Mourning Glory (35 page)

As she had figured, the disposal of the clothes took nearly
a week. Emptied, the interior of the closet had an eerie feeling. It was
cavernous without the clothes. She had removed everything, all of Anne's
possessions, even her costume jewelry and her makeup. The latter she disposed
off as garbage; the former was consigned to the secondhand stores, with
advances totaling another thousand dollars.

Except for the photographs displayed in the bedroom, which
she feared removing, there was no longer any sign that Anne had lived in that
space. Not so with the rest of the house. The photographs and the paintings
were still in place and, of course, the totality of the design and decor bore
Anne's stamp.

Still Sam didn't mention any further suggestions about
their future together. She would give him time, she promised herself.

When she returned to her apartment in West Palm Beach at
the usual late hour, Jackie was home. She had assured her that she wouldn't see
Darryl and she had quit both jobs. Also she seemed to be devoting herself to
her schoolwork. With cash coming in, Grace was able to increase her allowance,
although the car, which was still in Jackie's possession, remained an issue.

"Things seem to be going very well with you and your
mystery man," Jackie said with a wink. Grace wasn't happy with the
implication of the wink.

"Yes," Grace said, deliberately noncommittal.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Can't we just drop it, Jackie? You did promise,
remember."

"That doesn't mean I'm not curious, Mom. I figure
you're spending most of your time with him. You said you're not working. So it
must be very serious between you two. And it is paying off."

She was right about that, Grace thought, noting the irony.
The week-long foray into the secondhand shops had produced ready cash. And it
hadn't made the slightest impact on her relationship with Sam. If anything, it
seemed to grow more and more intense, and she began to foresee the
inevitability of some decisive action on his part.

She had, of course, rationalized her actions in selling
Anne's clothes on the basis of desperation and necessity. She felt slightly
more relaxed about her relationship with Sam. He told her he loved her often,
but she didn't press him for any further commitment, frightened about pushing
him too hard. She continued to withhold what she knew about Anne. That, she
told herself, was her ace card. By contrast Jackie's pressure on her for more
knowledge about her mysterious boyfriend was increasing.

"I am your daughter, you know. What I don't understand
is why you haven't brought him around. The least you could do is introduce him
to me. Or are you afraid he'll run when he finds out you have a daughter my
age?"

"He knows that. We'll bring you guys together in good
time."

"I don't understand the big deal. Are you ashamed of
me?"

"These days I'm quite proud of you."

"Then why am I such a big secret?"

"I told you. He knows about you."

Not really, she told herself, upset that she was lying to
her daughter. After all, what he knew didn't in any way describe Jackie's
background.

"Has he got kids?"

"Yes. But they're not kids."

"So he's older," Jackie said, smirking.

"Yes, he is. But that's all I'm going to say."

"Have you met his kids?"

"No," she lied, not wishing to tell her the
details of attending Anne's funeral.

"And he's not curious to meet me?"

"You agreed not to ask a lot of questions,
remember?"

"It just seems strange is all."

"All right," Grace agreed, relenting somewhat.
"Here's all you have to know. I'm going with a very nice man. Neither of
us has explored any options for the future. That means we don't want to get
involved with each other's families. Not yet."

Grace paused. Once again she was shading the truth. Sam had
indicated that he would like to meet Jackie.

"Does that satisfy you?"

"No."

"Well, that's the only information you're going to get
out of me at this point."

Jackie shrugged grudgingly.

Of course there were still other issues between her and
Jackie that had to be faced, especially the matter of the car. They had avoided
any discussion of the subject for the last week, although it still hung in the
air between them. But with money in hand, Grace felt it was best to put that
problem behind them.

"Now for the car," Grace said, taking a deep
breath. "Here is what we're going to do. We're going to give Darryl,
wonderful Darryl, a check for the full amount of what's owing in exchange for
the proper documentation on the car. Is that fair?"

Grace watched Jackie's face drain of all color. Her eyes
opened wide.

