Second Shot, page 19
“A pleasure.”
“You can go right in. Mr. Streb awaits you.”
It was an odd phrase, perhaps welcoming, but laced with a threat. Jimmy steeled himself, turned the knob on the door. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He was fine with seeing Streb. He didn’t want to see Brenden. He exhaled as he realized it was just himself and Streb. Good, keep it professional. Finish this case, get his money, maybe head to Paddy’s. Though in the back of his mind, he heard Frisano’s voice. Eight o’clock. My place.
He was glad when Streb shook his hand, directed him to a chair.
“You’re right on time,” he said.
“Thank the 6 train.”
“You take the subway?”
Jimmy thought of the limo from the other night from which Streb emerged from.
“I live the real New York,” he said.
“We all have our versions of what Manhattan should be,” Streb said.
It was a noticeable differential. New York, Manhattan. Not always in sync.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Streb?”
“Fine. Down to business,” he said, leaning forward behind his formidable desk. In most offices it would have dominated, but Streb, as a partner, had been given room to breathe. Jimmy knew the room, it had been Rothschilds’. Privilege, he knew, came with compromises. You didn’t earn this. You owed this. Which is what Streb was all about right now.
“The Portnoy Case is quite a valuable property for this firm.”
“Yes, it will bring in millions of dollars of commission when the will goes into effect.”
“As we explained to you. We’ve been very upfront with you, Mr. McSwain.”
“Yeah, that’s where we differ. Because you haven’t been,” Jimmy said. “Here’s the way I see it, you’ve lied to me from our first meeting at Jameson’s. Did either of you bother to tell me that Brenden was Rebecca’s son? That he was set to inherit a fortune if anything happened to, well, anyone? Baz was already in a coma. Chaz was evasive about his own identity. Rebecca stabbed to death. Amanda, the doctor in charge of Baz, suspected to be Brenden’s sister. See the problem with this case?”
“Indeed, there have been, uh, complications.”
“More like manipulation. Not to mention…murder.”
“Mr. McSwain…Jimmy, we’re all on the same side here. It’s horrible what happened to Mrs. Portnoy, but I can assure you that through an investigation into the events of that night, it has been categorically proven that none of the attendees of that dinner party were responsible for what happened to Mrs. Portnoy.”
Jimmy paused, letting that sink in. But it didn’t. Because it was bullshit. “So, are you saying the butler did it?”
“Don’t be disingenuous.”
“And don’t you be dishonest. Were you with Chaz smoking cigars the whole time?”
“Are you accusing me of murder?”
“You’ll make a nice commission from the will beyond what the firm gets. You, Brenden, Amanda.”
“Chaz inherits the money.”
“Until he gets killed. Or if he’s proven not be Chaz to begin with. The vagaries of the will don’t provide for Baz. Guess he was the bad seed. But in the end, I don’t care who gets the money. Here’s the thing. As a private investigator, I take cases based on instinct. I want to feel I can trust the client, but I also know I not always can. When I take a case, I not only look into the background of the person I’ve been hired to investigate, I look into my client.” Jimmy paused, wondering if he should reveal what he’d researched, uncovered. Yeah, go for it. Shock value has its moments. “Just last night, I witnessed you exiting a limo outside a residence on Sutton Place. Brenden had already arrived.”
“He wasn’t there.”
“Okay, that’s confirmation that you were there. And yeah, he was. I followed him from this very building.”
“I thought we hired you to help us. Not the harm us.”
“See, I’m only as good as the information I get from my clients. When lies permeate one of my cases, I have an easy choice. As an independent hire, I can pick and choose my clients and whether their situation interests me. In truth, Mr. Streb, I’m no longer going to work this case, as I explained to Mr. Hendricks, and to you. The lies are one thing, but I’ve been witness to a brutal murder. I’ve spoken with the Harrison police. You want to know a truth? The only person with an alibi during Rebecca Portnoy’s murder is me. I’m the only one who doesn’t get anything out of this mess. Except what’s in our contract. I’ll take my check, or as I stated on the phone, I can raise this issue with the other partners. You’re the newest, aren’t you?”
