ONE SMALL VICTORY (9 page)

Jenny got out of the car and slammed the
door. Damn that voice of reason.

Stepping in the back door, she could see
Scott in the kitchen by the microwave. He turned when he heard the
door close. “Didn’t expect you so early.” He pulled the burrito
out, then turned again and stood perfectly still. “You forgot the
conference.”

There was a note of anger and accusation in
the last statement that rankled. “No. I did not forget the
conference.” She hung her jacket on a peg in the narrow entry and
walked into the kitchen. “It was just very short and to the
point.”

“And the verdict was?”

His attitude chased any thought of being
reasonable from Jenny’s mind. “That you’d better knuckle down and
do your homework.”

“And who’s going to tend to Alicia? You’re
never home to do that.”

Her hand stung even before Jenny realized
she’d slapped him. He stared at her, shock widening his eyes, and
she reached out to try to touch the red spot on his cheek. “Oh,
Scott, I’m so sorry.”

He pulled back as if she was going to hit him
again. “Sorry, don’t cut it.”

His words tore at her as he stormed out of
the kitchen, almost colliding with Alicia, who turned frightened
eyes to her. “Mommy. What’s wrong?”

Jenny reached for her daughter and held her
close, murmuring softly into her hair. “Nothing, Sweetie. Nothing’s
wrong.”

“Then why were you and Scott yelling?”

“I don’t know. I think we’re both just tired.
Let things get out of control.”

“I know. I bet it’s his hormones.”

Shocked, Jenny pushed away to look her
daughter in the eye. “What do you know about hormones? And where
did you learn it?”

“Mom. You signed the paper for sex education,
remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

Was not remembering just another sign that
her whole life was deteriorating while she was out chasing
scumbags?

“What are you learning in sex education?”

“That the hormones control everything. And
when they’re very busy, we might act strange.”

“Oh, baby.” Jenny wrapped her arms around her
daughter, amusement clashing with this horrible feeling of having
royally screwed up with Scott. It’s not like she’d never lost it
before with one of the kids. They’d all become accustomed to a rare
bout of unreasonable anger, but things were different now. They
were all so much more fragile since Michael’s death. And she’d give
anything to be able to take that slap back.

~*~

Jenny spent the next evening at home, trying
to repair some of the damage with Scott, but he was not receptive.
After dinner he went to his room on the pretext of having homework
to do. How could she argue with that? So she cleaned the kitchen,
played a game with Alicia, and did two loads of laundry. Then she
fell into bed exhausted.

The following night she hit the streets again
wearing her skimpy outfit that made her feel like a slut. But at
least it was warmer tonight, so she wasn’t freezing her ass off.
The little black car was in the far corner of the Dairy Queen
parking lot, and business was brisk enough they could have been
running a blue-light special.

Tonight’s the night. Jenny had decided that
when she left home. She’d already been out here three nights a week
for the past two weeks, and she had to make some kind of move to
set things in motion or this would take months.

She couldn’t risk months.

Trying to maintain a casual air of
confidence, she crossed the scarred asphalt and sidled up to the
car, nodding briefly to the black man who leaned against a rear
fender. It could have been an instant replay of every other night
as she flashed her money and the Hispanic man looked her over. He
didn’t say anything, and she was afraid if she didn’t do or say
something to convince him otherwise, he’d take off again.

“You know, I’ve been eating your exhaust for
two weeks now.” She tried a nonchalant smile. “Getting’ awful tired
of it.”

Dark eyes continued to study her without
blinking. She put one hand on her hip. “So maybe I should just take
my business back to Dallas. Although I’ve always liked the motto
'Shop At Home'.”

Jenny heard a quick intake of breath and
glanced at the thin black kid who was leaning against the rear
fender. His expression seemed to be wary, and he fiddled with a
dreadlock that had come lose from a bandana that bundled the rest
of his hair like a bunch of curly sausages.

She turned back to the Hispanic man. He took
so long to respond, she wondered if she’d blown it. Sweat pooled in
the middle of her back and the muscles in her face strained to hold
the smile.