"The whole amount?"

Grace nodded.

"You'd pay the whole amount? Twelve hundred dollars?
Do you have that much?"

"I do. We're going to pay it all off so you'll be
released from the obligation. Fair and square. That's your deal. Am I
correct?"

"Yes, Mom. That's my deal, but..." Jackie said.
She seemed oddly confused.

"No buts ... that's the least I can do for my
daughter."

"You don't have to, Mom."

"Oh yes I do. I have the money."

"Where—" Jackie began.

"Please, Jackie. No questions."

"Him? Right?" Jackie asked.

"Do you want me to do this or not?"

"I guess..."

To Grace's surprise Jackie didn't seem as pleased as she'd
expected.

"I thought you'd be delighted that we'll be taking the
pressure off you. Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes, Mom ... I..."

Her hesitation was surprising, but Grace shrugged it off.

"I thought you'd jump at the chance."

"Sure, Mom," Jackie said, but the color had not
yet come back to her face.

"Then you'll own the car outright. Am I correct?"

Jackie nodded, still in an obvious state of confusion.
Grace studied her, puzzled.

"I guess so," Jackie replied.

As she spoke, her mind was ticking off possibilities to
which she had devoted lots of thought. She would give Darryl the benefit of the
doubt about the documentation. She was determined to tread carefully and,
bowing to Jackie's fears, not to lose her cool and tempt his anger.

But she had gone way out on a limb to get the money, done
what had earlier been the unthinkable. Of course, she was resentful that she
had been reduced to such an action. But what choice had she?

Ironically, she wished that Sam could handle this for them.
Sam was a shrewd businessman who would know what to do. Sam wouldn't be afraid
of Darryl, whom he would be sure to characterize as a third-rate punk
manipulating a confused teenager. Sam would send the bastard packing.

"Here's what we're going to do," Grace said.
"We'll meet Darryl in some public place, say a restaurant, where we can
discuss this in a businesslike way."

Inexplicably, Jackie's eyes seemed to glaze over.

"What is it, darling?"

"It's just ... well, I'm sort of afraid."

As Jackie spoke, her lips trembled.

"Afraid of what?"

"I shouldn't be. I know I shouldn't, but I am."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, darling. We're
paying off a debt. Believe me, I don't want any trouble."

"Suppose, well ... suppose..."

"That he can't give us any documentation, any papers?
Is that what you're worried about?"

"Probably. Yes. I am worried about that."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, Jackie. I just
want to be sure he doesn't bother you ... us ... ever again. It has to be done,
Jackie. The sooner the better."

"I guess..."

"Good," Grace said gently. "Call him now and
arrange for us to meet. Get it over with. Okay?"

"Now? It's ... it's late."

"He's a big boy. I'm sure he's up."

She watched as Jackie picked up the phone.

They met in an all-night coffee shop in downtown West Palm
Beach, a throwback from another era, complete with booths made of naugahyde and
Formica-topped tables. They were approached by a sour-looking middle-aged
waitress. Grace and Jackie were the first to arrive. They slid into the booth,
sitting side by side, watching the entrance.

They heard the loud sputter of his motorcycle, which came
into view through the glass doors. He parked it directly in front of the place
and swaggered in, swinging his helmet by its chin strap. He wore the same
biker's uniform she had seen him in before: black leather jacket, spangling
with metal-stamped swastikas, black leather boots, tight jeans that showed off
the bulge of his crotch.

"Hey, mama and daughter, two peas in a pod," he
said, smiling crookedly in a way that clearly suggested ridicule.

Grace had an opportunity to observe him more carefully than
before. His head was freshly shaven, shiny, his brown eyes feral and wary
behind his high cheekbones. Only his short cleft chin belied his stance of
arrogance. He slid into the booth opposite them and laid his helmet on the seat
beside him.

"Hi, Darryl," Jackie said awkwardly.

