The Girl Next Door

Mark Shafer was a creature of habit. And as a thirty-five year old man without a wife or children to center his life around he could more or less set his own schedule. Everyday he got up at six, exercised at seven, shaved and showered a little after eight, and breakfasted at nine. By ten he was sitting at the desk in his home office, penning one of the articles he occasionally wrote for a variety of on-line publications, but more often than not working on his own literary endeavors.

Efforts, the former of which brought in very little money, and the latter none at all. The difference between what he made and what he spent he made up for with funds he took from an inheritance left to him by a grandfather he never knew. A fact – that because it meant he would be poor if he was forced to rely solely on his own talents – he admitted only to himself.

Early one afternoon, Mark walked out the front door of his house, which varied little from all of the other Tudor style homes in the solidly upper-middle class neighborhood of Tulip Farms, and strolled towards the mailbox.

As he stood on the sidewalk, thumbing aimlessly through his mail and enjoying the heat of the afternoon sun on his back, a large, expensive looking car drove past him and pulled into the driveway of the vacant house next door. Curious, Mark began shuffling through his mail again, as he waited for the car’s occupants to show themselves.

The first person out was the driver. In spite of the distance, as well as some low hanging tree branches, Mark could clearly make out a woman with frizzy auburn hair, framing a roundish face, dominated by a pair of over-sized sunglasses. Apparently in a rush, she was hurrying towards the house in a pair of spiked heels, while the bright red sleeveless top and close fitting yellow slacks she wore, emphasized her shapely, but ample figure.

The second person to emerge was a girl with dirty blond hair, who Mark guessed to be about twelve or thirteen. Tall, and slender to the point of being almost lanky, she gazed up at the house for a moment before suddenly noticing that Mark was watching her. 

Embarrassed, Mark cast a brief smile of acknowledgement in her direction, before walking with a quick nonchalance back to his own house and firmly closing the door behind him.

 

Beginning that very evening, Mark noticed how oddly aware he was of his new neighbors. The owner of the house had rented it out many times before, but on those occasions he’d given little thought to the change of tenants.

This time however was different. This time he was acutely conscious of their presence, and the fact that he didn’t understand why bothered him.

There was also the matter of the way he reacted when the girl discovered him looking at her. Suddenly overcome by a sense of self-consciousness so intense that it made him flush, he’d felt as though he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

As a result he found himself hoping that the newcomers would not be there long. 

 

Mark was proud of the garden he’d planted in his backyard; faithfully weeding, mulching and clipping it on a regular basis, and hiring landscapers to come in and do the work when he couldn’t.

Early one evening, Mark uncoiled the garden hose and began watering. Working his way methodically from one bed to the next, until finally he found himself at the rose bushes, which grew near the fence that divided his yard from his neighbor’s.

Pointing the nozzle at the ground beneath the bushes, he was about turn the water on again, when he heard the faint mumble of someone talking. It was coming from next door.

Stepping closer, Mark strained to hear what was being said, but was unable to make out anything more than a few stray words.

It was then he noticed again a forgotten spot where the fence boards had separated. Unable to resist, he stepped carefully around the rose bushes, and stooping over, pressed one eye against the opening. To his surprise it provided a narrow, but otherwise generous view of his neighbor’s porch and backyard.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he scolded himself.

There, sitting back in a chair, with her bare feet resting on the porch’s railing was the same girl he’d seen several days before.

Leisurely smoking a cigarette, she was engaged in an animated conversation with someone on her cell phone.

“I’m so glad she left him,” she said, exhaling a cloud of greyish smoke. “I was worried she might actually marry him.”

Mark allowed his eyes to wander over her body. Letting them linger here and there as he discovered one feature after another that attracted him.

First, he examined every inch of her long thin legs that her denim shorts allowed him to see. At last satisfied, he then turned his attention to her midriff, which was almost completely exposed by the carelessly buttoned rose-colored blouse she was wearing.

“I have my ways,” she commented slyly.

Next his eyes crept over her smallish breasts, just barely discernable through the blouse’s gauzy fabric.

“Of course I miss you,” she said soothingly.

Finally, Mark stared fixedly at her profile. And though he thought it lovely; it was also, disquietingly, neither child nor woman.

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Listen, I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later.”

The girl then stood, and slipping the phone into the pocket of her shorts, began walking towards the backdoor.

“Boys are so stupid,” she laughed aloud, before disappearing inside.

Later that evening, Mark returned to the garden and trimmed away several branches from the rose bush nearest the hole in the fence.

They interfered with his view.

 

Soon Mark learned the sounds that signaled there was someone in his neighbor’s yard. As a result, the squeak and slam of the screen door, the scraping of a chair being moved across the deck, and the faint groan of the porch swing, drew him again and again to the hole in the fence in the hope that it would be the girl, and not her mother on the other side.

One day, having heard through the open window of his office, the sound of his neighbor’s door swinging shut, Mark made his way once more to the fence, and bending over, peered through the opening.

What he saw took his breath away. The girl had spread a blanket on the ground in a sunny spot a short distance away. On it she’d also placed a low slung beach chair, the back of which was angled so that she that could rest against it in a slightly reclined position. Her blondish hair pulled back into a ponytail, she wore dark glasses, and a yellow two-piece bathing suit.

The sight of her lying so close to him made him swoon.

How long Mark watched her he didn’t know. But what seemed to him all too soon, a shrill voice interrupted his reverie, and a moment later the girl got reluctantly to her feet, and with a disgusted look on her face, began walking slowly towards the house.

It was then Mark realized that at some point during the time he’d been watching her he’d dropped to his knees. Rising, he looked down at himself, and discovered that his pants were stained from knee to cuff with the moist brown fertilizer covering the ground where he’d been kneeling.

 

Because of the frequent walks he took, Mark was a well-known fixture in Tulip Farms. During them he would smile, wave, call out an occasional greeting, and sometimes even stop to make small talk with the other residents he encountered. An effort he was willing to make in favor of being thought of as a curmudgeon. 

One bright afternoon as he was returning home, Mark rounded a blind corner in the sidewalk that led to his house, and for the first time came face-to-face with one of his new neighbors.

“Oh,” the woman gasped, startled by Mark’s sudden appearance. “Why you must be Mr. Shafer. I’m Marcia Ericson. My daughter and I moved in a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.”

“I would’ve come over and introduced myself sooner,” he lied smoothly. “But I’ve been rather busy lately.”

“Oh, no need to apologize.”

“So how do you like the neighborhood?”

“It seems very nice. Quiet, especially at night.”

“Not much happens here, which I suppose some people could find a little boring.”

“Not me, I like it that way.”

