Chapter 6

Only the Lonely

A couple of quick tiffs broke out, but nothing that wasn't contained by the twins. Greg played Irish songs until 2 am, keeping the crowd entertained and happy. I didn't realize he had such a wide repertoire of them, but he did. Piano players always get free drinks and so Greg's glass was never empty. At 2 am when we closed the doors, Michael and Greg were still drinking and playing. The staff left and I was responsible for closing up. I realized quickly that I was going to have to leave my bike and drive the two drunks home.

I poured them into the back seat of Greg's car and by the time we got home, they were both snoring so loudly I desperately wanted earplugs. I looked in the back seat and decided that they couldn't get into much trouble back there, so I left them and went inside. I knew that when they got cold enough they'd come inside the house.

It didn't take long. About twenty minutes later, after I had showered and just when I was ready to lock them out, they came tumbling inside. Michael wasted no time passing out on the couch. I locked up and started up the stairs with Greg following me like a puppy. When I got to my door and he was still following, I turned and narrowed my eyes.

"Good night, Greg."

"Maggie?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sober?"

"Yes, Greg, I'm sober. Why?"

He raised his eyesbrows slightly and his lips were pursed as if he was pleading, "Do you need some company tonight? I'd make it worth your while."

I started laughing. He looked so desperate. He was really hoping I'd say yes and let him in bed with me. "As enticing as it would be to go to bed with a guy that smells like cigarettes and stale beer, not to mention breath that could knock down a 747, I think I'll pass. Maybe when you don't smell like the floor of Cavenaugh's, okay?"

"Maggie?"

"Yes, Greg?" I looked at him. His eyes bloodshot, body unsteady on his feet.

"That's a deal."

I gave him a peck on his cheek and went into bed. I dried my hair and climbed in between the nice clean sheets, my feet aching from the long day. I heard the shower start and Greg gargling. I had just fallen asleep when my mind noted a presence in my room. The covers lifted and a body slipped in next to me. Bells went off and I scrambled to wake the rest of me up. Turning on the light, I flipped quickly to see who had crawled in bed with me. I found a showered, shaved and teeth-brushed Greg grinning at me. He wasted no time, pulling me to him for a kiss. God, he looked so good, so happy, so inviting.

"Greg, I really didn't mean it literally. Now be a good boy and crawl back to your bed."

"Mags?"

"Yes, Greg."

"I'll go to my room, but if you decide sometime during the night that you want to scream my name out in pleasure, just wake me okay?"

"I will Greg."

He got up and went to bed. As he left the room, part of me wished I had said yes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Greg spent the next month working hard at the hospital and coming home exhausted. Twice I went to get help from Greg in classes that I was having trouble understanding. I don't know why I did it. He berated me and made me feel so stupid and worthless that by the time I left the hospital and bicycled home, I was ready to quit medicine. But, I always got A's on the tests after our sessions, so something must have sunk in. If I hadn't needed his help so much, I would have told him where to stick it and watched him smile as all kinds of sexual innuendos ran through that brain of his.

Tom had tickets to come home for the end of April. When we talked on the phone, I could feel a distance that wasn't there before. It worried me and made it difficult sometimes for me to study. But, no matter how much I begged for him to tell me, he kept saying that he had to tell me in person. I was so pissed and scared. If he wasn't going to tell me, he shouldn't have said anything until he got here. Not knowing what he was going to tell me was eating me alive and wrecking my ability to concentrate or enjoy anything.

Stressed and worried, it was no surprise that one weekday night, when I locked up the bar and unlocked my bike, I didn't hear the footsteps behind me as I came from around the back to the front with my bicycle. In twenty-one years of living in Fishtown, I'd never felt unsafe. I know most people think I was being naïve, but you have to understand, I was Jack Malone's sister. It was like having a force field around me. I practically lived in an unseen protective bubble when it came to my own safety.

