At 10 o' clock that day, Tony excused himself from the house and decided to go looking for Nash…ever since she left, something had been bothering him. It was the whole idea of in a few years when she died, what was that supposed to mean? Tony decided the best place to start looking was her home, if she wasn't there, he could always ask her mother. Of course, if she was the horror that Nash described, Tony decided he needed what could pass for a legitimate reason to be looking for her daughter. He'd written down her address after taking her home from the Golden Crown, 609 Citrus Drive. Tony changed into a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of khaki pants and stuffed a few hundred dollars into his pocket and decided he'd make up the story on the way over.
Tony rang the bell a couple of times and waited. Looking around at the place, which consisted of no grass, a couple of near dead rose bushes up by the house, a wooden fence around the yard with the paint chipped off and the door piece broken, no car to be found anywhere on or near the property, a few trees, most of which were dead, the paint chipping off of the house, the porch light glass shattered, a yard lantern with the glass busted and a bird's nest in it, the mailbox hanging to one side, and a rickety swing porch dangling from rusted chains, Tony very quickly came to the conclusion that they needed the money more than Nash was letting on.
The door opened and Tony turned around and saw who he guessed was Nash's mother. The woman was a couple inches shorter than Tony, she had her short brown hair done up like a home-job perm and she was wearing a dress which could've passed for a bunch of different rags stitched together, and an apron which covered most of the dress's front, and she was barefoot. In some way, she reminded him of his mama.
"Good morning, ma'am, I'm…"
"Let me save you the trouble," the lady said, "I'm no friend to the Watchtower, I don't buy raffle tickets, I have a vacuum cleaner, I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary, no suspicious looking people, no loose animals. I don't subscribe to magazines, I don't need any special cleaning solutions, I don't wear Avon, my husband has been dead for 3 years and I have him above my mantel…none of my mail has been stolen, I don't have a dog so I know he's not missing, we don't have a car so my daughter doesn't have to pay for any dents in yours, and I've already been saved, good day."
Tony was speechless that this woman could say all that in one breath. As she was closing the door he took a step forward, "No, miss…that's not why I'm here."
The woman opened the door again, "well then what is it?"
"It's about your daughter, is she home?" Tony asked.
The woman squinted her eyes at Tony, as if she was trying to recall seeing him from somewhere before. "You're not from around here, and you're nobody I know, so what business do you have with my daughter?"
"I work with her at th' Golden Crown," Tony said, "and our boss…he found ou' that he'd been underpaying some of his employees…and Nash is one of them…so he asked me to give her the extra pay…because if she were to get it from him personally, she'd assume there's a catch, you know?"
"Yes I know," the woman replied as she looked Tony over, "how much money are we talking, mister?"
Tony held out three one-hundred dollar bills and one fifty for her to see, "oh abou' that much."
The woman looked at the money as if she couldn't believe it, or rather, like she was scrutinizing every detail she could see, questioning if it was real. She looked back up at Tony with eyes that assumed a string attached to the story. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," Tony replied.
"Give me a break, nobody makes that kind of extra working in a bar…who's she sleeping with?" she asked.
"No one…nobody…look, Miss…"
"Mrs. Owen."
"Mrs. Owen," Tony repeated, "the Golden Crown is not just a bar, it's a casino…and d'ere's big money in casinos…well we' making more because business has really picked up…so, a bigger share is divided between the workers…das all."
"That's all," Mrs. Owens repeated. She looked Tony over once again, "well, you don't look like the type who'll gut us like fish. I guess I can take your word for it."
Tony lightly chuckled; he couldn't believe this woman was the same one Nash told him about. Either Nash was wont to exaggerate, or Beatty's death really had changed her for the better.
"Look," Mrs. Owens said, "Mister…"
"Cagney," Tony replied. After he said it he thought 'Cagney? Where'd that come from?'
"Mr. Cagney," Mrs. Owens said, "my daughter's been scrimping and saving and working her fingers to the bone so she can afford a nice place when she turns 18…she doesn't accept charity, and if she were to come home and find that money on the table, she'd never believe it didn't come from me. So…you find my daughter and you give it to her."