“Well, now that we’ve met, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he replied somewhat awkwardly, eager to make good his escape from someone whose mere presence felt like an accusation. 

“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? Tonight?” he asked, wary, yet undeniably tempted by the unexpected opportunity her invitation offered to meet the object of his curiosity, provided he could find the courage to accept it. 

“Yes, tonight. I’ve been wanting to get acquainted with my neighbors, and you’d be the perfect place to start.”

Marcia sensed his hesitation.

“Oh please don’t say no.”

“For a moment, I thought I might have other plans,” he dissembled pleasantly. “But as it turns out, I had my nights confused. So I’d be happy to come.”

“Great. Then I’ll see you around seven?”

“Absolutely.”

As he walked away, Mark felt a faint stirring of anticipation.

 

Marcia had evidently found a look she thought suited her, and stuck to it faithfully. Every time Mark had seen her she was wearing some conflicting combination of gaudily colored, close fitting slacks, an equally garish sleeveless blouse, and open-toed high heels.

And tonight was no different.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she enthused as she closed the door behind him.

“The pleasure’s mine.”

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked over her shoulder as she led him towards the living room.

“Whatever you have handy,” he replied as he followed her jiggling, orange clad rear end down the hall.

“I’m making salmon,” she said airily, as she handed him a large glass of wine, and took another for herself. “I hope that’s all right.”

“Love it,” Mark responded, as he took a seat on the couch.

“Oh good. Everything is ready to go anytime, so I thought we could talk for a while. Besides, my daughter isn’t home yet.”

Mark’s stomach tightened at her mention of the girl.

Until that moment he hadn’t been certain she’d be there. And now that he knew she would be, he became nervous at the prospect of actually meeting her.

“So, I hear you’re a writer.”

“More of a scribbler,” he confessed modestly.

“But you do sell what you write?”

“Mostly articles for different on-line publications. And every now and then I get a short story published. Although so far those haven’t brought in any money.”

“Well, you must be good at what you do, or else people wouldn’t pay you for it would they?”

“The pay’s all right,” he said off-handedly, as though the matter was of little importance. “Although I would be happier if I sold fewer articles and more short stories.”

“I do a little writing myself.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mr. Shafer,” she began somewhat coyly.

“My father was Mr. Shafer,” he corrected her good-naturedly. “My name is Mark.”

“Only if you call me Marcia.”

“Of course.”

“I really don’t want to impose,” she continued. “But as I mentioned, I’ve been doing a little writing myself, and I’d appreciate the opportunity to show it to a real author.”

Mark looked at her for a moment, and weighing the pros and cons of her request, decided to gamble.

“Why I‘d be happy to take a look at what you have. I know how hard it can be to get an objective opinion.”

“Oh that would be wonderful,” she declared enthusiastically, as she finished her wine with a celebratory air. “Would you like some more?” she asked as she refilled her glass, unmindful of the fact that Mark had barely touched his first.

“No thanks, I’m still working on this one.”

“All right then, I’ll go get it for you,” she said excitedly, as she leapt to her feet, and with glass in hand, left the room.

She returned a moment later, walking so fast that she wobbled slightly on her spikey heels, and handed Mark a folder, which he opened. Inside were several pages of what at first glance looked more like a collection of random notes than an outline or even a series of coherent sentences.

“You had it all ready for me,” he grinned. “You must have been pretty sure I’d say yes.”

“I consider myself an excellent judge of character.”

Just then, Mark heard one of the sounds he’d come to know so well over the past few weeks. Someone was using the backdoor to enter the house.

“That must be my daughter,” Marcia said as she started towards the kitchen. “You just sit there and relax, while I say hello and finish making dinner.”

A moment later Marcia disappeared through the door to the kitchen, which swung shut behind her.

Almost immediately Mark began hearing the sounds of hushed but angry voices coming from within. From what little he could hear, Marcia was upset with the girl for being late, while the other responded with typical adolescent stubbornness. In the meantime Mark remained in his seat on the couch; thumbing idly through the folder Marcia had given him in an effort to appear as though he wasn’t listening.

“Hi, I’m Cody,” said a young, but unmistakably feminine voice.

Glancing upwards, Mark got his first close look at the face he’d been studying from distance for the past three weeks.

“Hi,” he replied, a bit startled. “I’m Mark Shafer, your neighbor from next door.”

“Yeah I know, the writer. Marcia said you were coming over.”

“Do you always call your mother by her first name?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“She and my father were married, but she’s not my mother,” the girl explained earnestly. “She just likes to call me her daughter because she thinks it’ll help us bond or something.”

Cody then walked casually around the couch and unceremoniously plunked herself down so close to Mark that they were almost touching. Mark tried to remain blasé, because in spite of the fact that he was forcing himself to look only into her eyes, he could plainly see in his peripheral vision that the hem of Cody’s skirt was resting well above her knees.

For a long moment Cody stared at him with a look of concern, while Mark attempted to conceal his unease at being so near the object of his fascination.

“Do I need braces?”

“Braces?” he repeated, confused by the girl’s unprefaced question.

“There, you see that?” she asked, with an exaggerated grin as she showed him her lower front teeth. “You see those two? Do they look crooked?”

“Maybe a little. Have you asked a dentist?”

“He says they’ll straighten themselves out.”

“He’s probably right,” Mark said, reassuringly. “I had the same thing, and mine did.”

Cody’s face brightened momentarily at Mark’s answer, before quickly reverting back to the same quizzical expression she’d been wearing before.

“What are you doing here?” she inquired bluntly, catching Mark by surprise with another abrupt segue.

“I was invited to dinner.”

“Why?” she asked, childishly unmindful of how such a question might be taken. “You’re not the type she usually goes for.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he corrected. “It’s just a chance for new neighbors to get acquainted.”

“Hey wait a minute! Has she asked you to do anything for her?”

“Not really. I’m going to look over something she wrote. But I’m doing that as a favor.”

“I knew it,” she declared, just as Marcia came through the kitchen door with a tray full of food and headed towards the dining room.

“She uses people,” she added in a hushed voice the moment Marcia’s back was turned.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Mark whispered in reply, gratified by the opportunity to establish a rapport with the girl by agreeing to heed her warning.

“Come and get your appetizers you two,” Marcia called out, as she motioned Mark and Cody towards the table. “The salmon will be ready in a few minutes.”

In spite of the fact that the vegetables were over cooked, the fish under cooked, and the wine red instead of white, Mark played the part of a gracious guest until finally he decided it was time to leave.

As Marcia and Mark exchanged their goodbyes at the door, Cody hung back, sullenly nodding her head in Mark’s direction when he said goodnight, but otherwise saying nothing.