I only heard the steps at the very last second. I turned to see Cory Sullivan with a knife, now pressed against my throat. I could smell the alcohol on his breath and realized I was in real trouble. No sober man would have dared pulled a knife on me in this neighborhood. Ever since the twins had taken him out back for going up on the ATM board, he had acted weird, giving me dirty looks whenever I saw him on the streets, in the grocery store or at Church events.

He hissed, "You're going to let me into the bar. Now turn around, let's go."

He didn't let me walk under my own power. He kept the knife to my throat as he pulled me along, his arm around my ribs. I could feel a trickle of blood running down from the point of his knife as it pressed into my neck, by my jugular. I unlocked the metal back door and he pushed me through. I kept looking around for something I could grab, but before I found anything, he grabbed an electrical extension cord and tied my hands.

He grabbed my chin in his hand, "Now, where's the money?"

I didn't say anything, it's that Irish stubborn streak I have. He backslapped me and I went flying into the stainless steel prep table. But I said nothing. The truth was, it had been a slow night and we probably only had 400 dollars from the till, which I had put in the safe as I always do. The next morning, Jack or Mac would count and deposit it in the bank.

When I still refused to help him, he clenched his front teeth and raised a fist, "Oh, you think I'm going to be easy on the great Maggie Malone? Fuck you, bitch." With that he hauled off and slammed my face into the walk-in refrigerator. My nose started bleeding, but I still said nothing.

"Let's go to the office, I bet you have a safe in there."

He pulled me to the office and trashed it. I was in a lot of pain. I knew my nose was probably broken, because the blood was going down the back of my throat making it extremely had to breathe. He finally found the safe, which was in the storage closet cemented in the floor under some boxes.

"Alright Maggie Malone, what's the combination?"

I could hardly talk with the blood running out my nose as well as down the back of my throat, "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on."

He picked up a can of mushrooms and slammed it into the side of my head. I stumbled back and fell. While I was down, he kicked me twice in the ribs. He kicked me so hard, we both heard a crack. The pain was excruciating, bringing tears to my eyes.

"I'm going to give you three seconds to tell me the combination. The consequences won't be pretty. You know I've always fancied that sweet little ass of yours. I bet I could make your pussy wet."

I couldn't believe that he was threatening to rape me. I'm Jack Malone's sister! Beating me up and robbing the bar would be bad, but he'd live. If he raped me, he'd need to get his affairs in order, he would be a dead man. I said nothing.

"One…two…three…" he grabbed my hair and started pulling me out to the bar area. He pulled me through the swinging doors and out next to the piano. Dropping me, he went to the till, which was obviously empty.

He slammed the drawer close, "Jesus Christ!"

I could tell that he was really pissed, because he grabbed a bottle and started drinking out of it, cussing the whole time. He had probably hoped to get enough money to get out of Philly and go someplace, but that wasn't happening. I finally decided I should say something.

I sat my torso up against a leg of a table, "Cory, leave now and I'll tell Jack it wasn't anyone I know. I promise. Just leave."

"No! I'm not leaving without something. And it looks like you're that something. The great Maggie Malone soiled. The whole neighborhood will know that Tom's getting used goods. Yeah, the good Catholic girl who goes to Confession and Mass and is studying medicine to 'help people,' will be just another slut, good and fucked." He grinned the grin of an angry, deranged man.

Coming around the bar, I saw him loosen his belt. I still told myself that this wasn't happening; he wouldn't dare. He grabbed my arm, pulling me up. I had blood all down my front and the pain in my ribs was making it difficult to stay conscious. He threw me face down, bent over a table. I prayed to God.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed…"

He pushed my face into the table to keep me from praying out loud. Throwing my skirt up over my back I felt him yank my panties down to my knees. I started to tremble and continued to pray for strength through Mary. I asked Jesus and God to forgive my sins and, if I didn't survive, to look after my friends and family. He was rough, he rammed into me. I was so dry it felt like sandpaper. He was enjoying giving me pain. As he slammed up into me, my body pushed forward causing pressure on the broken rib. Within minutes God took pity; I passed out. There was no more pain, no more blood, no more tearing in my vagina. I felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing.