Music to my Soul
Chapter II
At the newsstand, a crowd was forming, apparently fascinated with some headline. Paul watched them before heading for The Gazette's building, but it wasn't until he was inside that he grabbed a newspaper and saw the awful add-on that had barely made it to publication. One of his sensationalist fellow journalist was giving a description that bordered on indecency and it sent chills down Paul's spine. He had seen and heard some pretty horrible things, mostly during the war, but one didn't expect it to hit so close to home.
"The poor bloke must have suffered horribly before they let him die," Paul easily imagined from the article. Right away he was reminded of Cole and of his foolish intentions. What if those gangsters Cole was going up against were the same ones who did that to the boy in the article? The story ended with the fact that at press time, no one had been able to identify the victim. Still, Richard Manseau, his colleague, was drawing conclusions. Nowadays, it wasn't difficult to deduce it might have been a hit by one or another of the bootlegging gangs. He was even venturing names, and among them the most prominent was Fredo Turello. The press, unlike the police, could speculate to their heart's content, even though it wasn't Paul's brand of journalism. Of course, the fact that they could make such unfounded affirmations while the police couldn't was Leo's point. Nevertheless this didn't make his offer to Cole any less wrong.
Paul still couldn't believe that Leo had actually convinced Cole to throw himself into this venture. No more than he could believe Rodney had allowed this to be printed, let alone distributed. Admittedly, he was more upset about Cole and Leo than the article when he went straight into the Editor in Chief's office and threw the newspaper on his desk as if it would bite. And still that didn't keep him from jumping at his boss about the article.
"Hey Rodney," Paul called unceremoniously. "I thought we were into serious news reporting here?"
"Oh come on, McKail. This thing's gonna sell the papers like hot cakes," Rodney Pascali answered with a smirk, without even bothering to look at the newspaper. The balding man of fifty was used to the informal attitude his young reporter displayed. In fact, it was common in his newsroom. Most of the guys working for him had it in their blood to be direct and somewhat arrogant. It came with the territory, as they would most certainly get no stories otherwise. The Editor in Chief knew this very well, as he had been among the pioneers of modern journalism and didn't miss a chance to let all those hungry up and comers hear about it.
"Hell," Paul answered to this, "I have nothing against reporting the news, but half of this article is bordering on obscene, and it contains next to no real information."
"The world has changed, Paul. A young boy like you should understand that better than anyone. The public wants sensations now. They wanna be shocked; not just informed."
"Hey, who're you calling a boy?" Paul exclaimed humorously. He couldn't stay mad at his boss for very long anyway.
At the age of twenty-nine, Paul had already spent most of his adult life working for Rodney, who had given him a chance when many wouldn't have since he had no formal education in journalism. Of course, Paul felt lucky about it, but he also worked hard, as he had taken upon himself to write about the war while he was overseas. In the end, that had earned him the title of correspondent and given him the credentials to get him his present job.
Lately, the news had increasingly resembled what he'd seen during the war, albeit on a smaller scale. Big bullies fighting each other and innocent bystanders paying the price… This had all escalated since the advent of Prohibition. In the politicians' minds, this law was supposed to quash the problems that came from alcohol consumption. However in the end, it had only made things worse, and the police were ill equipped to deal with the increasing criminality it caused. It was a disease that was spreading throughout the country, but Chicago had to be the most infected city of them all. Paul often wondered what they had done in Chicago to be so plagued. What made things worse in Paul's mind was that Rodney was right about the people's dispositions. The thirst for shocking news seemed boundless. He often wondered what kind of future this spelled for America; or even if the rise of urban violence could be related to this somehow. On the other hand, he had to admit that the lawlessness had caused his own trade to flourish. As much, in fact, as the businesses where the hard liquors flowed even more than before they had been declared illegal. However, if all this worried Paul, now he had a more personal concern and the suggestion Rodney made next fit perfectly with his plan for the morning.
"You know," Rodney said then, "instead of getting upset about it, you could do some research yourself. I'd certainly like an in-depth follow up to that story and so would the readers…"
"Wow, you read my mind," Paul replied with a cocky smile. "I was actually on my way to the Bureau's offices, and just thought I'd let you know…"
"Oh you were, were you? Who's the boss of this outfit?"
"I make no secret that I'm after your job Rodney," Paul chuckled as he turned away.
"It's not as easy as it looks," Rodney countered with some amusement, as it was an old inside joke between them. "Trust me; I'll outlive you behind this desk."
"We'll see," Paul called back.
Rodney grunted, although with a corner smile:
"Kids…"
Paul was planning on trying to get through to Leo, since he knew that Cole would be harder to talk out of the crazy plan, and he was convinced that he should intervene as soon as possible.
Cole delicately struck the tuning fork, going through the motions of adjusting the pitch of the instrument, even though he knew the piano was in no need of it. He was only pretending to do so until Rita's husband left. Meanwhile, since the work didn't demand much concentration, he was reminiscing on what brought him to this life. It was ironic in his mind that after swearing off music, he had found himself tuning instruments for a living. Of course, this only constituted a small part of his actual income. The side benefits that came with this job were in fact why he pursued this so-called career.
As he saw Rita pacing impatiently across the room, his train of thought went back to the very point in time where his present life had taken root. That is, besides the moment where his life had been destroyed by a senseless accident in the first place, he reflected bitterly.
It had been before the war, during his convalescence from the said accident. He remembered the dreary hospital where he had been transferred after the institute kicked out both Paul and he. The bandages, a constant reminder of his terrible misfortune, had stayed on for over two months. His anger against the girl who'd caused this had only deepened during that long period of time. His contempt had also eventually extended to all women for the way they treated him. They obviously pitied him as a charity case, and he was also convinced that they mocked his appearance, which only worsened his rancour. That is until shortly before his release from the hospital.
In addition to the nurses and the nuns running the institution, many wealthy women of a certain age volunteered to help with patients. A few helped Cole with his meals, which the bandages made almost impossible for him to take on his own. Most of these women would only embarrass him while they did so, but there was one who seemed to be interested in him personally. She would talk to him gently during what he considered humiliating moments and she made them bearable. In his mind, she appeared to be the exception rather than the rule.
One night, the woman called Rosalind came back after dark, as he was trying to find sleep. She sat on his bed and rather than talking to him, she surprised Cole by caressing his chest in a manner nowhere near what a proper woman would dare.
"Relax boy," she had said when Cole jumped at her touch. "I think it's time for you to become a man…"
She had then proceeded to pull the drapes around his bed and helped him out of his pajamas without a hint of embarrassment, then undressing with the same lack of inhibition. Cole remembered how uncomfortable he had been at his own involuntary reaction, but Rosalind had soon made him feel at ease, again talking to him softly while she stroked his shaft and soon after straddled him. His first time with a woman had been quick, but she didn't complain or make any negative comments. Instead, she had showed him how to please her otherwise. She had directed his every move, showing him how his mouth could advantageously replace his hands in pleasuring a woman. That night was only to be the first of many lessons, as she continued seeing him even after he left the hospital. At the new orphanage, he soon learned to sneak out and go to her, most of the time with Paul's help. At first, Cole had believed that she felt real affection for him. However, one night when Cole had felt particularly good about their lovemaking, he had dared ask Rosalind why she'd chosen him… Her answer had been very direct, like everything else she did or said.
"I simply knew that you'd keep quiet about us. I have needs but my social status prevents me from fulfilling them with men my age, or with similar backgrounds. You were perfect. I knew you couldn't refuse me and wouldn't cause any trouble. No one would ever believe a boy like you over me."
That night had been when he truly understood the deviousness of females. The hurt he had felt at her words finished transforming the sensitive boy that Cole once had been into an enraged man, who would stop at nothing to punish women for his suffering. He understood that Rosalind had never loved him or even truly cared about him. She'd only seen him as a practical solution to her carnal needs. From then on, he saw this relationship, if one could call it that, in a very different light. Cole hid his true feelings afterward, even as he continued seeing her for his own selfish motivation, but his friend saw through him eventually.
Indeed, if at first Paul had believed this an exciting development for Cole, he soon understood that something was wrong with his friend's dispositions. Cole remembered the first time Paul had called him on it.
"Hey," Paul said one night as Cole was just returning from one of his escapades, "How was the evening?"
Cole shrugged before replying offhandedly.
"Same as usual… Rosalind is a great teacher and she takes pleasure in it, if you know what I mean…"
"And you don't?"
"Hey," Cole had chuckled. "Of course I do…in fact I do more all the time…"
"Do you care anything for her?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you've gotta ask, I'm afraid of the answer."
"What kind of a hypocrite are you," Cole had then questioned irritably. "You're no better with all the girls you've courted…"
Paul had hesitated afterward; obviously unsure if indeed he was the best person to question his friend's motivations. Yet, he had still gone on after a moment.
"Look Cole. I'm glad that you've finally come out of your shell…that's all I ever wanted for you. Still, I imagined that you'd find a nice girl and fall in love, you know? That's the kind of person you are."
"Goes to say you don't know me as well as you think. Maybe the old me could've done that. I don't know; that boy was an idiot, really. Now I see things clearly."
"What exactly do you mean by that," Paul had inquired warily.
"Oh simply that I know a lot more about women and what they're truly about…And I've come to understand that romance is a farce only good for those who don't know better. Trust me; I've learned what really matters with Rosalind. I sure as hell will never be caught dead falling in love, but I'll know how to enslave them."
"And then what?" Paul feared the response to this, but he had to ask. It was all so eerie. For one, he could sense that the anger had not left his friend as he'd hoped it would. On the contrary, it had never been more alive. Much more than this, if it might have seemed a delusion to most, Paul was absolutely convinced that Cole meant every word and would actually do whatever he set out to do. This had made Cole's answer all the more dreadful.
"Then, I'll just dump them…after using them for all they're worth of course. It doesn't hurt one bit that I'll take great pleasure in doing both… Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired."
Cole had lied down then, refusing to continue this conversation, even if he sensed Paul's questioning stare on him. He knew that Paul had wanted to say more, and did so many times afterward, but nothing he could say or do ever changed Cole's mind. However, if his ideas about women appalled him, it was when Paul was drafted to serve in the army that he became very troubled with Cole's attitude. Until that moment, however unsavoury his actions had been, he had not showed any signs of a death wish, but according to Paul, he most certainly did afterward.
