Manhattan, NY
Julian Jerome carefully folded the wet washcloth and laid it over Alexis's forehead uneasily. Dr. Davidson had stopped by earlier with more antibiotics and saline. He had admitted that he had hoped she would have started to respond to the treatment but had said that sometimes with pyelonephritis it could take forty-eight hours for the fever to break. Technically it had only been around twelve since the antibiotics had started so he wasn't completely surprised.
The explanation was perfectly reasonable and logical, but it tore at Julian's heart to see the woman he loved in so much distress. He had spent most of the night holding her as her whole body shook with chills in spite of a 102-degree fever. By morning her temperature had climbed to 104.6 and she had collapsed against him exhausted and panting. She had fallen into a restless fitful sleep and he had dozed beside her for a few hours until Dr. Davidson had returned.
As he lowered himself back down onto Alexis's bed, Julian finally allowed himself to process the events of the preceding week. His meeting with Joe Scully had not gone exactly as he had expected but he hoped that might actually be a positive thing.
November 28, 1989
Julian Jerome steeled his nerves and remembered the woman who motivated him as he opened the door to Roma Café. He quickly identified Joe Scully sitting at back table which carefully provided him a clear view of both the front and rear entrances.
Joe Scully made eye contact with a gentleman at a table to his right and then stood as Julian approached. He extended his hand, "Welcome to Detroit, I appreciate you making the trip," he said.
Julian nodded. He knew that within the culture there was certain respect implied from coming to Joe on his own turf, even though the original invitation was his. "I appreciate your hospitality and your ability to coordinate with my schedule while I am here attending the AICPA Conference at the Convention Center downtown."
Joe chuckled. "Ah, yes, you have to truly understand the rules in order to know how to break them," he said as he pulled out the chair to his right for Julian.
Julian sat down and silently wrestled his conflict. He was well aware of the fine line between shrewd financial investments and tax evasion and the intersection between organized crime and white-collar crime. Perhaps it was hypocritical for him to eschew the former and tiptoe around men who were comfortable straddling as close to the latter as their CPA and attorneys could provide plausible denial. "I prefer to just follow them. It makes life so much easier," he finally said.
Joe motioned to the woman standing awkwardly just out of earshot balancing a tray with soup tureens. "It's ok, Marie, please bring the us the soup course," he said.
Marie set down two tureens of minestrone soup and a basket of sliced crusty Italian bread in front of them and then quickly departed.
"I took the liberty of ordering ahead of time. Normally I would have invited you to the house in Grosse Pointe but Jeanine's mom just had surgery and she had to go back to New York to look in one her," Joe said.
"I understand. I appreciate that you recognized that timing is of the essence."
"I can see how you would feel that way. If you're as much of a rules follower as I hear; I can imagine your inheritance has made life very messy," Joe said.
"I suppose some of that depends on what you have to say," Julian said.
Joe chuckled again. "Fair enough. I won't try to sell you on the honor of this world; this life is not for everyone. Jeanine and I don't expect either of our two will follow my path. I practically had to promise that before she let me make Raphael Giambetti and Carmine Cerullo their godparents. Now my Sonny, he does see the honor of this world. He embraces the risks and for him it may be his salvation so I support him and I will help pave the path to power for him."
Julian had thought Joe Scully's children were both still relatively young, maybe young teens at the oldest. He wasn't sure who the aforementioned Sonny was and was afraid that could matter. He hated being unprepared. "So, exactly what are you proposing?"
"The Zacchara's are angling for your father's territory in Manhattan. Someone needs to fight that. I can broker that through the Solieto family if you want to keep your hands clean."
"And in exchange for that I transfer the actual holdings to some real estate company you control?" Julian asked.
"No, you transfer the Port Charles holdings to my organization directly. We leave the Manhattan holdings in the same trust your father left them in."
"So was my father right that you were on your way out of the Camorese family just like your Uncle Vincent?"
"If the Commission Trial and McClellan Hearings taught us anything it was the importance of cooperation and collaboration among the families. Divided we will definitely fall!" Joe asserted.
It sounded plausible and from what Julian had been able to glean from his father's remaining loyal crew, Joe Scully remained an unofficial Consigliere of sorts for the Camorese family. "So, if I were to do this, who would directly run the Port Charles territory?"
"Sonny Corinthos, he is an acting Capo for the Camorese Family but Fat Tony should only have a few more years in prison and the boss will want to give him his territory back. It is just a lot less messy if I don't have challenge the power structure to take up for my kid. Anyway, I think Sonny will do better with his own thing."
"He doesn't play well with others?"
"Oh, but he does, he has cornered the market on charisma and has charm a mile long. He might even ascend to be the big boss in time, it just might cost him certain principles I'm not sure he will compromise on. Again, it is just a lot less messy if I don't need to figure that out."
Julian had since done his due diligence. He still didn't understand how the Cuban-greek, Michael "Sonny" Corinthos Jr., had ascended above the associate level. Perhaps being raised by Carmine Cerullo and mentored by Joseph Scully had made him "Italian" at least in name. Perhaps. Then there was the issue of "earning his bones" but perhaps he had been given partial credit for the assassination of wife beating corrupt cop Timothy "Deke" Woods in October 1986. While Woods had been on the Zacchara payroll, it seemed that death had benefited Adela Corinthos Woods much more than the Camorese organization itself after all.
XXXXXX
Alexis Davis awoke overheated, clammy, and dizzy and in a dimly lit room. Something was very wrong; her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest and the room spun as she struggled to lift her head. The act itself seemed to require effort she just didn't have and she felt herself involuntarily collapse back against the pillow. Her breathing felt ragged as if she just couldn't get air; it was like she was too weak to breathe. Helplessly she let the blackness overtake her.
XXXXXX
Dr. Ben Davidson frowned a bit as he placed the oxygen mask on his patient. She was likely becoming septic and probably really needed to be in an actual hospital. He understood why Julian was reluctant to go that route but he was afraid that soon they might not have a choice. His friend was very ill and her pregnancy only complicated things further. He hadn't mentioned the latter part to Julian. Him not mentioning it first led Ben to conclude he didn't know and that this was not the time to tell him.
"I'm sorry to call you back like this but she just seemed so uncomfortable," Julian said.
"I understand. Unfortunately, I am sure she isn't comfortable. Her pulse is in the 190s, that never feels good. I'm giving her another 1L bolus of saline through the IV and some oxygen but she is very sick and she may need to be in an actual hospital."
"That isn't a great option for her," Julian said flatly.
"I get that, I do, but we may be getting close to a point where we don't have choice. Were you able to get her to take the Tylenol earlier?"
"No, I'm not sure she could swallow it."
"Let me try some liquid in an oral syringe. If that won't work then we will need to do a suppository. At this point we need to get the fever down somehow."