Just then Marcia’s phone, which was on a small table along with her purse and car keys, began ringing. Picking it up, she looked at the screen to see who was calling. The next second she turned it off, and with an expression of barely concealed disquiet, placed it back on the table.

The pleasantries concluded, Mark turned to go, but not before he noticed the look of satisfaction on Cody’s face at the sight of Marcia’s discomfort.

 

Mark waited until Marcia’s car had disappeared around the corner before going next door and ringing the bell.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Hi Cody, how’re you today?”

“I’m good,” she responded lazily, as she leaned against the open door.

“Is Marcia home?” he asked, disingenuously. “I came to return her notes.”

“No. But she’ll be back soon. You wanna come in and wait?”

Soon, Mark was settling himself in the same corner of the living room couch that he’d occupied the night before, while Cody took a seat at the other end.

“So whata ya think?”

“Of what?”

“That thing she wanted you to read,” she answered, waving dismissively at the folder Mark was holding.

“She has an interesting idea for a story,” he said evasively. “But it needs development.”

“You didn’t like it did you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” she retorted. “Follow me, I want to show you something.”

Cody led Mark to another room in which the process of unpacking had not yet begun.

“This room is what Marcia calls her office,” Cody remarked flippantly as she poked at a pile of neatly labeled cardboard boxes. “Every one of these is something she started, but never finished. Those,” she said pointing to several nearby cartons. “Are full of catalogues from colleges she never went to. This one,” she continued, pointing at another. “Is the jewelry company she didn’t start. This one is the flower shop, and that one the boutique. She does this kind of stuff all the time,” she concluded as she led him back to the living room. “This is just the newest one.”

“You know,” he said, as they resumed their seats. “I’m beginning to get the feeling that you don’t like your stepmother.”

“She’s not my stepmother.”

“So she’s not your mother or your stepmother?”

“No, she’s Marcia,” the girl replied flatly, as if no further explanation was required. “She’s just Marcia.”

“Okay,” he said, sensing for the first time the depth of Cody’s resentment.

“Why? Do you like her?” 

“She seems nice enough.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That she killed him.”

“Killed who?”

“My father.”

“Really?” he replied skeptically, certain that whatever happened, there had to be a less melodramatic explanation.

“You don’t believe me,” she declared with a defiant toss of her head.

“It’s not that,” Mark explained soothingly. “It’s only that you sort of took me by surprise. I mean it’s just not the kind of thing you hear everyday. So, tell me,” he asked, tempting her with his most sympathetic tone of voice. “What happened?”

“My mother died when I was born,” she began in a near whisper.

“I’m sorry.” 

“No need,” she said with a shrug, as though the intervening years had mitigated her loss. “It was a long time ago. After that, dad started a real estate company, and spent the next few years building it. Then he met Marcia,” she continued with an unconcealed hostility. “And soon after that they got married. But right away she started in on him about how he should be making more money. Then she introduced him to a friend of her father’s named Sal. She convinced dad to take him on as a partner, because she said they could use his money to grow the business. After that I didn’t see much of him. He was always working. But even that wasn’t enough for her. Because then she started complaining that he wasn’t spending enough time with her. Finally he died of a heart attack.”

“And you blame her for it?”

“There was nothing wrong with him before he met her,” she retorted, as if it rendered her accusation conclusive. “It was all her fault. And guess how long it was before she started dating again?”

“I have no idea.”

“A month! One month! And guess who it was?”

“Sal?”

“That woman! She’s so fuckin’ needy. That’s what dad used to say about her. She always has to have a man around to pay attention to her. Or else be doing something that makes her feel important, like one of those stupid projects she never finishes. But now she’s getting hers.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, intrigued by her story.

“After she started dating Sal, he began taking over.”

“Taking over?”

“Yeah, taking over,” she repeated angrily. “The business, the money, her, everything. He even wanted her to marry him. But the best part was when she tried to talk to him about the company,” she continued delightedly. “First, he slapped her around. Then he told her that from then on he was running things, even though Marcia owns more of the company than he does. But it didn’t stop there,” she went on excitedly. “She actually had the guts to leave him. That’s how we came here. Now he’s looking for us and calling her on the phone, trying to get her to come back to him. It makes her so nervous that she shakes all the time and then drinks to calm herself down. But he’ll find us soon, and then it’ll start all over again.”

“How can you be so sure he’ll find you?”

“People like him have ways.”

“What do you mean people like him?”

“Dad never knew it, but Sal’s a crook.”

“How do you know?”

“When he and Marcia fight, they say all kinds of things.”

“You mean Marcia knows about him?”

“Sure she does. It’s one of the reasons she likes him. He’s a bad boy.”  

“You don’t sound too worried about it.”

“I’m not,” she said confidently. “Because no matter what Marcia and Sal do, I’ll be all right.”

“How’s that?”

“Dad died before he could get rid of Sal, but he did set up a trust fund for me. I get it when I turn twenty-one.”

“That was smart of him.”

“You know the weird thing is that she still cares about Sal. She‘s just too afraid to take him back. I guess she’s not as dumb as she looks. Anyway she’s just getting what she deserves. You know, he even calls me.”

“You mean Sal?”

“Yeah,” Cody replied, with a sly grin. “He calls asking me to help him get back with her. Telling me how sorry he is that he hit her, and how he’ll never do it again. He even tries to get me to meet him. But I won’t do it. He creeps me out. But he creeps Marcia out even more. That’s why I encourage him.”

“What’s he like?”

“Total guido,” she said grimacing. “It embarrasses me that she slept with him.”

“Aren’t you taking a risk by telling me this?”

“You won’t say anything.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’ve seen you looking at me.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frightened that she knew about him spying on her through the fence.

“It’s not the same way you look at Marcia,” she explained, as she moved towards him. “It’s because you like me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Then say you don’t.”

“You’re assuming a lot.”

“Okay, tell me I’m wrong.”

“Besides, what makes you think I’d take that kind of a chance?”

“Maybe because you’re hoping I like men more than boys,” she said now close enough to whisper.

“And I suppose you do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked, trying to appear blasé.

“Because they understand that everything’s a deal. You give something, you get something.”

“You know a lot for your age.”

“I see what works.”

Mark turned and impulsively kissed her. Finding that she didn’t reject him, his kisses grew more impassioned, until at last he began seeking those places that until then he’d known only in imagination.

All to soon however, the sound of Marcia coming through the front door forced them to retreat to opposite ends of the couch.

And although Mark struggled to maintain his composure, Cody seemed to revert effortlessly back to her role as a thirteen year old girl the moment Marcia entered the room.

After he went somewhat nervously through his notes with Marcia, Mark declined the offer of a drink, and excusing himself on the false pretext of an early morning conference call he needed to prepare for, hastily left.

