Killing
A Novel By Victor Fortezza -- Contributing Author

WARNING: Killing takes place in a very real world where people are flawed and may contain material of a harsh nature. While the Cynic Online Magazine does not feel that the novel promotes racism, the novel acknowledges that racism exists in the real world and therefore acknowlegedges the possibility in its characters. If you are offended by content of this nature, please navigate to another feature within the magazine.

9

Furling and unfurling his hands repeatedly around the steering wheel, dressed in a tailored suit, he waited for the traffic light to change. Deanna, in a chic, tasteful dress, sat as far from him as possible, the silence between them as thick as it was transparent. They'd barely spoken to each other in days. Dante was irate at her unrepentance. She was acting as if she'd done nothing wrong.

Distracted, he failed to note the change to green and was beeped by several cars in the line behind him. He lifted his foot from the brake and gazed into the rearview mirror, grumbling. "Maybe ya shoulda moved in wit' 'im," he said finally, fidgetting.

"He's married. He'd never leave his wife and children."

"What a stand-up guy. But you'da left me if he wannid ya to. Why don' we get a divawce?"

"Not while the kids are in the house."

His innards contracted violently. He hadn't expected such nonchalance, such utter lack of feeling. They'd been married almost 22 years - and suddenly she felt nothing for him. Their relationship seemed way beyond repair. And it'd happened practically overnight. Just like that she'd met someone who'd erased everything he'd ever meant to her, done for her. He couldn't believe it.

"Think Jo Jo don' know? She's smaht, smaht as you. The otha day she asked me if deah was somethin' wrawng between us. I gave 'er the crap about you bein' pissed dat I ain't been to a docta about the nightmeahs. Even I'm usin' the waw as an igscuse now, twenny yeahs latah. I ain't had a bad dream since I brought up ya foolin' aroun'. Don' dat tell ya somethin'?"

"This's all a bad dream," she returned, studying her freshly, beautifully manicured nails.

"What was I sapposta do - let ya keep bangin' 'im, suckin' 'is....?" He slammed a palm against the steering wheel, bit his lower lip.

"Is this necessary? What's it gonna accomplish? I don't care about the girls you were with. Why....?"

"You don' keah?" He was amazed at the contrast in their emotions. She seemed merely annoyed.

"What d'you want from me?"

"I shouldn't hafta ask dat. It should come nat'ral. It looks like you ain't got nothin' maw to give."

She looked away, out the passenger window. It seemed to confirm what he'd said.

"So we'll get a divawce once the kids'a married," he said, softly now. "In the meantime, go back to ya boyfrien' if ya so mis'rable wit'out 'im. Dis way the kids won' hafta see dat sowah puss awl the time. Maybe dey won' be able to tell hah bad things reahly ah. An' soonah aw latah I won' keah neitha, soon's I get it inta my head dat you ain't wort' cryin' ova, dat ya jus' anotha bootahn."

"Go 'head, make me hate you more."

"So whattaya wanna do, den?" he said, correcting the swerve his emotions had caused the car.

"Right now I just want you to shut up."

Who was this woman? he wondered. It certainly wasn't the one to whom he'd been married so long. "Why'd ya do it? Kin ya at leas' tell me dat? What'd I do to make ya do it?"

"Nothing," she said, frustration finally adding harshness to her tone. "It's just me, that's all. We were working closely and it just happened. It has nothing to do with you."

"Nothin' to do wit' me?" he said with disbelief.

"We never loved anybody else. Normal people have a few lovers over the course of a lifetime."

"Dis ain't the firs' time?"

"Yes!" she said, body turning toward him, the strain obvious in her neck. "It was. Time finally caught up to us. Now we're like everybody else."

"Ya still got a few maw to go befaw ya like everybody else."

"There's a world out there I didn't even know existed. Maybe I didn't want to know because I was afraid something like this would happen."

He pulled the car to the curb at a bus stop and threw the gear lever in "Park."

"So it's the world's fawlt, not yaws?"

"The world, life, whatever you wanna call it."

"What a buncha crap. I was bad, but at least I neva made any igscuses. An' what the hell's nawmil, anyway? Ain't my motha an' fatha an' yaws nawmil?"

"Mine are. Yours are another story."

He wondered how in the world he could have used his parents as an example. Was he still clinging to the hope, as he had as a child, that they would wake up one day and suddenly love each other?

"Den let's be like yaws."

"Come to think of it, they're not normal, either. I'd bet my life neither of them has ever been unfaithful."

"An' dat's bad?"

She jerked her head. "I just feel like such a hypocrite now. I'm not where I wanna be. I want more. I haven't done enough with my life. I got married too young. I didn't even know what life was about."

"Ya know now? If ya do, tell me, 'cause I still keahn't figure it out."

"It's not about this, I can tell you that."

"Den what - money?"

"Partly."

"Who's stoppin' ya from makin' it? Not me. Maybe if ya stahted concentratin' on makin' yaself rich instead'a eatin' brajole ya wouttn't be complainin'."

She clucked and looked away, arms folded to her chest.

