I'm Glad I Did (25 page)

“Hey, kiddo,” he called. “Your chariot awaits.”

What was I going to say? That I'd rather climb seven flights of stairs than ride in an elevator with him? I managed a smile and nodded.

“Going to Luke's,” I said casually, stepping inside.

“Your personal express, kiddo.” Nick smiled. “I think you two might have the building to yourself.”

I knew I should be making conversation as I always did, but the words caught in my throat. My pulse began to race. The elevator had never felt so small or confining, not even in the mornings when we were all jammed together like cattle. I swallowed, staring at the dial. Only two more floors to go …

The car suddenly lurched. He'd stopped. Between the sixth and seventh floors.

“Whoops,” I said. “What's wrong?”

Nick leaned against the elevator wall and stared at me intently. “I made a mistake, didn't I?” It was a rhetorical question.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I tried to sound cheery and unaware, even though I was sure he could hear my heart thumping.

“I saw it in your eyes, kiddo. When I told you I heard the demo. She told me she had the only copy besides yours, so
you knew I was there the night she died.”

I felt myself backing up against the opposite wall, but there was nowhere to go. I had to see this conversation through to its end, whatever that would mean. Best just to take charge, to put him at ease. He knew he was doomed; there was nothing he could do now.

“Yes, I knew,” I said.

“I didn't kill her,” Nick told me in a choked voice. “Please believe me. I went to see her because I couldn't hold my feelings in any longer. I did so much for her. I kept everything that went on between her and your uncle a secret, even though it tore me up. I even covered for Bernie when the cops came sniffing around.” He snorted in disgust. “He's a dog, kiddo, when it comes to the ladies. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. But I'm different. I really cared about Dulcie, and I thought maybe she'd come to care for me, too.” His eyes were pleading with me. His voice sounded desperate.

“So what happened?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“I can't tell you,” he said.

“Listen, Nick, my mom's a lawyer.” My speech sounded fast and high-pitched in my ears, but I plowed forward. “She'll help you, I promise. You'll be okay, but you have to tell the truth. Can you just take me to seven now?”

Nick didn't seem to hear me. “They think Bernie did it. It's all over the building. He'll never get convicted of something he didn't do. He's too smart for that.” His eyes locked with mine. “It'll all be fine, but I can't have you telling anybody anything. You've got to give me your word that you won't. Make me believe you, kiddo, please.”

I knew that if I promised him, my face would give me away. There was no way I wasn't going to the police. He would know. This was bad. I could feel panic rising in both of us. I knew I had to get out of that elevator box. I didn't know what he would do, but I did know he was cornered—and when someone is cornered, they don't necessarily behave true to form.

Maybe that explained what happened next. Because something inside me snapped.

I've been a klutz my whole life, except for my fingers. I was always the last one chosen for every team I ever wanted to be on. But when Nick stepped toward me, I sidestepped him and lunged for the crank that operated the elevator. He tried to pull me away, but I stomped on his instep with my heel—a trick Janny had taught me as soon as I was old enough to wear heels—and managed to stop the car approximately on the seventh floor. I tried to pull the door open, but Nick grabbed my arm.

“Stop it, JJ,” he hissed. “I need to talk to you.”

I did the only thing I could think of to make him let go. I bit his hand. It was a horrible, weird feeling to clamp down on human flesh. But the moment he cried out and released my arm, I pulled the door open. I was nowhere near level with the seventh floor, maybe two feet too high, but I jumped down and fell like the lummox I truly was.

The next thing I knew, I found myself breathing heavily into Nick's face, our noses only inches apart.

The last time I had been in this position, Jeff's face had been the one hovering over mine—another wrestling victory of his, while my parents stood by, not interfering on
principle. Jeff's expression had been one of smug satisfaction. Nick's was one of panic. He'd pinned my arms. I could smell his lunch and coffee on his breath. “Please, JJ,” he croaked. “You're gonna get me in trouble.”

I guess it was a good thing that our parents never interfered in our fights. Who would have ever guessed it, but the course in Brazilian judo finally paid off—six years after the fact. The one move I'd mastered, the upward lift escape, came back to me. It shot from the recesses of my memory straight into my arms and legs. With a loud grunt, I sent Nick flying off me. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled across the hall, diving into Luke's office a second before Nick came careening through the door after me.

Luke was almost six feet tall, in perfect condition, while Nick was barely five six. His only exercise in years had been pulling open an elevator door. It was no contest. Luke grabbed him, pinned his arms to his side, pushed him into a chair and held him there.

“Tell me what's going on,” Luke commanded. He wasn't even breathing heavily. In truth, he was terrifying. And I'd never been more relieved to be terrified in my life as I cowered behind him. His voice had so much authority that Nick stopped struggling. “Now!”

Nick nodded and blurted out what he had told me. And then he crumbled. He actually dissolved into tears, crying for Dulcie, for what had happened to her and for himself.

Steeling my nerves, I climbed out from behind Luke and kneeled in front of Nick. “Look, you have to come clean,” I said. “Tell us what happened that night.”

He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform. “I've played it over in my head so many times. It's like a movie I can't stop watching.”

“Play it for us now, Nick,” Luke encouraged him, his voice gentle now. “We can't help you until we know what went down. And I promise we will help.”

