and said, ‘Hey, the fuck’s your problem?’

Christina went upstairs, and Ryan was screaming, ‘Get back here! You’re getting in that fucking car!’

Al grabbed Ryan and spun him around.

‘You fuckin’ little piece of shit,’ Al said.

Ryan continued into the living room, yelling, ‘Is he here too? Is the rapist here too?’

Al came at Ryan again and grabbed him. Ryan kept hobbling on the crutches, pulling Al along, saying, ‘We’re getting out of here! We’re getting out of here right now.’

Ryan stumbled, and he and Al fell onto the floor, with Al partially on top of him.

‘Christina, call the cops!’ Al yelled, getting up.

‘I know you love me,’ Ryan said to Christina as he tried to get to his feet. ‘You can’t look in my eyes and say you don’t love me.’

‘She doesn’t love you; she hates your guts, you moron. Why do you think she’d want you? You’re a loser .. . a fucking housepainter.’

Ryan, managing to stand, balancing himself on one crutch, said, ‘I know you don’t love him! I know you don’t wanna spend the rest of your life with that asshole!’

‘You’re
the asshole,’ Al said.

‘You have to come with me,’ Ryan said. ‘I love you!’

Christina came into the living room and said to Ryan, ‘I hate you so much. Just get the hell away from me!’

‘Please,’ Ryan said. ‘We just have to get away. Things’ll seem different when we’re away.’

‘Didn’t you hear her?’ Al said. ‘She hates you.’

‘I know you don’t mean that,’ Ryan said to Christina. ‘Look, I don’t care why you did it, okay? I’m not even mad at you. I just want you back, that’s all.’

‘Did you call the cops yet?’ Al said to Christina.

‘You better just get out of here,’ Christina said to Ryan, ‘before you get in big trouble.’

‘I’m not going anywhere without you,’ Ryan said. ‘I just want things to be like they were before, when we were happy, before all this bullshit happened.’

‘You really are a fuckin’ moron, aren’t you?’ Al said. ‘Christina’s marrying Jake. She’s in love with him. Why do you think she’d ever want a nobody like you?’

‘Why don’t you stay the fuck out of it?’ Ryan said

‘You know it’s true,’ Al said. ‘You’re nothing. You’re just some low-life scumbag whose life’s going nowhere.’

‘Just stay the hell away from me,’ Ryan said.

‘You come in here like a maniac, try to take Christina away, and you think she’d want to be with you? Are you out of your fucking mind?’

‘Please just leave, Ryan,’ Christina said.

‘Just look into my eyes,’ Ryan said, ‘and tell me you don’t love me. If you say you don’t love me I’ll leave here right now, and I swear you’ll never see my face again.’

Christina stared at Ryan for a few seconds.

‘That’s it; I’m calling the fuckin’ cops,’ Al said.

Al headed toward the kitchen, and Ryan came up behind him and raised the crutch like a bat and swung it against the side of Al’s head. Al went down like a bowling pin.

Screaming, Christina rushed over to her father. ‘Daddy! Oh, my God, Daddy! Daddy!’

Christina turned her father over, hugging his head, and Ryan saw Al’s wide-open eyes, and the blood dripping from his ear. Ryan just stood there, swaying, still holding the crutch above his head. Christina was hugging her father, wailing, as the noise of a police siren got louder and louder.

Finally J.T. was riding in class, baby. The huge Hummer limo had fish tanks, a full bar, a DVD player, and L-shaped seating with plenty of room to stretch out. Best of all the driver was a real pro - a clean-cut, U.S. Marine-looking white guy who knew how to shut the hell up and drive.

As the limo rolled along Flatlands, past all the projects and graffiti and used-car lots and bums and drug dealers, Jake’s cell bocked.

‘Yep,’ Jake said to his lawyer.

‘Sorry, I had to take that other call,’ Lufkowitz explained.

‘No
problema,’
Jake said, thinking that after this whole Marianna Fernandez mess was resolved, one way or another, Fuckowitz was toast.

‘So, like I was saying before,’ Lufkowitz went on, ‘I don’t think any of this is as bad as it looks. Legally speaking her case is weak. It’s early in the game and we have to wait to see what their side comes up with, but I think public perception is going to switch quickly on this. First off, she waited over ten weeks before approaching the DA, which is automatically going to make her story look suspect. We’ll be able to characterize her side as money-hungry, out to blackmail— Shit, can you hold on for one more sec?’

