Collection (5 page)

Ava worked part time as waitress down at the Village Inn.
 
Friday and Saturday nights, mostly, but that didn’t bring in more than a hundred buck a week.
 
It was decent money, but I wasn’t about to stay home and let her work.
 
When I told her this, she gave me a look and got up from the table.

“You’re so fucking old fashioned sometimes, Jack.”

“Don’t be angry about it,” I said.
 
“I just don’t want you supporting us.”

“Then you need to get a damn job.
 
Hell, we barely had enough money when you had a place to work thanks to what Marcus paid you.”

“Marcus paid me what he could afford to pay me.”

“Which wasn’t shit, but you stayed.”

“He needed me.”

Ava laughed.
 
“
He
needed you?
 
Jesus, Jack, what about us?
 
What about your son?
 
You think Marcus needed you more than Jacob does?”

This was an old argument, and I was tired of it.
 
I knew she wasn’t asking me to get a job in an office with a tie and a secretary, but when she’d get going, that was exactly what it felt like.
 
“I’ll start looking tomorrow.”

“Where?
 
I bet you find another shit hole that won’t pay you anything above minimum wage.”
 
She shook her head.
 
“You’re better than burgers and scrambled eggs.”

“I was thinking about the Settler’s Club.”

Ava turned and leaned back against the counter.
 
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me.
 
When she spoke next, her voice had lost its edge.
 
“You know someone down there?”

“I’ve got a name.”

She smiled.
 
In the next room, Jacob cried and she started toward the sound.
 
“That would be amazing if you worked there,” she said.
 
“You could finally be a real chef again.”

Normally this comment would get us into a fight, but I was already thinking about how I was going to fit a job search in with my meeting with Colletto.
 
It could be done, but it would be a pain.
 

I got up from the table and went to the sink.
 
I stared at my reflection in the window, then filled a glass half full with water and drank it in two swallows.
 
I heard Ava singing to Jacob in the living room.
 
The sound was delicate and warm, and I set my glass on the counter and went out to join my family.

~

It’d been a long time since I’d worn a suit.
 
The tie was a few years out of fashion, but I needed one if I was going to get into the Settler’s club, especially if I planned on asking for a job.

I’d called Marcus and told him I needed his car for a couple more days.
 
He didn’t seem to care, and that worried me.
 
Marcus had always been generous to a point, but keeping his car for a few days was well past that point.

“Good luck today,” Ava said as I headed for the door.
 
She stood in the living room with Jacob on her hip.
 
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”

I kissed her and Jacob in turn then walked out.
 
When I got in the car I looked back and saw them in the doorway.
 
I felt like I’d gone back in time to a different era of housewives and post-war happiness.
 
The feeling wasn’t totally bad, but something sour settled in my stomach and I had to look away.
 
I felt them waving as I drove off, but I didn’t look back.

~

“I knew your father,” Colletto said.
 
“He was a good man.
 
I’m sorry to hear about what happened.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Were you two close?”

“No.”

Colletto nodded.
 
“I didn’t think so.”
 
He held a long white pipe in one hand, and as he spoke, he put it to his lips and lit it with a small silver lighter.
 
The aroma of the smoke was like childhood and fall and loneliness.
 
“You don’t come across as the grieving son.”
 

“That obvious?”

He smiled.
 
“And, I knew your father.”
 
He leaned forward and tapped his pipe in a glass ashtray on the coffee table.
 
When he did, the worn leather chair made a slow whining sound.
 
It sounded a lot like money.
 
“Still, he was a good man, trustworthy.
 
That was why I agreed to see you.”

When he sat back, I felt like a spotlight had shifted.
 
Right then I remembered where I was.
 
I was sitting in a private room in an exclusive club across from someone who ran more illegal business in town than anyone else.
 
This was not someone you came in on unprepared, and if I had any doubt about it, all I had to do was look at the two men standing in the corner behind him.

“I’m happy you did,” I said.
 
“I need some advice, and I was hoping you’d help.
 
I remember my father saying you were the right person to—”

“Cut the bullshit, please.”