As soon as he'd heard of Paul's new situation, Cole had volunteered to serve as well, and this in spite of his handicap. In his constant state of anger, joining the army had seemed a pretty good move to Cole; mostly because this way, he could prove that he wasn't a complete failure. From the moment they had removed the bandages, the doctor's verdict had become even more obvious to Paul and him. Cole's left hand was noticeably weaker than the right one. Yet, even if Paul thought it would prevent him from serving, the recruiter didn't see it that way. Obviously in times of war, they weren't as choosy about the recruits, and besides, Cole had been very convincing and determined. However, this proved to be a good move on the man's part since from the moment Cole was enrolled, he began training harder than any of the other men there. Cole's slight handicap didn't prevent him from distinguishing himself not only during training, but even more so on the battlefield after they were sent overseas. There, Cole constantly volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, even if Paul, and then Leo, with whom Paul and Cole had become friends during training, tried to dissuade him. What they called foolish risks, Cole believed to be the proof that he was more than those girls and women had made him feel like: an ugly duckling and a failure. Just as he thought Rosalind had seen him, which was why she had been using him.
Cole remembered how upset she had become when he told her he was leaving. However Cole knew by then that Rosalind only regretted losing a convenience rather than a person. He had seen her tears for what they were. An attempt at keeping him enslaved. In spite of a slight malaise that he rejected forcefully, he had turned away from her, but not before saying with all the scorn he could muster:
"You know woman? You were only a convenience for me just as I was one to you. I was growing tired of you anyway. So long…"
Rosalind had watched him going in total bewilderment. She had not expected this at all and didn't find anything to answer, even as Cole was leaving, renewing his promise to himself that no woman would ever have any power over him. And he had kept this promise religiously afterward…
After the war, he had returned home with no actual trade besides soldiering and the very "qualifications" that afforded him a good life now. Admittedly, he had been excellent at the war business. Paul often said that he was that good because he didn't care whether he lived or died. Cole preferred to see it as living on the edge, which he had been doing ever since the accident… That it probably meant the same thing didn't matter much to Cole. Obviously however, warring skills were useless in the civilian world, and he had not yet found the usefulness of his other skills, which were the music, of course, and a very well developed talent at seducing women.
The latter, he had refined to an art form during the year spent overseas, as risking his life had only been a part of the whole process. The training had built his muscles, along with the fact that he matured, and quite nicely at this. His newly found attractiveness, coupled with a hero status, caused the girls to notice him as much, if not more, than they did Paul. This one often joked that he would end up having to stay away from Cole if he ever wanted to get a date. Indeed, Cole used all he'd learned from Rosalind and polished his skills with women to the point that they didn't care about his lack of affection. Leo even based his offer on the fact that once, Cole had seduced a German girl and got her to turn in some important plan she'd stolen from a former lover at the risk of her own life.
The music was another story. During his last month overseas, Cole had gotten hurt, and this was a tale that Paul liked to tell around. After all the daredevil stunts he had done that year, the only wound Cole suffered, besides a few scratches, was a sprained wrist. The surgeon, who checked his left wrist, found that if the injury could heal on its own, he might actually offer the impossible to Cole. He was a British surgeon who'd served in the field for almost the entirety of the war. During that time, bone and tendon injuries had been legions and he had become something of an expert at these. He assured Cole that he could repair the old damage to his wrist and that, in time, his hand would be as strong as it was before. Cole had been shocked by this, not so much for the possibility that he might not be handicapped anymore, but for the little he actually cared. When Paul had insisted he try this, Cole offered that his inability to play music was only partly caused by the weakness in his hand. In fact, Cole told Paul that no one could play without inspiration and that was his true handicap. This, he had lost at the same time as the use of his hand, and no surgeon could ever give it back to him. It had left him the moment he fell to the ground and knew that the girl of his dreams didn't care one way or the other about his misfortune, even being the cause of it. Indeed, after he relented and submitted himself to the procedure, and if the surgeon's prediction proved truthful, he still didn't try to play.
Before he found the advantage he could take from those particular skills, the choices of career had been scarce. He could have gotten a job in one or another of the factories that sprung up all over the place since the war, as these demanded only a minimum of qualification, if any. However, he had soon decided that this kind of mechanical work wasn't for him. He had then gone through a succession of jobs, but these couldn't give him what he truly wanted, which were a lot of money and the good life. Cole was getting really frustrated because of this, and one day, Paul suggested that he should use what he was good at, rather than trying all sorts of things that weren't for him. Paul had meant that he should play the piano again, but Cole chose the trade of tuning instruments instead, as his musical ear was just as good as his playing skills had been, and then he added the use of his other skill to obtain the riches he had been seeking. In the practice of his new trade, Cole had met many women of a certain age with way too much time on their hands and a thirst for novelty. These were often very wealthy and ready to pay just about anything for something out of the ordinary. That, Cole could offer them and he did…
The door closing brought him back to the present, as Rita walked toward him with a lurid smile. She was one of his most daring customers. Her husband had not even rolled down the driveway before she began undressing for Cole.
"I see that you're in a hurry today," he said with a teasing smile. This women of forty-five was actually much better preserved than most of his clients. Still, he couldn't mistake the loosening in her skin, along with the less than firm breasts… Cole didn't care much what she looked like however. Only what she was worth to him; and frankly, he could take as much pleasure with a dog as with a beauty queen. Their appearances made no difference to him whatsoever. They were just women and worthy only of his contempt. This was not to say that he didn't please them. On the contrary, any woman he had been with believed him to be the ultimate lover. Kind even… Until he dumped them without a look back… and he had been thinking of doing just that with Rita for a while. "Maybe very soon," he thought to himself.
"I thought he'd never leave…" Rita replied while sitting astride him. Cole grabbed her buttocks and kneaded them even as he went on.
"Do you think he knows," he asked offhandedly.
Rita directed one of her breasts to his mouth, and his tongue began toying with it.
"Who cares? The man couldn't satisfy me even if he tried, which he doesn't. He's a wimp who deserves to be cheated on."
"He looked funny at me this morning. I got the feeling that he might have an inkling. Hey, maybe he'd like to watch? Maybe that's why he stuck around this long?"
From the lustful look in her eyes, Cole guessed that the idea excited her even more than she already was.
"Nah," she still answered, "he's not enough of a man even for that. Although, maybe you could teach him a few tricks…"
Cole laughed as he grabbed her upper thighs and lifted her.
"I can't go around teaching others what I know. I'd lose my edge…"
Rita kissed him deeply as they moved toward the bedroom, and then she said:
"There's no danger of that. If I wasn't married…"
Cole froze in the threshold to her bedroom.
"Keep the feelings crap out of it Rita. If not, I'll be outta here in a flash. I don't need your trinkets that much you know…I've got a lot of other women more than willing to provide without conditions…"
Rita flinched noticeably. She watched Cole questioningly, almost pleadingly, certain that if he was to go and never come back, she'd be lost.
"Please, I didn't mean anything by this," she finally offered. "It's just you've got such a gift…"
A vague smile spread over Cole's lips as he started again toward the bed.
"That I do," he replied confidently.
"Don't you have any shame," Rita giggled, reassured.
"None whatsoever," Cole said before throwing her on the bed unceremoniously. Even this, she found exciting as she wriggled invitingly while parting her legs for him.
Undressing without haste, Cole thought cynically:
"They're all the same…"
"All the same," Phoebe thought as she watched Fredo propped on one elbow while his fingers played lazily with her firm nipples. It was late morning there, but they had been up late the night before. What's more, Fredo was always in better shape in the morning when came to sex. At least to the extent of his stamina and that wasn't saying much in Phoebe's mind. Right then, he was looking upon her with actual adoration and this only reinforced Phoebe's certainty of her power over him and most men. Fredo had fallen head over heels for her almost immediately and Phoebe used it shamelessly. Sometimes, she even managed to take pleasure at having sex with the old man, more because of the power he wielded than for any physical prowess, but this wasn't gonna be one of those times. Still, she played her role to perfection, closing her eyes and moaning for his benefit, while in reality her mind wandered far away from their bedroom and his somewhat clumsy caresses, reminiscing anew about the past.
Three months after the incident, Phoebe had changed even more than she'd realized. Of course, her only distraction until that day, if one might call it that, had been her father coming every day to tell her how much of a shameful child she was. At first, Phoebe still tried to protest and defend herself, but he threatened her every time and in the end, she gave up on convincing him of her innocence. Victor had not touched her again, but it really didn't matter. The beating had only been what threw her over the edge after the accumulation of pain along the years. The profound depression that followed for her seemed endless. During those three months, she'd barely slept or eaten. That day, after all those months, Paige was finally allowed to visit, as it was Phoebe's fifteenth birthday. Paige's first reaction was one of astonishment.
"Wow," this one had exclaimed from the moment she crossed the threshold and saw Phoebe.
Phoebe had looked up with a weak smile, unsure on what motivated her cousin's exclamation. When she didn't reply, Paige pursued.
"What happened to you? You're all thin! You should get sick more often."
Phoebe stared back at Paige in total confusion. If she knew that sickness had been the excuse given to Paige to keep her away, she didn't see what was so different about her. The rare occasions where she bothered to look at herself in the mirror, she only saw the awkward girl she'd been for as long as she remembered.
"What are you talking about," she finally questioned hesitantly.
"Oh come on Phoebe. You can't ask me to believe you don't know how much prettier you look! Add a little make up and a nice dress and the boys would stick to you like glue!"
Phoebe had never really told Paige why she preferred to stay in. In fact, Paige had assumed that it was really her appearance which had motivated the reclusion. Phoebe couldn't bring herself to tell Paige that what she proposed might actually make her situation worse. Still, she wondered about what Paige was seeing. Without answering her, she got up and looked at herself curiously in the mirror. At first, all she saw were the deep pockets under her eyes, no doubt caused by the lack of sleep. Paige had probably attributed these to her supposed sickness. Phoebe had on one of the grey dresses her father allowed her to wear. These were shapeless and always fell loose on her, but as she flattened the fabric, she realized that indeed, she had changed. Maybe not as much as Paige implied, but she had lost weight and it made her look different, indeed somewhat more attractive.
"It's strange," Phoebe said at last, unable to keep her eyes from her reflection, "I wasn't seeing this at all."
"You really need to get out, girl." Paige exclaimed.
Phoebe's expression turned sombre and she moved away from the mirror at this.
"There's nothing out there that interests me."
"Wasn't there a guy who played music you said you liked?"
Phoebe sat heavily on the bed.
"He's gone… and frankly, I'm glad…"
"What? What are you talking about? A few months ago, all you could talk about was this music…"
"Daddy was right. Music is bad. I don't even wanna sing anymore…"
"Ok now that'd be a crime. Singing's not wrong, Phoebe. Not with the voice you have! I envy you so much."