Streb wasn’t happy. It was almost like his forehead had grown more wrinkles during this meeting. Taking out a ledger from his desk, he wrote out a check, signed with a flourish that belied his mood. He tore it from the ledger, threw it at Jimmy.
It was blood money. But Jimmy had earned it.
He tucked the check into his pocket, rose from his chair.
“Our association is done,” he said.
As Jimmy approached the door, he heard Streb call him back.
“I didn’t kill her,” he said.
“I hope so,” Jimmy stated, and then, his voice emphatic, added, “That narrows the field down to three.”
“See, you still want to know who did it.”
Jimmy shook his head, then left. The rarified air felt better when he reached the street. The real New York he knew.
* * * *
Well, now what?
First, he deposited the check, one he’d earned. Besides, being lied to entitled you to interest, and the balance had included a surprise bonus. Probably meant to shut him up. Also, deposit it before Streb had a change of heart and canceled it. Jimmy doubted he’d do that, but the man was a lawyer. You took your chances. Jimmy felt Streb had enough problems to deal with, but none of them were of concern to him. The confounding twists of the Portnoy Case were all Streb’s problem now. They held no more concern for Jimmy. He’d been paid. He was done.
Which meant the only thing on his plate was Mr. Wu-Tin.
Jimmy wanted that case over with as much as he did the Portnoy one, but in this instance, he wanted to bring about its resolution. Its destruction. A family squabble, games played between twin brothers, a wife who had a checkered history with both men, two children who lived by lying, Jimmy had washed his hands of it. Wu-Tin was a different story. The crime lord had attempted to kill Jimmy, he’d destroyed Mallory as collateral damage of the hit, and continued to show no remorse. What his daughter-in-law had revealed was a brutal truth, and it was this that Jimmy had to focus his energy on. Sure, it was September, but the calendar still officially called this summer.
Jimmy wanted to start autumn with a clean slate. No cases, no murder, no broken heart.
After spending a day in Westchester, a morning in Lower Manhattan, an afternoon in Midtown, Jimmy McSwain returned home. No, not the apartment on 10th Avenue, he didn’t want to listen to the construction of the high-rise across the street. He sought familiar comfort at Paddy’s Pub. It was four-thirty in the afternoon, happy hour in full swing, the locals were enjoying themselves. Jimmy had issues with the idea of Happy Hour. When he came to Paddy’s, it was usually because he had too much drama on his mind.
It was his safe place.
Paddy, a stand-in for Joseph McSwain. A man who soothed him. Even with just a beer.
It was a Guinness.
“I’ll have one, too.”
Jimmy was sitting in his usual seat at the corner of the bar, lost in his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed another patron pulling up beside him. Taking the next chair. He turned, he looked, then he turned away.
The Guinness was served. Paddy giving Jimmy a reassuring look. I can get rid of him.
“Can’t even look at me, can you?”
“You’re not as cute as you think you are,” Jimmy said.
“But you fucked me anyway. A lot.”
Jimmy looked at Brenden Hendricks. “What are you doing here?”
“Drowning my sorrows.”
“You’re more an East Side boy. Sutton Place.”
“Maybe I wanted to get fucked again. West Side is good for that. Like, um, upstairs.”
Jimmy drank from his beer, wished he was anywhere else. Even that damned construction site. He could use a bit of cover right now. He thought he’d closed out the Portnoy account by depositing that check, but it seemed the world had other things in store. Life was not without its complications, and Brenden was the latest trial.
“Do you really expect me to take you to my apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Try a different answer. It’s a shorter word.”
“I’m not the bad guy you think I am,” Brenden said, sipping his beer.
“Maybe. But I do think you’re the bad guy the cops think you are.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been through. My life, the lies my mother told me.”
“Is that why you killed her?”
“Jimmy, that’s a horrible thing to say. Rebecca and I had our conflicts. None that dire.”
“I spoke with Detective Selfridge. You’re a prime suspect.”
“I have an alibi. You. I was sucking you off.”