For the rest of the evening Mark could think of little else except what had happened with Cody. And yet despite the knowledge of what he’d done, and whom he’d done it with, he felt no guilt over what transpired between them.

For the encounter convinced him that Cody was a woman beyond her years; and therefore saw no harm in treating her like one.

 

Immediately Mark began taking steps to ensure that he and Marcia remained strictly friends. To that end he created a current girlfriend out of a picture he still had of a former one. And completed the fiction by placing her in another state.

The situation, as he explained it, was that although their careers kept them apart, they were nonetheless committed to making their relationship work.

Marcia thought their determination was romantic. But as Mark hoped, she was so self-absorbed that she rarely asked about his fictitious girlfriend.

Instead Marcia spent much of her time in a state of perpetual anxiety, as she spoke almost daily with the lawyers and accountants who were protecting her dead husband’s business from her former lover’s sometimes underhanded efforts to control it.

Cody too was a constant cause of distraction for her. Contemptuous, and sometimes even hostile, she treated Marcia’s rules as suggestions, and ignored completely her half-hearted attempts at discipline.

Yet another area concern for her was maintaining the steady stream of usually decent, but on occasion, unsavory men she dated; a task at which, though time consuming, she exceled.

Dead last on her list of priorities was her commitment to becoming a writer. It was a faltering effort that Mark nevertheless encouraged as a way of keeping himself in the picture.

As a result, between his roles as neighbor, friend and mentor, there were more than enough reasons for him to be involved with the Ericson family without arousing Marcia’s suspicions.

 

As the days went by, and Mark became more and more preoccupied with Cody, he soon began to feel the need to follow her. It did not take long for him to familiarize himself with her schedule. And once he did, he planned his day around it.

One afternoon, as Mark was heading home after having watched Cody and her friends as they gathered around a bench that was their customarily meeting place in the yard at Cody’s school, he heard the screech of automobile tires. Glancing out his window, he saw a woman walk over to a car, and begin shouting. A moment later the driver got out to confront her. Mark chuckled at the sight of him. He was so stereotypical that he looked almost cartoonish.

Of more or less average height, but with a noticeable paunch visible under his colorfully patterned polyester shirt, he possessed a dark complexion and slick black hair, which together with the jeweled rings on his pudgy fingers, and the gold chain around his neck, gave him the gaudy appearance of a character from a gangster movie.

The next second, the light turned green and Mark drove off down the street, leaving the incident at the intersection behind.

It was not until a short time later that the image of the man coalesced into a coherent memory.

Suddenly Mark remembered having seen him before. Always, he soon realized, when he’d been watching Cody.

A moment’s reflection revealed the truth.

Cody was right.

Sal had found them.

 

From then on Mark became not only more careful in his surveillance of Cody, but more determined as well.

In spite of his precautions however, it soon became obvious that Sal was as aware of him, as he was of Sal. As a result an undeclared game of cat and mouse soon developed, as each tried to catch the other in the act.

 

A week later, Mark backed his car out of the garage. And as he paused in the driveway to buckle his seat belt, the passenger side door suddenly opened, and to Mark’s astonishment, his adversary got in.

“You really should lock your doors,” he suggested. “Even in a neighborhood like this, you never know who’s around.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Mark replied evenly, trying to appear calm.

“You know who I am?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time at Marcia’s place.”

“I’m a friend of the family.”

“And you’ve been followin’ Cody.”

“What of it?”

“So what are they to you?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“I have a lot invested in them.”

“And?”

“That makes it my business.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Take it any way you like.”

“You know,” Mark rejoined. “This is my property, which means you’re trespassing.”

“Relax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt.”

“What do you mean hurt?”

“Just a figure of speech. You’ve heard of those, haven’t ya Mark?”

“And who said you could call me by my first name?”

“All right professor,” he retorted blandly. “We’ll keep it formal.”

A brief but hostile silence ensued.

“So what is it?”

“What’s what’?”

“I’m warnin’ you,” Sal said coldly. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Okay, here it is,” Mark replied with finality. “I’m a neighbor. Period.”

“Nothing else?”

“Marcia asked me to help with her writing.”

“Writing?” he laughed. “She’s trippin’ again. And what about Cody?”

“You’re the one whose been following her. I’m just keeping an eye on you.”

“If you think I’m dangerous, why don’t you call the cops?”

“I have no proof that you’re up to anything. So what would I say?”

“And that’s it?”

“More or less.”

“You’re a liar.”

“You know, maybe I will call the cops.”

“Go ahead,” he challenged. “You tell ‘em your story, I’ll tell ‘em mine, and then there’ll be an official record of the whole thing.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Keep your nose outa my business.”

“Another threat?”

“Like I said, take it any way you want.”

“The bigger the bluster…”

“Listen professor,” Sal interrupted. “I‘m not like Cody’s dad. I don’t bother with that straight-up middle-class crap. Too many people who think they got rights. I deal strictly with the low-income stuff. That’s where the easy money is. The houses are overpriced money pits with government guaranteed loans. And the apartment buildings legal slums with low maintenance costs. I keep the law away by payin’ off the city’s building inspectors, and the tenant’s in-line with service disruptions and the threat of a tune up if they complain. That’s how I make my money. I’ve been arrested, jailed, and sued more times than I can count. But somehow, I always come out on top. So what makes you think I’d let somebody like you get in my way?”

“I’m not one of your tenants.”

“It’s enough that you know I’ll do what I have to.”

“We all will.”

“I’m tellin’ you,” he warned again. “Stay outa my business.”

“It is interesting though.”

“What is?”

“It makes sense that you’d be preoccupied with Marcia. After all, if you could persuade her to take you back, you’d stand a good chance of getting your hands on the rest of the company.”

“Marcia always did talk too much.”

“But then why your interest in Cody?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“With you following her around, I was worried about her safety.”

“Bullshit. The only reason you spotted me is because you’re doin’ the same thing.”

Mark didn’t answer.

“So have you tried yet?”

“Tried what?”

“Mind if I smoke?” Sal asked as he lit up.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I do.”

“I mean,” he began, exhaling through his nose, so that the smoke rose up between them. “Have you tried to fuck her?”

“Why I’d never…”

“Yeah you’d never,” he interjected sarcastically. “Why else would a guy your age follow around a thirteen year old girl?”

Again Mark made no reply.

“That’s what I thought,” Sal remarked, answering his own question. “If you haven’t tried yet, you will. But you know what’s really funny? You think that because you’re from a higher class of people than I am that you’re better than me. But you’re not. ‘Cause I can see right through you professor – and in a lot of ways there’s not much difference between us.”