"There's really nothing much to envy Paige. On the other hand, I wish that I was as emancipated as you are."
"Well girl, if you really mean it… let me give you a few pointers. Hey, why don't we plan a little outing for my next visit?"
Phoebe's eyes darted nervously toward the door, as she worried about her father listening in.
"I'm not sure that I'm ready for that Paige," Phoebe replied uncertainly.
"Well, we'll see about that." Paige said then without insisting. Instead, she got up enthusiastically. "But right now, my mother sent a cake for your birthday and it's waiting in the dining room. You can't celebrate your birthday without it. Also I have this for you," she added, handing her a small box, "but I think I'll have something better next week…"
Phoebe stared at her questioningly, but Paige headed for the door and signalled for Phoebe to follow even before she had the chance to look at her gift. Phoebe only hesitated a moment longer, but her cousin's joyous attitude was always an upper for her. At least for the short time Paige was allowed there, Phoebe decided that she would set aside her melancholy and she followed her, even managing a happy smile.
That night, her father was almost amiable. Phoebe felt a surge of courage course through her and the moment they had said their good byes to Paige, she turned to him resolutely.
"Daddy…I know you think tutoring is better for me, but…I'd really like to go to a school like Paige. I wanna know other kids my age…"
Phoebe had stopped then as she had looked up at her father and seen the anger, even the rage showing in his expression.
"You little tramp. I give you an inch and you're already trying to go back to your sinful ways. You'll stay here and that until your majority. Then you can do whatever you want, but if you do, don't expect anything from me!"
Phoebe knew that she was this close to sending him over the edge and she simply went back upstairs without a word. Luckily, things stopped there that day. However, when Paige asked to come back, Victor refused to let her for another month, pretending that even her short visit had caused a relapse for Phoebe.
During that month, which seemed even longer than the preceding ones for Phoebe, she cried herself to sleep every night, and became even more exhausted, barely managing to keep up with the tutor her father had hired for her schooling. This one, a woman of a certain age, finally appealed to Victor on her behalf. She saw that Phoebe was withering away for every day that passed. It took some convincing when she even suggested that Phoebe should see a doctor, maybe even one of those psychiatrists. Victor relented on letting her see her cousin and even allowed Phoebe to have some time outside instead. If this pleased Phoebe, the fact that he hired more people to watch her during those outings put a damper on her relief. However, she had been determined to make the best of it.
When Paige had visited again, she'd brought a make up kit. Phoebe had marvelled at the thing, but as soon as Paige had left, she hid it carefully, convinced that it would displease Victor tremendously. Afterward, Paige and she got to walk outside, and even visited a fair once. If things had seemed better to Phoebe until then, when they returned from the fair she had the most shocking revelation. Paige had insisted on buying a pretty dress for Phoebe and when they went home, Paige coaxed her into try it on while she was there. Phoebe finally agreed and had stripped to her underwear when her father burst into her room without warning.
If Phoebe expected some kind of explosion on his part, his reaction differed completely. Instead, he was looking at her in such a way that she felt ashamed. At first, Phoebe thought that she was mistaken, but her cousin's reaction, as she brought a robe and hurriedly put it on Phoebe's shoulders, told her that she was right.
"Give me that dress," Victor had simply said then, grabbing the garment from the bed and he had left after one last long look at his daughter.
Paige had not found the words to tell Phoebe what she'd felt then and it wasn't until long afterward that they both talked freely about the incident. However, in the weeks that followed, Phoebe's strong suspicion became a certainty. One night, Victor even emboldened himself by coming into her room. Phoebe had been paralysed by fear at this point and pretended to be asleep. That is when she felt his hand caressing her bosom through the sheet, which he then slowly pushed out of the way. Phoebe wanted to scream, to shoo him away, but the fear kept her immobile as he snaked his hand under her nightgown and began caressing the skin of her breasts, and then moved down between her legs. For a moment, she feared that he would pull her panties down as well, but to her intense relief, he left after only a few more minutes. That night and the following ones, Phoebe didn't sleep at all, until the fear that he would come back transformed into an intense rage. Her anger was not only directed at Victor, but also at the boys, and particularly the one who sent the note, as she had concluded that Victor's attitude was the direct product of their would-be prank. In her still childlike mind, she couldn't imagine that Victor might have had such inclinations before. Therefore, it had to be those pigs that had provoked him. In time, she came to see him as the horrible person that he was, but she never stopped hating all men for the way they treated her. However, rather than swearing them off of her life, the very fact that her father now had this sick interest in her told Phoebe that she could use this against him and ultimately against all the men who'd ever want her.
Phoebe remembered that it had not really been planned but was rather a result of the circumstances. After she had resolved not to be a victim anymore, Phoebe began wearing all the clothes her father had forbidden before, even using the make up Paige gave her every day and flaunting it in his face. When he threatened to punish her, Phoebe shot back that she knew what he wanted, even prancing sensuously in front of him at this point. From that day, he cowered away, apparently ashamed, to Phoebe's utter contentment. Her new attitude and appearance also had the effect of getting her noticed by one of the guardians Victor had hired to watch her. Since her father still persisted in having her watched, she decided to use the guardian's interest to her advantage and one afternoon she invited him into her room. Gilbert had not hesitated long before following her, and even if awkwardly, Phoebe had seduced him that day. In truth, it had been an unpleasant experience for her, even disgusting by moments, but she had not shown him her true feelings. Instead, she had pretended to enjoy herself, as he grossly slid his hand in her panties and stroked her, while panting like a dog she thought then. If his touch had been difficult to endure, it was when he undressed and she saw his fully erected shaft that she almost felt sick. Until that moment, she had believed that letting him have his way with her would be quick and simple. Then she could have him do whatever she wanted, and most of all, get the freedom she so longed for. Now, as he pushed her on the bed and quickly undressed her, she began fearing the worst. The man's caresses were rough and even less pleasant than her father's had been. Then the humiliation that she felt was compounded by the pain he caused her as he entered her all at once. She moaned in pain but he probably believed it to be from pleasure because he began thrusting himself forcefully inside of her while telling her how good she felt. When he was spent, he even asked her if she had come. Phoebe couldn't even bring herself to speak as he removed himself from her and put back his clothes as if nothing had happened. However, as he gazed at her with something akin to sweetness, Phoebe swallowed the bile that burned her throat and she said:
"I really liked it…"
"Good," the young man had answered then with a contented smile. He'd even come back toward her and kissed her on the lips before whispering:
"I hope that we can do this again soon…"
Even through the intense malaise and shame that she felt afterward, she found that something good had come of it. Indeed, as she had hoped, Gilbert became a puppet that she could manipulate to her whim. Much later, she understood how inexperienced he had been himself and that it was why it had been so easy to fool him. In the meantime, she used her new freedom to defy her father more. The outings she was allowed to take, she began to prolong sometimes through the day. Her grades deteriorated noticeably as she missed more and more lessons. When the tutor complained to Victor about it, he tried again to threaten Phoebe, but she laughed in his face, and told him that she would go to the tutor and tell her about his disgusting actions.
Even if it wasn't any more pleasant for her than at first, she let Gilbert take her again and again, while he became more and more dependant on her. However, once she felt something during their lovemaking. It had been only a twinge coming from her loins as he stroked her, but definitely something more pleasant than the usual hurt. That night, she hesitantly began stroking herself, searching for the sensation again and when she felt the short but intense orgasm, she knew that she had been missing a lot. Mostly, she understood that if this was what Gilbert felt or more, it was understandable that he was somewhat enslaved to her.
The next day, Paige had visited her and Phoebe tried to talk to her about the exquisite sensation she had experienced.
"Phoebe, please…this is not a subject a girl should talk about openly," had been Paige's answer as she had turned crimson.
"Hey…I thought we could discuss almost anything between us. I told you about Gilbert…"
"And I told you that you were crazy. You're much too young to be doing this with a man…Phoebe, you scare me sometimes."
Phoebe had gotten angry at this point.
"I thought you were my friend! If I can't talk to you about this, who else am I gonna talk to?"
"I've got only one thing to tell you about this," Paige replied. "You should be aware that you're risking a lot by sleeping with boys. What if you got pregnant?"
"I won't get pregnant. Like you said, I'm too young for that. And if you only have reproaches to serve me, why don't you go now?"
"Phoebe," Paige exclaimed, "I only want to help you. You know I love you like a sister!"
"Then, try to be at least tolerant."
Paige had frowned but decided that she preferred to keep their friendship intact and said nothing more about it.
A few weeks later, Paige's predictions of doom became a reality as Phoebe began feeling sick almost constantly. In spite of Phoebe's ill dispositions toward learning, her tutor again took pity on Phoebe and she went to talk to Victor about it. This one had her examined by a doctor and when he was told that Phoebe was pregnant, Victor again changed attitudes for the worse. He held it inside for the doctor, but once they were home, he went with Phoebe to her room and closed the door behind them angrily. She was so distraught about the news that at first, she didn't see the danger. It was only when he began screaming invectives at her and grabbed her roughly that she began trembling like she used to when he threatened her.
"So you are the slut I always believed you to be. And you thought you could give me lessons in morality? Tramp! I should kill you right now," Victor had then said, sending a chill down Phoebe's spine.
Instead of hitting her however, he threw her on the bed and pinned her there with his body. Then he began fondling her breast with one hand while the other roughly grabbed her between the legs. The disgust she had felt with Gilbert at first came back in force. She struggled to get away, but he was much stronger than she and soon, he had pulled her panties down and was rubbing himself against her, although still fully clothed. Desperate, Phoebe grabbed the heavy lamp on her night table, and then she hit Victor hard on the head. This one screamed in pain and rage but he still went on pinning her, albeit with increasing weakness, as he became dazed by the first hit. Phoebe saw her chance and she hit him repeatedly until he grew limp. She then pushed him off of her and dressed hurriedly, intent on denouncing him to her tutor. However, as she was about to leave the room, one of the servants came in, no doubt alerted by Victor's scream, and she took in the scene with horror. She went to Victor, who was bleeding profusely from a wound to his scalp on his daughter's bed. He was groaning but didn't wake up when the servant shook him. She looked back at Phoebe uncertainly, and then she rushed out to fetch a doctor.
Much later, when Victor came to, he told the inspector who came to investigate that his daughter had gone crazy and begun hitting him when he had showed rightful anger at her being pregnant. No one contradicted him and none of Phoebe's protestations had any affect, as the policemen believed a prominent member of society over a teenager her father said was a shame to his family for years.
