Page 29 of The Fallen Man
Jackson wasn’t so sure, but he switched topics anyway.
“Do you believe what you told Ralph? About our political system being designed for all-around annoyance.”
“Yes,” said Eleanor. “My basic job is to be a negotiator for my clients—the people of New York. I’m supposed to do everything in my power to achieve what is in their best interests. However, in general, I’m not supposed to get it. Ask any negotiator, and they’ll say the same. You’re supposed to compromise. But compromise doesn’t sell in thirty-second Tik-Tok videos or whatever is popular this week. Although, at the moment, the more important question is whether or not Ralph believes that I believe it, and I think if we can manage to send him an invite tothe wedding, he will.”
She looked pointedly at Jackson.
“Olivia agreed to it,” said Jackson. “She said you would probably think it was optically better for everyone anyway. I think she meant the optics were better. Political jargon still eludes her.”
“Politics elude her,” said Eleanor. “Never mind the jargon.”
“True, but she’s figured out a few things. She said she wasn’t sure how, but not having Ralph at the wedding would somehow end up looking bad for you and Evan.”
“She’s right. It will look like I’m punishing my political enemies at the expense of my new daughter-in-law. I’ll look like a bitch.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” asked Jackson.
“Because Ralph is abusive and manipulative, and I don’t think Olivia should have to deal with him on her wedding day. And besides, my bitch reputation will not be diminished by having him there. It will only remain at its current levels. I didn’t think it was worth it.”
“She said it would probably make her father more comfortable anyway,” added Jackson. “And I think she wants her grandmother there.”
“Her father seems like a sweet man with the backbone of a feather boa,” said Eleanor. “How fortunate that Olivia inherited Ralph’s determination yet none of his mannerisms.”
“Uh… Hadn’t really thought about it like that,” said Jackson, who hadn’t considered that any of Olivia was anything like Ralph.
“Abusers have good traits, too,” said Eleanor. “That’s how they get people to stay with them.”
There was a world of experience behind that statement, and had he been talking to any of his cousins, Jackson thought he might have been able to take the conversation further. But it wasEleanor, and getting her even this far was a minor miracle.
Caitlin
Threats
Caitlin opened the door and stood on the doorstep, staring into her bag, trying to assess if she had remembered everything.
“Katie,” said Jamal gently, from his usual spot under the overhang. “That’s not safe. You gotta stare into your purse inside the house. Don’t do it here. Always have your head up out here.”
Katie looked at her thirteen-year-old neighbor, intending to assure him that she was fine and there was nothing wrong with looking in her purse, but the words died in her throat. She knew he was right and felt incredibly sad that they both had to know that.
“I left my extra socks upstairs.” It was in no way a response to what he’d just said.
“Better go grab them,” he said with a smile. Jamal was gangly from a recent growth spurt, and his wrists stuck out of all of his shirts.
She went back inside and up the narrow stairs into her apartment. She liked to change her socks mid-shift. It was a silly thing, but it gave her an excuse for a break and put a little extra life in her feet. She looked in her room and then out in the living room. She had done laundry and then… Where the hell had she put them? If she didn’t find them soon, she would miss her train.
She stared in frustration at the oversized sectional couch that she hadn’t been able to sell but had been a complete bitch to get up the stairs. She knew it retailed for over four grand, but she also knew that she would probably leave it here if she ever moved out. She couldn’t afford to move it. It was like a metaphor for her entire life. She used to be worth something, but now she was just left behind like scraps.
She finally found the socks wedged between the lift-top ottoman where she shoved everything she hated and the couch seat. She barely made eye contact with the ottoman these days. Someday she would have to go with the ever-growing and ever more frightening pile of paperwork inside, but today was not that day. She dropped the socks in her purse and went back down the stairs to her door but didn’t open it. Following Jamal’s advice, she stared once more into the depths of her bag, checking to see that she had everything.
“Hey! Kid!”
Caitlin froze at the sound of the aggressive male voice right outside her door. Instinctively, she looked at the door. The deadbolt wasn’t turned. She’d left it unlocked while she looked for her socks. Another stupid decision.
“I’m looking for someone.”
The voice had a Russian accent, although the words were clear. Cautiously, Caitlin tip-toed to the door and peered through the peephole. Distorted by the fish-eye of the lens, Caitlin could see a broad-shouldered, thick-necked man with sandy hair. He walked past the door, going closer to Jamal, and Caitlin fumbled in her bag for her phone. If he laid a finger on Jamal, she would… She didn’t know what she would do. Why didn’t she have some kind of weapon handy?
“I don’t answer questions for free,” said Jamal, and Caitlin winced. Jamal was always on the hustle, but she hoped it wouldn’t bite him in the ass this time.