"Hah many times I tell ya to become a deckaraytah? Y'id be great. Or maybe ya jus' want a rich husban', a sugah daddy. Ya kin blame me fuh not takin' keah'a you in bed, but ya keahn't blame me if you ain't got the colyoans to do what ya reahly wanna do."

"If you had any, you'd've gone into business for yourself a long time ago."

"So dat's it, den? Awright. I'll quit my job tamarra an' get cahds made up."

"You're such an ass." She depressed the cigarette lighter.

"No smokin' in the cah." Dante deactivated the lighter. "Tell me what ya want an' I'll do it."

"Just leave me alone. That's what I want."

He squirmed in the seat. Noting that the arguement had caught the attention of a woman waiting at the bus stop, he pressed his palm to the horn and kept it there. The woman started and looked away, mortified. Deanna pulled at his hand, as now everyone in the vicinity was looking at them. He relented. And they fell silent a while.

"Ya been unhappy awl dis time?" said Dante softly, bewildered.

"And I didn't even know it, not until I got the job and saw how successful some men are, how much they have, how smartly they dress, how articulately they express themselves, how confidently they carry themselves."

"An' yaw stuck wit' a mook? But if de'ah so good, whatta dey doin' cheatin' on deah wives, chasin' married women? You'd love me if I was like dem?"

"You could never be like them."

"An' I'm sapposta be ashamed'a dat, ashamed'a what I am?"

"Aren't you? You should see how uncomfortable you are around men like that, like my brother."

This was true, he knew. He did believe such men were better than he. How was it a slob like Sandy didn't?

"He's so smaht he got ya smokin' again."

There was a cigarette between her fingers. "Go 'head, nitpick, prove how inadequate you really are."

"So I'm the one who's wrawng?"

"Nobody's wrong. These things just happen. Some people make the mistake of making a big deal about it."

"Nobody's eva wrawng no maw. Ya soun' like one'a dose shrinks on TV who sez guys who mug an' kill an' rape ain't wrawng 'cause dey had it tough growin' up. 'It's sahsyidy's fawlt.'"

"It's life."

"Gimme a break."

She turned away again. "What's the sense of arguing with you? You're completely irrational. You're getting like your father. You exaggerate everything. What'd I do? I made love to another man, and you're equating it with rape and murder."

"'cause I feel like it's killin' me."

"That's your problem. Did all your father's fooling around kill your mother?"

"I keahn't believe you. Ya reahly expec' me to blow it awf an' say: 'Big deahl'?"

"I don't care what you do."

"So whatta ya gonna do - bounce aroun' from big shot to big shot the resta ya life? Is dat what ya reahly want? Whattaya gonna do when ya staht lookin' yer age? Dese guys want young girls dey kin show awf to deah frien's. If ya didn' look so young the sfacheem woulda prob'bly neva wanted ya. In ten yeahs yi'll be in ya fifties an' awl alone."

"If I was with you in ten years I'd still be in my fifties and all alone, so what's the difference?"

He was crushed. "But yi'd be wit' somebody who loved ya. Is dat what dis's awl about - a'you scared'a gettin' old? Everybody is. Dat don' make it right to go wit' otha guys."

"Our relationship is certainly old."

"Maybe dis's what we needed to get it goin' again."

She tittered derisively, defeatedly, shoulders rising and falling lifelessly, her being suffused with hopelessness. "That's so pathetic. You could never love me after this. I know you too well."

"So ya do regret it? Ya do feel guilty?"

"I'll feel guilty the day you feel guilty about Vietnam."

Again she'd thrown it in his face. "About fightin' fuh my country? Nobody should eva feel guilty about dat."

"Not even Nazis?"

"We weren't Nazis."

"You'll always be in denial about it."

"Looks like dat makes two of us."

"I deny nothing. You ruined something that was very special to me. I should've told you it was over and kept it going. I should've lied. Now I hate you."

He trembled visibly. "Look, go whereva the hell it is ya wanna go an' do whateva the hell it is ya wanna do. I don' keah no maw. Don' worry about the kids. Dey'll be awright. De'ah almos' awl grown up now. Maybe dey'll take it betta den ya think. Dey know kids whose mothas an' fathas got divawst. It's common now. It's awl ova TV an' the movies. The worse thing'll be havin' to hear it from my fatha."

"It won't make him any more miserable than he already is."

He shot her an icy stare, which, he realized, was not unlike his father's. "Watch ya mout' befaw I crack ya one. Dat man's kept a roof ova ya head fuh twenny yeahs."

She scoffed. "It would've fallen down on us if not for you. And I could just as easily stayed under my father's. There would've been no difference."

"No diff'rence? No Junior? No Jo Jo? Now who's in denial?"

"You know what I mean. It's just like men to think women owe them something, as if we don't contribute our share."

"Did I eva say dat?" he snapped. "Did I eva say it even once?"

"You just did."

He looked at her hard. "What's ya hero think ya owe him?"

She bowed her head, held a hand to her brow.

"As if I don' know."

She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Was she stemming the flow of tears? Dante wondered, hoped.