Afterward, Phoebe was sent to a reform school for girls, where she lost the baby a few weeks later. If she felt some sadness at this event, it was totally overwhelmed by the rage that now inhabited her almost constantly. The servants had known of her father's treatment of her, but they obviously feared for their jobs, and in a way, Phoebe couldn't reproach them their silence. They were only women at the mercy of pigs who used them and treated them like dirt. Even Gilbert had turned his back on her after learning of her pregnancy and of the incident with her father. She understood that he considered her like an object which had served its purpose, nothing more. Even if she had never felt any real affection for the young man, it still hurt. The policemen of course believed a man over a girl and judged her just the same.
"They're all the same," Phoebe thought again as she felt the rage mounting in her anew even as Fredo pulled away from her, in a sweat. She had been so lost in thoughts that her response to their lovemaking had only been mechanical.
"Thanks, doll," Fredo said then, and Phoebe figured that she had managed to fool him anyway, even with the little attention she gave him.
"You were great, as usual," she uttered softly in her best imitation of afterglow. However, she couldn't wait for him to leave. She got her wish but he still told her something else before going out.
"The man that usually comes for the piano has taken sick, Lara… so don't be surprised when you see a new one this afternoon. I thought that you'd prefer if the work was done anyway."
"Thanks, Fredo. You're always so thoughtful."
Fredo smiled gently before leaving the room for his morning ablutions. Phoebe knew that he would go directly from there to the dining room and she decided to order breakfast in bed for herself. She was definitely not in a talkative mood.
Leo had kept Paul waiting for almost an hour in the lobby of the Bureau's building. Paul had just about made up his mind to storm the offices when he finally saw his friend coming his way.
"Took you long enough!"
"Come on Paul. I've got duties to perform. Now I'm famished, so whatever you wanted to discuss, we can do it over lunch."
Paul had to admit that he was also hungry and they went out of the building toward a diner which served greasy, yet tasty food. A lot of policemen and agents of the Bureau were also eating there on a regular basis and today was no exception. In fact, Paul also noticed a few of his colleagues from other publications there. It was no surprise to him. It was much easier to glean information from the officers of the law when they were off duty and relaxed. In fact, they often talked loud and no questioning was even necessary to get some valuable tidbits. As soon as they were seated, a large woman came to take their orders. After she left, Paul immediately brought up what preoccupied him.
"Leo, I can't believe that you'd involve our friend in such a dangerous venture. What got into you?"
"Oh come on, Paul. I'm only asking him to do what he does best. What's more, the girl is really a nice looking one. He might even be grateful…"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure that while they cut him into tiny pieces, he'll be thanking you profusely."
"You're so melodramatic, Paul. The risk is minimal. We've taken our info about that girl. She's had many indiscretions in the past apparently. There's even a rumor that she cheated on Fredo as well… I told Cole about it, so that if she threatens to squeal, he'll have some ammunition of his own against the little vixen."
"You're just as crazy as he is," Paul exclaimed irritably. "What if you're wrong? You knew he wouldn't refuse. You shouldn't have done this. Have you already forgotten he saved our butts during the war?"
"Look I told you already. This is truly a duty to his country almost as important as fighting the Germans. Those people, they're killing innocents without a second thought and we can't do a thing about it. They come out of it white as snow. We manage to grab a few little fishes here and there, but they're too scared to talk. Besides, when they're released, I'm certain they get rewards for their silence too."
"Leo, I'm very much aware of the problems you're facing. But Cole is still our friend…"
"And if I really believed he was in any danger I wouldn't have asked. I assure you."
"The worse part is that you believe what you're saying." Paul added dejectedly.
"Because it's true," Leo said confidently.
"How about the body they fished out of the bay this morning? That should give anyone something to think about. Do you know how it happened?"
"Hum…is that the friend talking here, or the journalist?"
"Both," Paul chuckled unhappily. "But I'm more concerned about Cole. What if Fredo is the one responsible for this?"
"We're not even sure if it's really a gang hit anymore. The coroner told us of a few wounds that looked like they were inflicted by a jealous husband. Not pretty, if you know what I mean…"
"But it still could be…"
"I'm sure it had nothing to do with Fredo…and besides, there's nothing more to argue about. Cole already agreed and he's probably on his way to her as we speak or he will be shortly."
Paul glared at Leo unhappily.
"What was the hurry?"
"It was just the circumstances in fact. That's why I wanted to talk to Cole last night. The girl is a singer and of course, she has a piano that needs constant care. We've found out who usually does the maintenance and sent him on a forced vacation," Leo said casually. "Then one of our operatives strongly suggested Cole for the job and he was convincing enough that he got Cole an appointment for this afternoon."
Paul realized that he was too late to keep Cole from going there with a dejected sigh.
"Crazy," he grumbled as the waitress came back with their drinks, "you're all crazy…"
She gave him a curious look but soon shrugged and went away.
"You really shouldn't worry like this," Leo said then.
"I wish I was as confident as you are… I really do…"
Cole laid back and simply allowed Rita to play with his chest hair. She looked somewhat preoccupied but he really couldn't care less about her problems. In fact, he had just made his decision about her. She was becoming too possessive, and proved it again with her next words.
"Cole…don't you care about any of the women you're seeing?"
"I thought I already told you where I stand…" he answered curtly.
Obviously, Rita didn't read the warning in his voice as she went on.
"I know you like it with me…I'm sure that I could compensate you more than enough on my own…"
"What are you talking about," Cole questioned irritably as he pushed her away and sat on the other side of the bed.
"I…I just thought that we really had something…"
Cole glanced back at her coldly.
"You're deluded, you know that?"
His tone of voice startled Rita.
"But…"
Cole interrupted:
"You know, I just got myself a new customer and I'm afraid I won't have time for you anymore…"
"Hey, you can't do that!"
"I never promised you exclusivity, Rita. I never even pretended to like you. It was all in your head. Go find yourself another distraction, or better yet, try to teach your husband a few tricks. I don't really care either way… me I'm outta here," he announced as he picked up his clothes and began putting them on deliberately. Rita tried to grab his arm but he shook her off rudely.
"It's over Rita, and I won't even ask anything for this one…it was on the house… Consider it my goodbye gift."
"You can't leave me…I…I love you."
"Go tell that to someone who cares, Rita," Cole spat, already on his way out. He could hear her sobbing but women's cries left him cold. At least, some of them had more dignity and they didn't try to hold on to him with this cheap trick. However, this one was a pitiful wreck and he would not lose another moment here. Rita didn't see it this way however. She got up and ran to put herself between him and the bedroom door.
"You've got to listen to me. I can't believe you would just leave like this. That's not possible!"
"Rita…I didn't want to go there but I guess if you insist… Not only do I care nothing for you, but you've become boring and clingy. You couldn't find enough money to convince me to come back… you're not worth it."
Rita angrily slapped him across the cheek then, but Cole only smiled back.
"Hey, that's more passion than you demonstrated in months…Now, I'm late for my next appointment," he added before pushing her aside and going to the door.
"I'll tell my husband about you," Rita screamed at him.
"Yeah," he replied "and then I'll knock him out good and when he wakes up, he'll throw you on the street like the cheating bitch you are. Don't think you can threaten me…" Cole finished coldly before going out the front door without another look toward her.
Rita watched the door for a long moment and then went to throw herself on the bed, where she cried as much from humiliation as from the pain of losing him.
Phoebe soon found the silence oppressing even if she had wanted this. She was dressed and ready to get out of the room, but she had no urge to go downstairs. Besides, Fredo was probably busy at his business dealings and it would be boring. She picked up the phone instead and Paige answered at the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Paige, it's me…"
"Phoebe? Wow, it's been months…I thought you'd sworn me off."
"Sorry, I was…busy."
"With your new show, I know…"
"That's no excuse." Phoebe uttered apologetically. Paige was the only one to know her real name anymore. Phoebe hadn't been using her real name since that first day where she had left the reform school, and made the decision that she would be a singer.
"How are the kids?"
"You really wanna know?" Paige questioned with a hint of reproach. Phoebe knew she hadn't been much of a friend to Paige, but she still loved her cousin just the same. Through the years, she had played so many roles in order to succeed; she often lost sight of who she really was. At those times, Paige was the only one who could bring her back to reality. However, Phoebe had been neglecting her lately and promised herself for the umpteenth time that she would make more efforts from then on.
"Of course I do. Look I know I haven't been there much for you, but what do you say we go out tomorrow? Like old times. We could even try to find a fair…"
"I'm surprised you're in the mood to reminisce. But hey, yes that'd be fun and it'd make for a change from the diapers. And the kids are great, although the little one is keeping me busy."
"That husband of yours, doesn't he help at all?"
"How many men do you know who'd change diapers? That doesn't mean he's not great, Phoebe, and I'd appreciate if we left Glen out of it."
"Sorry, old habits…"
"Don't be," Paige replied gently, "you've got good reasons…So what's up with you?"
"Well besides the new show, which will begin this weekend, nothing much but I'm just peachy."
"Really? See, I've got problems believing that, Pheebs. Usually, when you call out of the blue, something's wrong…"
"Can't I just wanna talk to my favorite cousin?"
There was a long pause at the other end and Phoebe bit her lips, knowing full well that Paige wasn't fooled.
"Of course, although we both know I'm your only cousin, but hey, I'll take it anyway," Paige finally answered. "What's your plan for tomorrow?"
"How about I pick you up at your house at say, one o'clock? That'd give us the whole afternoon."
"It's perfect…" Then, Paige seemed to hesitate again before she pursued, "Phoebe…is everything really ok?"
"Yeah," Phoebe trailed. "Yeah," she repeated more firmly, "I'm fine I promise, but I'll feel even better when we've spent some together."
There was an insistent knock at the front door.
"Looks like we've got visitors… I'll talk to you tomorrow…"
"I'm looking forward to this, and Phoebe…I'm glad you called."
Phoebe smiled softly as she put down the phone, and then went to investigate the newcomer. At least, this would constitute a distraction.
Cole had arrived at the ostentatious house with some trepidation. It was good to feel something at least. Not even the prospect of a jealous husband managed to bother him anymore. His life was becoming boring. "Of course," he thought with a quick smile, "Paul would say I'm crazy." In all truth, Cole knew that his actions appeared unhealthy to his long time friend. However, he wasn't about to change, simply because he couldn't see himself settling down like Paul had done. Cole believed that he would wither away without some risk in his life. Besides the anger and rancour that still thrived inside of him, the thrill of danger was all that made him feel alive anymore. Paul often told him that if he'd let go of his anger, he might actually feel better for it. Cole didn't see it like that. Even if he tried, he could never forget what had been taken from him. That simple thought brought back regrets and he chased them away while eagerly knocking on the imposing door.