"Lookin' great, Jackie." He turned to Grace.
"You, too, Mama." He slapped the tabletop. "Offer for a twofer
still stands."

The sour-looking waitress, with a noticeably disapproving
glance at Darryl, took their order for three black coffees. "Mean lookin'
bitch," Darryl whispered. He turned to Grace and Jackie.

"So what's the pitch? Jackie says it's about the
car."

"We're here to pay it off," Grace said, forcing
herself to be pleasant. "The full amount owing." She opened her
pocketbook and drew out her checkbook and a ballpoint. "What is the exact
amount owed?"

"Twelve big ones."

Grace snickered inwardly at his reference to hundreds as
big ones. Sam, she knew, would have laughed out loud.

"Who do I make the check out to?" Grace asked.

She noted that Darryl and Jackie exchanged glances.

"This time, I'd rather it was cash," Darryl
muttered. Grace caught a change in his attitude. He seemed to have grown more
serious.

"Believe me," Grace said, "the check is
good."

"I ain't saying it's not. But cash is better."

"Come on, Darryl. Don't be ridiculous. Who do I make
it out to?"

Again, Darryl and Jackie exchanged glances.

Grace held her pen poised to write; then she looked up.
"I assume you brought the documentation, the title and registration."

"I'm not stupid, Mama," Darryl grunted. "You
can stop that check first thing in the morning."

"I guess you didn't bring it then," Grace said,
pausing, watching his face. "How do I know you have it?"

Darryl shook his head, forced a laugh and looked at Jackie.

"I don't think Mama trusts me, baby."

"It's not a matter of trust," Grace said.
"It's a matter of business."

She wondered if she should catalog her misgivings about the
transaction and, in general, the relationship with her daughter, who, at that
moment, looked frozen with fear. Instead she held her peace, determined to
tough it out and end it once and for all.

"Looks to me like your mama here has developed a very
shitty attitude about me."

"Look, Darryl," Grace said, pausing as the
waitress brought their coffees, "my daughter is a minor for whom I'm
responsible. She made a deal with you and all I'm doing here is fulfilling her
obligations. This is a simple transaction. I have the money, but what good is
the car if it isn't properly registered and titled? There are license plates on
it, and I'm certain they can be checked out for their legality. I haven't done
so. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure your bike is properly
documented and you know the danger of being caught in an illegal transaction.
The fact is that we both know, under the circumstances, that Jackie has been
driving it illegally...."

Darryl held up his hand like a cop directing traffic.

"Are you accusin' me of somethin', Mama?"

As if to back up his statement, he suddenly reached behind
him and pulled out his knife. Jackie tensed beside her. He started to clean his
nails with the point of the blade.

"Put that damned thing away, Darryl," Grace said.

"Just cleanin' my nails, Mama. No law against
that."

Grace could see the mechanics of his usual pose of menace
and, surprisingly, she felt no fear for herself or any sense of intimidation.

"Darryl, please," Jackie said. "Put it
away."

"Little pussy scared?"

"Come on, Darryl," Grace said calmly.
"There's no need to get dramatic. Just put it away."

He sneered, shook his head and slipped the knife back in
its pouch.

"I have the money," Grace said. "Just
provide us with the legal documentation." She spoke slowly and softly,
barely above a whisper.

"You got a fuckin' lousy attitude, Mama." His
hand shot out with an accusing finger pointed directly at her right breast.
Grace looked down at Darryl's finger. It seemed a cue for him to press it
forward.

"Get your filthy paw off me, you pig," Grace
said. She felt her anger break through. "I should go right to the police
and expose you. They'd throw the book at you. Statutory rape, probably car
theft, inducing a minor into prostitution. Hell, they'd have enough to put you
away for a very long time."

"M-o-m," Jackie whined.

She watched Darryl's face grow dark and ominous. Then his
lips broke into a crooked smile. But he had withdrawn his finger from her
breast.

"You won't do that, will you, Mama?" Darryl said.

"Wouldn't I?"

