Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20A | 20B | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25-26 | 27 | 28-29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35-36 | 37 | 38A | 38B | 38C | 38D | 39 | 40
PART II
ELEVATOR TO THE GALLOWS
41
MARINA CONTINUED TO float along like a dust mote, looking at people blankly when they congratulated her. She couldn’t muster up the barest of polite responses, not even to Boss Tom, whom she knew she must. She simply stared through him, unblinking until he pulled her close to hug her and whisper, “I’m sorry,” in her ear. Mrs. Pendergast went on about what an adorable girl she was and what pretty babies Marina and Trey would make. So far as Marina could tell, the Pendergasts were absolutely sincere. Mob bosses probably didn’t say “I’m sorry” much.
Trey’s grandparents were falling all over themselves to make her feel welcome and loved, but she didn’t. The Lazias … In all the explanations the Albrights gave her, she didn’t know why they were there. They weren’t Trey’s friends or allies and it was clear they weren’t happy to be present. They were both chilly, their smiles devoid of warmth.
The cake was delicious. She couldn’t taste it.
The punch was grape-flavored. She didn’t like it.
The oatmeal raisin cookies had been made by a master baker. She hated oatmeal and raisins.
The macaroons were too sweet. She would’ve used more coconut.
The atmosphere was tense. Everyone scattered as soon as possible.
Sister Albright practically had to drag Dot out by her hair.
It must be one thing, she thought vaguely as she sat in a stranger’s car on the way to a house she had never seen that that stranger had bought just for her, to have sinned and borne the consequences. It was another to have been forced into sin, not remember any of it, then beaten, reviled, and cast out for it.
Her belt-buckle wounds were trying to scab over, but Marina scratched and picked at them when she was upset. Sister Albright and Dot had tried to keep her from doing it, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.
As they approached Hospital Hill and drove past General Hospital, the storm abated. By the time Trey parked in front of a cluster of cute little houses two blocks from the hospital, it had stopped and the sun had begun to burn off the moisture. Trey got out and came around, handing Marina out, holding onto her, which was fortunate.
“What’s this here, Marina?” he asked softly, looking at her sleeve.
“I have a sore,” she muttered. “I scratched.”
“Got your pretty dress all stained.”
She shrugged listlessly.
“Oh. Well … ” He hesitated. “Uh, anyway, there’s our house. That one,” he murmured, pointing directly across the street.
He hadn’t lied about it. It was adorable, making her forget about her sore and the blood stain. She stared at the navy siding and crisp white gingerbread trim around gleaming beveled-glass windows. The front wall consisted entirely of a deep bay window through which she could see white sheers flanked by what she thought were white-and-royal blue tromp l’oeil curtains. The roof was steeply pitched with a small square box jutting skyward from the back half of the house, two small white-shutter-flanked windows on either side of the roof peak.
The long, narrow, covered porch was to the side, set back so far away from the street and flanked by so many big hedges that it was nearly invisible. Marina crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk. The front door was even farther back, cloaked in the hedges’ shadows, which felt secure instead of threatening. It was a pretty door, its dark polished walnut framing a lovely beveled-glass window.
Trey slipped around her to unlock it and hold it open for her. She stopped cold just two steps into the vestibule. She looked around, then put her trembling fingertips to her open mouth.
“Welcome home, Marina,” he said softly.
Home. This was her home. She would live in this, this, this utterly beautiful place with the most beautiful built-ins and furniture she had ever seen in a private home. No matter how grand and lovely the Albrights’ house was, they didn’t have things this nice because their rowdy boys destroyed everything. It hit her like a ton of bricks: this was hers, not a room in a parsonage where she was little more than an indentured servant (albeit a content one) and not a guest in a house she couldn’t leave because she had nowhere to go.
It was beautiful, but it was magnificent because it was hers.
“You did this for me?” she croaked.
“Yeah, I live at the speak. Lived. I, uh … it’s not as big as I wanted to get you, but I gotta be careful with the money and whatnot. I, uh … we ain’t but the two of us, with just enough room for a baby.”
“That’s a radio.”
“Your daddy’s.”
“You … stole it from him?”
“Yeh. Your daddy’s stash of cash paid for this house an’ your car. But don’t let that slip to nobody, ’cuz Boss Tom don’t know all what your daddy had.”