‘Yeah,’ Jake said, annoyed. If the guy put him on hold one more time, that was it - he was hiring another lawyer.

‘I’m back, sorry about that,’ Lufkowitz said. ‘Where was I? Right, the case against the girl. I think we can make a real strong argument that her father was out to extort money from you from the get-go. W e have history - nothing in writing, unfortunately, but phone records - of him making a series of monetary demands. I think we’ll have some strong testimony there. And here’s the big news. The detective you hired, Mulligan, called me last night. He found two boys in Marianna Fernandez’s school who say they paid her for sexual favors. There’s a good chance other boys are involved, but bottom line, I don’t think there’s any way in hell the DA takes this to trial. There’s too much ambiguity in the case, too much of a delay in making the allegations, and now it looks like the girl’s the school slut. Their side’ll probably try to cut a deal with us, ask for some kind of settlement.’

‘No deals,’ Jake said.

‘I’m with you all the way on that. Why play ball if we don’t have to? Now, of course, I don’t want to give you the impression it’s all hunky-dory, because their side’s not gonna go down without a fight. They’re probably going to produce witnesses and may even try to present physical evidence that sex took place between you and the girl.’

‘Sex didn’t take place.’

‘Right . . . And besides, if they had physical evidence they probably would’ve at least leaked that info to us already, so looks like we have nothing to worry about there either. Bottom line I really think this is all gonna go away fairly soon. It’ll be a roller coaster for a few days, but I give the DA a week to drop the case. You know, one thing you might want to consider is filing a countersuit for defamation of character, but let’s see what their next move is. Why shoot your load if you don’t have to, right?’

‘Good point.’ Jake was starting to like this guy.

‘Anyway, let’s talk this afternoon when you get in,’ Lufkowitz continued. ‘Meanwhile, lemme get the ball rolling and make some calls. We’ll probably want to do some kinda press conference from Pittsburgh later on. Whatever you do, don’t make any comments without me present... . Shit, there’s my other line again ... . You have any questions?’

‘Nah, it all sounds cool,’ Jake said. ‘And, hey, if this all goes as smoothly as you say it will, I’m sending you and your family on a vacation.’

‘That’s not necess—’

‘Where do you wanna go, Bermuda, Saint Thomas, Martinique?’

‘I don’t—’

‘You’re going to Martinique. You and your family, first-class, five-star hotel. Seven days, or you want ten?’

‘I—’

‘Just do your job, take care of this mess, and my travel agent’ll be in touch.’

As the limo approached Pennsylvania Avenue, Jake couldn’t help feeling proud of himself. That Martinique bullshit was the perfect touch. There was no way in hell he was planning to give Lufkowitz any free vacation or pay him a penny more than he had to, but he figured he’d give the guy as much incentive as possible to win the case. You wanted people to work hard for you, you had to light a fire under their asses, dangle some carrots.

A call was coming in on his cell - from Christina. He figured she was just calling to tell him how much she loved him and would miss him, but he’d had enough of that for one weekend. He switched the phone to silent mode and let his voice mail pick up.

The limo passed through the slummy Spring Creek Towers housing project and entered the Belt Parkway. Jake kicked back and sipped his drink. Things had looked dicey there for a while, but now everything was starting to go his way again. Yeah, his public image had taken a beating these past few days, but people’s memories were short. Before long some other big-time athlete would fail a drug test or kill somebody, and everybody would forget all about what J.T. had been accused of doing. He planned to string Christina along for as long as he needed her, but once the Marianna mess was officially resolved and his career was back on track and he didn’t need the happy-fiance photo ops anymore, he was going to dump her, pronto. By this time next year, when he scored his big multiyear contract and had all his endorsement deals firmly in place, the past few days would seem like a bad memory.

Jake saw a sign up ahead for Ozone Park and realized he was finally leaving Brooklyn for good.
Thank fucking God.
The place was a hellhole filled with losers and psychos - miserable sons of bitches with screwed-up dreams and lost hopes who deserved whatever they got.

As the Hummer continued toward the airport, Jake closed his eyes and rested, half smiling, feeling, finally, at peace.