"I know what my fatha is, but it ain't right fuh you to tawk about 'im like dat."

"Open your eyes, he's a ...."

He waited for completion of the sentence. "What? He's what?"

"If it wasn't for us he'd've let the house crumble around him. He's lucky he's married to a saint. Any other woman would've put a knife through his heart by now. If anyone should be alone it's him."

Dante's face twisted with disbelief. "Who ah you? It's like some devil took you ova."

"Don't you love me any more?" she said venomously.

"Ya want me to hate ya? Why - 'cause ya got caught, 'cause ya know ya wa wrawng, 'cause ya reahly do feel guilty inside? I do hate ya, but only 'cause'a hah much ya mean to me an' the kids. I want ya to hurt inside like I do right now, even maw."

"I do hurt more. I lost a lot more than you did. I lost my job too."

He stared. "The skifots fyyid ya?"

Tears welled in her eyes.

"Good. Now ya won' be near 'im no maw. Don' worry, yi'll find anotha job. Wit' yaw brains an' yaw looks it'll be a snap. Yi'll find anotha boyfrien' too. Deah's plenny'a temptashin out deah." He was about to put the gear lever into "Drive" when a thought struck him. "You wa bangin' ya boss? Ya let 'im use ya?"

She looked away.

"An' when he was done, when the heat was on, he fyyid ya. What's dat tell ya? I take it back - you ain't smaht - ya stupit."

"He's worth millions. He's been all over the world."

"An' now you ain't wort' schyat to him - jus' like dat." He slapped his hands together in consecutive glancing blows. "Whattaya wanna bet he's got anotha chippy lined up awready? Ya think you wa 'is only one. He prob'bly fuhgot ya awready. Why don'cha take 'im up on chahges like awl dese otha low class gol'diggahs'a doin' nowadays?"

"On what grounds? I wanted him to do whatever he did to me. I let him do whatever he wanted."

Dante groaned, jerked at the door lever, and spun out of the car as if he were parachuting from a plane - and nearly stepped into traffic.

"Come back," Deanna taunted, leaning toward the driver's side. "We wouldn't want our daughter to know there's anything wrong between us."

He thrust his head through the open window. "Keep it up an' yi'll be goin' to the graduashin wit' black eyes."

"You want me to look like your mother?"

Cursing, he lashed out with a fist that only grazed her as she shrank away.

"Get away from me!" she snapped.

"Ya betta hide the gun when ya get home, unless ya wanna die."

He stormed away.

"Come back here," Deanna called. "It's Jo Jo's big day."

"I'll meet ya deah," he said from the opposite sidewalk. "If I get in the cah, ya might be dead befaw we get deah."

He snarled at an elderly couple who had heard and looked at him as if he were insane.

He strode rapidly along the streets and sidewalks, sweating profusely. Thoughts sped through his mind like vehicles on a highway. He'd almost struck Deanna! He'd broken a vow he'd made to himself even before he'd met her. He'd seen his father give his mother the back of a hand many times and swore he would never do such a thing to a wife. His only consolation was that Deanna had goaded him. His mother had never done anything to merit a blow. She was indeed saint-like. She absorbed the slaps, the verbal insults, the infidelity quietly. He too had stood by without taking action against his father, and suffered guilt to this day. Had he acted, his father might have stopped doing it. He did not understand how his mother had endured 40 years of such a union. His own had been bad all of six months, and he was ready to bail out.

He did not search for Deanna at the theatre. The air-conditioning stemmed his perspiration. He feared he stank, however. He felt conspicuous seated there alone amongst couples.

After the ceremony, they met beneath the marquee, without a word, and awaited Jo Jo. Dante's heart fluttered when she found them. She looked so beautiful in her cap and gown. He was jarred by the contrast in their emotions. She was happy, excited, all that was good in youth. She introduced them to classmates. Dante and Deanna were all smiles as they posed for photographs, Jo Jo between them, and then also as they accomodated another family taking snapshots. Dante sensed the couple guessed the friction beneath the Gentile surface. They'd sat near him in the theater. He cursed his luck.

During the ride home, the masks came off. Dante and Deanna were unable to maintain the front. Plans for dinner and theater were cancelled. Jo Jo, cap in her lap, sat stunned in the back seat.

"Stay in the cah, Jo," said Dante as they reached the house. "I wanna tawk to ya. Ya kin tawk to ya motha layta."

Deanna left without a word. Dante pulled the car away from the curb. Jo Jo gazed blankly at the streets rolling by, arms folded tightly to her chest, eyes glazed. Dante parked beside a playground, which was alive with the rollicking of toddlers watched over by mothers. How many times had Deanna brought the kids here? he wondered.

"Come up front," he said softly.

"No."

He lowered his head. "Sahry, babe, but things'a so bad 'tween me an' ya motha we couttn't keep up the act no maw. You wa right the otha day. I don' know fuh shaw yet, but we might be gettin' a divawce."

Tears poured down her cheeks. She pressed a hand to her brow, covering her eyes. Dante was dying inside. This was something from which he couldn't protect her.