Chapter II
At the newsstand, a crowd was forming, apparently fascinated with some headline. Paul watched them before heading for The Gazette's building, but it wasn't until he was inside that he grabbed a newspaper and saw the awful add-on that had barely made it to publication. One of his sensationalist fellow journalist was giving a description that bordered on indecency and it sent chills down Paul's spine. He had seen and heard some pretty horrible things, mostly during the war, but one didn't expect it to hit so close to home.
"The poor bloke must have suffered horribly before they let him die," Paul easily imagined from the article. Right away he was reminded of Cole and of his foolish intentions. What if those gangsters Cole was going up against were the same ones who did that to the boy in the article? The story ended with the fact that at press time, no one had been able to identify the victim. Still, Richard Manseau, his colleague, was drawing conclusions. Nowadays, it wasn't difficult to deduce it might have been a hit by one or another of the bootlegging gangs. He was even venturing names, and among them the most prominent was Fredo Turello. The press, unlike the police, could speculate to their heart's content, even though it wasn't Paul's brand of journalism. Of course, the fact that they could make such unfounded affirmations while the police couldn't was Leo's point. Nevertheless this didn't make his offer to Cole any less wrong.
Paul still couldn't believe that Leo had actually convinced Cole to throw himself into this venture. No more than he could believe Rodney had allowed this to be printed, let alone distributed. Admittedly, he was more upset about Cole and Leo than the article when he went straight into the Editor in Chief's office and threw the newspaper on his desk as if it would bite. And still that didn't keep him from jumping at his boss about the article.
"Hey Rodney," Paul called unceremoniously. "I thought we were into serious news reporting here?"
"Oh come on, McKail. This thing's gonna sell the papers like hot cakes," Rodney Pascali answered with a smirk, without even bothering to look at the newspaper. The balding man of fifty was used to the informal attitude his young reporter displayed. In fact, it was common in his newsroom. Most of the guys working for him had it in their blood to be direct and somewhat arrogant. It came with the territory, as they would most certainly get no stories otherwise. The Editor in Chief knew this very well, as he had been among the pioneers of modern journalism and didn't miss a chance to let all those hungry up and comers hear about it.
"Hell," Paul answered to this, "I have nothing against reporting the news, but half of this article is bordering on obscene, and it contains next to no real information."
"The world has changed, Paul. A young boy like you should understand that better than anyone. The public wants sensations now. They wanna be shocked; not just informed."
"Hey, who're you calling a boy?" Paul exclaimed humorously. He couldn't stay mad at his boss for very long anyway.
At the age of twenty-nine, Paul had already spent most of his adult life working for Rodney, who had given him a chance when many wouldn't have since he had no formal education in journalism. Of course, Paul felt lucky about it, but he also worked hard, as he had taken upon himself to write about the war while he was overseas. In the end, that had earned him the title of correspondent and given him the credentials to get him his present job.
Lately, the news had increasingly resembled what he'd seen during the war, albeit on a smaller scale. Big bullies fighting each other and innocent bystanders paying the price… This had all escalated since the advent of Prohibition. In the politicians' minds, this law was supposed to quash the problems that came from alcohol consumption. However in the end, it had only made things worse, and the police were ill equipped to deal with the increasing criminality it caused. It was a disease that was spreading throughout the country, but Chicago had to be the most infected city of them all. Paul often wondered what they had done in Chicago to be so plagued. What made things worse in Paul's mind was that Rodney was right about the people's dispositions. The thirst for shocking news seemed boundless. He often wondered what kind of future this spelled for America; or even if the rise of urban violence could be related to this somehow. On the other hand, he had to admit that the lawlessness had caused his own trade to flourish. As much, in fact, as the businesses where the hard liquors flowed even more than before they had been declared illegal. However, if all this worried Paul, now he had a more personal concern and the suggestion Rodney made next fit perfectly with his plan for the morning.
"You know," Rodney said then, "instead of getting upset about it, you could do some research yourself. I'd certainly like an in-depth follow up to that story and so would the readers…"
"Wow, you read my mind," Paul replied with a cocky smile. "I was actually on my way to the Bureau's offices, and just thought I'd let you know…"
"Oh you were, were you? Who's the boss of this outfit?"
"I make no secret that I'm after your job Rodney," Paul chuckled as he turned away.
"It's not as easy as it looks," Rodney countered with some amusement, as it was an old inside joke between them. "Trust me; I'll outlive you behind this desk."
"We'll see," Paul called back.
Rodney grunted, although with a corner smile:
"Kids…"
Paul was planning on trying to get through to Leo, since he knew that Cole would be harder to talk out of the crazy plan, and he was convinced that he should intervene as soon as possible.
Cole delicately struck the tuning fork, going through the motions of adjusting the pitch of the instrument, even though he knew the piano was in no need of it. He was only pretending to do so until Rita's husband left. Meanwhile, since the work didn't demand much concentration, he was reminiscing on what brought him to this life. It was ironic in his mind that after swearing off music, he had found himself tuning instruments for a living. Of course, this only constituted a small part of his actual income. The side benefits that came with this job were in fact why he pursued this so-called career.
As he saw Rita pacing impatiently across the room, his train of thought went back to the very point in time where his present life had taken root. That is, besides the moment where his life had been destroyed by a senseless accident in the first place, he reflected bitterly.
It had been before the war, during his convalescence from the said accident. He remembered the dreary hospital where he had been transferred after the institute kicked out both Paul and he. The bandages, a constant reminder of his terrible misfortune, had stayed on for over two months. His anger against the girl who'd caused this had only deepened during that long period of time. His contempt had also eventually extended to all women for the way they treated him. They obviously pitied him as a charity case, and he was also convinced that they mocked his appearance, which only worsened his rancour. That is until shortly before his release from the hospital.
In addition to the nurses and the nuns running the institution, many wealthy women of a certain age volunteered to help with patients. A few helped Cole with his meals, which the bandages made almost impossible for him to take on his own. Most of these women would only embarrass him while they did so, but there was one who seemed to be interested in him personally. She would talk to him gently during what he considered humiliating moments and she made them bearable. In his mind, she appeared to be the exception rather than the rule.
One night, the woman called Rosalind came back after dark, as he was trying to find sleep. She sat on his bed and rather than talking to him, she surprised Cole by caressing his chest in a manner nowhere near what a proper woman would dare.
"Relax boy," she had said when Cole jumped at her touch. "I think it's time for you to become a man…"
She had then proceeded to pull the drapes around his bed and helped him out of his pajamas without a hint of embarrassment, then undressing with the same lack of inhibition. Cole remembered how uncomfortable he had been at his own involuntary reaction, but Rosalind had soon made him feel at ease, again talking to him softly while she stroked his shaft and soon after straddled him. His first time with a woman had been quick, but she didn't complain or make any negative comments. Instead, she had showed him how to please her otherwise. She had directed his every move, showing him how his mouth could advantageously replace his hands in pleasuring a woman. That night was only to be the first of many lessons, as she continued seeing him even after he left the hospital. At the new orphanage, he soon learned to sneak out and go to her, most of the time with Paul's help. At first, Cole had believed that she felt real affection for him. However, one night when Cole had felt particularly good about their lovemaking, he had dared ask Rosalind why she'd chosen him… Her answer had been very direct, like everything else she did or said.
"I simply knew that you'd keep quiet about us. I have needs but my social status prevents me from fulfilling them with men my age, or with similar backgrounds. You were perfect. I knew you couldn't refuse me and wouldn't cause any trouble. No one would ever believe a boy like you over me."
That night had been when he truly understood the deviousness of females. The hurt he had felt at her words finished transforming the sensitive boy that Cole once had been into an enraged man, who would stop at nothing to punish women for his suffering. He understood that Rosalind had never loved him or even truly cared about him. She'd only seen him as a practical solution to her carnal needs. From then on, he saw this relationship, if one could call it that, in a very different light. Cole hid his true feelings afterward, even as he continued seeing her for his own selfish motivation, but his friend saw through him eventually.
Indeed, if at first Paul had believed this an exciting development for Cole, he soon understood that something was wrong with his friend's dispositions. Cole remembered the first time Paul had called him on it.
"Hey," Paul said one night as Cole was just returning from one of his escapades, "How was the evening?"
Cole shrugged before replying offhandedly.
"Same as usual… Rosalind is a great teacher and she takes pleasure in it, if you know what I mean…"
"And you don't?"
"Hey," Cole had chuckled. "Of course I do…in fact I do more all the time…"
"Do you care anything for her?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you've gotta ask, I'm afraid of the answer."
"What kind of a hypocrite are you," Cole had then questioned irritably. "You're no better with all the girls you've courted…"
Paul had hesitated afterward; obviously unsure if indeed he was the best person to question his friend's motivations. Yet, he had still gone on after a moment.
"Look Cole. I'm glad that you've finally come out of your shell…that's all I ever wanted for you. Still, I imagined that you'd find a nice girl and fall in love, you know? That's the kind of person you are."
"Goes to say you don't know me as well as you think. Maybe the old me could've done that. I don't know; that boy was an idiot, really. Now I see things clearly."
"What exactly do you mean by that," Paul had inquired warily.
"Oh simply that I know a lot more about women and what they're truly about…And I've come to understand that romance is a farce only good for those who don't know better. Trust me; I've learned what really matters with Rosalind. I sure as hell will never be caught dead falling in love, but I'll know how to enslave them."
"And then what?" Paul feared the response to this, but he had to ask. It was all so eerie. For one, he could sense that the anger had not left his friend as he'd hoped it would. On the contrary, it had never been more alive. Much more than this, if it might have seemed a delusion to most, Paul was absolutely convinced that Cole meant every word and would actually do whatever he set out to do. This had made Cole's answer all the more dreadful.
"Then, I'll just dump them…after using them for all they're worth of course. It doesn't hurt one bit that I'll take great pleasure in doing both… Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired."
Cole had lied down then, refusing to continue this conversation, even if he sensed Paul's questioning stare on him. He knew that Paul had wanted to say more, and did so many times afterward, but nothing he could say or do ever changed Cole's mind. However, if his ideas about women appalled him, it was when Paul was drafted to serve in the army that he became very troubled with Cole's attitude. Until that moment, however unsavoury his actions had been, he had not showed any signs of a death wish, but according to Paul, he most certainly did afterward.
