Page 57 of Mean Moms
What if we all pitched in and got him a Rolex? Jim’s guy on Forty-Seventh Street could get us a good price. It would likely be less than $500 a person.
Dre Finlay
I love that, Lauren! If everyone is in agreement, let’s get him a handsome watch and a light cashmere sweater.
Gabby Mahler
Guys, I don’t think Dr. Broker needs a watch or a sweater. He’s basically in a coma.
Kim Berns
Hi, ladies! For the last time, we’re no longer at Atherton, and I’d love to be removed from this chain. I’ve very sorry for what happened at the school, and must say, this makes us even happier about our decision to move Liam to St. David’s this year.
Gabby Mahler
We’re allreallyhappy for you, Kim.
Sofia Perez
Hola! I can’t wait to see you all on Friday! I have some exciting news to share, and I hope you all can be there to hear it. Especially my good friend Morgan. Besos. Xx
Rodrick Beneto was on a plane back to Miami, sitting on the tarmac about to take off, free at last. He’d spent the last nine months under the thumb of Morgan Chary, and now he was done.
From the beginning, this had been the deal. He’d finish off the job, collect his payment, and then leave New York. She’d said not to worry about the police, that she’d take care of everything, that he could disappear back into his old life. The only promise was that he wasn’t to work for the Perez family again; no sadness there, as JP was a complete prick, and Rodrick was sick of dealing with him. There were many rich families in Miami who needed drivers. Rodrick would be fine.
Morgan Chary, however, was a very sick woman. He’d met her a few days after he’d arrived in New York. JP had included a small apartment rental in Murray Hill in their deal. Rodrick, on a walk around his new neighborhood, had been approached by a blond lady in leggings. She’d stood directly in front of him, eyeing him in this creepy way, and then had gotten up in his face. He’d thought maybe she was mentally ill or something and so had tried to ignore her, heading in the other direction, but she’d caught up with him. “Stop, Rodrick. Stop,” she’d said to him in a soft voice. Then she’d explained that she wanted him to do some work for her and that she’d pay him well. Rodrick had been confused—he already had a job; what kind of work was she talking about? And how had she known who he was?
They’d gone into a Starbucks and sat down at a table. Her opener had freaked him the fuck out.
“Rodrick, my daughter goes to school with the Perez children, and I’m going to need you to do some very bad things for me.” Rodrick had waited for her to go on, but she’d just sat there, silent. She was thin, much thinner than Sofia.
“I don’t want a part of that,” Rodrick had said warily. And he didn’t. In high school, Rodrick had gotten into some trouble, but he’d straightened out, joined his cousin’s limo company as a driver, then gotten hired full-time by JP Perez. He was good now. He made decent money, and he had a girlfriend, a teacher.
“What if I said I could help Mirabella?” said Morgan. Rodrick hadn’t been sure he’d heard her right. How could this woman know about his niece? Mirabella was his sister’s beautiful little girl, and she was sick, really sick, with leukemia. She was in treatment in Miami, but things weren’t going great. His sister, a single mom, was struggling. She didn’t have the time or the money to deal with it all, and so Rodrick had been stepping in to help, taking Mirabella to appointments when he could. That child was the light of his life. She was why he’d come up to New York in the first place; JP had offered Rodrick additional money on top of his salary to move, all of which was going toward Mirabella’s healthcare costs.
“I know people at Memorial Sloan Kettering. It’s the best cancer hospital in the world. I could get her in. And she wouldn’t have to pay anything.” Morgan had leaned close to him. She’d put her cold hand on top of his.
And so, Rodrick had done what she’d asked him to do. He’d had no choice. He’d hit Frost with an e-scooter, one that Morgan had rented. He’d known exactly when to crash into that poorwoman—Morgan had timed the whole thing perfectly. He’d gone fast enough to hurt Frost, but not seriously, and had sped away from the scene, his heart racing, knowing his life was now in Morgan Chary’s hands.
They’d periodically meet at random locations, discussing logistics for her next scheme, Morgan handing him his payments. Rodrick had robbed Morgan’s own spa! Sofia had been there, and she’d nearly recognized his voice. It had rattled him to the point that he’d fled the scene, and Morgan had been super pissed afterward. He was supposed to have “roughed her up” for everyone to see—to have put his hands around Morgan’s neck and pretended to strangle her. (Morgan, that crazy bitch, said she already had bruises that would prove he’d really done it.)
Things kept almost going wrong. He’d taken pictures of Frost and Sofia at ZZ’s, and this time it had been Frost to recognize him as the man who’d plowed into her. He’d gotten away in time, hiding outside in a nearby awning, taunting the women when they emerged with the lines that Morgan had texted to him. Sofia had then chased him—fast!—all those sessions with her Miami trainer-slash-boyfriend having paid off. Rodrick had barely escaped. If she’d seen his face, he’d have been done for.
He’d dutifully delivered the dead flowers to Belle’s apartment, after spending days collecting live lanternflies from the dirty streets of New York. He’d plastered the walls of Frost’s art show when Morgan had cut the lights. She’d been behind it all.
At least Morgan had been true to her word about getting Mirabella into MSK. She’d pulled some strings with her friend on the hospital’s board, getting Mirabella full financial assistance, plus a housing subsidy. Mirabella and her mom had been up in New Yorkfor the past few months, and his niece was getting the best possible care. Her numbers were looking good.Gracias a dios.
Rodrick closed his eyes to rest, excited to get back to Miami, to his girlfriend, to the sun. He hoped he’d never have to see or speak to Morgan Chary again. It frightened him that people like that existed in the world—powerful people with horrible intentions. He’d never understood what Morgan was getting out of it all, and he probably never would. The pilot came over the loudspeaker to announce that they were delayed due to a technical issue. Rodrick sighed. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling, bored. A text message popped up. Rodrick braced himself before reading it, tightening his seat belt as if they were about to crash, though they were still safely on the ground.
I know what you’ve been up to, I saw you with her. If you don’t help me, I’ll have you arrested. You can try to blame Morgan, but who are they going to believe: a white lady with money or you, a Hispanic driver?
Rodrick bit down on his bottom lip, hard, until he could taste blood. The plane taxied back to the gate, slowly. He’d give her what she needed.
Chapter 16A Meeting at Sofia’s!
Frost Trevor and Belle Redness were standing outside Sofia’s apartment building in Tribeca, taking in the sun before heading inside. A woman with a small white dog walked by, pausing just to their right, allowing the dog to pee so close to them that Frost had to step away to let the stream of urine pass by.
“Uh, we’re standing here,” scoffed Frost. The woman, who was wearing earbuds, pretended not to hear them, waltzing off without a word.