"On my graduation day!" she sobbed. "I can't believe it. I hate you so much."

"Keahn't blame ya. I ain't too happy wit' myself right now, eitha." He stepped out of the front seat and into the back, took her in his arms, kissed her forehead, and caressed her back as she wept bitterly. "I'm sahry, mommy. Things jus' happen sometimes." He couldn't believe it - he'd sounded just like Deanna. "Yer a big girl now. Yi'll be awright. Dis ain't got nothin' to do wit' you, 'though you get hurt too. It's between me an' ya motha. Faw yeahs from now yi'll be graduatin' college, an' we'll t'row a big pahty, I promise. We'll rent a hawl. Things'a bound to be betta den, even if me an' ya motha ain't togetha. Believe me, dis's just as hahd on me as it is on you, maybe even harda."

"What's wrong? What happened? I don't understand."

"Dat's between me an' ya motha. It wouttn't be right for me to say." He leaned back and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "I'm so proud'a you. If ya still wanna go out, I'll be glad to take ya, 'though I don' know hah much comp'ny I'd be right now."

"Thanks a lot," said Jo Jo ironically.

"Take the tickits, den. Go wit' ya boyfrien'."

"Just take me home."

He kissed her again and released her.

10

His heart was pounding as he boarded the elevator, chic satchel in hand, which he'd just purchased from a sidewalk vendor. He fidgetted in the pinstriped suit, the same he'd worn to his daughter's graduation. He'd donned it at the end of the work day in a bathroom at the convention center. He was scratching at himself constantly, the bath he'd taken at the sink having proved inadequate. The suit would again have to be dry-cleaned. He'd picked it up only yesterday.

He'd told his co-workers he was meeting his wife for dinner and a Broadway show. No one suspected he'd lied. He'd contemplated telling Benny what he'd planned and asking him to come along to make sure things didn't get out of hand. However, he suspected Benny would not approve and, thus, would refuse him. He would not ask any of the others, as they were as liable to lose control as he was. Besides, he didn't want them, or anyone, to know Deanna had cheated on him. He would die of shame.

His throat was parched as he entered the spacious, modernized reception area of Horizon, Inc., whose offices occupied the entire floor.

"Can I help you?" said the attractive brunette at the marble counter.

"Yeah," he said nervously. "Yes, I mean. I had business nex' daw an' I thought I'd drop in an' get a pers'nil ref'rence on a fawmah imployee'a yaws, Deanna Gentile."

The woman did not react unusually to the name.

"I'm thinkin' 'bout hirin' 'er. She seems too good to be true. Is deah anybody I kin tawk to about 'er, maybe 'er ex-bawss?"

Dante felt perspiration on his back as the woman spoke into her headset. Was the air-conditioning working? he wondered.

"Your name, please?" said the woman, looking up at him.

"Dan Lanuto, Home Federal."

She repeated the name, looked at him, and smiled. "Okay, Mister Lanuto, first left that way. Ask for Mister Ryan."

A mic? he thought. He could not recall Deanna having mentioned the name. Then again, why should she have?

He entered a large section divided into many cubicles. He wasn't even sure what type of business this was. His wife had explained it once, but he'd only pretended to understand. It had to do with re-insurance or something like that.

He paused at a water fountain. It did no good. His throat remained dry.

"Mista Ryan?" he said to a young man speaking into a phone.

Without looking up, the man pointed toward a large office enclosed in glass, where a handsome, well-groomed, graying man was seated at a desk, gazing at a computer screen. Dante was shocked, disappointed even, as Ryan appeared to be at least five years older than he, although more physically fit.

Directly across a narrow aisle was an open cubicle, where another attractive woman was seated.

"Igscuse me," he said softly. "Ya new heah, aren't ya?"

"I just started," she returned, tense. "Is he expecting you?" She craned her neck to look past him. "Go in. He's waving."

Smiling, Ryan walked around his desk and extended a hand. Dante was surprised at the firmness of the grip. He'd expected a limpness that corresponded to a lack of character. In fact, it was Ryan who seemed surprised at the calloused grip that greeted him. And, apparently, Ryan did not seem to recognize him. Wouldn't Deanna have shown him pictures of the family? Maybe he wasn't the culprit, after all.

"How can I help you, Mister Lanuto?"

"I don' wanna take up too much'a ya time." He noted photographs of a woman and children on the wall. Apparently, Deanna had stabbed another woman in the back as well. He would swear he detected her touch in the decor of the room. "I kin see ya busy."

"I always have time for someone from Home Federal. I've been trying to do business with you for years."

If his purpose hadn't been so serious, Dante might have laughed. He'd noted the name of that firm as he was passing a nearby building. He had no idea what kind of business it was.

"What kin ya tell me about Deanna Gentile? I'm thinkin' 'bout hirin' 'er fer a job dat involves handlin' a lotta money. I need somebody I kin reahly trust."

He was self conscious about his speech pattern. Was it polished enough, or had Ryan, who was staring, made him? If Ryan suspected anything, it was impossible to tell.