Still Mark kept his silence.

“Just remember,” Sal warned as he placed his hand on the door handle. “Sometimes stuff happens when people get involved in things they shouldn’t.”

The next moment he was gone.

 

The more Mark thought about what had transpired between he and Sal, the angrier he became. Because in addition to feeling humiliated by and resentful of the fact that Sal knew the truth about his intentions towards Cody; the mere idea of Sal touching her with his chubby, bejeweled fingers sickened him.

And although he was undecided about to do next, of at least one thing he was certain.

Circumstances were now at the point where there was no option but for him to take matters into his own hands.

 

As before, Mark waited until he saw Marcia drive away before he went over.

“It’s open,” Cody called out after Mark rang the bell.

Entering, Mark made certain that he locked the door behind him before walking down the hall to the living room where he found Cody reclining on the coach, watching music videos on a large screen TV.

“Here are your cigarettes,” he said as he placed them on the coffee table.

“The lighter?” she asked, looking up at him. “Did you remember the lighter?”

“Right here,” he replied as he took it from his pocket and placed it near the cigarettes.

“Oh great,” she said enthusiastically as she snatched both from the table, and quickly opening the pack, took out a cigarette and lit it. 

“Sit down,” she said, gesturing towards the far end of the couch, as she curled up her legs to make room for him.

Sitting down, Mark leaned back comfortably against the cushions. The next second Cody extended her legs again so that her feet were resting on his lap.

“Rub ’em,” she said, grinning at him through a cloud of smoke.

Mark had never touched anyone’s feet before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it now.

“Don’t be shy, you’ll like it,” she said, noticing his hesitation. “I promise,” she added, as she gently pressed one of her feet against his crotch.

Embarrassed by the response it provoked, Mark took her foot in his hands and tentatively began massaging the sole. The touch of her soon overcame his reluctance.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?” she asked, gratified by the sight of Mark kneading her foot.

“That ex-boyfriend of your mother’s, Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s back.”

“I told you.”

“And, he’s been following you around.”

“Really?” she replied indifferently. “What makes you think so?”

“Because I saw him doing it, so I began following him.”

“You see? You do like me,” she remarked, as she again pressed her foot against Mark’s crotch.

“So does Sal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s not just after Marcia and the business, but you too.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“You talked to him?” Cody asked excitedly, as she raised herself to a sitting position.

“Sure did.”

“You know,” Cody began. “When they were dating, I used to wonder why he went out of his way to get close to me. And the phone calls about getting back together with her,” she said thoughtfully. “He always ends the conversation by asking me to meet him.”

“He’s ambitious. He wants everything, and he thinks he can get it.”

“Eww,” Cody exclaimed, her face twisted into an expression of disgust. “That is so gross. Hey, ya know, maybe I’ll tell her. Can you imagine what she’d do if she found out that Sal was using her to get to me?”

The idea amused her.

“What? You don’t think it’s funny?” she asked when she noticed Mark wasn’t laughing along with her.

“I thought it would scare you.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“Your not?”

“No.”

“Why? You know he can be violent.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m telling you he won’t,” she said impatiently.

Afraid of making her angry, Mark decided not to press the matter.

“So are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That Sal’s found you?”

“No. He’ll let her know he’s around when he wants to. In the meantime it’ll be more fun watching her sweat.”

“What about the other thing?”

“Maybe someday,” she said grinning.

“So, you’ve been following me too?” Cody asked after a brief of silence.

“Yes.”

“Why? Are you concerned about my safety? Or do you think I might let him do something as a way of getting back at Marcia?”

“You are devious.”

“You’re worried aren’t you?” she asked cunningly, ignoring his comment.

“About what?”

“That something might come between us; maybe even take me away from you.”

Her perspicacity blindsided him into silence.

“Go ahead,” she said, looking at him squarely in the eyes. “Do it. I want you to.”

“What?” he asked, wanting desperately to hear her say the words.

But a look of disappointment was all she gave him.

Cody knelt beside him, and bending over, kissed him on the lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck, she then slid slowly backwards onto the couch, pulling him on top of her.

Mark neither doubted, nor really questioned, anything he felt about Cody again.

He surrendered to it.

 

Despite it being the focal point, the reason for everything he was doing, Mark was shocked when it was over.

“You’re not going to get all guilty about it are you?” Cody asked, as she lay propped up against the pillows.

At first Mark didn’t answer. The last two hours with Cody had been the most erotic of his life. But despite the fact that he knew he would never regret what had happened, he was also nevertheless aware that a line had been crossed. For in the eyes of the world he was now, not merely a criminal, but also a deviant. And whatever else happened from then on, nothing would ever change it.

“Some people would think what we did was immoral.”

“Not to mention illegal,” she laughed. “One thing’s for sure though; after this, you’ll never think about anybody else the same way again.”

“Modesty will never become you.”

“What?”

“Never mind, it’s something that wouldn’t occur to you anyway.”

“Then why say it? Was that some kind of insult?”

Mark knew from experience that Cody’s temper could be unpredictable, and he realized immediately that he’d provoked it.

“No, I promise.”

Cody looked at him suspiciously for a moment, and then climbing out of bed, walked naked to the bathroom. Nudging the door partially shut, she then sat down on the toilet. Mark listened to her urinating. And though he was embarrassed to admit it even to himself, the sound of it aroused him.

Mark paid little attention to the concept of morality. It seemed so malleable; one thing one moment, and another the next. However because he saw himself as an intellectual, he’d always been able to explain away his lack of commitment to it by convincing himself that he was philosophically bold, and intellectually fearless enough to discard old values in the face of current circumstances. But that was never really so. Instead it was the result of a weak, vacillating and narcissistic character that bent in whatever direction the prevailing wind was blowing. In the end making him little more than a social misfit with a self-inflicted case of moral entropy.

Now he was willingly giving up what little he still retained of it for the chance to possess a willful, egotistical, and dangerously intelligent child-woman who could destroy him with a few improvident words.

And he wasn’t even her first.

 

“What do you mean a date?”

“I mean what it sounds like,” Cody replied absentmindedly, as she shuffled through the clothes hanging in her closet.

“With who?”

“A guy from school.”

“Where are you going?”

“A dance.”

“Where?”

“At school.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Now don’t be that way,” she replied impatiently. “He’s nobody. Besides, I can’t just hang around here all the time. Marcia would start asking questions. And we don’t want that to happen do we? Which skirt looks better?”

“That one,” he mumbled, pointing to the hanger in her right hand.

Cody chose the one on the hanger in her left, and laid it on the bed along side the rest of the clothes she wanted to wear that night.

Walking to the bathroom, she then took off her robe and stepped naked into the shower, while Mark looked on from his seat on a small bench nearby.