“Oh. Um. All right.”
“Go’t the kitchen and see if it’s big enough.”
In the back of her mind, Marina understood he was anxious. “Small is easier to keep,” she whispered, not sure whether to be horrified by the fact that Father had had that much money or that Trey had stolen it from both him and Boss Tom. She had learned a lot about Boss Tom Pendergast in the last few weeks, enough to know one did not trespass him without dire consequences. She moved her feet toward the back, through the small dining room with a beautiful round oak table, into an equally beautiful kitchen, sparkling with white built-in cupboards, including a Hoosier. There was a brand new stove and—
“Is that …” she began, gaping at it, “ … a refrigerator? With a freezer?”
“I don’t hold with iceboxes when there’s these things.”
“Those are—” She couldn’t speak. Mother had wanted one for the longest time but Father claimed it was vanity to own such an expensive thing. Now, thanks to Bishop Albright, Marina knew “vanity” meant he wanted that money for more fine things and women. And radios. “—expensive,” she finished weakly.
“I bought a smaller house so I could have the freezer,” he said apologetically. “Walkin’ around flashin’ cash an’ livin’ it up with big houses and whatnot is invitin’ any cat with a grudge or a green streak to try to take it away. My clothes are upper-middlin’, same as the speakeasy, but otherwise, I try to lie as low as possible, so cats don’t know how much money I really got an’ where it’s coming from.” He paused. “Hope you don’t mind it’s not so grand as I should provide for you.”
She went to the refrigerator and opened it. A blast of cold, dry air hit her, which was most welcome. “No, no I don’t mind at all.”
“There’s a new washer out on the back porch.”
That was when Marina could finally bear to look at him. Hat in hand, he looked as anxious as he sounded, which was not familiar to her. Nor was his speech, which was oddly endearing.
Her brow wrinkled. “Bishop said you wanted to marry me, but Boss Tom wouldn’t let you and then he did. I thought he was saying that to make me feel better.”
Trey shook his head.
“You really did want to court me before you made the bet?”
He nodded. “No matter how we got here, we’re here an’ I’m glad. Might as well make the best of it. I got money, but I’m a little bit of a tightwad. I got plans, an’ so I … ”
She gestured weakly at the refrigerator.
He shrugged. “Buy once, cry once. Learned that the hard way.” He laughed bitterly. “I learn everything the hard way, mostly just ’cuz I’m a stupid shit.”
“You’re not stupid!” she gasped, appalled to hear such an awful thing come out of the mouth of the smartest person she’d ever met.
“I was stupid to take that bet without getting all the details worked out up front and to my satisfaction.”
“If you had, would you still have taken it?”
“Yes,” he growled. She bit her lip. “I’m a bad man, Marina,” he said with a tiny snarl. “I want what I want an’ I’mma get it any way I need to. Legal, illegal, moral, immoral, I do not care. I wanted my speak and I wanted you.”
“In that order,” she said softly, unable to be offended, but it begged to be said.
“Some days yes, some days no.”
“But you didn’t drug me,” she reminded him. “If you were that ruthless, you would have.”
He was a little stymied by that. “Well, fact remains, I was determined to get you pregnant and I did. I didn’t really cotton on to the fact that I’d be yanking you into the heart of the Machine and making you the wife of an underboss, but here we are an’ I ain’t lettin’ you go.”
She glanced pointedly around the kitchen. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Besides they make our life easier, the wife of an underboss has to have these things. It ain’t just for our convenience. It’s for appearances. I can live in my dump of an office and share a bathroom with a dozen whores—”
She flinched.
“—but my wife an’ baby can’t.”
“You just said you didn’t want anybody to know—”
“Sugga, Boss Tom lives in one of the biggest mansions on Ward Parkway. John Lazia’s got two houses, one on a lake and speedboats to go with it, and lives in a high-class hotel ’cuz he’s a flashy front for the real power in Little Italy, who live modestly. Quietly. They hide behind Lazia’s ostentatiousness and pull the strings. I got a lotta money, Sugga, but not enough power, nobody to hide behind, and I’m not threatening enough to keep people off my back. So I hide behind being modest because I have to, not because I’m naturally that way. This house says I can provide for a family, but that I don’t have the cash to buy a grand house even though I do. I’m protecting myself. But I am not going without a freezer, and no cat in town would blame me.”