Darryl looked at Jackie, his eyes narrowing.

"It's not only for cleanin' my nails, Mama."

"Don't, Darryl.... "Jackie began.

"I don't think the kike would be too happy with that,
Mama..."

He paused, continuing to smile, watching her face. He could
not fail to notice her stunned expression. Her heart had seemed to break its
rhythm, thumping heavily in her chest. She couldn't believe what she had heard.

"You promised, Darryl," Jackie whined.

Grace closed her eyes tightly, hoping that when she opened
them all this would go away.

"And I don't think he'd appreciate what you did with
those clothes..."

Grace, feeling a strange flutter in her heartbeat, turned
to her daughter, who cowered in the corner of the booth.

"You knew this?"

Jackie bit her lip and turned her face to the wall. Then
she turned back to face Darryl, whose eyes seemed to burn into her face.

"I saw you, Mama. You and that old Jew boy walkin' the
beach hand in hand, kissin' and cooin'. Bet you're fuckin' the old guy's balls
off, takin' in that cut salami of his." He cackled and shook his head.
"I been followin' you, Mama. Tellin' your little girl here that you were
puttin' them clothes into charity. Bullshit. You gotta nice scam goin' with
that fuckin' kike."

"How dare you ... how dare you.... "Grace began,
trying to get herself under control. She turned to her daughter. "And
you..."

"I didn't mean any harm, Mom. I just..."

"Ain't her fault. Likes money, this little pussy of
yours. Figured you got somethin' good workin'. Got yourself a Jew fat
cat."

"I won't sit here and listen to this," Grace
said, feeling hysteria growing inside her. But she couldn't find the energy to
stand.

"What did I tell ya, Jackie?" Darryl said.
"She's scared shitless." He turned to Grace. "You keep pushin'
that stuff about the cops. I go to Sammy Goodwin..."

The name on his tongue was appalling. She felt her flesh
turn to ice.

"See, Jackie? She ain't so cocky no more. Got this
good thing goin'. Rich old Jew boy. All them clothes you carted out of there
this week—bet there's more where that came from, right, Mama?"

Grace tried to work through her anger. She felt utterly
desolate and alone. She turned toward Jackie.

"How could you?" she whispered, unable to find
her voice.

"I just wanted to know what was going on, Mom,"
Jackie said. "I had a right to know. I'm your daughter."

"Are you?" Grace asked, taking a deep breath,
then turning to Darryl, but unable to find words.

"Hey, Mama," Darryl said, "don't get me
wrong. I don't wanna rain on your parade. No way. Pork your Jew boy day and
night. No big deal. It's just that ... well, me and Jackie figured you got
yourself a scam goin', here. You know ... the deal with the clothes, and I'll
bet the Yid's been given you a few extra bucks for the use of your ass. And me
and Jackie figure you want to share your good fortune with your daughter and
her friend."

"Mom, I never..."

Jackie had suddenly erupted, attempting to stand, but
inhibited by the stationary table.

"Now take it easy, little pussy," Darryl said.
"You been bitchin' and moanin' about your mama puttin' out no bread in
your direction. Here's your chance. Hell, she's not goin' to blow this deal.
Right, Mama? We understand each other, right? She ain't gonna make no trouble
for me and you and we ain't goin' to make no trouble for her, right, Mama? From
now on she's gonna share..."

"I won't sit here and listen to that," Grace
said, sliding out of the booth. It was like a bad dream. She felt unclean,
humiliated, betrayed. She could think of no logical response beyond her own
disgust and disappointment. Her mind was a jumble of contradictions. She needed
Sam now. Sam would know how to react. Sam would know how to deal with this
monster.

"You just don't know..." Grace began, her voice
wispy and unsure.

"I don't know what, Mama?" Darryl sneered.

"You just don't know ... just don't know ... what
desperation can do..."

Grace's legs felt rubbery as she moved out of the coffee
shop. In the street she felt disoriented. Then she heard Jackie's voice behind
her.