"Then she's your girl. She's the greatest."

"Then why'd ya fire 'er, if ya don't mind my askin'? It doesn' make sense. I kin see how busy you ah."

Ryan looked him in the eye and said, softly: "Office politics. The new girl's connected."

Dante peered at the woman discreetly. He almost bought the lie, so persuasively had it been delivered. No wonder Deanna.... "Couldn't you transfah Mrs. Gentile to anotha depahtment?"

"There were no openings. Believe me, it was tough letting her go. She was like an appendage to me."

He didn't know what "appendage" meant, and it rankled him, especially as he recalled Deanna's admiration for the way her lover expressed himself. "Sorry to pry. I gotta be keahful. If somethin' went wrawng dey'd can me in a hahtbeat. Thanks."

"Any time," said Ryan. "How 'bout lunch sometime? I'd love to show you how much we have to offer. Here's my card."

Dante gave it a token glance and slipped it into his breast pocket. "I'll call ya."

He hurried away. He'd lost courage, sensing Ryan was too smooth, too intelligent to allow himself to be duped for long, or to trap himself. He'd been unable to bring himself to probe, to employ guy talk, to cite Deanna's looks in order to lure Ryan into bragging about his conquest. He couldn't talk about his wife that way, no matter how she'd hurt him. And what would he have said had he been asked specifics about his "business"? Would he have been able to outwit such a man at a game of cat and mouse? He'd never even heard of the college whose seal was on the diploma hanging behind the desk. He'd also grown weary of trying to speak correctly. It made him feel like a phony. He would have eventually made a big mistake, given himself away before he'd accomplished his goal. His only recourse would have been a direct accusation, and he wasn't even sure Ryan was the man he wanted, although the butts in the ashtray were Deanna's brand. That proved nothing, however, as it was popular.

Now, walking, perhaps running away, he feared he was merely being cowardly, looking for an out, therefore conceding that Ryan was indeed a better man than he and more worthy of Deanna.

He stopped and gazed about, having lost his way. Nearby, voices and the hum of a machine emanated from an open door. Beyond it, two young men were conversing as a copier was churning out graphs.

"'scuse me, boys," he said, standing at the foot of the entrance, speaking loudly. "I'm an' ol' friend'a Bob's. I was wond'rin' - what happened to 'is secretary? She on vacayshin?"

The men gazed at each other, warily, it seemed.

"I was too imbarrist to ask 'im. If he's done wit' 'er, I'd love to give 'er a cawl, but I don' want 'im to know. Ya see, she remin's me igzackly'a my wife, who died'a cansah a few yeahs ago."

"He's finished with her alright," said one man, smirking, looking away.

He was amazed they hadn't seen through him. He almost wished they had. The mystery now solved, he had no choice but to act. He lowered his head, as much in pain as in relief. The copier had ceased printing. He no longer had to raise his voice.

"Listen, boys, I'm Dee's husban'."

The men stood silent, tense. One gazed at the satchel.

"I ain't gonna shoot 'im, if dat's what ya thinkin'. I'm only gonna cawl 'im out." He opened the satchel wide. They peered inside. "Look, no gun." He opened his jacket, turned his pockets inside out, patted himself down, all the while wondering if he were as insane as the stares he was receiving seemed to indicate. "See? I'm clean. Now don' lemme cawl out the wrawng guy. I won't say nothin'. I give ya my word. It's awl I got in the world, besides my kids." He looked at them, challenging them to do right. "Is it him?"

"Yeah," said the same man quietly. "Dee was good people. He screwed her good."

His co-worker rolled his eyes in disbelief, and the man appeared to regret his choice of words.

Dante looked him in the eye. "Thanks, guy." He stepped out of the room. To his relief, it seemed no one had seen him address the men. He didn't want them to get fired because of him.

He gauged his whereabouts. Recognizing the correct path, he strode boldly toward the office. Ryan hopped to his feet and backed into a corner as if he knew what was what. Dante pointed a finger at him.

"Awright, scumbeahg. I know it was you. I'm Dante Gentile. I'll be waitin' outside. Let's see what kinda man you ah. By rights I should cawl ya wife an' put 'er t'rough the hell ya put my fam'ly t'rough, ya..., but I'd neva do dat. I don' go 'roun' bangin' otha guys wifes. An' I'd neva do nothin' to hurt dose beautyful kids ya got deah on the wahl, not like ya hurt my daughta, ya skifots. I want you. I'll be waitin' right outside. Ten-to-one ya chicken out, ya stroonz."

He stormed away, pulling the tie from around his neck and tossing it behind him. The satchel was next, striking the wall. Heads peered from around and over the top of cubicles, gauging his progress along the corridor. He hurled his jacket through the reception area, startling the woman at the desk. He would never wear this suit again. It was tainted.

Outside, arms folded tightly to his chest, he stood leaning against a van parked directly before the building. He was prepared to wait hours. He suspected that Ryan, like most executives, would work late. He worried only that there was an exit at the rear from which the rat might escape. He contemplated circling the block, surprising his quarry, whom he was certain would avoid confrontation at all costs. Knowing he couldn't be two places at once, fearful of missing his chance here while surveying the rear, he stayed put.