Marina numbly turned away to climb the back staircase, which turned once before opening into a small square landing, each of the other three walls with an open door. The bedroom on her left was dominated by a gleaming new sleigh bed. The bedroom on her right was unfurnished save for a baby crib and buggy, but Marina’s bags were sitting there waiting to be unpacked. The bathroom, straight ahead and narrow, was also plain, with white beadboard walls to within a foot of the ceiling capped by a plate rail, a white-and-black hexagon tile floor, a white sink on a spotless chrome base, an oversized claw-foot tub with a curtain and a— She gasped. “A shower,” she whispered in awe.
“Yeah,” Trey said gruffly from behind her. “I like my baths, but they ain’t quick enough sometimes.”
She gulped. “Trey, I … ” She couldn’t think of one word to say.
“I want you to be comfortable and maybe happy, but I ain’t gonna lie an’ say I did all this for you. I want my wife to do her job but it’s easier for people to do a good job if they got good tools.”
Marina nodded in understanding and relief. Yes, her job was to be a good wife, and she was well prepared to do that. It would, indeed, be easier to do it with the tools Trey was giving her, including a small home that would not demand as much attention as the parsonage.
“C’mon down and see the car.”
That was something Mother had not had, either. Father had never allowed her to learn how to drive, even, but that was likely because he didn’t want her to catch him out with one of his floozies. In fact, Marina couldn’t think of one woman in her congregation who could drive. Sister Albright was the first woman she’d ever met who could not only drive, but had her own car. Oh, how she wished she could show Mother this, to flaunt it, to punish her for her cruelty to both Marina and her real mother.
“Where are my parents?” she asked abruptly as she followed Trey back down the stairs, through the back porch, where she stopped and gaped at the automatic wringer washer, and out to the cute but tiny back yard.
“Which ones?”
“Um … grandparents.”
“Don’t know.” He paused. “You want me to try to find your real ones?”
“Um … yes. Please. I … have to know.”
“A’ight.”
There was a tiny outbuilding at the back of the lot, the sidewalk going past to the alley, where a Model T sat, polished and shiny, seeming to wait for her.
“It ain’t new,” he said matter-of-factly, “or fancy—appearances—but it’s only two years old and it runs good. You can go shopping or whatnot and there’s room in the back for a baby to— Well, honestly, I don’t know how you drive around cartin’ a newborn.”
Marina gulped. It wasn’t as fine as the car Father drove and definitely not as fine as Trey’s, but it was hers. She could go anywhere, do anything, at any time. She didn’t need permission. She didn’t have to depend on the bus. She didn’t have to wait for Trey to pick her up. She could go to Dot’s church if she wanted, and her activities, dance, have fun and play like they did.
And best of all, she didn’t have to walk to the grocery store anymore!
She was permanently bound to a person—a person who liked her and was kind to her—but suddenly, she was free! No woman she knew had that kind of freedom, except Sister Albright.
But the only thing she could say was, “Thank you.”
“Least I could do.”
Most men wouldn’t even do that much. That said, it took money to run a household and she had to have some to do her job right. “Pin money?”
He nodded. “I didn’t know how much women usually get an’ it wa’n’t polite to ask anybody who’d have any. I know the speak’s expenses, so I pulled down from that. I figured one-fifty a month, not countin’ utilities—” Her mouth dropped open. Again. Her face might as well freeze that way. It’d be more efficient. “—oughta take care o’ the house an’ whatever you need or want. Baby comin’ an’ all.”
“Oh golly gee whiz,” she whispered, her eyes wide, a hand to her chest.
He scowled. “That’s my budget an’ not a penny more.”
“Trey, fifty— Umm, fifty is generous. One-fifty is … I can’t— Oh, my goodness.”
He harrumphed. “Then pay the utilities with it and save the rest.”
“Pay the utilities?” she gasped, horrified.
He immediately looked confused. “Yeah. You keep the house books. Inn’at what wives do?”