As soon as he'd heard of Paul's new situation, Cole had volunteered to serve as well, and this in spite of his handicap. In his constant state of anger, joining the army had seemed a pretty good move to Cole; mostly because this way, he could prove that he wasn't a complete failure. From the moment they had removed the bandages, the doctor's verdict had become even more obvious to Paul and him. Cole's left hand was noticeably weaker than the right one. Yet, even if Paul thought it would prevent him from serving, the recruiter didn't see it that way. Obviously in times of war, they weren't as choosy about the recruits, and besides, Cole had been very convincing and determined. However, this proved to be a good move on the man's part since from the moment Cole was enrolled, he began training harder than any of the other men there. Cole's slight handicap didn't prevent him from distinguishing himself not only during training, but even more so on the battlefield after they were sent overseas. There, Cole constantly volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, even if Paul, and then Leo, with whom Paul and Cole had become friends during training, tried to dissuade him. What they called foolish risks, Cole believed to be the proof that he was more than those girls and women had made him feel like: an ugly duckling and a failure. Just as he thought Rosalind had seen him, which was why she had been using him.
Cole remembered how upset she had become when he told her he was leaving. However Cole knew by then that Rosalind only regretted losing a convenience rather than a person. He had seen her tears for what they were. An attempt at keeping him enslaved. In spite of a slight malaise that he rejected forcefully, he had turned away from her, but not before saying with all the scorn he could muster:
"You know woman? You were only a convenience for me just as I was one to you. I was growing tired of you anyway. So long…"
Rosalind had watched him going in total bewilderment. She had not expected this at all and didn't find anything to answer, even as Cole was leaving, renewing his promise to himself that no woman would ever have any power over him. And he had kept this promise religiously afterward…
After the war, he had returned home with no actual trade besides soldiering and the very "qualifications" that afforded him a good life now. Admittedly, he had been excellent at the war business. Paul often said that he was that good because he didn't care whether he lived or died. Cole preferred to see it as living on the edge, which he had been doing ever since the accident… That it probably meant the same thing didn't matter much to Cole. Obviously however, warring skills were useless in the civilian world, and he had not yet found the usefulness of his other skills, which were the music, of course, and a very well developed talent at seducing women.
The latter, he had refined to an art form during the year spent overseas, as risking his life had only been a part of the whole process. The training had built his muscles, along with the fact that he matured, and quite nicely at this. His newly found attractiveness, coupled with a hero status, caused the girls to notice him as much, if not more, than they did Paul. This one often joked that he would end up having to stay away from Cole if he ever wanted to get a date. Indeed, Cole used all he'd learned from Rosalind and polished his skills with women to the point that they didn't care about his lack of affection. Leo even based his offer on the fact that once, Cole had seduced a German girl and got her to turn in some important plan she'd stolen from a former lover at the risk of her own life.
The music was another story. During his last month overseas, Cole had gotten hurt, and this was a tale that Paul liked to tell around. After all the daredevil stunts he had done that year, the only wound Cole suffered, besides a few scratches, was a sprained wrist. The surgeon, who checked his left wrist, found that if the injury could heal on its own, he might actually offer the impossible to Cole. He was a British surgeon who'd served in the field for almost the entirety of the war. During that time, bone and tendon injuries had been legions and he had become something of an expert at these. He assured Cole that he could repair the old damage to his wrist and that, in time, his hand would be as strong as it was before. Cole had been shocked by this, not so much for the possibility that he might not be handicapped anymore, but for the little he actually cared. When Paul had insisted he try this, Cole offered that his inability to play music was only partly caused by the weakness in his hand. In fact, Cole told Paul that no one could play without inspiration and that was his true handicap. This, he had lost at the same time as the use of his hand, and no surgeon could ever give it back to him. It had left him the moment he fell to the ground and knew that the girl of his dreams didn't care one way or the other about his misfortune, even being the cause of it. Indeed, after he relented and submitted himself to the procedure, and if the surgeon's prediction proved truthful, he still didn't try to play.
Before he found the advantage he could take from those particular skills, the choices of career had been scarce. He could have gotten a job in one or another of the factories that sprung up all over the place since the war, as these demanded only a minimum of qualification, if any. However, he had soon decided that this kind of mechanical work wasn't for him. He had then gone through a succession of jobs, but these couldn't give him what he truly wanted, which were a lot of money and the good life. Cole was getting really frustrated because of this, and one day, Paul suggested that he should use what he was good at, rather than trying all sorts of things that weren't for him. Paul had meant that he should play the piano again, but Cole chose the trade of tuning instruments instead, as his musical ear was just as good as his playing skills had been, and then he added the use of his other skill to obtain the riches he had been seeking. In the practice of his new trade, Cole had met many women of a certain age with way too much time on their hands and a thirst for novelty. These were often very wealthy and ready to pay just about anything for something out of the ordinary. That, Cole could offer them and he did…
The door closing brought him back to the present, as Rita walked toward him with a lurid smile. She was one of his most daring customers. Her husband had not even rolled down the driveway before she began undressing for Cole.
"I see that you're in a hurry today," he said with a teasing smile. This women of forty-five was actually much better preserved than most of his clients. Still, he couldn't mistake the loosening in her skin, along with the less than firm breasts… Cole didn't care much what she looked like however. Only what she was worth to him; and frankly, he could take as much pleasure with a dog as with a beauty queen. Their appearances made no difference to him whatsoever. They were just women and worthy only of his contempt. This was not to say that he didn't please them. On the contrary, any woman he had been with believed him to be the ultimate lover. Kind even… Until he dumped them without a look back… and he had been thinking of doing just that with Rita for a while. "Maybe very soon," he thought to himself.
"I thought he'd never leave…" Rita replied while sitting astride him. Cole grabbed her buttocks and kneaded them even as he went on.
"Do you think he knows," he asked offhandedly.
Rita directed one of her breasts to his mouth, and his tongue began toying with it.
"Who cares? The man couldn't satisfy me even if he tried, which he doesn't. He's a wimp who deserves to be cheated on."
"He looked funny at me this morning. I got the feeling that he might have an inkling. Hey, maybe he'd like to watch? Maybe that's why he stuck around this long?"
From the lustful look in her eyes, Cole guessed that the idea excited her even more than she already was.
"Nah," she still answered, "he's not enough of a man even for that. Although, maybe you could teach him a few tricks…"
Cole laughed as he grabbed her upper thighs and lifted her.
"I can't go around teaching others what I know. I'd lose my edge…"
Rita kissed him deeply as they moved toward the bedroom, and then she said:
"There's no danger of that. If I wasn't married…"
Cole froze in the threshold to her bedroom.
"Keep the feelings crap out of it Rita. If not, I'll be outta here in a flash. I don't need your trinkets that much you know…I've got a lot of other women more than willing to provide without conditions…"
Rita flinched noticeably. She watched Cole questioningly, almost pleadingly, certain that if he was to go and never come back, she'd be lost.
"Please, I didn't mean anything by this," she finally offered. "It's just you've got such a gift…"
A vague smile spread over Cole's lips as he started again toward the bed.
"That I do," he replied confidently.
"Don't you have any shame," Rita giggled, reassured.
"None whatsoever," Cole said before throwing her on the bed unceremoniously. Even this, she found exciting as she wriggled invitingly while parting her legs for him.
Undressing without haste, Cole thought cynically:
"They're all the same…"
"All the same," Phoebe thought as she watched Fredo propped on one elbow while his fingers played lazily with her firm nipples. It was late morning there, but they had been up late the night before. What's more, Fredo was always in better shape in the morning when came to sex. At least to the extent of his stamina and that wasn't saying much in Phoebe's mind. Right then, he was looking upon her with actual adoration and this only reinforced Phoebe's certainty of her power over him and most men. Fredo had fallen head over heels for her almost immediately and Phoebe used it shamelessly. Sometimes, she even managed to take pleasure at having sex with the old man, more because of the power he wielded than for any physical prowess, but this wasn't gonna be one of those times. Still, she played her role to perfection, closing her eyes and moaning for his benefit, while in reality her mind wandered far away from their bedroom and his somewhat clumsy caresses, reminiscing anew about the past.
Three months after the incident, Phoebe had changed even more than she'd realized. Of course, her only distraction until that day, if one might call it that, had been her father coming every day to tell her how much of a shameful child she was. At first, Phoebe still tried to protest and defend herself, but he threatened her every time and in the end, she gave up on convincing him of her innocence. Victor had not touched her again, but it really didn't matter. The beating had only been what threw her over the edge after the accumulation of pain along the years. The profound depression that followed for her seemed endless. During those three months, she'd barely slept or eaten. That day, after all those months, Paige was finally allowed to visit, as it was Phoebe's fifteenth birthday. Paige's first reaction was one of astonishment.
"Wow," this one had exclaimed from the moment she crossed the threshold and saw Phoebe.
Phoebe had looked up with a weak smile, unsure on what motivated her cousin's exclamation. When she didn't reply, Paige pursued.
"What happened to you? You're all thin! You should get sick more often."
Phoebe stared back at Paige in total confusion. If she knew that sickness had been the excuse given to Paige to keep her away, she didn't see what was so different about her. The rare occasions where she bothered to look at herself in the mirror, she only saw the awkward girl she'd been for as long as she remembered.
"What are you talking about," she finally questioned hesitantly.
"Oh come on Phoebe. You can't ask me to believe you don't know how much prettier you look! Add a little make up and a nice dress and the boys would stick to you like glue!"
Phoebe had never really told Paige why she preferred to stay in. In fact, Paige had assumed that it was really her appearance which had motivated the reclusion. Phoebe couldn't bring herself to tell Paige that what she proposed might actually make her situation worse. Still, she wondered about what Paige was seeing. Without answering her, she got up and looked at herself curiously in the mirror. At first, all she saw were the deep pockets under her eyes, no doubt caused by the lack of sleep. Paige had probably attributed these to her supposed sickness. Phoebe had on one of the grey dresses her father allowed her to wear. These were shapeless and always fell loose on her, but as she flattened the fabric, she realized that indeed, she had changed. Maybe not as much as Paige implied, but she had lost weight and it made her look different, indeed somewhat more attractive.
"It's strange," Phoebe said at last, unable to keep her eyes from her reflection, "I wasn't seeing this at all."
"You really need to get out, girl." Paige exclaimed.
Phoebe's expression turned sombre and she moved away from the mirror at this.
"There's nothing out there that interests me."
"Wasn't there a guy who played music you said you liked?"
Phoebe sat heavily on the bed.
"He's gone… and frankly, I'm glad…"
"What? What are you talking about? A few months ago, all you could talk about was this music…"
"Daddy was right. Music is bad. I don't even wanna sing anymore…"
"Ok now that'd be a crime. Singing's not wrong, Phoebe. Not with the voice you have! I envy you so much."
"There's really nothing much to envy Paige. On the other hand, I wish that I was as emancipated as you are."