“Do my back,” she said, holding out a washcloth.

 Obediently, Mark reached into the shower and began washing her.

“I said my back,” she scolded, as his hand moved towards her buttocks.

“Then when?”

“When I get home.”

“What about Marcia?” he asked, still stroking her with the washcloth.

“She won’t be home tonight. She took a bag with her.”

A short time later Cody’s date arrived to pick her up, while Mark stayed safely out of sight upstairs.

 

For the rest of the evening, Mark brooded about his life with Cody. Because regardless of hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he could no longer deny that it was she who enjoyed the upper hand in their relationship. Indeed, it was a measure of how far he’d fallen that he had actually helped her get ready for a date with a boy far less than half his age; only to be left waiting until she returned so that he could make love to her.

Even for their brief time together it was a new low.

Nevertheless – confident that he could overcome whatever she felt for her adolescent boyfriends – Mark knew that the principal threat to his future with Cody was Sal. And therefore, regardless of the risks it might entail – he knew he had to get rid of him.

The question was how.

But of at least one thing he was certain.

Only he truly cared for Cody.

And he would do whatever it took to keep her.

 

“So what’s so important that you wanted to see me right away?”

“I want to talk to you about something face-to-face, and the guy who’s been watching you isn’t here right now.”

A look of apprehension immediately swept across Marcia’s face.

“Watching me?” she asked warily, as she walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a drink.

“That’s right. Maybe you’ve noticed the car, a big, white El Dorado?”

“No, I can’t say I have,” she replied, as she stood with her back to him, and sipped repeatedly from her glass.

“You’re in trouble aren’t you?”

“Trouble?” she asked innocently.

“Whatever the problem is, I hope you know you can trust me.”

“You shouldn’t get involved.”

“I’m already involved.”

“What do you mean?”

“I met him.”

“You met him?” she gasped, turning quickly in his direction. “How? When?”

“About a week ago. I was sitting in my car, and he just got in.”

“What did he want?”

“Apparently he thinks I’m getting too close to you and Cody.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“I told him we’re just friends.”

“And?”

“He didn’t believe me.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“He said a lot of things. The most important of which was he threatened me.”

“Oh God,” she exclaimed, collapsing into a chair. “I never thought…”

“Tell me about it.”

“You shouldn’t be involved,” she said again.

“It’s too late for that now.”

Marcia bit her lip nervously and looked away, as though trying to decide what to do.

“Come on,” he encouraged. “I know you want to.”

“It started long before I met Cody’s father,” she began resignedly. “Mat never knew that Sal was anything more than an acquaintance. But the truth is, we were lovers, all through both of his marriages as well as the first of mine. After I married Cody’s father I broke it off. But once Mat and I started having problems, it just seemed natural for Sal and I to get back together.”

“Then what?”

“Sal saw an opportunity.”

“What opportunity?”

“The chance to use Mat’s company to launder money. Poor Mat. He thought Sal was just an investor. I even talked him into believing that the rumors he heard about Sal weren’t true. Even though they were. And then when Mat died, Sal figured all he had to do was marry me and everything would be his. And you know, I’m such a fool I would have done it, if it hadn’t been for…”

“For what?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

“Tell me.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It is now.” he insisted. “Why Marcia? Why wouldn’t you do it?”

Marcia didn’t answer, but instead, went back to the liquor cabinet, and began pouring herself another drink.

“It was Cody wasn’t it?”

Marcia stopped pouring, and with a trembling hand, put the bottle down.

“Somehow she was a part of it.”

She said not a word, but Mark could hear her crying softly.

“He not only wanted you, and the business. He wanted her too, didn’t he?”

Marcia shook her head slowly in denial.

“That’s why you moved. Not to get away from Sal yourself; but to keep him away from Cody.”

“All right yes, damn it,” Marcia screamed as she spun around to face him. “I would have done it. I would have done it all, if I’d only been sure…”

“That he loves you,” Mark interjected, finishing the sentence for her.

Burying her face in her hands, Marcia nodded wordlessly in reply.

“You bitch,” Cody screamed, as she burst through the kitchen door and made straight for Marcia.

Mark stepped behind Cody, and grabbing her around the waist, held her back as she tried to strike out at Marcia with her hands and feet.

“My God, how long have you been listening?” Marcia gasped.

“Long enough,” Cody shouted. “I came in through the kitchen door a couple of minutes ago.”

Marcia, at last realizing that the truth was out, sank to the floor and wept uncontrollably.

Looking on, his arms still holding onto Cody as she struggled to break free, Mark couldn’t help but wonder if the real reason Marcia was crying was from shame at her willingness to use Cody as a pawn in order to secure Sal’s love, or because she’d been caught at it.

 

An hour or so later, after the initial trauma of Marcia’s confession began to wear off, the three of them sat together in the living room.

“How could dad have ever married somebody like you?” Cody sneered, as she sat curled up in a chair. “Maybe I’ll tell aunt Margaret on you. That would do it real fast wouldn’t it?”

“Do what?” Mark asked.

“If Marcia is proven to be an unfit guardian, I can go live with my aunt. But then she’d lose control, wouldn’t you Marcia?”

“Control of what?”

“My allowance,” Cody snapped. “I know you don’t spend it all on me. So why don’t you tell us how much of it you keep for yourself?”

“That’s not true.”

“And then there’s the trust fund dad left me,” she continued, ignoring Marcia’s denial. “You still haven’t given up on the idea of getting some of it for yourself, have you?” 

“Money has nothing to do with it. And anyway, you know you couldn’t stand living with Margaret. She’s way too strict.”

“Better there than here.” Cody retorted. “At least she wouldn’t be looking the other way while some grease ball molested me. That’s the real reason you never got that order of protection, isn’t it? In spite of what he might do to me, you were afraid you might lose him. And there’s no way you were gonna risk that.”

“Is that true Marcia?” Mark asked, hoping to force her into another admission of guilt.

“Of course not. I’m as afraid of Sal as she is.”

“Bullshit.” 

“It’s not bullshit. Why do you think I moved us here?”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Cody shouted angrily. “Without the order of protection, moving doesn’t mean anything. You knew he’d find us. And you know as well I do that Sal never does anything he doesn’t want to do unless there’s a threat behind it.”

“Well it seems to me you have grounds,” Mark interjected; unnerved by the possibility that Cody could go to live with her aunt. “So if your attorney suggested it, why don’t you get one? After all, the threat of legal action might be just the thing you need to make sure he stays away from both of you. At least it might cause him to have second thoughts about it.”

“I never did it because I didn’t want to make any trouble for him,” Marcia moaned woefully. “I really thought moving away would be enough.”