“No,” she squeaked again, her register climbing. “The husband does that. The wife only has enough for household expenses and a few trinkets. Some women only have enough for trinkets. Not Sister Albright, but they’re—”
“Well I ain’t doin’ the house books so I’ll teach you. I got enough bookkeeping on my plate.”
This nightmare was turning into a pleasant dream, but still a dream she would awaken from and await the day she had the baby and was turned out to be a maid or dressmaker. “I took bookkeeping, but—”
“Oh yeah? Even better. You got open accounts at Emery, Bird, and Thayer, and Harzfeld’s. Jones and Macy’s, too. You gotta dress better. Part o’ my image. I can’t have you lookin’ like a middlin’ preacher’s daughter whose folks are deliberately keepin’ her ugly, shovin’ her up against a looker like Dot.”
Oh. That … hurt.
“Now, you all gussied up like y’are now? I like that, you turned out the way I knew you could be. That’s good an’ all, but you ain’t got the wardrobe yet. Somethin’ like Dot’s, never wearin’ the same thing twice.”
“You noticed her clothes?” she breathed, almost devastated to know Trey did notice Dot was “a looker.”
“’Course I did. I gotta know who I’m dealin’ with an’ clothes tell me a whole helluva lotta things people don’t know they’re sayin’.”
That made her brain tired. “That’s not part of the pin money?”
“No. That’s me providing for my wife. But for God’s sake, lose the trousers.”
“Sister Albright gave them to people whom they flattered.”
“Good. You can take Dot and go shoppin’ or somethin’.”
“But—”
“Marina, I ain’t rich—yet—but I gotta spend money to make money and your job is to help make me look good. Speakin’ of, I gotta go to work. Remember my rule: You stay offa Main Street south o’ 14th Street.”
Then he was gone after having dropped a kiss on her forehead so quickly she thought she’d imagined it. She turned around in this quiet, beautiful little house in a quiet, beautiful little neighborhood except for the ambulances going to the hospital, then plopped into a beautiful big overstuffed chair because her legs could no longer hold her up.
So much.
So beautiful.
All hers.
No need to ask permission for … anything.
Everything paid for.
A house.
A freezer.
A radio.
A car.
Anything her heart desired …
A baby.
That was when she began to cry.
41
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
I’m not a fan of raisin cookies, either.
*high fives The Bearded Hobbit*
Why ruin a perfectly good grape?
Yeah; everyone knows grapes are for wine.
I love raisins. Can’t stand grapes. I thought it was funny to make her like grape pop, but hate raisins.
Raisins in the oatmeal, a dash of honey, a Fourscore breakfast
Heh.
I’m with Marina.
Good oatmeal raisin cookies are sublime.
They have to be chewy. Then there’s little that can beat them.
No. Just no.
FUCK YOU NICK!
(You know the gloves are dropped, right?)
And they’re healthy because oatmeal! 😃/rationalization
That’s the spirit!
Trey should have her read some Lewis Carroll – she could relate to going through the looking-glass.
Boss Tom’s apology is a bit of a surprise.
IRL, he was a gracious loser and he had two little girls he loved dearly. I don’t have any problem believing he might have apologized to Marina.
I’m amazed how quickly a 16 year old sheltered girl adjusted to married life and being a housewife. The 16 year olds I knew (my daughter and friends) weren’t ready for algebra and certainly not prepared for marriage.
Thanks Moj, I learn something everyday, almost.
Some girls were just raised to be housewives. I was. I might not have adjusted to marriage quite so quickly, but I would’ve been able to keep a house on a second’s notice.
As for Marina adjusting to marriage, she goes with the flow, not because she wants to or doesn’t want to, but because it doesn’t occur to her to want anything different from what the people around her want her to do. IOW, she does what she’s told and goes where she’s directed.
This changes.
Heh, I bet it does.
🍿
A Zoom without Moj is like asparagus without hollandaise
Awwwwwwwwwww. 🥰
Sorry. Workin’.
Getting pissed off at “…wean off hydrocodone to avoid addiction…” bullshit.
I guess it depends on are they using it for pain relief? I don’t know much about that one.
I think I’m weaned off nicotine, finally. It feels pretty good.
2 patients, back to back, 1.5 months postop knee replacements.
I’m sorry. At 1.5 months postop knee replacements, they shouldn’t be saying, “Oh, just take a couple of Tylenol.”