"Do you know where she might happen to be?" Tony asked.
"Well…it's Sunday, and it's still early…you might try the church…"
"Which church?" Tony hoped he'd be able to even find the church, it'd been many, many years since he'd set foot in one.
"The Baptist church over near the garden nursery, you know the place?" Mrs. Owens asked.
Tony thought for a minute, had he seen a garden nursery in town? Yes, he nodded, "yes."
"If you don't find her there…check the Christian church over across from the police station…and if she's not there…odds are she skipped church this week," Mrs. Owens said.
"Where would she go then?" Tony asked.
"Oh…the classic theater…the pool hall…the thrift shop…if not there, you can usually find her at a small store down next to the dry cleaners…she usually goes down there to hassle the store workers and try to scare away the customers," Mrs. Owens explained.
"Thank you, ma'am," Tony began to turn to leave when she stopped him.
"Mister Cagney, you seem to like my daughter, am I right?"
"Oh…well…" Tony tried to think of a response but came up with nothing.
"I'm guessing by now she's given you the horror story of what an awful mother I am," she weakly laughed, "all that's missing is the warts and broom, huh?"
"Oh no, she…"
"I'll admit, I've been going down her throat for quite a while now where men are concerned…but you…you seem to be allright."
"Oh thank you," Tony blushed, this was not the conversation he'd expected to have today.
"Look…I know it ain't none of my business, but you like my daughter, right?"
Tony laughed nervously, "very much I'm afraid…she grew on me like warts…she's…she's different from other ladies…"
"Oh? How's that?" Mrs. Owens asked.
"She demands respect…she's not like these floozies we see every night…she say 'if you wanna see anything, first I'm gonna have to see a ring on m' finger, and a residence in Myrtle Beach for my mother'," Tony said.
Mrs. Owens laughed, "That's my daughter allright…and you still like her?"
"Very much…"
"Well look, you like her and Lord knows my daughter deserves a good day off here and there as hard as she works. When you find her, you treat the two of you to a day off…believe me, with that kind of extra money, she'll feel like the world's hers for the day," Mrs. Owens told him.
"Thank you, Mrs. Owens, I will," Tony said, "good day."
Tony was about to leave when he got another idea, he turned back around to Mrs. Owens, and took another fifty out of his pocket. "Mrs. Owens, I like your daughter…and I also like you…" Tony tried to think of another excuse that she'd believe. "I work at a higher position than your daughter, therefore am entitled to a bigger cut of the money…certainly more than I need to be comfortable…" Tony gave the fifty to Mrs. Owens, "you take that…and get yourself a nice dress…nex' time I come 'round here, I want to see you looky like Julie Christie."
Now Mrs. Owens was blushing. "Oh…thank you…I don't know what to say…"
"Say yes," Tony said, "No-body likes a frumpy little girl in rags."
After that, Tony left and decided to take her advice and start searching the churches.
Two hours later, Tony was dead on his feet, he'd gone to both churches and spent his entire time in both places falling into pew after pew after pew, searching every seat in every row of both churches, only to be hit by every woman's purse, poked in the eyes by their awful hats, then when he fell on the floor in between each pew, he met the sharp heels to their shoes, and all the trouble he caused was even enough to get the preachers complaining, all to find Nash wasn't there. Now, he was going to take a small break before he started looking again, he'd decided. So, Tony laid himself out on a bench on the sidewalk and was going to take a catnap when he saw Nash walk right on by him.
The shock from that made him fall off the bench, onto the hard sidewalk, then he got up and ran right behind her and he snatched her up and took her to a back alley with one hand clamped tightly over her mouth so she couldn't scream, although she made up for it by kicking him. By the time he got her there, even him muffling any noise she made didn't hide the fact that she sounded terrified, and he could tell he'd obviously put her through a lot, so he put her down and before she could start screaming, he stayed behind her and tried to calm her down. He talked soothingly to her as best as he could and rubbed her back gently as he listened to her ragged breathing…almost hyperventilating.
