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“You know your father. Kisses to Chloe!” She hangs up before I can say anything else, and I know this wasn’t so much a conversation as an edict. For all their talk about me taking responsibility, my parents still treat me like a child more often than not, and it only got worse when I came back injured. In this case, however, I can’t say I’m upset. The idea of having someone to help me with Chloe is undeniably appealing, and it would give me the opportunity to get back to work full-time, instead of just “whenever I can manage it,” like I am now.
I tuck the phone into my jeans and turn back to Chloe, who holds up her wet arms in the air and waves for me to pick her up. While she is walking really well for her age, she still doesn’t talk. Not even half-formed words or baby talk. We took her to a doctor, who said she may have delays in her speech due to all of the changes she’s endured, as well as any possible trauma we can’t really know about. Once a week, I take her to a speech therapist who works with her on developing her language skills, but so far, not a peep. Mom thinks she’ll just talk when he’s ready, and I’m happy not to rush her. She cries or babbles when she needs something, and until she’s prepared to talk, that will have to do.
I dry Chloe off and put her in a pair of pink cartoon character pajamas, and we plop back down on the couch in front of the TV, where I put on her favorite Disney movie. It was Frozen last week. Now it’s Sleeping Beauty. She does something that sounds like humming when the Tchaikovsky music plays, and her little fingers reach up and curl into my hair. It isn’t long before she falls asleep in my arms, and as her tiny chest rises and falls, and her little eyelashes flutter while she dreams, I feel a knot form in my chest.
It feels a lot like love.
Arie
I take a deep breath as I open the heavy wooden door to the bar on Avenue F where Danny told me to meet him. The truth is, I’m lucky he wanted to meet me in a bar, and didn’t just show up at the hospital the day I walked out. I don’t even know how they found out I’d been released, but I guess that’s why these guys are so good at their job, and why they always get their money back… one way or another.
I’d only been out of the hospital for a few days when my cell phone started ringing. First it was Leo, the loan shark I’d borrowed the money from in the first place. When I explained my situation and asked for more time, I was not-so-delicately informed that I’d had more than enough time, and my time had run out. Then Danny started calling, and Danny didn’t sound like he much patience for anything. Danny would probably steal the rosary from a nun if it would get him a few bucks closer to getting his money back. And Danny was the second-to-last stop before the end of the line, in which a man with a gun followed me into an alley and decided teaching me a lesson was more important than money.
Disappointing Danny meant my life was over, once again. For someone so young, lately a lot of people have been telling me I’m going to die.
When I walk in the bar, every eye turns and stares at me, like I’ve invaded some sort of private club and their withering glances alone will be enough to send me back into the street. But in the corner, a burly man with a beard leans over from a booth and gestures for me to join him, so I assume that’s Danny, though I’m not sure how he knew what I’d look like. To be fair, I have a feeling there isn’t much these men don’t know about me by this point. I just hope they haven’t dug deep enough to find out about Chloe. Bailey promised he’d do everything in his power to make sure she could never be traced back to me, and he seems like a man of his word.
I sit down across from Danny, and he just stares right through me. When he speaks, his voice his thick with a Newark accent, and it booms throughout the bar.
“I’d ask if you want to join me for a beer, but you shouldn’t be spending any money right now.”
“I appreciate your concern for my finances,” I mouth off without thinking. I half-expect him to kill me right there, but he snorts.
“You’re a sassy one, aren’t you?”
I shrug, not wanting to push my luck. “Just tell me why I’m here. What do you want?”
“You know what we want, Arie.”
“Obviously. But I just got out of the hospital. I was broke before. Where do you expect me to come up with $75,000 out of nowhere?”
“You should have thought of that before. I ain’t stupid, girlie. You thought you’d take the money from us and then kick off before you had to pay it back. And fuck, that may have worked. But here we are. And you look pretty healthy to me. So, you have two options, as far as I can tell,” he says as he finishes off the bottle of beer in front of him.
I raise an eyebrow. “And what are those?”
“Well, you can try to run. People do that. But we will find you. And we will kill you. Or you can give us our money. I don’t care how you get it. But you have a month. Normally, we’d give a person in your situation a week. But because of all you’ve been through, my boss is feeling generous. At the end of that month, if you don’t have the money, we’re going to have another conversation, and it’s going to be a lot less fucking pleasant than this one. Have I made myself clear?”
My stomach drops, and I feel as sick as I have since this whole mess started. “Crystal.”
Danny nods, gets up, and walks out, leaving me sitting alone at the booth. There is less-than-zero chance I can come up with that kind of money. It wouldn’t matter if they gave me a week, a month, or a year. I owe the hospital even more than I did before, and they will only leave me alone for so long. My aunt and uncle are barely making ends meet and are lucky to make rent on the shop and their apartment every month. I have nowhere to go, no one to ask for help. Part of me begins to think that as long as I know Chloe is safe, it might be best for everyone if I just…
No. I didn’t come this far, survive all of this, just to give up now.
Then I remember my last resort from before, the man who saved my ass with Chloe.
Bailey will know what to do.
* * *
“Quite a pickle you’ve gotten yourself in, again, Miss Blanchard,” Bailey says as he twists his moustache around his pudgy finger. I watch as he flips through a rolodex, which is an item so foreign to me I actually had to search my mind for what it was called. He stops in the middle, then lifts his phone and dials a series of numbers far too long to be a local call. After what feels like forever, he grins and laughs.
“Hola, yourself, old friend! How the hell have you been? How’s the weather in Troncones?... Yeah, well, if I can ever afford to retire, I’ll be sure to come visit. Listen, I need some information on a pair of loan shark heavies working out of the Bowery named Leo and Danny… More information? Hold on, man.”
Bailey turns to me with a raise eyebrow and covers the receiver on the phone. “Where did you hook up with these nogoodniks?”
I think back to when I got involved in this mess for the first time. My Uncle Sal used to have a problem with gambling, and he spent a lot of his time at an off-track betting parlor in the Bowery where he thought my Aunt Marie wouldn’t be able to find him. It didn’t even advertise that it was an OTB, and from the outside, it just looked like a regular, crappy sports bar. When my debt started piling up, I started hanging out there, trying to look nonchalant, and hoping someone would catch on that I needed help. It didn’t take long for Leo to find me, and offer me the kind of “help” that got me where I am now.