My wife had both knees replaced within a week of each other. Things went sideways with recovery, so she wasn’t release until nearly a month after the first surgery.
And yes, she was off the opiods with a couple of weeks of discharge.
And the techniques have gotten must less intrusive over the last 20 years.
In summary, off opiods 1.5 months post surgery is not surprising to me.
Also, note that I blew out my quadriceps tendon and required surgery not that dissimilar to knee replacement. I was off the opiods within days of going home.
I have a very high tolerance for pain (thank you, ginger ancestor!), so I don’t need opioids for the most part. However, after my hysterectomy, I had complications and so I had fentanyl on a pain pump. I used that fucker as liberally as they would let me, but I only needed it for about a day. It is an absolutely magical elixir and I let people know about my love of fentanyl because it’s funny to watch their expressions.
Dilaudid makes me puke. The rest of the opioids don’t do anything for me bad or good.
Other people have lower pain tolerance than I do, but I think artificially restricting people’s pain meds is A Bad Thing.
I too have a high pain tolerance and am very grateful. Over the years I’ve been given opioids a handful of times, but I never took more than one or two at the outset to take the edge off. I feel for people who legit need then and can’t get them. That’s evil.
I have long thought I didn’t have much pain tolerance, but my gall bladder surgery made me rethink that.
I wouldn’t know, TBH.
All I know is I got it once after a recent surgery and it made me nauseous so I said no thanks. The pain wasn’t super bad, thank goodness.
It took three days to be rid of nicotine. It took years to break the habit of smoking.
Also, I took hydrocodone daily for three months after my shoulder surgery. At the end I walked away, no withdrawals. DEA bullshit is bullshit.
My dad gave me some advice one time:
“There are certain breeds of dogs which require their tails to be chopped off. It doesn’t do you or the dog any favors to do it a little bit at a time.”
Screw nicotine patches and gum; when it’s time to quit, quit. Don’t chop the tail off piece by piece.
I did the patch “step down” program. Finished three weeks ago. It works. There was no way cold turkey was ever going to work for me.
I was motivated – I signed a lease on a “no smoking” apartment. I figured fuck it, it’s time.
I cold turkeyed too, mainly because I was so sick with a respiratory illness that I didn’t want a smoke. A few days later, as I recovered I wanted a cigarette but I knew that it was time to quit. 48 years now.
A very bad chest cold was my impetus. I first went four days (because I didn’t really have a choice). Then thought, well, let’s go for a full week. Ok, how about a month… Been about 12 1/2 years now.
I still reach for my Juul every once in a while.
Mornings and after meals are the worst.
Yup, “the habit”.
I used to do a lot of business on the phone. It would ring and I’d pat my pocket for a pack of smokes.
And after meals;, sometimes I still get the urge.
That’s awesome, rhy’! Good for you.
I couldn’t sleep last night (this morning). Thought some Mo might help chill me out.
Nope.
Still glad they are all loaded in the Kindle.
😁
As if the Navy didn’t already have enough trouble driving their ships. https://www.eastbaytimes.com/2023/07/21/biden-picks-female-admiral-to-lead-the-navy/
Have a pretty good, very long explainer that touches on why the left gets a tingle with this stuff.
TL;DR – it’s all on Obama.
All jokes aside, I think a female admiral is good…with actual proper training.
I hope you are right.
I’m letting ‘actual proper training” heavy lifting
Wearing camo fatigues, it’s beyond a joke, like she’s going into jungle combat and won’t be seen.
There’s a reason the military recruitment is having a tough time filling the ranks. I don’t think it’s necessarily a lack of patriotism. The nonsense stuff is just too hard to take.
“Our diversity hire is only good enough for the #2 position, not #1”
are there Vegas Glibs?
Pat and OBE, but catch OBE before he bails in September.
Just signed firm offer today. Road trip incoming mid Sept. Gonna see some family graves in a namesake town in way in Iowa
If you’re hitting the KC metro area on your way up to Iowa, gimme a holler.
Well maybe. Hitting states we haven’t been to also. I’ve been to Missouri, Mrs hasn’t. So naturally we might.
I am in eastern Iowa
Mid September is Honey Harvest time, meet a lot of Glibs in one place.