After what seemed like hours, he finally
nodded at the kid. “Give her the stuff.”

The kid came instantly alert. “You sure,
Boss?”

“Hell. She ain’t no narc.”

“How you know that?”

“Look at her. She couldn’t bench-press a
twig.”

Pride made Jenny want to argue her case, but
expediency won out. If this is what it would take for them to
accept her, she’d keep her mouth shut.

The kid palmed her money, dug into the fold
of the oversized parka, and passed a bag over. Jenny shuddered when
her hands touched it, barely resisting an urge to look over her
shoulder to see who was watching. It didn’t take much to transform
her back to childhood fears of her mother’s eagle eyes.

There was a moment of awkwardness as Jenny
tried to figure out what to do next. Did one say “thank you” when
completing a drug deal? That wasn’t something that Steve or
Burroughs had covered, and the kid just stood there with a closed
expression. He probably wasn’t going to say, “Have a nice day.”

Jenny dropped the bag in her pocket and
turned away. It was an incredibly vulnerable feeling to have her
back to them, but no shout stopped her, so she assumed her actions
had been appropriate. Walking back toward the building, she put a
little sashay into her step, forcing herself not to hurry.

It was only when she’d regained the shadows
that she released the breath that had been threatening to burst her
lungs for the past three minutes. Is it always going to be this
hard?

As her breathing returned to something close
to normal, Jenny wasn’t sure if she wanted it to get easier or not.
Her impulse now was to race home, strip off these nasty clothes,
and stand in a shower for at least three hours.

She resisted that impulse. She’d worked too
hard to get to this point to throw it all away. Feigning a
nonchalance she didn’t feel, she leaned against the building and
pulled the makings of a cigarette out of her purse. She’d practiced
this one day last week, flashing back to an early adolescent
indiscretion as she locked herself in her bedroom with plenty of
Lysol spray on hand. The practice served her well now. She rolled
the cigarette with a few efficient moves. After lighting it, she
cupped it and toked on it the way Burroughs had demonstrated.

Considering how hard she’d worked to quit
smoking two years ago, she wasn’t thrilled with this part of the
charade, but Steve had emphasized it was important to be seen doing
this. And from a distance – if they were watching her – the pushers
wouldn’t know she was smoking regular tobacco.

CHAPTER TEN

“You’ve changed, Jenny.”

“No I haven’t.”

Carol put her hamburger down and gave Jenny a
hard look. “You can’t bullshit me.”

Jenny looked around the small café that was
comfortably full at the tail end of the lunch rush. Anywhere but at
her friend. The silence at their table thundered in contrast to the
chitchat and bursts of laughter from a nearby table of ladies with
name badges that proclaimed they worked at J.C. Penny.

Finally Jenny sighed and made eye contact.
“Everything’s changed since Michael died.”

“It’s more than that.” Carol paused to sip
her Coke. “You had the time after the funeral when you were
quiet... sad... remote. Then that frenzy of physical fitness. But
now...”

She paused again as if searching for the
words. “It’s like you’re unavailable. For me. For your kids. For
anybody.”

“I’m available. I’m here.” Jenny tried for a
smile.

Carol glared. “It took a week to set this
lunch date. We used to get together on an hour’s notice. And how
many of Scott’s soccer games have you made?”

Jenny lost her smile. “Maybe you’d understand
if you’d lost a child.”

The pain that washed across the other woman’s
face twisted her normally pleasant image into a grotesque mask of
anger and pain, and Jenny realized that of all the things she could
have said to her friend, this was the worst. How could she have
been so thoughtless?

“I can’t believe you said that.” Carol took a
deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out in a loud
whoosh. “You never used to be cruel.”

“I’m—”

“No. This is beyond apologies.” Carol stood,
her chair scraping across the wooden floor with a screech. “When
the real Jenny Jasik shows up, have her call me.”

After slapping a ten-dollar bill on the
table, Carol slung her leather bag over her shoulder and walked
out.

Of all the— Jenny shoved her plate, nearly
toppling the bottle of catsup to the floor.
What kind of friend
simply stomps off like that?