“There, ya see?” Cody said dismissively. “She’s still trying to protect him.”

“No, I will,” she conceded. “I’ll get one right away. In fact, I’ll call the lawyer in the morning.”

 

Just as he was about to leave, Marcia took Mark aside and quietly asked him to sleep over in the guest room. After the tumultuous events of the evening, she was afraid that Cody might confront her again during the night, and hoped that Mark’s presence might serve as a deterrent.

Finally, after a good deal of hesitation about the wisdom of placing himself between them, lest he inadvertently offend one or the other by being forced to take sides, he agreed. Deciding in the end that his apparent willingness to help would be interpreted by Marcia as yet another sign of his concern for her.

 

“Move over,” she whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Mark asked, surprised at the sight of Cody standing by his bed.

“Trying to get in.”

“Marcia’s right upstairs.”

“Marcia,” Cody replied matter-of-factly. “Drank a whole bottle of wine, and then chased it with a couple of sleeping pills before bed. She’ll be out ‘til morning.”

“It’s still risky.”

“All right I’ll go – if you really want me to.”

A moment later she was under the covers.

Shortly before dawn, Cody slipped from the bed and put on her nightdress.

“I hope you got what you were looking for,” Mark said as he watched her.

“Part of the reason I like older men,” she replied as she sat down next to him. “Is because they make me feel safe, and wanted. And last night I needed both.”

“So glad I could help.”

“What’s the matter with you?” 

“Nothing,” he answered resignedly. “Nothing at all. Shouldn’t you be getting back to your room?”

“Are you throwing me out now that you’ve had your way with me?” she asked playfully, resting her head on his shoulder.

“As if I could.”

Cody grinned at the words affirming his devotion to her.

“Tell me, what do you think Sal will do when he finds out about the order of protection?”

“Probably slap her around.”

“In spite of the order?”

“She won’t report him,” she said confidently. “It might keep him away from me though.”

“It’s all about you Cody.”

“It has to be about somebody,” she retorted. “So why not me? Besides, if I don’t take care of myself who will?”

“Isn’t that what you have me for?”

“Yes.”

“Then why ask the question?”

“’Cause I’m not always sure you really want the job,” she said as she got to her feet. “If you’re still here, I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Cody closed the door behind her, leaving him alone in the still darkened room.

Mark stared vacantly at the ceiling; and as he did so, he thought again of the incomprehensible thing that had taken control of him.

A thought that aroused once more the unsettling awareness that there were potentially dire consequences to his relationship with Cody that his passion for her had so far allowed him to ignore; even as a small, nearly inaudible voice persistently reminded him of the danger.

As Cody walked back to her room, she reviewed the video she’d shot of Mark sleeping next to her, and stored it with the others she intended to combine with the corresponding entries already in her diary. 

 

The next night, as Mark was settling down to read, he suddenly heard the sound of someone knocking on his back door. Making his way quickly to the kitchen, he switched on the light, and peeking through the curtains saw Cody standing on the porch tapping frantically on the glass.

“Quick,” Cody said urgently as soon as Mark had let her in. “Lock it and turn the light out.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s Sal.”

“He’s here?”

“Yeah, he just showed up at the door, and when I wouldn’t let him in he started breaking it down. So I ran out the back and came over here.”

“Did you call the police?”

“I didn’t even have time to grab my phone. Where’s yours?”

“I think I left it in the car.”

Just then came the sound of breaking glass.

“Hey professor,” Sal shouted through the smashed window. “I came to get Cody.”

“What do you want Sal?” Mark yelled back.

“I just told you,” he replied, followed by the crash of another window breaking.

Mark moved swiftly through the darkened house until he caught a glimpse of Sal standing in the backyard holding a baseball bat, taking empty cuts at the air. Seizing the opportunity, he ran to the garage, and after snatching his phone from the dashboard of his car, reentered to the house, just as Sal broke another window.

“Hey professor, are you listening to me?” Sal asked as he swung at another window, shattering it.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Mark shouted. “Oh no,” he then said turning to Cody.

“What is it?”

“The battery’s almost dead.”

“Hey professor?”

“What?” he yelled back, as he switched on the phone and listened for a signal.

“I’m waiting.”

“She not here.”

“Don’t jerk me around professor. Do you know why I’m using a bat to break your windows? To show you what I’ll do to you if you get between me and Cody.”

“Hello, hello,” Mark spoke into the phone.

Sal broke another window in response to Mark’s silence.

“I’m running out of windows down here.”

“All right, all right,” Mark replied. “Go ahead,” he urged her. “Keep him talking while I try to get through.”

“I’m here Sal,” Cody called out, her voice steady.

“It’s good to hear ya baby.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Hello, 911,” Mark said as loudly as dared into the phone. “Hello, hello.”

“What do you want Sal?”

“Oh baby, after what you said, how can you ask me?”

“Hello, 911?” Mark said excitedly, when the operator answered. “There’s a man trying to break into my house at number twenty six Tulip Farms. Can you hear me?”

“Tell them he has a gun,” Cody whispered.

Mark looked at her quizzically.

“Go ahead,” she prodded. “They’ll take it more seriously.”

Still Mark hesitated.

“He really might you know,” Cody assured him. “I’ve seen him with one before. And if he’s got it with him, he’ll get in more trouble.”

“Yes, can you still hear me?  Yes, that’s right number twenty-six. And operator, he says he has a gun.”

“I just called the cops,” Mark yelled to Sal as he hung up. “They’re on their way.”

“So until then I guess it’s just the three of us.”

“The more damage you do, the worse you make it for yourself,” Mark warned.

“What are they gonna do? Arrest me for vandalism?”

“It’ll be more than vandalism.”

“I’ll take the heat. It’s worth it to show you I mean business.”

“More threats?”

“Call it anything you want.” 

“In case you haven’t heard, Marcia has an order of protection now. They take those things pretty seriously ya know.”

“An order of protection,” he chuckled. “Why don’t ya tell him Cody?”

“What did you do?” Mark asked her suspiciously.

Cody shook her head in answer.

“What have you done with Marcia Sal?”

“She’s at my place,” he said, taking more cuts at the empty air with his bat, as if warming up to break another window. “But she’s not seein’ anybody.”

“What did you do to her?”

“None of your business,” he replied as he broke another window.

“For Christ sake, you’ve got my attention. Will you stop breaking the damn windows?” Mark yelled, as he snuck a look at Sal through the shattered glass.

“I don’t think I do. Cody, tell him to let you go. You said it’d be different now.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“He’s drunk,” she said dismissively.

“What are you talking about Sal?”

“She called and told me what Marcia was doing. So I waited for her in the parking lot of the lawyer’s office, and when she showed up, I persuaded her ta come over to my place.”