He spoke his words too loudly, a few heads from down the bar looked up. Jimmy had to wonder if Brenden had been drinking before he’d sidled up to the bar at Paddy’s. He wondered if something had caused Brenden’s mood. Turned out, Brenden was in a confessional mood.
“I got fired today.”
“Sorry for that. Law firms are cutthroat places.”
“It’s all your fucking sister’s fault.”
This was news. Not even Mallory had told Jimmy there were developments.
“I don’t understand.”
“The treasured Mallory McSwain is returning to work next week. My job, my office.”
“To be honest, they were hers to begin with. And also, you told me that you had a five-year contract.”
“I brought this fucking firm millions in revenue. What do they do? Invoke the morals clause, which nullified that deal.”
“So has it all been worth it? The deception? Your mother’s life? And it turns out, your career. Maybe your future, too. Look, Brenden, I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t be your alibi, because for a few minutes I was in the shower and you were nowhere to be seen in the room. Plenty of time to slice a knife into the woman who gave birth to you, one you feel betrayed you. You failed to tell me the truth when I was first hired on this case. It was all a set-up. Seduce me, get me on your side so you could manipulate me. Getting me in bed was your method.”
“You wanted to have sex with me as much as I wanted to with you.”
“Sometimes sex can come with regret,” Jimmy said. “Oh, you owe me a shirt. The one you ripped.”
“I could rip the one you’re wearing. I’d lick your chest. More. Come on, Jimmy.”
A release was tempting. But not with this man. It was time to leave, but first he wanted to assess Brenden’s slurred condition. Did he need help, or could he just be ignored? Jimmy couldn’t possibly decide.
Jimmy turned to the man he’d slept with. Yeah, he’d been drinking earlier. His eyes were bloodshot, the corners of his eyes red. His world had been destroyed, and at what cost? Career in tatters. Family in tatters. His life in tatters. It was amazing to Jimmy what people did for the love of money. Was the Portnoy fortune worth all he was sacrificing himself for? Brenden used people for his own purposes: his mother, the two Portnoy brothers, Dr. Amanda Morgan—his sister, who Jimmy figured as a collusive figure in this situation—and of course he’d used Jimmy, too. Taken advantage of his own vulnerability about Frisano.
Yeah, Jimmy had fucked him because one man had been cute and one man was broken.
What did that make him?
He finished his beer. Paddy came over.
“Another, Jimmy?”
“Not tonight, Uncle Paddy. There’s something I have to do.”
Paddy must have sensed the tension living inside his nephew.
Jimmy felt life’s struggles more than its triumphs.
Paddy put two hands to Jimmy’s cheeks. No words were necessary, just a lingering moment which revealed the depth of family. Jimmy took a last sip. Seemed emblematic of life. There was always residue.
Jimmy rose from his bar stool. Brenden grabbed his arm.
“Fuck me, Jimmy. Take me upstairs.”
Jimmy took a cue from his uncle. He always knew when words were unnecessary.
Actions spoke volumes.
Jimmy walked out of Paddy’s Pub, the cool September breeze like a lifeline. He breathed it in, opened his lungs, perhaps his mind. He had resisted the urge for revenge sex with Brenden, knowing he’d already done that. Yeah, he knew, he’d used Brenden as much as Brenden had him. Mutual manipulation. For different purposes. Jimmy trying to heal a heart with wounds. Brenden quite the opposite: money was his motivating factor.
Jimmy stood on the corner of 46th Street and 9th, a neighborhood so familiar to him.
Gaslight was a block away.
He could probably find a hook up. Bury all he didn’t want to face.
But did he feel like he still belonged? His heart had felt too much the past year.
He thought back to that big building going up across the street from his childhood home. Life was about to change. Maggie had to live life without her husband, and Mallory, Jimmy, and Meaghan the same, without their father. Some mornings you woke and did what was expected. A day’s quotidian process unfolding, almost as if you weren’t in control.
Jimmy wanted to take back control.
Exhaling, feeling a mix of anxiety and want, he raised a hand on the corner.
No, he was not going to the McSwain home.
He certainly wasn’t going to his apartment above Paddy’s.