The kind who’s been left in the dark
,
another voice in her head answered.
The kind who deserves some
explanation, not a verbal injury.

It was more than the stares of other
customers that made Jenny blush as she grabbed the check and stood.
She left Carol’s money on the table. The thought of touching it
made her skin crawl; almost like she would be some kind of Judas if
she took it. It wasn’t exactly blood money, unless it did symbolize
the death of the friendship, but it was tainted with her friend’s
anger and that was reason enough to walk away from it.

Not for the first time, regret reared its
ugly head and sneered at her. See what you’ve done? Something more
important than revenge is at stake here.

It’s not my fault. None of this would be
happening if Michael hadn’t
—

That terrible thought faltered Jenny’s step
and she would have fallen if not for the back of the chair she
grabbed. The blonde woman who occupied the chair, turned, her
expression of annoyance turning quickly to concern. “Are you all
right?”

“I’m fine.” The words soured in Jenny’s mouth
as she made her way to the cashier. What a crock of shit.

The transaction of paying and receiving the
change barely registered. It was almost as if she’d been
transported in some emotional time machine. Maybe Carol was right.
Maybe the real Jenny Jasik was someplace else and an imposter had
invaded her body, like a remake of the old Quantum Leap television
show.

Jenny pushed the door open and stepped
outside, hoping for some emotional relief, but it didn’t
happen.

The sun was like an assault and the breeze
was more a slap than a caress. Was she being punished? For what?
For risking everything for some kind of revenge? For that awful
thought about Michael?

Anguish slammed her against the front of the
building where she leaned for support until her legs might find
strength again. How could she be angry with him? It wasn’t like
he’d chosen to die. Closing her eyes, she took several deep
breaths, trying to tame the beasts of anger, shame, and guilt. Oh,
God. Please tell me I haven’t made a huge mistake.

“Jenny?” The voice and the touch jerked her
from the misery. She opened her eyes to see the same look of
concern on Mitchell’s face as the blonde woman in the restaurant
had worn. For a moment, she wondered why he was there, then
remembered he had a delivery scheduled about this time; a birthday
arrangement to a women in the real estate office two doors
down.

He kept his hand on her arm to steady her.
“Lunch didn’t agree with you?”

Jenny let the humor calm the storm of
emotions. “It’s just been a rough time.”

“Well. If I can be so indelicate, it
shows.”

A gentle squeeze offered the comfort his
words were missing and Jenny smiled.

“Wish I could help. But short of taking over
the whole store, I don’t know what there is.”

“You’ve done plenty. And I do appreciate you
covering for me as much as you have.”

“No problem.” He started to walk toward the
van parked at the curb, then turned back. “Will you be in later?
We’ve got that big Homecoming order.”

“Just give me a few minutes to clear my
head.”

“Live dangerously. Take a half-hour.”

Jenny had to stifle a manic surge of
laughter. Live dangerously? If only Mitchell knew. If only she
could tell him. Carol. Someone. Guarding the secret was proving to
be as difficult as living the secret.

~*~

Scott sat on the empty bleachers and watched
the football team practice. Michael used to tease him about not
trying out for the team, but Scott hadn’t wanted to walk in the
shadow of a star running back. God knows there was plenty of his
brother’s legacy that he couldn’t avoid at school; honor student in
history and math and a technical wizard in the drama
department.

If he ever decided to give up soccer, maybe
he’d try basketball. Michael had never played.

It felt weird to still feel so competitive.
But then everything felt weird. He thought that life would get
better as time went on. That’s what Ms. Kotcher, the school
counselor, had said on one of the mandatory visits; that there
would come a time when he wouldn’t think about his brother every
second of every day. Even though he didn’t care for her cloying
sweetness, he figured she spoke with some authority, but things
hadn’t gotten better.

The hole in his life was still a huge, open
sore that bled anew every time his mother went out. It was bizarre.
She’d never done this before – leaving them at night. She’d always
said the family was too important for her to go out. So why now?
Was family only important as long as Michael was alive
? Do we
not fuckin’ matter?