"Well girl, if you really mean it… let me give you a few pointers. Hey, why don't we plan a little outing for my next visit?"
Phoebe's eyes darted nervously toward the door, as she worried about her father listening in.
"I'm not sure that I'm ready for that Paige," Phoebe replied uncertainly.
"Well, we'll see about that." Paige said then without insisting. Instead, she got up enthusiastically. "But right now, my mother sent a cake for your birthday and it's waiting in the dining room. You can't celebrate your birthday without it. Also I have this for you," she added, handing her a small box, "but I think I'll have something better next week…"
Phoebe stared at her questioningly, but Paige headed for the door and signalled for Phoebe to follow even before she had the chance to look at her gift. Phoebe only hesitated a moment longer, but her cousin's joyous attitude was always an upper for her. At least for the short time Paige was allowed there, Phoebe decided that she would set aside her melancholy and she followed her, even managing a happy smile.
That night, her father was almost amiable. Phoebe felt a surge of courage course through her and the moment they had said their good byes to Paige, she turned to him resolutely.
"Daddy…I know you think tutoring is better for me, but…I'd really like to go to a school like Paige. I wanna know other kids my age…"
Phoebe had stopped then as she had looked up at her father and seen the anger, even the rage showing in his expression.
"You little tramp. I give you an inch and you're already trying to go back to your sinful ways. You'll stay here and that until your majority. Then you can do whatever you want, but if you do, don't expect anything from me!"
Phoebe knew that she was this close to sending him over the edge and she simply went back upstairs without a word. Luckily, things stopped there that day. However, when Paige asked to come back, Victor refused to let her for another month, pretending that even her short visit had caused a relapse for Phoebe.
During that month, which seemed even longer than the preceding ones for Phoebe, she cried herself to sleep every night, and became even more exhausted, barely managing to keep up with the tutor her father had hired for her schooling. This one, a woman of a certain age, finally appealed to Victor on her behalf. She saw that Phoebe was withering away for every day that passed. It took some convincing when she even suggested that Phoebe should see a doctor, maybe even one of those psychiatrists. Victor relented on letting her see her cousin and even allowed Phoebe to have some time outside instead. If this pleased Phoebe, the fact that he hired more people to watch her during those outings put a damper on her relief. However, she had been determined to make the best of it.
When Paige had visited again, she'd brought a make up kit. Phoebe had marvelled at the thing, but as soon as Paige had left, she hid it carefully, convinced that it would displease Victor tremendously. Afterward, Paige and she got to walk outside, and even visited a fair once. If things had seemed better to Phoebe until then, when they returned from the fair she had the most shocking revelation. Paige had insisted on buying a pretty dress for Phoebe and when they went home, Paige coaxed her into try it on while she was there. Phoebe finally agreed and had stripped to her underwear when her father burst into her room without warning.
If Phoebe expected some kind of explosion on his part, his reaction differed completely. Instead, he was looking at her in such a way that she felt ashamed. At first, Phoebe thought that she was mistaken, but her cousin's reaction, as she brought a robe and hurriedly put it on Phoebe's shoulders, told her that she was right.
"Give me that dress," Victor had simply said then, grabbing the garment from the bed and he had left after one last long look at his daughter.
Paige had not found the words to tell Phoebe what she'd felt then and it wasn't until long afterward that they both talked freely about the incident. However, in the weeks that followed, Phoebe's strong suspicion became a certainty. One night, Victor even emboldened himself by coming into her room. Phoebe had been paralysed by fear at this point and pretended to be asleep. That is when she felt his hand caressing her bosom through the sheet, which he then slowly pushed out of the way. Phoebe wanted to scream, to shoo him away, but the fear kept her immobile as he snaked his hand under her nightgown and began caressing the skin of her breasts, and then moved down between her legs. For a moment, she feared that he would pull her panties down as well, but to her intense relief, he left after only a few more minutes. That night and the following ones, Phoebe didn't sleep at all, until the fear that he would come back transformed into an intense rage. Her anger was not only directed at Victor, but also at the boys, and particularly the one who sent the note, as she had concluded that Victor's attitude was the direct product of their would-be prank. In her still childlike mind, she couldn't imagine that Victor might have had such inclinations before. Therefore, it had to be those pigs that had provoked him. In time, she came to see him as the horrible person that he was, but she never stopped hating all men for the way they treated her. However, rather than swearing them off of her life, the very fact that her father now had this sick interest in her told Phoebe that she could use this against him and ultimately against all the men who'd ever want her.
Phoebe remembered that it had not really been planned but was rather a result of the circumstances. After she had resolved not to be a victim anymore, Phoebe began wearing all the clothes her father had forbidden before, even using the make up Paige gave her every day and flaunting it in his face. When he threatened to punish her, Phoebe shot back that she knew what he wanted, even prancing sensuously in front of him at this point. From that day, he cowered away, apparently ashamed, to Phoebe's utter contentment. Her new attitude and appearance also had the effect of getting her noticed by one of the guardians Victor had hired to watch her. Since her father still persisted in having her watched, she decided to use the guardian's interest to her advantage and one afternoon she invited him into her room. Gilbert had not hesitated long before following her, and even if awkwardly, Phoebe had seduced him that day. In truth, it had been an unpleasant experience for her, even disgusting by moments, but she had not shown him her true feelings. Instead, she had pretended to enjoy herself, as he grossly slid his hand in her panties and stroked her, while panting like a dog she thought then. If his touch had been difficult to endure, it was when he undressed and she saw his fully erected shaft that she almost felt sick. Until that moment, she had believed that letting him have his way with her would be quick and simple. Then she could have him do whatever she wanted, and most of all, get the freedom she so longed for. Now, as he pushed her on the bed and quickly undressed her, she began fearing the worst. The man's caresses were rough and even less pleasant than her father's had been. Then the humiliation that she felt was compounded by the pain he caused her as he entered her all at once. She moaned in pain but he probably believed it to be from pleasure because he began thrusting himself forcefully inside of her while telling her how good she felt. When he was spent, he even asked her if she had come. Phoebe couldn't even bring herself to speak as he removed himself from her and put back his clothes as if nothing had happened. However, as he gazed at her with something akin to sweetness, Phoebe swallowed the bile that burned her throat and she said:
"I really liked it…"
"Good," the young man had answered then with a contented smile. He'd even come back toward her and kissed her on the lips before whispering:
"I hope that we can do this again soon…"
Even through the intense malaise and shame that she felt afterward, she found that something good had come of it. Indeed, as she had hoped, Gilbert became a puppet that she could manipulate to her whim. Much later, she understood how inexperienced he had been himself and that it was why it had been so easy to fool him. In the meantime, she used her new freedom to defy her father more. The outings she was allowed to take, she began to prolong sometimes through the day. Her grades deteriorated noticeably as she missed more and more lessons. When the tutor complained to Victor about it, he tried again to threaten Phoebe, but she laughed in his face, and told him that she would go to the tutor and tell her about his disgusting actions.
Even if it wasn't any more pleasant for her than at first, she let Gilbert take her again and again, while he became more and more dependant on her. However, once she felt something during their lovemaking. It had been only a twinge coming from her loins as he stroked her, but definitely something more pleasant than the usual hurt. That night, she hesitantly began stroking herself, searching for the sensation again and when she felt the short but intense orgasm, she knew that she had been missing a lot. Mostly, she understood that if this was what Gilbert felt or more, it was understandable that he was somewhat enslaved to her.
The next day, Paige had visited her and Phoebe tried to talk to her about the exquisite sensation she had experienced.
"Phoebe, please…this is not a subject a girl should talk about openly," had been Paige's answer as she had turned crimson.
"Hey…I thought we could discuss almost anything between us. I told you about Gilbert…"
"And I told you that you were crazy. You're much too young to be doing this with a man…Phoebe, you scare me sometimes."
Phoebe had gotten angry at this point.
"I thought you were my friend! If I can't talk to you about this, who else am I gonna talk to?"
"I've got only one thing to tell you about this," Paige replied. "You should be aware that you're risking a lot by sleeping with boys. What if you got pregnant?"
"I won't get pregnant. Like you said, I'm too young for that. And if you only have reproaches to serve me, why don't you go now?"
"Phoebe," Paige exclaimed, "I only want to help you. You know I love you like a sister!"
"Then, try to be at least tolerant."
Paige had frowned but decided that she preferred to keep their friendship intact and said nothing more about it.
A few weeks later, Paige's predictions of doom became a reality as Phoebe began feeling sick almost constantly. In spite of Phoebe's ill dispositions toward learning, her tutor again took pity on Phoebe and she went to talk to Victor about it. This one had her examined by a doctor and when he was told that Phoebe was pregnant, Victor again changed attitudes for the worse. He held it inside for the doctor, but once they were home, he went with Phoebe to her room and closed the door behind them angrily. She was so distraught about the news that at first, she didn't see the danger. It was only when he began screaming invectives at her and grabbed her roughly that she began trembling like she used to when he threatened her.
"So you are the slut I always believed you to be. And you thought you could give me lessons in morality? Tramp! I should kill you right now," Victor had then said, sending a chill down Phoebe's spine.
Instead of hitting her however, he threw her on the bed and pinned her there with his body. Then he began fondling her breast with one hand while the other roughly grabbed her between the legs. The disgust she had felt with Gilbert at first came back in force. She struggled to get away, but he was much stronger than she and soon, he had pulled her panties down and was rubbing himself against her, although still fully clothed. Desperate, Phoebe grabbed the heavy lamp on her night table, and then she hit Victor hard on the head. This one screamed in pain and rage but he still went on pinning her, albeit with increasing weakness, as he became dazed by the first hit. Phoebe saw her chance and she hit him repeatedly until he grew limp. She then pushed him off of her and dressed hurriedly, intent on denouncing him to her tutor. However, as she was about to leave the room, one of the servants came in, no doubt alerted by Victor's scream, and she took in the scene with horror. She went to Victor, who was bleeding profusely from a wound to his scalp on his daughter's bed. He was groaning but didn't wake up when the servant shook him. She looked back at Phoebe uncertainly, and then she rushed out to fetch a doctor.
Much later, when Victor came to, he told the inspector who came to investigate that his daughter had gone crazy and begun hitting him when he had showed rightful anger at her being pregnant. No one contradicted him and none of Phoebe's protestations had any affect, as the policemen believed a prominent member of society over a teenager her father said was a shame to his family for years.
