We had to take a moment in the middle of our story and reaccess...
Money / Trouble
“Dena, I know I said we could spend the afternoon together,” Brendan began, crossing the blacktop to where she sat with Will and Layla in Saint Barbara’s portico. “But I got a call for some extra hours, and you know I need extra hours. Kenny’s about to go over so I thought I’d just ride with him. Since my car’s still in the shop.”
Dena shrugged—what could she do?—and said, “Alright, I guess.”
Milo was a pace off, finishing a cigarette. He climbed from the wall and approached them as Brendan kissed Dena, quickly, and turned to go back into the school.
“I was about to take Layla to her uncle’s,” Will began. “But we can run you home first.”
“That’s not necessary,” said Milo. “I’ll drop you off.”
“I couldn’t ask that.”
“But you didn’t ask it,” Milo pointed out. “I offered. I mean, unless you don’t want me to.”
“No,” Dena said, quickly. “I do. Just… I didn’t want to put you out or anything.”
“Well, you’re not putting me out,” Milo said. “Or anything. All right?”
Dena nodded,
Milo held his hand out in courtly fashion and said, “Shall we go?”
Dena took it and nodded.
“Now,” Milo said, as they climbed into the red velvet cake plushness of the Crown Victoria, “you may notice the distinct scent of pine coming from this air freshener swinging from the rear view mirror. That, and other things like the plastic Virgin Mary on the dashboard, are all courtesy of my grandparents, Barb and Robert Affren. Now strap yourself in and get ready for a fun ride. Where are we off to, m’lady?”
“You know this car reminds me of a taxi cab?”
“Do I remind you of an Arab?”
“I am an Arab.”
“No, you’re not! Stop.”
“No, I am, seriously. My mother’s mother was from Iraq and my grandfather—that’s the Meraden—was from Syria, second generation. My great grandparents came from Lebanon.”
“Oh,” said Milo. “So you are an Arab. I guess that means you should smack me on the head.”
Dena reached over and smacked him. Softly.
“Uh, I need to show you how to get to Randolph Street,” she said. “I just realized you can’t really know this town that well.”
“Okay. So whaddo I do?”
“Well, first,” said Dena, “you make a U-turn or something, because you’ve been going in the wrong direction for the last two blocks.”
“Dena!”
“Well, see, that’s what you get for making fun of my people.”
“Let me turns this car around at the light.
“Are you all right?”
“Because you made fun of Arabs? Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“No!” Milo hit the car horn. “Because of Saturday?”
“Oh… Oh, crap, yeah,” said Dena.
“My father is…” Dena shook her head. “I can’t even think about it, you know? I need some fucking answers. And… Even though I need them, I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for them. All right. Now a block after Saint Barbara’s you make a right turn. Oh, sorry, I meant two blocks.
“And to make it worse, Brendan.”
“He seems like a straight up guy.”
“He is,” Dena said. “But the whole thing about ‘I need more hours. I gotta go to the store.’”
“Well, I guess a guy has to work.”
“Not when he’s seventeen and his parents have money! He should be here, instead of working at Martins checking out people’s groceries to get some artificial sense of independence. I’m so… oh, crap!”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, I missed the last turn. You gotta turn the car around.”
Milo sighed and pulled the car over.
Dena, whose hand was pressed to her head, pulled it out of her thick hair and said, “Are you going to throw me out?”
“I should,” Milo said, “but it looks like you need to talk. Wanna grab a coffee or something?”
“I hate coffee,” said Dena, grinning. “Let’s grab a something, instead.”
“Hell no, I don’t want to meet him,” Layla said.
They were in Fenn’s kitchen, and Will shrugged, sorry he’d brought up the question.
Layla did not let it go..
“I find out that all my life my daddy was screwing someone else, and had a baby by her, who is a grown man now, who is my age now, and you think I want to meet him?”
“Lay,” Fenn said, pacifically, “don’t bite Will’s head off for something he didn’t do.”
Layla blinked, and seemed to see them both for the first time.
“I’m sorry, Will,” she said. “It’s just…”
“You don’t have to explain,” he told her. “It’s like… If I found out my dad did that it would be just like… my whole life was a lie.”
“I feel like my life is a lie,” Layla said.
“That’s nonsense,” Fenn told her. “Your father’s life was a life and… to hell with him.”
“I hope Mama doesn’t go into nice mode,” Layla said.
“Nice mode?” Will said.
“Yeah,” Layla shook her head. “She’ll start telling me things like, well, he is your brother. Maybe you should get to know him. Or… well, you know, your father is your father. I don’t want what he did to me to interfere with your relationship with him.”
“Um,” Fenn took a cigarette from his breast pocket, “Adele would say some bullshit like that.”
“Well, I hope she understands he didn’t just do it to her. He did to it to me.” Layla looked as if she were marshalling her thoughts. Her brows were furrowed.
“AND,” she said, “I don’t want to know him. That boy. And I don’t want to talk to my father, either.”
“You’ll have to,” Will said. “One day.”
She looked at him, disgusted.
“No, I don’t,” she said. “Not today and not any day if I don’t feel like it.”
Will shook his head.
“She’s a Houghton,” Fenn assessed, “to the teeth.”
There was a knock at the side door, and before Fenn could answer it Dan Malloy entered.
“Father Malloy,” the kids sat straighter.
“Danny, still in your work clothes.”
Dan blinked and looked down at himself, pressing his index finger to his Roman collar.
“Ah… yeah. Hey, guys,” he said to Layla and Will. Then, “Fennjamin, can I speak to you?”
“Fennjamin?” Layla said.
“It’s a childhood thing,” Fenn said, and stepped outside, motioning for Dan to follow.
On the stoop in the carport, Dan said, “I think I found out what you can do with the money.”
“Really?” Fenn said. “And you came right over on a Monday afternoon to tell me,”
“Well, I was feeling brave, Fenn, and I wanted to stay that way.”
“All right,” said Fenn. “Okay, what will we do.”
“Well, I found someone with a contact who can get us an appointment with this nice little off shore Caribbean bank. If you can find someone to get to Florida with the money, and then from Florida to the Keys, and then from the Keys meet the contact who will get you to… I don’t even know the island.”
“Is it in the Caymans?”
“Hell, I don’t know! Sure!”
“Well, good.”
“Fenn, you need someone you can trust, all right? You need someone who knows how everything works and can explain it to you, so you can get to your money.”
“Of course.”
“And.. And I would recommend that you or whoever goes drives down there. I don’t trust planes for something like this, With security and everything.
“And… and… we have to make sure the bills aren’t marked. Wait, no we really don’t. It’ll be in another country. No one will ask questions. Oh… oh,” Dan did a small dance of frustration, “We’ve gotta be really, really careful, Fenn.”
“I know,” Fenn grinned at Dan. And then he frowned.
“Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“Ah… your contact…?”
“Contacts.”
“Contacts?”
“Yes.”
“Who the hell are they? I mean…. How did you get criminal contacts?”
Dan looked instantly stupid, and then completely guilty.
“Well, you’d never guess.”
“No, and I never will, not if you don’t tell me.”
“Get ready for this…”
“Dan!”
“Bob and Barb Affren.”
Do to extreme burnout and not much response, this story had stopped posting. It will return at the end of the week with another section.