Soon the man to whom he'd spoken in the copying room emerged from the revolving door.

"He still up deah?" said Dante.

The man did not acknowledge him, lowering his head and hurrying away. Dante muttered to himself.

Shadows began dominating the area. Street lights came on. Traffic in and out of the building and along the sidewalk decreased markedly. The lights in the lobby shined brightly, allowing him to see into it clearly. He spotted Ryan as soon as the latter turned past the elevator bank. He stepped forward to make himself seen. Ryan stopped in his tracks and called to a security guard. A moment later the man, a Latin in his thirties, exited and approached Dante.

"If you don't leave, sir, I'll have to call the police."

"Do what ya gotta do, pal. Dis's between me an' dat lowlife in deah who was bangin' my wife."

A pedestrian's head snapped alert. Dante didn't care. He would never see any of these people again. He felt bad only for the guard, who was obviously pained.

"What would you do if ya wife was doin' anotha guy? What's the word - 'cabron'?"

The man looked away. "Please, sir."

"I know ya seen 'em togetha. Go in deah an' tell 'im to come out an' fight like a man, if he is one."

The guard pleaded a while longer, in vain, then returned to the lobby and picked up a phone. Ryan peered from the corner of his eye. Dante remained in place, defiant despite the fluttering within him. He wondered if Deanna had revealed he was a Vietnam veteran, if that was why Ryan was afraid to fight.

A limousine rolled up and parked at the curb, engine running. Minutes later the chauffeur, a middle aged man, stepped out, puzzled look on his face. He waved to his boss, who did not acknowledge him.

"Ryan?" said Dante.

The man turned. "Yeah. What's up?"

"He's gonna be a little late. He's gotta get 'is ass kicked firs'."

"Who the hell'a you, wise guy?"

"Dee's husban'."

The man's bushy eyebrows arched. "Oh," he said, subdued, almost apologetic.

Dante forced back tears as images of the coupling that must have gone on in the spacious back seat of the large vehicle flashed through his mind mercilessly.

"Damn," said the chauffeur quietly, turning his back to the building; "I hope he ain't expectin' me to fight 'is battles fer 'im."

"Don' do it unless he gives ya a big raise up front. Ya don' wanna mess wit' me right now."

He was amazed he was able to joke, given the circumstances. He was surprised at his calm. Yet why shouldn't he be calm? He was in the right. A man had to defend his honor - or he was nothing.

"Don' worry, pal. The stroonz's callin' the cops."

Soon a patrol car rolled up and double-parked beside the limousine. The officers entered the building and, moments later, one, a tall man in his late-thirties, exited. The other continued to speak to Ryan.

"Do you have any identification, sir?"

The name on the tag was Redling. Dante wondered what nationality that was. He hoped it wasn't Irish. The other officer certainly wasn't Irish. He was black.

Dante opened his wallet to his convention center I.D.. "I'm a uneyin guy, jus' like you."

Redling seemed unmoved. He scanned the contents of the wallet.

"I ain't got nothin' to hide. Dat skifots in deah does."

Redling returned the wallet. "Sir, we can take you in for threatening him. I suggest you go home."

"I didn' t'reaten nobody. I challinged 'im to a feah fight. Kin ya arrest 'im fuh bangin' my wife?"

"He denies it. Besides, there're courts for this kinda thing."

"Ya wanna tie up the courts when we could settle it the ol' feahshi'n way right now in two minutes - wit' awl you guys got to do in dis town? Awl I want's the satisfackshin. I ain't lookin' to kill 'im. Fer awl I know he might wipe the flaw wit' me. He looks like he's in good shape. He prob'bly belawngs to some big shot club."

"In the eyes of the law, it still amounts to a threat."

"You guys kin ref', make shaw it don' go too fah. Awl I want's a cheahnce to defen' my honah."

"We can't allow that, sir. The city'd be liable if one of you was hurt."

"I release awl liabiliddy. I'll write it down an' sign it."

"You think he will?" Redling snapped. "You may be a hundred percent in the right, but we can't let you do it. Forget it. Go home."

He opened his wallet to a snapshot of Jo Jo in graduation attire. "Dis's my daughta. Ya know what she's goin' t'rough right now 'cause'a dat sfacheem? He rooned 'er big day. An' he's gonna go home to 'is big house like nothin's wrawng, while I'm goin' back to a broken home. It ain't feah. Would you stan' fuh dat?"

"No, but you could've played this a lot smarter. You shoulda laid low for him, not announced it to the world."

"I don' lay low. Dat ain't the right way to do things."

"He stabbed you in the back. You shoulda gave it to him the same way."

"I wanna give 'im a chance to prove he's a betta man den me, to prove he deserves my wife maw den I do. Maybe dis was awl my fault, I dunno. If I get bit-slapped it'll be God's way'a tellin' me."

"That's crazy, man. I know you're better than he is, but what good's that gonna do you? Now that he knows who you are he can have you locked up if you come anywhere near him."