Jimmy hated what he was doing. But do it he would. He wouldn’t even call. He’d take a chance. Because sometimes you had to take a leap of faith.
The yellow cab pulled over. He got it.
“Hi. Nineteenth and Ninth.”
The meter clicked on, so did Jimmy’s heart. Both adding up the price this trip would cost.
It took ten minutes. A few red lights had given Jimmy the chance to tell the cabbie to turn around.
He heard the words in his mind.
He never spoke them.
“Here we go,” the cabbie said, as he pulled to the southwest corner.
Jimmy knew the building. He hadn’t been here in months, and he remembered the last time, seeing Frisano and the hurting Elliot. Embracing, kissing, going upstairs. Jimmy had walked away, not just that night, but from what he’d thought he and Frisano had built. Truth was, no one person was free of pain, of regret. Sometimes you did something you shouldn’t. You had your reason. It’s because you hurt.
Jimmy still hurt, certainly about that memory.
But still, he found himself at the front door. Looking at the buttons. He saw the name.
Frisano.
He turned around. He walked away. What the hell was he doing?
Visions revisited him. Tonight. At Paddy’s, hearing Brenden, seeing him, knowing just how Jimmy had been played by him. Had Jimmy slept with a murderer? What was Frisano guilty of? Not feeling comfortable in his skin, exploring his heart and helping to heal a victim of a hate crime? It was a conflict that had raged inside Jimmy for months. Forgiveness was perhaps the hardest of all emotions. Betrayal’s antithesis.
He went back. He rang the bell.
“Hello?”
“It’s Jimmy.”
A slight pause. “I know.”
“I still hate what you did,” Jimmy said.
No pause this time. “That means you love me.”
The next sound was the buzzer of the apartment building. The door unclasped.
Jimmy went in, didn’t stop as he pressed the button of the elevator.
And then…and then…the door opened.
Frisano stood there, in just a pair of sweatpants. Sexy, manly, hot. His thick hairy chest on full display. Jimmy felt heat rush through him. He’d missed Frisano. He’d missed…them.
“Hi,” he said, revealing a sly smile. As though he’d been expecting this.
That’s when Jimmy made the first move and kissed him, closing the door with a foot. But by doing so opening his heart.
Chapter 14
Time stopped.
Or did it reverse itself? To a happier moment.
Or had it been put on fast forward? To what was meant to be?
His kisses felt like magic, an expression of what the world couldn’t explain. Beneath him, his point of view was one of looking above, about looking beyond. It was a mix of emotions, but the devastation of a few months ago had been over-ridden, almost like a computer reboot. And it felt no better, was no more…right, in his heart, when he felt Frisano enter him. Jimmy. Frank. Together. Nothing else mattered.
“Frank…how you fill me.”
He pumped, he thrust. “I’m where I should be.”
“Just fuck me,” Jimmy said.
“I’ll do something even better. I’ll make love to you.”
And he did. Jimmy thought he already lived in a world of color, but what he saw, what he felt, Frank’s embrace enlivened the hues of eyes like he’d had never seen. Maybe angry sex wasn’t the answer, was it possible that you needed to take a time-out before the man you knew defined your destiny could re-enter your life? How good Frisano could feel. Atop him. Inside him. Part of him. The feel of Frisano’s furry body offering warming comfort. There was a lot of fur, and Jimmy slid his hands all over this man. His chest, back, that thick beard. It was like being embraced by the ultimate bear. He found Frisano’s eyes. He kissed Frisano’s lips. A tongue slipping in, even as he felt another hungry thrust. Then another.
Jimmy’s cock was pressed against Frisano’s tight, hard belly. How he loved the friction of his own flesh pressed against Frisano’s furred stomach. He’d missed this, more than he knew. The comfort, the connection. An intimacy he’d never before known, now back in his life. Tomorrow would tell its own tale, of how they would recover and move forward. Tonight had its own moment. Jimmy wanted this man, he’d always wanted this man since the moment they had met at the 10th Precinct, him in his uniform, Jimmy thinking peeling it off him. He knew, deep beyond the heart, to the soul, that this man wanted him, too.