"Shhhhhh…shhhhhh…Nash, it's allright, it's jus' me, Tony…I sorry I had to do this kiddo, but I had to be sure you wouldn't run away…are you allright now?"
Nash nodded, her breathing had calmed down a bit, so Tony took the risk of taking his hand off her mouth. She turned around and about collapsed in his arms, "Oh Tony!" she groaned, "don't ever do that to me again!"
"I'm sorry, kid…" Tony said, "but I've been looking for you for 2 hours, and I couldn't find you anywhere…an' den I saw you go right by me…I didn't want to lose you and do that again today."
"Tony," Nash gasped, "I know you didn't mean anything…just don't do it again."
Nash sounded like she wasn't better, and Tony could almost swear she sounded close to crying. He drew her into a protective embrace and asked her, "Nash, what's wrong?"
Nash just shook her head and buried her face in his chest. Now Tony was worried that something had happened to her since he'd seen her this morning.
"Nash, what's wrong?" he repeated, "what happen? Did somebody try to grab you?"
"No…" she replied, so quietly he almost didn't hear it.
"Well then what happened? What's wrong?" Tony asked.
"You…you just scared me," she said.
Tony tightened his hold on her and held her closer, "I'm sorry, Nash…I didn't mean to upset you…"
After a couple minutes, Nash seemed to calm down and she pushed Tony away from her. "I'm sorry, Tony…I guess I still can't believe that Beatty's dead…for a minute I thought he was the one who…" she shook her head, "never mind…did Elvie find out I came to see you?"
"No," Tony replied, "nobody knows…I jes…I wanted to see you…is there a place we can go to be alone?"
"Sure, but first I have to stop by the drugstore," Nash told him.
Tony escorted her over to the drugstore on the next block and she picked up a bottle of antacids, then they headed over to the movie theater that showed older movies, and they went to the room showing "Arsenic and Old Lace", they were the only ones there so Tony figured it was a perfect place to talk.
"Nash," he started, "one of the main reasons I wanted to talk to you is because I been thinking of something you told me earlier today before you left."
"What's that?" Nash asked.
"'You said 'in a few years' when you see your brother…you' brother that died?" Tony wanted to make sure he'd heard right.
Nash nodded, "that's right, I've only had one brother."
"Well…what I want to know is what you mean by that… 'in a few years', but you're still young, you're only 17."
"Yeah well…" Nash was starting to sound bitter, "the doctors aren't giving me past 21 to live."
Tony was sure he'd heard wrong, "What?"
"See…after my brother died…my mother took me to the doctors a lot to make sure nothing was wrong with me…she didn't want to lose me too…and the doctors ran about a hundred tests on me…and they've said I won't live past the age of 21…they won't say what's wrong with me, and they won't say if it's something anyone else has, or if there's a cure, or even a name for it. They don't know what's wrong with me…so I figure there's a 50 chance they're right…and if they are, in four years, I'm plant food."
Tony was awestruck, here was a child who could be facing death, and she seemed fine. "And you're not scared?" he asked.
Tony couldn't get her to look at him when she answered that, "A bit…I mean, I've always had plans for what I want to do…but…"
"What do those doctors say now?" Tony asked.
Now Nash could bear to look at him again, "I quit going to them…I figured they don't know what's wrong with me, if anything…and if they keep running tests on me, I might get something because of them."
Tony could feel his blood boiling, he hadn't been fuming like this since he found out Frank Lopez tried to have him bumped off. The very idea of doctors, people who were supposed to heal people, playing with a child's life, made him want to puke. But he restrained himself from going off the deep end and saying what he really wanted to.
"And that's another reason why you're not going to be working yourself to death anymore," Tony told her, "IF those fucking maricons are telling the truth…you're not going to waste your last few years breaking your back at hard work…"
"I still…I don't know why you want to help me so much…I mean Tony, I'm never going to be able to pay you back for anything you do."
"I'm not expecting you to," Tony told her, "'is a gift."
"Gift? You call $14,000 a gift?" Nash asked, "and you plan to slip me more?"