"I didn't mean it, Mom. I didn't know he would go this
far."

Grace turned toward her daughter. Although Jackie looked
genuinely contrite, Grace felt little compassion.

"You knew all along."

Jackie looked down at the sidewalk, locking and unlocking
her fingers.

"You lied," Grace said. "Your promises meant
nothing. How could you?"

"I'm so sorry, Mom. Really I am. I was mad."

"Mad?"

"That you weren't telling me everything..."

"Money, too. You thought I was holding back."

"I was working two jobs, Mom. I was tired. It was his
idea to follow you, not mine. Not really. I'm sick of this, Mom, sick of
everything. I just told him to get lost. Let him keep his stupid car. Mom,
please, no more trouble over this. I was mixed up. I was wrong."

"Your Darryl is an evil man," Grace said, only
half believing her daughter's contrition, unforgiving about Darryl, dear
Darryl. His hateful remarks about Jews echoed in her mind. She felt as if they
were directed at her as well.
God, Sam,
she cried inside herself,
help
me.

Then, suddenly, Darryl was standing beside them, helmet
swinging from his hand.

"You ain't off the hook, Mama," Darryl sneered
with a movie tough-guy flourish to enhance his menacing pose. He turned toward
Jackie. "You neither, little pussy. Don't think you can just throw back
the car without payin' nothin'."

"Enough," Grace shouted, finding her voice again,
beyond fear, feeling the white-hot purity of her rage. "Don't you pull
that intimidating crap on us ... not ever again. Just get the hell out of our
lives." She moved fearlessly toward him and pounded her finger into his
chest. "And see to it that you get that car out of our face by morning.
You hear that, stud? By morning."

"Or what?" Darryl croaked.

"You're not out of the woods, pal," Grace said,
her voice lowered, determined to be equally menacing, as angry as she had ever
been in her life. It was as if all the frustrations she had ever suffered, her
many losing battles and disappointments, her bad marriage, the struggles with
Jackie, her humiliations, her fearsome economic circumstances, all her dead and
dying dreams, erupted inside her with volcanic force. "You sick Nazi
bastard. I'll see you in hell if you ever come near us again."

"Don't fuck with me, lady," Darryl said,
momentarily stunned by her outburst, then quickly recovering his arrogance.
"You don't know what trouble is." He turned to Jackie. "Tell
her. She fucks with me, you're both dead meat."

Grace, sensing a rising inner hysteria, turned away and,
grabbing Jackie by the arm, headed toward her car. Darryl came up behind them
and spun Grace around to face him.

"You diddle me, bitch," he shouted, "I'll
fix you and your kike buddy." He shot an angry glance at Jackie. "You
tell her not to make trouble for me, you hear me, Jackie? And make sure I get
the dough.... You got my meanin'?"

Grace felt a pounding in her head, fighting her rage. She
turned away from his ugly, twisted features and evil stare and, dragging
Jackie, ran to the car.

"I'm warning you, both of you," Darryl shouted
behind them. "Don't fuck with me."

They got into the car, and Grace quickly locked the doors,
turned the ignition and gunned the motor. The car shot forward.

"I feel so terrible about this, Mom," Jackie
whined beside her.

"Less said the better," Grace said, her anger
still simmering. They drove for a while in silence.

"If he doesn't get that money, Mom," Jackie
whined, "he means it. He'll make trouble for you and your boyfriend."

"He'd better not," Grace said. Would he? She
wondered how Sam would react if Darryl confronted him. She shuddered to think
about it and tried to chase the idea from her thoughts.

As she drove, she saw him suddenly in her side mirror,
coming up fast in his motorcycle, the shiny metal of the bike reflecting the
street lamps. With his black helmet clapped on his head and the visor closed,
he looked like Darth Vader descending on them to attack. The road was almost
deserted at that hour and he drove the bike past them, then cut in front, then
circled around them and repeated the maneuver.