Nick mustered what little self-possession he had left. “It took me all day to get up the courage to go to her apartment,” he explained. “But I had to find out what she was feeling toward me. She was so kind and so beautiful. When I got there, she was cleaning broken dishes off the floor and playing the demo. She was really upset. So I took my time and helped her reset the table, and then I told her. I told her how I felt about her, that I loved her and I knew she had never been treated the way she deserved to be. That I would be kind to her and never take advantage of her.” He sniffed. “And her words … I'll never forget. ‘Just what I need,' she said, ‘another white man to take care of me.' ”

I shook my head. The connection I'd felt, that belief that Dulcie was right there with me, had never felt stronger. Nick was indeed the projector, rolling the film for us.

“But I wasn't just another
anything
,” Nick went on. “I was someone who loved her. She told me I'd better go. She was expecting someone for dinner. I guess I raised my voice. I told her how much I loved her. And then she shouted something back at me. Something almost exactly like what my mother said when she left. Like … word for word. ‘I can't help how I feel. Don't try and make me feel guilty.' ”

I winced at his pain. Luke did, too. It was impossible not to feel for him. He was so lonely, so lost. He'd suffered more than anybody should suffer.

Nick's were eyes glassy now, staring at nothing. “I guess I went a little nuts. I grabbed her. I wanted to shake some sense into her. I was wrong, I know I was wrong, and then she pulled away and backed up. The window was wide open, 'cause it was so hot that night. When she turned, she slid on a record sleeve that was on the floor. She lost her footing, tripped, and the next thing I knew, she was out the window. It was a nightmare. I just ran to escape it …” He bowed his head, finished.

Luke's hand touched my shoulder. I clasped it, drawing strength from it, and let it go. “Nick, my mom is the best criminal attorney in New York,” I told him. “She's been through this hundreds of times. She won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

Nick looked up. “I don't know if I care what happens to me now. It almost feels good to have it all out,” he whispered. “I don't want to go to prison, but I hate myself so much, I don't want to be free either.”

“Don't say that,” Luke said. “Please don't say you hate yourself. I see the pain you're in. And I forgive you. Please listen to this with your heart as well as your head. After she died, I learned that Dulcie was my mother. If I can find a way to grieve for her
and
for you, then you can do it, too.”

Nick closed his eyes. “My God, Luke? Your mother … I … I'm so, so sorry … I …” He began to weep.

Now Luke put his arms around Nick, not to restrain him but to console him.

In that moment I knew that my feelings for Luke were more than I'd given them credit for. I hadn't just fallen for a crush. This wasn't just my first summer fling. He was a boy I could really love. The
man
I could love, no matter what the future had in store. His words had been spot-on, but not about me, about him.
Something like a miracle
.

Once we called Janny and Nick turned himself into the police, things got a lot more complicated very quickly, much more than I'd hoped or imagined. It turned out that Janny just couldn't step in and represent Nick. Also, Luke and I had to be far more involved than I'd assumed. Janny always did everything by the book, and the legal maneuvering was tricky, even though the truth was clear. First, Luke and I had to tell McGrath, on the record and with Janny present, what we knew about Nick's involvement with Dulcie's death. Only then, once Bernie was cleared by the information we gave the police—and both Bernie and Nick had waived confidentiality—could she step in and represent Nick.

By now Nick was so broken by finally admitting his part in Dulcie's death that he would have done anything Janny had asked him. She explained that there was a good chance he might be convicted of a misdemeanor because he'd left the scene, that he might have to spend some time
in custody. But Janny assured him that ultimately she was confident she could clear him for murder. It was an accident. He was grateful but responded that he didn't even deserve her help. He deserved whatever time in custody that he got. Janny told him they would talk about that once he had a chance to pull himself together.

Even though Luke wanted to stay by my side, I told him to go home. It was late, and he'd done more than enough to help. With Janny's prying eyes on us, he couldn't kiss me goodbye, though he did manage to squeeze my hand. I told him I'd talk to him tomorrow at work. Luckily, Janny didn't ask me any questions. After that she called Bernie from the police station. It was almost ten o'clock at night, but he was still at his office.

He didn't sound particularly overjoyed at being exonerated. He told Janny cryptically that he had been “doing some thinking.” He instructed us to meet in front of his apartment. Janny reminded him of the late hour, but he insisted that we both come, and that he wanted me there, too. Then he asked to speak to me. Janny handed me the phone.

“I want you both with me for this,” he said.

“For what?” I asked. “What is ‘this'?”

“Please just be there. I need you both. Okay, Justice, baby?”

“Okay, Uncle Bernie. I'll be there.”

I handed the phone back to my mom, who hung up. The second our eyes met, we nodded. I had a feeling something bad was going to happen, but still I wasn't scared. For once in our lives, Janny and I were connected, on the
same team, fighting the same fight. It was a moment to be savored.

BERNIE GAVE US EACH
a quick hug when we met him in his apartment building lobby. That same drawn, sallow look I'd seen at The Turf was back. Without a word, he walked us to the elevator. I couldn't read what he was feeling, but I knew Bernie. When he became unemotional, it was because he was enraged. Now I could tell by the set of his jaw that he was seething about something.

“Don't ask me anything,” he warned us as we rode up to his apartment.

As we entered, we could hear Marla puttering around in the kitchen. When the door closed behind us, there was a cry of delight. “Bernard!” she shrieked.

I couldn't help but feel a little cynical, older than my years. So she'd forgiven him just like that. Even though he'd lied to her and cheated on her. She'd forgiven him because she wasn't going to lose anything. I wondered how much she really loved Bernie the man or how much she loved living this fabulous music biz life in this flashy apartment.