"$15,000 every month, believe me, kid…on you, I can afford it," Tony said.
"Why?"
"Because when you were younger, you asked me to help get you out of this hellhole," Tony explained.
"But you turned me down," she said.
"So I change' my mind…I can do it if I want to."
"I know, but…"
"But nothin'…I'm not going to take no for an answer, you understan'?" Tony asked.
Nash nodded, "sure."
"Good, after lunch, we' go looking for a new home for you, that way you and your mother can both have some space."
Nash nodded, "that would be good."
Tony took Nash to a restaurant that was notorious for having more of seafood than anything: lobster tails, shrimps of all sizes, crab legs, codfish, crab claws, catfish, scrod, and Tony soon found out Nash was no novice to it. While he found himself content with a 6-pound lobster, Nash helped herself to five of the largest shrimps the restaurant had, six claws, two legs, and a tail.
"Don't you get enough to eat at home?" Tony asked.
"Enough to get through the day," Nash said, "but sometimes even that doesn't seem enough. You know?"
"Sure, I know…I remember back when Manny and I were on the boat coming over here…'t was not a pleasant trip. Manny was seasick all night, he wished he was back in one o' th' cages in Cuba, he said at least there he had bugs to eat. I told him once we got to America, we'd be having steaks 4 inches thick…that didn't help him too much."
Nash laughed, "I wouldn't think so."
"Waiter!" Tony bellowed, the sudden lift in his voice gave everyone in the room a shock.
A waiter came up to their table, ready to take another order.
"How much for a bottle of champagne?" Tony asked, "best stuff you got in th' joint."
"$400, sir," the waiter said before catching that he'd neglected something. He looked at Nash oddly, and Nash and Tony knew that they didn't serve alcohol to tables with minors. The waiter asked, "Is your son old enough to drink, sir?"
Tony and Nash tried to keep a straight face through that one. Son?
"No," Tony said, unable to keep from laughing, "But my brother is, ain't that right, Bobby?"
"It sho' is, Anthony," Nash howled with laughter.
After the waiter left, they calmed themselves down. "Son?" Tony asked.
"I told you, Tony…people think I'm a guy, I have more advantages that way, I'm going to let them think I'm a guy," Nash said.
"Yeah, but son?" Tony asked, "we don't even look anything alike."
"So what? You think people can tell Marlon and Miko Brando are related just by looking at them?" Nash asked him.
Tony laughed, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a couple of cigars, he put one in his mouth and offered the other to Nash who took it but just held it.
"You know what," Tony said as he lit up, "I think you an' me are gonna get along jus' fine."
"I hope so, considering all the time and money you're blowing on me, I'd hate for it to be for nothing."
Tony puffed out a perfect ring. "You jus' wait, we get through here, 'den we go looking for a house for you."
The waiter came back with a bottle of champagne, and Tony insisted on paying him then and there.
"$400," Tony sneered, "I spit on $400…here…" Tony took a wad of bills out of his pocket, flipped off four and handed them to the waiter, as he turned around, Tony said, "come back here!" flipped off another and handed it to the waiter for a tip, "here's a presiden' you don't take home everyday."
Nash removed the cork and poured them two flutes full, Tony had no problem with his glass, but Nash attempted to take it all down at once, and ending up coughing most of it up. "For four hundred bucks, you'd think you could get something better than this. Taste it, Tony, it's awful."
Tony took a sip of what hadn't been taken and returned to her flute, but found nothing wrong with it. "Tastes fine to me…" then a thought occurred to Tony, "have you had champagne before?"
"Evidently not this kind," she replied.
Nash started coughing up a storm; she took out the bottle of antacids and helped herself to a couple of them.
"You okay?" Tony asked once she'd quieted down.
"That's my heartburn, it always does that," she explained, "the minute I get it, I might as well be choking."
That was something Tony hadn't heard of before, he wondered if it was associated with whatever she had that the doctors estimated her another 4 years, but he said nothing about it.
After lunch, Tony took Nash out to see some houses that were for sale.
"What should we get?" Tony asked.
"Something nice," Nash replied.