"I don' think he'd risk havin' 'is wife find out. If I lumped 'im up a little he could awways say he got mugged aw dat he fell down some place."

"I'm askin' you for the last time - leave."

"I ain't leavin' 'til I get satisfackshin."

"Turn around and face the wall."

Redling seized Dante's wrist and spun him. Dante did not resist. His quarrel was not with the officer or his partner, who had hurried outside to lend assistance.

Soon Ryan exited, stonefaced. His driver hurried to open a door.

"Deah he is, ladies an' gents," said Dante, handcuffed, loudly as he was being frisked - as if he might be carrying a concealed weapon; "Bob Ryan, homewrecka, chicken-haht. Find a new chippie yet, Bob? Sfacheem, dizgrotsyod."

People stopped to observe. Ryan's face showed strain.

"I'll fight ya wit' dese on, ya.... Yi'll get yaws, yi'll see. God takes keah'a scum like you in the end."

Ryan looked straight ahead as he sat in the back seat of the limousine. Dante was stuffed into the back seat of the patrol car. The limousine passed. Dante cursed at it, kicking at the back of the front seat.

Redling, on the passenger side, leaned over the seat toward him. "Calm down now, if you know what's good for you."

Dante bit his lower lip. Tears trickled from his eyes.

"Rich guys like that are dangerous, pal," said Redling. "They can have a guy like you whacked and walk away as if you never even existed. Don't you read the papers? It happens all the time."

"I don' care. A man who don' stand up fuh what's right ain't nothin'."

He was aware that he was embarassing himself, weeping in the presence of the officers, but he couldn't help it.

"They control what's right and wrong, not us."

Dante hung his head. "Den life ain't wort' livin'."

"Look, man," said Redling compassionately, "I would've loved to 've let you go at him, but it would've cost us our badges, and I got alimony and child support to pay. Guys like that pull the strings of the big shots who pull our strings. You do what they say or you lose. That's the way it is. Take my advice - let this go. You're the one who'll wind up screwed, not him. Go home and take it out on your wife. She's the one who's the most wrong out of everybody. He was only doin' what comes natural to a guy, and I'm sure he didn't twist her arm. Like any broad, she fell for the big bucks and the limo. She was bought."

Dante was jolted rather than placated. Any broad? Deanna bought? It couldn't be. "If I stahted hittin' 'er right now I might neva stop."

"Then divorce her. She proved she doesn't deserve you."

"Maybe I don' deserve her. She's beautyful an' smaht, an' I ain't rich aw smaht like dat guy. Maybe he is betta den me."

"If he was he woulda fought you like a man. Instead he called us to do his dirty work, like any rich creep. They all hide behind their money."

"Wheah was he when I was in 'nam? Safe in dat nice college, I bet, while I was fightin' fuh my country. An' she picks him ova me?" Now he was outraged. "I rebuilt ah whole house fuh her wit' my own han's, top to bottom, inside out, jus' the way she wanted it. What'd dis giuche eva do fer 'er - take 'er to some fancy restaurant? Give 'er a ride in dat limo?"

"Dump 'er," said Redling emphatically.

Dante looked away, out into the darkness of downtown. "I keahn't - 'fuh betta aw worse.' If she wants out, she's gonna hafta to make the move 'erself."

Would Deanna really leave him? Was that the girl he'd married? What was going on here?

They cruised quietly a moment. The police radio interrupted the silence periodically. He realized he'd lost again. Here he was, a combat veteran, a citizen who voted at each election, going to jail for having challenged a man who'd bedded his wife. Was this justice?

"Alright, pal," said Redling, peering into the back seat; "this's where you get out. He told us to go easy on you. Do yourself a favor and forget him."

Dante sat motionless, surprised.

"He's not worth the trouble you'll make for yourself, believe me. Next time we won't be so nice. And he told me to tell you he's licensed to carry a gun, and that he won't hesitate to use it if you come near him."

Dante sensed this was a lie, but he wasn't insulted. He understood its intent. When the cuffs were taken off him, he shook his hands vigorously to return feeling to them. He extended a hand to Redling.

"Thanks, big guy. I'm awright now. I hadda do it - I hadda. I couttn't let 'im get away wit' bangin' my wife an' den fyrin' 'er like she was some hookah he was done wit'. I hadda stand up to 'im."

"How 'bout I make an anonymous call to his wife - would that satisfy you?"

"No! I don' wanna hurt her aw her kids. Dat ain't right."

"They threw away the mold when they made you, pal, I'll tell you that. I still say you shoulda cold-cocked the creep."

"You don' undastan'!" he snapped, startling the officer. He immediately regretted his tone. Here they were, letting him go - and he was scolding them. He softened. "I hadda show 'im up fuh the gutless stroonz he reahly is. Now he'll know it the resta his life."

"Scum like that don't care about things like honor. The only thing he cares about is what he can steal from people. Go home, relax, have a brew. This's the station, right? My ex grew up in Bensonhurst, not far from your place. You didn't drive in, did you?"