OBE
Leon
Sup
sweet…drop me a line
I’d so much rather make a connection than go to a show or gamble
OBE is in Henderson, which is nearby
For a month a half then I’m out.
I’ve got to go to a trade show next week
donescapedtexas@outlook.com for meetups
Ya if something frees up for sure. We have technical evaluations going on and I’m giving techs crash course on how to do my job.
Just watched a match with an MLS team for the first time in my life.
Realtors?
Most of my income in the last two years came from knowing that realtors have something to do with MLS.
“Leagues Cup”? Some of that is on Fox Sports but not tonight. From tomorrow on.
Watching the USA ladies vs. Vietnam.
Is the USA goalkeeper working on her cell phone or reading a book?
Pretty much.
Here’s some unbiased reporting. “After contentious meeting, SoCal school board passes bill putting LGBTQ youth at risk” https://www.sfgate.com/politics/article/southern-california-school-board-new-lgbtq-policy-18254224.php
The bill requires the school to notify parents if their kid wants to be a different gender. Even if we accept the premise that this would harm the Ts (I don’t), I don’t see how it impacts the other letters.
I get the motivation even if I think it’s seriously overblown.
Some kids might not want to their folks to know. But the idea that in SoCal of all places MAGA Dad is gonna beat up his tranny kid is kind of ridiculous.
But you know what those kids used to do? They zipped their lips. Ask me how I know.
Alas, we live in an era of extreme narcissism and LOOK AT ME so I guess it’s too much to ask for kids to keep private stuff private.
You’ve hit the nail on the head. If the kids don’t feel comfortable proclaiming their new, shiny gender and remain quiet, they can’t play public victim as easily.
They might even keep it under wraps until the phase passes and we’ve can’t have that. Gotta get those kids sterilized before they mature.
The bigger problem here is that we know, and no one disputes, is that tranny kids are at a story high risk of suicide. Not reporting that to the parents is a huge dereliction of duty for the schools and doesn’t actually serve the best interests of the child.
My garden got visited by a big mommy toad. I’ve got hundreds of baby toads now. 👍🏻
Lots of bugs for them to eat… It was nice to enjoy the pond and garden this morning before it became scorching out.
Our biological warfare program has stalled. The praying mantis egg hasn’t hatched yet. 😒
I’ve never tried that. Where did you get it, and how long are they supposed to take to hatch?
We order from EBay or Amazon. Supposed to be two to four weeks. I’m sure we’re past 4 now.
The ladybugs we get arrive alive and seem to work pretty well.
I get tons of mosquitos, I’m actually pretty sure it’s not from my pond or even my bromeliads.
*. I check the tanks and spray them out, I’ve only ever seen one mosquito larva in them and only because I got lazy with my spraying, my pond had tons of larva before it started the filter going and put my fish in, which brought larva to zero. But… A few people in my neighborhood have defunct water fountains that they let water pool in. Plus it’s just Florida, and summer. Mosquitos are inevitable.
Strangely, the HOA will bug the shit out of you for stuff that doesn’t matter, but looking into stagnant water that could actually cause health problems (we have malaria in the state now) they don’t seem keen on tackling.
*Mosquito activity seems on par with last year when I didn’t have either
Sounds like ladybugs are the better way to go, I guess depending on what you’re targeting. Hard to believe a mantis will eat enough bugs to make it worthwhile.
Happy Saturday!
☕
Here’s a great song:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=f8hT3oDDf6c
But it’s so much better (imo) unplugged:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nWK0kqjPSVI
What’s your opinion?
Good morning, Sean, Lack, and…ummm…Mr. Nerfherder! Happy Saturday to all of you, too!
I agree about the unplugged version, but of course I’m a bit of a musical “outlier” around here. 😉
It looks as if AM Substitute Lynx have been scheduled for 8 a.m. US Central (Daylight) time, so if there are any lurkers waiting around for them, you might as well pour yourself another cup of coffee, and we can chat amongst ourselves until then. 😄
Morning GT and all the thousands of lurkers, that I know are waiting for Glib words of wisdom to be forth coming.
Good morning, 4(20)! It looks as if someone has expedited things, and we have Lynx! See you over on the next page! 😁