"Yeah, something nice, not some shack infested with rats and cock-o-roaches," Tony added, "maybe something fancy."
"But certainly nothing like your home."
"What's wrong with my home?" Tony asked.
"Too big a house and too much property for one person, and very expensive to boot," Nash explained.
"Okay, something reasonable…3 bedroom?"
"You plan to come over?" Nash asked.
"Sure."
"Maybe more, then," she said.
"Five?"
"And how many baths?"
"Two?" Tony asked.
"How many floors?" Nash asked.
"What're you asking me that for?" Tony asked, "it's gonna be your house, you decide what you want…I'll get it."
"You don't have to, I could probably get a good place with just the money you gave me last night," Nash tried to reason with him.
"No, I'll get the house…you take that money, open an account, make some investments, buy some stocks, get a car, some animals maybe, I don't care, but you're not paying for the house."
"Chico, are you out of your crazy mind?" Nash asked, "$15,000 a month isn't enough? You want to pay for my house too? Why? Why would you want to do that, Tony?"
"Because you need help, and I'll give it to you…I'll buy the house, you pick out the stuff to put in it. Also because, we're a growing business making more money, more money that the bank won't take, unless I pay them more to keep more there…right about now, I think a little excess money is safer with you than any bank. No questions asked."
Nash thought about it for a minute, it was true, with her there were no questions asked about where his money was coming from. And, to a guy who was making several million a month, probably wouldn't mind shelling out a few thousand for a house. All the same, she wasn't sure it was a good idea all the way, but she said nothing.
The first house was a 2 story piece with 2 bedrooms and 1 bath, no attic, narrow warped steps on the porches, in the hall, on the fire escape, and a small yard with concrete hard dirt, and dead grass for the price of $6,000. Tony said you couldn't even pay the cock-o-roaches to live in that place. The next was 1 story, 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, no stairs, and a yard full of motors, carburetors and air conditioners, $5500. A third, 2 stories with an attic, 3 bedrooms and one bathroom on the top floor, 2 bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor, a small but live yard, two big steps on the front porch, no steps but one long drop onto the back porch, $7500. They came across several other houses like that, and three hours later they were ready to give up for the day, when they found one that looked rather promising.
The property alone which the house sat on could very well make up one block, which would equal six whole individual properties, and what there was to the dirt was either covered in live grass and trees and such, or waiting for something else to be planted. The house had three stories, not including the attic, enough room to have at least 15 bedrooms, there were 8 bathrooms, walk-in closets, room for everything and everyone that Nash could think of, and then some. The house would cost $22,000.
Nash was awestruck by how much it cost, considering the seller was anxious to sell it so he could get out of town and state. But Tony was thinking otherwise. "22 thousand? Sounds a little low…what's wrong with it?" Tony asked.
"Nothing," the man replied.
"No, huh? Then why' you selling so cheap?" Tony asked.
"As I said, I'm fed up with Miami and I'd like to get out of here so I can go see my family, but I have to sell the house first...I'm not an unreasonable man, Mr. Montana."
"No, not unreasonable," Tony agreed, "but when you put up a price of 22 thousand for a house that should be going for 35, that says something must be wrong with the joint."
"Are you in real estate, Mr. Montana?" he asked.
"You could say that," Tony replied.
"Well…you probably know better about decent prices for houses than I do, but I don't want to ask for anymore than is fair for you."
"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with the place?" Tony asked, "nobody die here, did they? There aren't any…bodies under the floorboards, or up the chimney, are there?"
"Oh my, no," the man said.
"The roof leak? The…foundation infested? The floorboards, are they sturdy? How bout those stairs? I don't need to be falling through those, I tell you that," Tony said.
It took about an hour of checking out the whole place, but Tony was finally convinced the house wasn't a rip-off job. He promised to be by tomorrow with the money for the place, as he and Nash got to his car, Nash had one thing to ask him.
"22 thousand, are you crazy, Tony?" she asked.
"I know, that cockroach doesn't know what he's losing, but he wouldn't take anymore," Tony said. He could see that that wasn't what Nash meant. "What's the matter?"