Afterward, Phoebe was sent to a reform school for girls, where she lost the baby a few weeks later. If she felt some sadness at this event, it was totally overwhelmed by the rage that now inhabited her almost constantly. The servants had known of her father's treatment of her, but they obviously feared for their jobs, and in a way, Phoebe couldn't reproach them their silence. They were only women at the mercy of pigs who used them and treated them like dirt. Even Gilbert had turned his back on her after learning of her pregnancy and of the incident with her father. She understood that he considered her like an object which had served its purpose, nothing more. Even if she had never felt any real affection for the young man, it still hurt. The policemen of course believed a man over a girl and judged her just the same.
"They're all the same," Phoebe thought again as she felt the rage mounting in her anew even as Fredo pulled away from her, in a sweat. She had been so lost in thoughts that her response to their lovemaking had only been mechanical.
"Thanks, doll," Fredo said then, and Phoebe figured that she had managed to fool him anyway, even with the little attention she gave him.
"You were great, as usual," she uttered softly in her best imitation of afterglow. However, she couldn't wait for him to leave. She got her wish but he still told her something else before going out.
"The man that usually comes for the piano has taken sick, Lara… so don't be surprised when you see a new one this afternoon. I thought that you'd prefer if the work was done anyway."
"Thanks, Fredo. You're always so thoughtful."
Fredo smiled gently before leaving the room for his morning ablutions. Phoebe knew that he would go directly from there to the dining room and she decided to order breakfast in bed for herself. She was definitely not in a talkative mood.
Leo had kept Paul waiting for almost an hour in the lobby of the Bureau's building. Paul had just about made up his mind to storm the offices when he finally saw his friend coming his way.
"Took you long enough!"
"Come on Paul. I've got duties to perform. Now I'm famished, so whatever you wanted to discuss, we can do it over lunch."
Paul had to admit that he was also hungry and they went out of the building toward a diner which served greasy, yet tasty food. A lot of policemen and agents of the Bureau were also eating there on a regular basis and today was no exception. In fact, Paul also noticed a few of his colleagues from other publications there. It was no surprise to him. It was much easier to glean information from the officers of the law when they were off duty and relaxed. In fact, they often talked loud and no questioning was even necessary to get some valuable tidbits. As soon as they were seated, a large woman came to take their orders. After she left, Paul immediately brought up what preoccupied him.
"Leo, I can't believe that you'd involve our friend in such a dangerous venture. What got into you?"
"Oh come on, Paul. I'm only asking him to do what he does best. What's more, the girl is really a nice looking one. He might even be grateful…"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure that while they cut him into tiny pieces, he'll be thanking you profusely."
"You're so melodramatic, Paul. The risk is minimal. We've taken our info about that girl. She's had many indiscretions in the past apparently. There's even a rumor that she cheated on Fredo as well… I told Cole about it, so that if she threatens to squeal, he'll have some ammunition of his own against the little vixen."
"You're just as crazy as he is," Paul exclaimed irritably. "What if you're wrong? You knew he wouldn't refuse. You shouldn't have done this. Have you already forgotten he saved our butts during the war?"
"Look I told you already. This is truly a duty to his country almost as important as fighting the Germans. Those people, they're killing innocents without a second thought and we can't do a thing about it. They come out of it white as snow. We manage to grab a few little fishes here and there, but they're too scared to talk. Besides, when they're released, I'm certain they get rewards for their silence too."
"Leo, I'm very much aware of the problems you're facing. But Cole is still our friend…"
"And if I really believed he was in any danger I wouldn't have asked. I assure you."
"The worse part is that you believe what you're saying." Paul added dejectedly.
"Because it's true," Leo said confidently.
"How about the body they fished out of the bay this morning? That should give anyone something to think about. Do you know how it happened?"
"Hum…is that the friend talking here, or the journalist?"
"Both," Paul chuckled unhappily. "But I'm more concerned about Cole. What if Fredo is the one responsible for this?"
"We're not even sure if it's really a gang hit anymore. The coroner told us of a few wounds that looked like they were inflicted by a jealous husband. Not pretty, if you know what I mean…"
"But it still could be…"
"I'm sure it had nothing to do with Fredo…and besides, there's nothing more to argue about. Cole already agreed and he's probably on his way to her as we speak or he will be shortly."
Paul glared at Leo unhappily.
"What was the hurry?"
"It was just the circumstances in fact. That's why I wanted to talk to Cole last night. The girl is a singer and of course, she has a piano that needs constant care. We've found out who usually does the maintenance and sent him on a forced vacation," Leo said casually. "Then one of our operatives strongly suggested Cole for the job and he was convincing enough that he got Cole an appointment for this afternoon."
Paul realized that he was too late to keep Cole from going there with a dejected sigh.
"Crazy," he grumbled as the waitress came back with their drinks, "you're all crazy…"
She gave him a curious look but soon shrugged and went away.
"You really shouldn't worry like this," Leo said then.
"I wish I was as confident as you are… I really do…"
Cole laid back and simply allowed Rita to play with his chest hair. She looked somewhat preoccupied but he really couldn't care less about her problems. In fact, he had just made his decision about her. She was becoming too possessive, and proved it again with her next words.
"Cole…don't you care about any of the women you're seeing?"
"I thought I already told you where I stand…" he answered curtly.
Obviously, Rita didn't read the warning in his voice as she went on.
"I know you like it with me…I'm sure that I could compensate you more than enough on my own…"
"What are you talking about," Cole questioned irritably as he pushed her away and sat on the other side of the bed.
"I…I just thought that we really had something…"
Cole glanced back at her coldly.
"You're deluded, you know that?"
His tone of voice startled Rita.
"But…"
Cole interrupted:
"You know, I just got myself a new customer and I'm afraid I won't have time for you anymore…"
"Hey, you can't do that!"
"I never promised you exclusivity, Rita. I never even pretended to like you. It was all in your head. Go find yourself another distraction, or better yet, try to teach your husband a few tricks. I don't really care either way… me I'm outta here," he announced as he picked up his clothes and began putting them on deliberately. Rita tried to grab his arm but he shook her off rudely.
"It's over Rita, and I won't even ask anything for this one…it was on the house… Consider it my goodbye gift."
"You can't leave me…I…I love you."
"Go tell that to someone who cares, Rita," Cole spat, already on his way out. He could hear her sobbing but women's cries left him cold. At least, some of them had more dignity and they didn't try to hold on to him with this cheap trick. However, this one was a pitiful wreck and he would not lose another moment here. Rita didn't see it this way however. She got up and ran to put herself between him and the bedroom door.
"You've got to listen to me. I can't believe you would just leave like this. That's not possible!"
"Rita…I didn't want to go there but I guess if you insist… Not only do I care nothing for you, but you've become boring and clingy. You couldn't find enough money to convince me to come back… you're not worth it."
Rita angrily slapped him across the cheek then, but Cole only smiled back.
"Hey, that's more passion than you demonstrated in months…Now, I'm late for my next appointment," he added before pushing her aside and going to the door.
"I'll tell my husband about you," Rita screamed at him.
"Yeah," he replied "and then I'll knock him out good and when he wakes up, he'll throw you on the street like the cheating bitch you are. Don't think you can threaten me…" Cole finished coldly before going out the front door without another look toward her.
Rita watched the door for a long moment and then went to throw herself on the bed, where she cried as much from humiliation as from the pain of losing him.
Phoebe soon found the silence oppressing even if she had wanted this. She was dressed and ready to get out of the room, but she had no urge to go downstairs. Besides, Fredo was probably busy at his business dealings and it would be boring. She picked up the phone instead and Paige answered at the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Paige, it's me…"
"Phoebe? Wow, it's been months…I thought you'd sworn me off."
"Sorry, I was…busy."
"With your new show, I know…"
"That's no excuse." Phoebe uttered apologetically. Paige was the only one to know her real name anymore. Phoebe hadn't been using her real name since that first day where she had left the reform school, and made the decision that she would be a singer.
"How are the kids?"
"You really wanna know?" Paige questioned with a hint of reproach. Phoebe knew she hadn't been much of a friend to Paige, but she still loved her cousin just the same. Through the years, she had played so many roles in order to succeed; she often lost sight of who she really was. At those times, Paige was the only one who could bring her back to reality. However, Phoebe had been neglecting her lately and promised herself for the umpteenth time that she would make more efforts from then on.
"Of course I do. Look I know I haven't been there much for you, but what do you say we go out tomorrow? Like old times. We could even try to find a fair…"
"I'm surprised you're in the mood to reminisce. But hey, yes that'd be fun and it'd make for a change from the diapers. And the kids are great, although the little one is keeping me busy."
"That husband of yours, doesn't he help at all?"
"How many men do you know who'd change diapers? That doesn't mean he's not great, Phoebe, and I'd appreciate if we left Glen out of it."
"Sorry, old habits…"
"Don't be," Paige replied gently, "you've got good reasons…So what's up with you?"
"Well besides the new show, which will begin this weekend, nothing much but I'm just peachy."
"Really? See, I've got problems believing that, Pheebs. Usually, when you call out of the blue, something's wrong…"
"Can't I just wanna talk to my favorite cousin?"
There was a long pause at the other end and Phoebe bit her lips, knowing full well that Paige wasn't fooled.
"Of course, although we both know I'm your only cousin, but hey, I'll take it anyway," Paige finally answered. "What's your plan for tomorrow?"
"How about I pick you up at your house at say, one o'clock? That'd give us the whole afternoon."
"It's perfect…" Then, Paige seemed to hesitate again before she pursued, "Phoebe…is everything really ok?"
"Yeah," Phoebe trailed. "Yeah," she repeated more firmly, "I'm fine I promise, but I'll feel even better when we've spent some together."
There was an insistent knock at the front door.
"Looks like we've got visitors… I'll talk to you tomorrow…"
"I'm looking forward to this, and Phoebe…I'm glad you called."
Phoebe smiled softly as she put down the phone, and then went to investigate the newcomer. At least, this would constitute a distraction.
Cole had arrived at the ostentatious house with some trepidation. It was good to feel something at least. Not even the prospect of a jealous husband managed to bother him anymore. His life was becoming boring. "Of course," he thought with a quick smile, "Paul would say I'm crazy." In all truth, Cole knew that his actions appeared unhealthy to his long time friend. However, he wasn't about to change, simply because he couldn't see himself settling down like Paul had done. Cole believed that he would wither away without some risk in his life. Besides the anger and rancour that still thrived inside of him, the thrill of danger was all that made him feel alive anymore. Paul often told him that if he'd let go of his anger, he might actually feel better for it. Cole didn't see it like that. Even if he tried, he could never forget what had been taken from him. That simple thought brought back regrets and he chased them away while eagerly knocking on the imposing door.