I did.

“I’d like to hire security.”

“For what?”

“A friend of mine.
 
She’s having some problems with an ex-husband.”

“So, go to the cops.”

“What good would that do?”

He looked up fast.
 
I figured he was trying to see if I was being a smart ass.
 
When he saw I wasn’t, he smiled.
 
“You’re right,” he said.
 
“I don’t know what I was thinking.
 
Unfortunately, I’m not in the business of protecting wives from their husbands.”

“No,” I said.
 
“I don’t suppose you are.”
 
I tried to think of something else to say, a way to persuade him, but then I looked at the two guys by the door and decided I’d already said enough.
 
“Thank you for your time.”
 

I went to stand, and he held out a hand to stop me.

“Don’t be in such a rush.”
  
He re-lit his pipe and stared at me for a moment.
 
“You don’t look too much like your father.
 
There is a resemblance, but not much of one.”
 
He motioned to my suit with his pipe.
 
“You definitely dress better than he did.
 
I hope this wasn’t just for me.”

I looked down at the suit, as if I was noticing it for the first time.
 
“Actually, I’m applying for a job.”

“What kind of job?”

“I’m a chef.”

He smiled.
 
“You’re applying here?
 
At the Settler’s?”

“That was the plan, yes.”

He laughed.
 
The sound was low and warm.
 
The two men at the doors looked at each other briefly.
 
Neither one smiled, but I did.
 
I couldn’t help myself.

“I almost felt special,” he said.
 
“I figured you were here for me, but it turns out that wasn’t the case.”

“It’s a long story,” I said.
 
“I got backed into applying here today.”

Colletto waved me off.
 
“No need, no need.”
 
He reached for a small white notepad on the desk beside his chair then took a gold pen from his coat pocket.
 
“I’ll give you the name of someone I think will be interested in a little extra work.”
 
He scribbled on the pad, then ripped the top sheet off and handed it to me.
 
“He’s a good man.”

The paper had a wagon wheel logo on the top, and the words Settler’s Club written in a rustic script below.
 
The name he’d written was Maxwell Stover.
 
There was no phone number, only an address.

“Thank you.”

Colletto ignored me and pointed at the paper.
 
“That’s the address for a girly bar called the ‘Body Shop’.”
 
He shook his head and smiled.
 
“Classless name, but typical.”

“I’ll stop by and talk to him.”

“He works nights.
 
I’ll let him know to expect you.”

I almost told him not to bother, but stopped myself at the last minute.
 
That would raise suspicion.
 
Instead I stood and said, “Is he a bouncer?”

Colletto did a so-so move with his head.
 
“He doesn’t work the door, but he’s there to make sure nothing gets out of hand.”

I held up the paper.
 
“I appreciate this.”

He nodded and re-lit his pipe.
 
“I hope everything works out for your friend.”

“It will,” I said.
 
“One way or another.”
 

I turned to go, and he stopped me.
 
“By the way, good luck with your job interview.”

~

The kitchen manager set my resume on the bar and leaned over it with his hands on either side of the thin beige paper.
 
“You’ve been working at this Diner for the past several years.”

“That’s correct.”

He looked up at me.
 
“And you’re a graduate of the Culinary Institute?”

I nodded.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said, pushing my resume away.
 
“Institute graduates don’t work in roadside diners.”

“That’s obviously not true.”
 
I pointed to my resume and said, “If you look under my job history—”

The manager made a dismissive sound then turned and disappeared back into the kitchen before I could finish.

At least I couldn’t say I didn’t try.

~

I went home and changed into some comfortable clothes.
 
Ava wasn’t there, and I remembered she was spending the afternoon at her mother’s house.
 
That was good.
 
I wasn’t ready to tell her about the interview.

The address Colletto gave me was in the warehouse district.
 
I’d seen the place, but I’d never been inside.
 
I’m not a strip club guy, especially not strip clubs that look like gas stations.

On my way out, I wrote Ava a note.
 
I didn’t tell her anything other than I’d be back late.
 
I wouldn’t know where to start with anything else.