"I thought we could find a place that only cost 9, 10 thousand at the most, but 22?"
"Don't worry about it, 22 is nothing compared to how much it should've cost, besides, you ain't gonna be spending the rest of your days in some cheap dump. You might as well enjoy it, before the end of the month, you' gonna live there, you get to decide what to do with the place. I mean…what do you want?"
Nash didn't say anything at first and Tony wasn't sure what to make of it, then he heard her say, "I'd put a swimming pool in the side yard."
Tony glanced over at her, "that's a good idea, nice place to start."
"And…I'd put more trees on the place…more shade, less room for the neighbors to look in."
"Oh," Tony smirked, "incase you decide to do some nude sunbathing, huh?"
The very idea had both of them laughing for a long time, once they'd calmed down, Nash replied, "Nobody would want to look at that, they'd go blind."
Tony didn't comment, he was sure there was something to be said about her body, but he wasn't going to look long enough to find out. "Maybe put in a garden, too?"
"I thought about that," Nash said, "it'd be nice…I mean think about it, the supermarkets, they charge you $2 a pound for stuff that's thin and wrinkled and rubbery, I could probably grow it all myself for nothing, and then I'd have it for when everything's out of season."
"Hey," Tony decided to change the subject, "when's your birthday? A couple months, right?"
"Oh Tony, don't tell me you plan on getting me something after everything you've already done."
"Sure, why not?" Tony asked, "I come and drop in on you…give you a little surprise…when is it?"
"September 28th," Nash didn't look at Tony as she answered.
"What?" Tony asked, "this is just January."
"I lied…nobody wants to know about a young kid doing something, I managed to get in telling everybody I'll be 18 in 2 months, but the truth of it is I'm just 17 by two months."
Tony wasn't sure what, but he felt something come over him and he slammed on the brake and they came to a sudden stop.
"What is it?" Nash asked.
"How long were you working there, at th' Golden Crown?" Tony asked.
"What's it matter now?" Nash asked.
"Longer than 2 months, no doubt…16 and you work in a fuckin' place like dat?" Tony asked.
"Well what were you doing at 16? I don't think you were exactly leading the life of a saint yourself," Nash said.
Tony gave her a sad smile before looking away, he seemed to be somewhere between laughing to himself, and kicking himself.
"I'm no hypocrite," he said, "I wasn't working in a sleaze bag like that."
"Well where were you?" she asked.
Tony sighed before answering, he turned so she could see the two scars on the left side of his face. "You see these?"
"Yeah."
"I got them at 16…spent 2 weeks in the hospital waiting for…the swelling in my eye to go down…nobody questioned what happened…none of the other boys ever…bothered me again after that."
Nash looked them over as if she was trying to find something there. "How'd you get them?"
"I was selling drugs to people, one of my repeated customers was this beautiful woman…one day she took me back to her house…"
"And?"
"And there was no time for being a virgin," Tony said.
"How long did that last?"
"A short while…then her husband found us in the bathroom on the floor one day. He was a soldier…she got away, he chase me down the stairs with this big razor. I thought he was going to castrate me…so I protected them, and instead, he cut up my face."
He half expected Nash to have a horrified look on her face when he finished telling her, but she just seemed to be listening and waiting patiently, waiting until he was finished before she judged.
"And after you got out of the hospital, what'd you do?" Nash asked.
She was smart, Tony could see that, she knew he wouldn't just leave it at that. "Well, I go out and I buy a handgun and a sawed off shotgun, and I blow the fucker's head off. End of story."
"And you really think what I did at 16 is worse?" Nash asked.
"I didn't say that, I jus' cannot believe you'd work there, being as young as you are."
"There weren't a lot of choices for me," Nash told him.
"I know, and I don' want to see you get into it again, that's why I'm helping you," Tony said.
"Like Gina…"
"What?" Tony asked.
"You don't want Gina getting mixed up with guys like you're in the business with, and you don't want me in a business that could very well lead to a business like yours, knowing full well what kind of people are in it. Ain't that about right?"