"Nah. Dis's perfec'. Thanks." He stepped to the driver's side to shake the other officer's hand. The name tag read: McNair. He was Irish, after all, Dante thought, amused. "Thanks."

Deanna was pacing the living room as he arrived. "Are you crazy?" she said, looking him in the eye.

He stared, puzzled. The area was filled with smoke, the ashtray on the coffee table crammed with butts. He hadn't seen it like this in years. If she decided to leave, he would again get rid of the furniture and rugs to purge the smell from the house.

"Bob called me. I've been expecting you to call me to come bail you out of jail."

"Yaw the las' person in the world I'd call," he said bitterly. "Dey let me go. Dey knew who was in the right."

He headed to the kitchen. She followed.

"How could you be so stupid?" she said to his back.

He took a beer from the refrigerator and slammed the door shut. "I'm sapposta let 'im get away wit' bangin' my wife?"

"I wanted him. Don't you understand that?"

He coiled as if he'd been struck physically. He slammed the open can down on the table. Foam oozed from the tab. "He banged ya, but he wouttn't fight fuh ya. Dat's the kinda guy he is."

"Do you know how hard it is to get a job these days? He's gonna see to it that it's even harder for me now."

"If scum like dat got so much pull, ya should be glad yer atta work."

"His success kills you, doesn't it? Doesn't it?"

It was a blow he fought futilely to repel. The only thought that kept him from lashing out, from going insane, was that Deanna was angry at her foolishness rather than regretful of the loss of her lover. Dante wondered why God allowed men like Ryan to prosper, to seduce and corrupt women like Deanna.

"Okay, ya liked doin' 'im - I'll give ya dat." He couldn't believe what he'd said. "But why ya holdin' on afta ya see hah he reahly is? He don' deserve somebody like you." He paused, looking away. "Den again, maybe ya changed so much now ya do deserve each otha. You wa the bes' wife an' motha goin' - the best. I was the bad one. I did awl dose things in 'nam. I banged dose girls when I firs' came home. Maybe dis's God's way'a punishin' me. Or maybe it's some virus dat's makin' ya act crazy."

She scoffed. "I did it because I was bored, lonely, dissatisfied and horny - and flattered that a man like that would want me."

He cringed, shoulders hunching. "I neva thought the devil'd get inside you. I guess he reahly is inside awl'a us. If he got you...."

"Call an exorcist," said Deanna venomously.

Suddenly the door to Jo Jo's room burst open and she ran out in tears. Dante was stunned. He'd had no idea she was home. His shout failed to stop her.

"Let her go," said Deanna, breathing fast. "She needs a good cry."

She went to the living room, plopped on a couch, and gazed blankly at the television, which was tuned to a whisper. Dante followed and stood looking at her, incredulous.

"Ya said awl dose things knowin' awl the time she was home?"

"Now the blanks've been filled in. She'd've found out the ugly truth sooner or later, anyway."

Her eyes fixed on the screen. To Dante, she looked like Ryan had in the back seat of the limousine. Were they really alike, made for each other? What kind of nightmare was this? Suddenly he was in battle again. Yet this was different, not a firefight against a despised enemy. He felt as he had his first days on the line. He had no training, no experience in this type of combat. He had to feel his way, learn on the fly. The woman with whom he'd wanted to spend his entire life was suddenly alien to him.

"Don'cha even keah 'bout Jo Jo no maw?" he said softly. "Yous wa awways so close. If ya don' keah about yer own daughta, den ya nothin', not even an animal. I kin see takin' everything out on me - but on Jo Jo? She looks up to ya so much. Ya know what ya jus' did to 'er head? A'you dead inside? Aw d'ya jus' want 'er to hate ya fuh what ya did?"

She sat stonefaced. Dante lowered his head.

"I'll stay in Junya's room 'til he gets back. I'll tell Jo Jo to write 'im a letta so he won' wawk inta dis cold."

He reclined in his son's bed, head spinning with thoughts that eluded focus. He remained there until he heard his wife rise. He paced the living room, worried about his daughter, resisting the temptation to drown his sorrows in drink. The last thing Jo Jo needed was to find him drunk again, his promise to her broken.

Finally, past four AM, her boyfriend's car stopped at the curb. A moment later she was before him, frozen as their eyes met.

"Glad ya home, mommy," he said quietly, hands in his pockets. "I was worried about ya."

Her gaze was cold, hard.

"I know ya hurtin' inside right now, but don' go doin' bad 'cause me an' ya motha did. Don' think life keahn't be beautyful 'cause'a the mess me an' ya motha'a makin'. You go to cahlidge an' make a big spleahsh. Ya got the powah to make yaself happy right in yer own han's. Use it."

She walked past him without a word. He wanted to say how much he loved her, but the words stuck in his throat. He wondered if she'd surrendered her virginity this night. Or had she done so the night of her graduation? Could he blame her? She needed affection from someone. She certainly wasn't getting any at home.

As he was switching off the lamp, his eyes found the photograph of his wedding day. The room suddenly dark, he was no longer able to distinguish even the outline of the frame.

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