Chapter 2

Standing in the cover of night Max continues to watch the apartment on the fourth floor. A lone shadow moves back and forth across the window. He can't see him clearly because of the thread bare curtain on the window, but he knows it's Fran. The way the shadow walks and turns and pauses, he just knows. Occasionally the shadow stops and peeks out the slit in the curtains as if he's looking or waiting for someone. Max continues to stare at the shadow and reflects back on his partnership with the man. He shakes his head in disbelief. It seemed so long ago and yet, it wasn't. The wet chill of the night seeps through his jacket and it brings him back to the present. He runs his hand over his hair and rubs his eyes. Time to go home. He's just about to step out of the shadows and head home when he hears the door to the bar open.

Trina comes out laughing. He'd recognize her throaty laugh anywhere. She's with someone. "I'll be fine, Joey, don't worry," she pats him on the cheek, "but it is awful nice of you."

"You sure, it's pretty late?"

"I can manage myself, but thanks anyway." She walks away, "I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

"Alright, Trina. Take care." Joey goes back in to the bar.

Max watches Trina as she makes her way up the street. To his surprise she walks to the same apartment building that Fran walked into moments before. She pauses briefly and looks up to the only light that's lit at this hour of the night. He shakes his head and softly says, "No, no, no, Trina . . . Don't." She ruffles up her hair, smooths out her clothing, and heads in to the apartment building.

Without a second thought Max casually saunters over to the apartment building. He looks at the neglected building; the outside door barely closes, windows are cracked, paint is peeling, window screens half off or not there at all. His eyes move to the fourth floor window.

Inside the fourth floor apartment

Francis Boyle is pacing, he's angry. He looks down at his watch. "Where is she, where is she, where is she?" The apartment is something he rents to make life easier. He found it about a year ago and uses it for, well, for activities that he really doesn't want others to know about. There's a small living room, kitchen, bedroom, and even smaller bathroom.

Trina knocks gently on the apartment door. She's startled when Fran jerks the door open. She smiles and whispers, "Hey honey, have you been waiting long?"

Fran grabs her by the arm and pulls her into the short hallway that separates the entryway from the living space. He pushes her against the wall and snarls, "Where have you been?"

"W- well, I've been waiting for you. . . of course." She smiles and reaches up to touch his cheek.

He grabs her hand looking puzzled, "Waiting for me, where?"

"A-, At the bar down the street."

He throws her hand down. "I told you before I don't like that place, there's a bunch of derelicts in there," he moves away from her and walks into the living room. "I can't be seen in there."

She can tell he's high, his eyes are dilated and he seems more restless and irritable than usual. She takes a deep breath and pushes herself off the wall. It's going to be one of those nights, she can feel it. She follows him into the living room and light heartedly says, "I waited for a while and when you didn't show I figured you'd be here." She goes to the kitchen and puts her clutch on the counter. As she pours herself a drink she tries not shake. She drinks it all at once, a little liquid courage. "And, I was right!"

She goes back into the living room and sees Fran sitting on the couch smiling waiting for her. He pats the couch beside him and reaches out to her, "Come here, baby." She looks at him a bit puzzled as she moves in to sit beside him. He looks at her closely, "That cut on your lip is almost healed."

She reaches up and touches it, "Yeah, another few days and it will be just like new."

He takes her by the hands and looks her directly in the eyes and sorrowfully says, "Look, I'm really sorry I hit you." Trina nods, she's heard all this before. She thinks to herself, using the word 'hit' is a bit of an over simplification. It was more like being hit repeatedly until she was able to run out the door.

"I won't ever do it again." She nods. "I promise." She nods. "Look what I have." She follows his gaze to the small table in front of them. She notices the cocaine lined up in neat little rows on the black coffee table right beside his revolver and badge.

Trina sees where some lines have already been snorted, "Wow, it looks like you've started the party without me."

"I've had a few."

She shakes her head, "Not tonight, Fran." She moves in to kiss him.

He reaches around to the back of her head and grabs a handful of her hair. He shoves her head close to the coffee table. "Yes, tonight."

"Fran, stop!"

He pushes her face closer, "Shut up. Do it."

Trina quickly glances in the direction of the kitchen. Her purse is on the counter. She tries to shake loose. "Fran, I'd rather just have another drink." She tries to move away from him. She needs to get to her purse.

Fran keeps a tight grip on her hair and her wrist, "I don't want to hurt you, baby." He smiles at her.

Frightened of a repeat from the last time they were together, Trina takes a hit.

Fran releases her, "See, isn't that better?"

Trina leans back on the couch while Fran takes a hit. She moves to go to the kitchen, but Fran stops her. "Where are you going?"

"I told you I'd rather have a drink."

"Just another one, baby." Trina looks at him, "Come on, just one more."

He's not himself. She decides that it's safer if she just does it. She takes another hit.

Fran leans over the coffee table and takes another hit. He passes the straw to Trina. "Fran, I told you, I don't want to."

"What do you mean, there's only a couple of more. Then the fun begins."

Trina, tired of his game and perhaps her false sense of self confidence, reaches over to the coffee table and brushes the remaining cocaine off the table. "I told you I don't want to."

Fran, in shock, backhands her across the face. She touches her stinging cheek. "You bitch." Immediately, he reaches for her hand, "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."

She looks into his eyes with determination and pulls her hand out of his, "No, no you're not." He's stunned by her show of courage. "I'm leaving. . . now" She moves to get up.

Fran gets up with her, "Oh no you don't," he grabs her by the arms and throws her on the couch.

Trina scared to death, screams.

Frans holds her down and covers her mouth with his hand. Her muffled screams going unheard by the sleeping neighbors. He leans in close and quietly, and calmly says, "If you scream, I swear, I will kill you." She stops struggling and he takes his hand away from her mouth.