Tony laughed, "yeah…I guess it is…in this business, most people are like de' scum on the bottom o' your shoe."
"But not you," Nash said.
Tony didn't answer.
"Come on, Tony, you're not like the rest and you know it…otherwise…Frank Lopez probably wouldn't be dead, and you wouldn't be married to his woman," Nash said.
"True…" Tony replied, "…listen, why don't we…" Tony turned to face her and saw Nash with her hands over her temples and she was moaning and squirming. "What's the matter?"
Tony wasn't sure he'd be able to make out anything over her moaning, but she managed to tell him, "my head…is killing me…"
"You wan' I should take you home?" Tony asked.
"Don't do that," Nash said, "please, Tony, don't…"
"What's the matter?" Tony asked.
Nash shook her head, "I can't go home like this, Tony, I just can't."
Tony was tempted to take Nash back to his house, but she seemed dead set against having anyone else know he knew her, so he scratched that idea, so he drove around looking for a place to take her for the night. He found just the place, a quaint little hotel that didn't look too likely to be the place for an assassin of some big shot, but far better than the roach motel standards. As he got to the parking lot he saw that Nash had fallen asleep, or at least tried to. He placed his hand on her shoulder to get her attention, and it did, but not like he'd figured. Nash shot up in her seat and looked like she was going to go into convulsions. Tony grabbed her by both shoulders to hold her still.
"It's only me, Nash, calm down! Nobody is going to hurt you."
Nash calmed down but Tony saw something in her eyes that strongly resembled a mixture of pain and fear. "I…I'm sorry, Tony, I just…I didn't…"
But Tony was sure he knew what she was trying to say, he gently squeezed her shoulder as he responded, "It's okay…I understan'…you were asleep and I surprise' you."
"More than you know," Nash said as she looked at their surroundings, "where are we?"
"Uh…" Tony tried to read the sign for the hotel beyond the glare from all the lights on the sign, "the New Horizons hotel…come on."
"What're we doing here?" she asked.
"Come on, it's allright…I don't bite."
"But Tony…"
Tony had a good guess on why Nash was hesitating, so he decided to straighten everything out. "Look Nash, you don' want to go home, you won' let me take you to my home, so I'm bringing you here…we'll get a room, you can get something to eat, a place to sleep…maybe a couple o' aspirin…it'll be allright, come on."
Tony slipped out of his side of the car, went around and got Nash out and took her into the hotel. When they got to the lobby, Tony moved Nash over to the couch while he got them checked in.
"Checking in?" the clerk asked.
"Yeah…can you get my son and me a room for the night? Two beds, full night."
"Your son?" the clerk asked.
Tony pointed over to Nash. "Over there on th' couch, he don't feel so good…jet lag…so I would appreciate if you didn't bother him too much."
They got a room on the second floor, and once they got up there, they found out that it was well worth the money he had to shell out. Two double beds, vibration optional, a nice view of the southern exposure from the balcony, TV, radio, a miniature fridge, an ice machine right out in the hall, a large bathroom with a shower, a marble bathtub, a fiberglass sink, a fully stocked medicine cabinet, and much to Tony's liking, a mini-bar. While Nash fished through the medicine cabinet to find some painkillers for her headache, Tony called for room service and helped himself to a couple of beers from the bar.
"You like roast beef and potatoes?" Tony asked.
"What kind of potatoes."
"Uh…Idaho."
"Baked, mashed, or scalloped?"
"Mashed."
"With gravy?"
"Yes."
"Sounds great."
"Good, they'll bring it up in a few minutes," Tony said.
Nash just nodded and laid down on one of the beds and tried to rest. Tony went over to the bed and sat at the foot of it, the added weight woke Nash up again.
"Why didn't you want to go home?" Tony asked.
"My mother doesn't take my headaches very likely," Nash said.
"She think you're making them up?" Tony asked.
"I don't know…but I don't want to go through it again…do you understand, Tony?" she asked.
"Sure…I'll call her later and tell her you'll be home tomorrow."
"You know my mother?" Nash asked.