“How’d you persuade her?”

“How do ya think?”

“Just wanted to know if I guessed right.”

“Hey, I told you I do what’s gotta be done.”

From somewhere off in the distance Mark could hear the high-pitched wail of sirens approaching.

“Here they come professor,” Sal said, cocking his head towards the sound. “Maybe I should just call my lawyer right now, he can meet me down there with the bail.”

“So how many times did you hit her?” Marked asked, hoping to keep Sal talking until the police got there.

“Just enough to get her attention. That was the problem. She was overdue for a reminder. Besides, I never give her more than she really wants for her to be sure I still care about her. It won’t be long now baby,” he continued, addressing Cody again. “We’ll be one, big happy family, just like you said.”

By time he finished speaking, the sirens had grown so loud they were nearly deafening, while flashes of red and blue light stabbed frantically at the darkness.

“You stupid wop! Did you really think I’d ever let you touch me?” Cody screamed as she stepped out of the shadows so that he could see her through one of the broken windows; the crazy red and blue lights swirling madly around her.

Sal gaped in surprise. 

“Police, drop your weapon,” an amplified voice demanded over the cacophony of screeching sirens.

At that Mark left the cover of the book case he was been hiding behind, and grabbing Cody, pulled her into another room.

A moment later three shots rang out in rapid succession.

 

Officers from the Borden Valley Police Department found Marcia at Sal’s apartment. And although she was badly bruised, she refused to be admitted to the hospital. And so by later that same night, she was fast asleep in her own bed, under the influence of the sedatives the doctor’s had administered to her in the emergency room, bolstered by several glasses of wine.

As for Sal, he was reclining on a stretcher in the county morgue, awaiting the autopsy that the law required be performed on anyone who died in the process of being arrested. 

In spite of the fact that their investigation was still incomplete, the police were already leaning towards the explanation that the incident was the result of a lover’s quarrel. And that Sal — under the influence of a half empty bottle of vodka found in his car — had kidnapped and beaten Marcia. After which, he armed himself with a baseball bat that he then used to threaten both Mark and Cody with by using it to break nearly all the windows on the first floor of Mark’s house. Finally, after failing to obey the order of an over anxious rookie officer to disarm himself, he was been shot.

Ironically the investigation also revealed that Sal did indeed have a gun. And although it was found in his car, and not on his person, it was determined to be further evidence of his violent intentions.

 

“Tell me about it Cody.”

“About what?”

“The call,” he said, stifling the urge to hit her. “Warning Sal about the order of protection.”

“Oh, leave it alone,” she groaned impatiently through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“No, I think I deserve to know. A man died tonight.”

“Nobody who shouldn’t have.”

“What about the call Cody?”

“All right,” she said, getting angrily to her feet, her voice rising. “I called him. I called him because I knew he’d beat the crap out her before he’d let her do it. So what! I’ve been keeping them together for months.”

“Keeping them together?”

“Don’t’ you see?” she shouted. “They were stuck with each other. No matter what Sal did, she’d never leave him. Even after she found out he wanted me she still couldn’t end it. But I wasn’t gonna let them off that easy. So I told Sal where we were. I always knew what he wanted. And as long as I let him think he could get it, I knew I could get both of them.”

“So you did all this to get even?”

“Look what they did to me,” Cody retorted indignantly, as if the damage was visible. “They killed my father, made me an orphan, and as if that wasn’t enough they would’ve taken my money and turned me into a sex toy for Sal. No! I gave them what they deserve,” she concluded empathically. “Exactly what they deserve!”

“And what about me?”

“What about you?”

“Was I part of your scheme too?”

“There wasn’t any scheme,” Cody insisted, despite her admission to the contrary. “All I wanted to do was make them pay for what they did. I didn’t think anybody would get killed.”

Though unconvinced by her denial he said nothing to contradict her.

“Here, come with me and I’ll prove it to you,” she said temptingly, as she led him upstairs.

Despite of the fact that Mark knew she was using his desire for her to distract him, he nevertheless found himself, as always, unable to resist her.

As for Cody, she seemed unaffected by what happened. Indeed if anything she was even more impatient than usual to enjoy herself.

And as she used her wiles to once more ensnare him and satisfy herself, Mark finally arrived at the conclusion he would have reached long ago if only he’d allowed himself.

For the fact of the matter, he now realized, was that he was merely a pawn: a useful tool in the game of manipulation that Cody played with the world in order to get what she wanted.

And yet still he was willing to overlook it, so long as it also meant having her.

 

“I’m sorry you’re leaving,” Mark said as he held Marcia’s hand comfortingly in his. “We never did have much of a chance to get into that book of yours.”

“You’ve been so kind to us,” she replied almost tearfully from behind the enormous sunglasses she was wearing in an effort to conceal the bruises still covering her face. “But I just can’t stay here after what’s happened. I’m so ashamed.”

Mark squeezed her hand in a gesture of consolation while at the same time stealing a look at Cody who was sitting in the front seat of Marcia’s car staring back at him.

“We all make bad choices,” he said with an empty wisdom. “You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of,” he assured her, choosing to ignore the obvious in order to remain in her good graces.

“I’ll be in touch as soon as we get settled.”

Mark’s heart ached as he watched the car carrying Cody pull away until finally it rounded a bend in the road and disappeared.

 

Mark walked back to his own house, and going into the living room, sat down in his favorite chair.

And though he wept bitterly for his loss, it did not lessen his determination.

Reaching into his pocket, he wrapped his hand around the phone containing Cody’s number.

Until he could find a way to insinuate himself back into her life, it was his lifeline to her.

She had said she would wait for him, he reminded himself.

And he needed to believe her.

 

Shortly after they moved, Marcia went into Cody’s room and discovered that her stepdaughter had forgotten to shut down her laptop before leaving the house. Unable to resist, she touched one of the keys and instantly the file that Cody was working on appeared on the screen. It was her diary.

Shocked and wounded by what she saw there regarding Cody’s relationship with Mark, she took it to the police.

As a result, Mark was arrested, tried, found guilty of rape, and imprisoned.

Several months after he began his sentence, he was found hanged in his cell. And even though the inquest concluded it was a homicide, no one was charged.

The assumption being that once word that Mark was a child-molester had circulated through the prison’s population; he simply became another victim of jailhouse justice.

Eventually his ashes were interred in an inconspicuous corner of the same cemetery where his parents, together with a long line of their antecedents, were buried in a family plot.

There was no funeral.

 

Later that same year, as Marcia was arguing with Cody, she mindlessly drove her car into the middle of a busy intersection.

She was killed instantly.

Cody died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.