"I spoke with her earlier today when I was tryin' to find you…she got the impression that we were going out on a date."
"Oh God," Nash turned over and muffled her laughing in the pillows.
"She don't think we're sleeping together…I didn't tell her we were," Tony assured her.
"Good," she sighed.
She was trying to go to sleep again. "Hey," Tony said, "try to stay awake, the food's gonna be up here soon…then you can sleep, allright?"
"Okay, Tony," Nash turned back onto her back and tried to keep her eyes closed regardless.
"You get these headaches often?" Tony asked.
"Sometimes," was the barely audible response.
"How bad are they?"
Nash just moaned in response.
"That bad, huh?" Tony asked, "is this connected with everything else?"
"Probably…"
"I'm sorry, kid."
"It's not your fault," Nash groaned.
"'Is not right, no 17 year old should have to go through 'dis shit," Tony said, "if I could get a doctor up here, I…"
But he could tell Nash was in too much pain to pay too much attention.
"Oh well…you'll get better soon," Tony told her.
She didn't respond to that either. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" Tony asked.
"Room service."
Tony opened the door and a hotel employee rolled in a food cart with two plates on a tray, both covered by silver lids. Tony lifted the lids and liked what he saw, so he put the plates on the table, gave the guy a tip and closed the door again. "You feel up to eating?" he asked.
"Sure," Nash replied.
Nash slowly got herself up from the bed and over to the table, but once she sat down, she looked at the food like it made her sick.
"Is something wrong?" Tony asked.
"No…"
"Come on…I know it's not the best…sure, the potatoes have a few lumps, and the roast beef is extra chewy, but it's better than nothing…now…are you gonna eat, or do I have to feed you?" Tony asked.
Nash looked up at him, "you can't be serious."
"Sure I am."
Nash obviously didn't care for that, Tony saw, so she fed herself. No surprise, it worked like a charm every time. Although, the last time Tony had to do that was when he was 15 and Gina was 5, and had gotten to a point in her life where she didn't want to eat. The last time before that, he was 12 and Manny was 10 and quit eating after being sick. Looking back, Tony thought it was funny how he seemed to have that way with kids.
After dinner, Nash went back to the bed and went to sleep, Tony went to the phone and first called home.
"Hello? Hello, Elvie? Elvie? Oh, hi Manny…where's Elvie? Oh she has? No, no…I jus' wanted to say I probably won't be home till tomorrow…something' come up…no I'm not in trouble…yes, Manny…tell Gina if she calls, allright? Okay, goodbye."
Tony disconnected the call and when he heard the dial tone again he dialed another number.
"Hello, Mrs. Owens? It's Antonio Cagney, how are you? Oh, good, I can't complain…actually she's with me. Yes…well my car broke down, an' we can't get anyone to look at it until morning, so…we're staying at New Horizons until then…she…she's right here with me…she hurt her foot on the way, now she can't walk too good…No…I'll bring her home firs' thing tomorrow. Yes…okay, goodbye."
Tony hung up and went back to the bar and got out a scotch. Looking around the room, it seemed very familiar…it reminded him of the night after Angel died. After the others had all gone to sleep, he stayed up, thinking about Angel, how much he'd looked up to Tony, and how if it weren't for Tony, he'd still be alive. Tony couldn't stop himself from crying then, and he couldn't now as the pain of the memory came back.
I miss you, Angel, I really do…if I had it to do over, you'd still be here…Tony took a swig of the scotch and went over to the other bed and settled down there, hoping for either intoxication or unconsciousness to take over as he continued to mourn the loss of his good friend, and wondered how many more he would lose in this business. It didn't matter, he was too far into it to get out now, he and Manny and all the rest, whatever happened from here on out, they would just have to do whatever it took to survive. Tony couldn't survive another senseless killing of someone he cared about, he couldn't live through another Angel.
Author's notes and disclaimers: The origin of Tony's scars, the story of Tony and Manny's trip on the boat to America, and the aftermath of Angel's death all originatedfrom the book, Scarface, written by Paul Monette. Don't own so don't sue.