Chapter 10: 1976

“So how did it go?” said Herb.

“Bad, very bad. He absolutely hates us and me the most. I talked to him about the money or tried to. He hardly said a single word, but the few words he did utter and his looks were super bad. Then I made a big mistake, a very big mistake!”

“Oh?”

“I called him childish and an ungrateful fool. Jesus, how could I say things like that to that man, especially that man!”

“Oh my God,” he said.

“Yes, at least that. I was frustrated and just let my mouth outrun my brain. After all he’s been through because of me!”

“He’ll get over it. He has to know it was just your frustration showing through, not what you really thought or think. But Val, you have to be real careful about how you talk to or about the man in the future. He is going to be sensitive to everything you say.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I will be seriously conscious of what I say from here on out,” she said.

“Okay, but you say he hardly uttered a word?”

“He called me a liar, when I brought up Jillian. I only tried to assure him that neither you nor I were trying to downgrade his position relating to her ... but well ... his hatred for me and you was clearly almost, well, overwhelming. Then, he just shut down because of what I called him.

“Herb, there is no way to get by that one. I’m afraid he’s lost to me, to us, forever.”

“No, no, no we’ll make things right somehow. I don’t know how yet, but we will. We have time,” he said.

“Yes, and we have time because he is rotting in that awful place because of me, and for me.”

And then it was two months, after I became a childish ungrateful fool, that my old bud Pernell showed up again.

“Wow, again, and so soon,” I said.

“Told you that I’d be coming up from time to time,” he said.

“Yes you did. Can I ask, after the last time you were up here, did you report back to the bad guys?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “They didn’t like the report, but it was clear to me they expected it.”

“Well, that’s good. I didn’t want you to mislead them or anything.

“She was up here a couple of months ago. My old cellmate’s wife was enlisted to talk to me and pressure me to meet with the whore. I gave in; but I sure as hell regretted it after the fact. All she did was lie to me and call me names; oh, and offer me money, again. Like I would ever take anything from the likes of them. I’d rather be dead.”

Me and my old bud talked for the full two hours. He let me know that the job that the rich guy got for Frank at Montrose was working out. He did also assure me that he and Frank were getting along fine.

First William, then Pernell, then Missus Lutz, then the evil witch of the east, then Pernell again—this time with no agenda—and now the big man himself. And yes, I allowed it. Talk about a full court press. Had to be a reason why suddenly all the attention. I guess I would be finding out about that now. It was the first of December; the holiday season was upon us. Meaningless to me, but the Christmas music that played during mealtimes was better than nothing, I guess.

And then the most hated man in America, well by me, was across from me. He took a seat without so much as a hello. And yes, I hated myself for allowing him to visit. But I was mortally curious as to just what it was that she’d traded me in for—apart from the money.

“Hmm,” I said. “You’re not as ugly as I’d hoped you’d be.” He ignored my words and attitude.

“Of course Valerie told me everything. I guess everything that could go wrong, well, did,” he said. “And she said you weren’t real talkative.”

“Didn’t have much to say,” I said.

“Can I ask, why you allowed me to see you. I know the guard told you who I was. Oh, and hello.” The man would never be accused of wasting time, I was sure.

“I met with your whore. I figured how bad could you be. I mean, she considers me an ungrateful fool, but you, you’re mister generous. But let me make one thing clear: I am not a whore; I may be ungrateful, I may be a fool, I may be childish as she also said; but I cannot be bought. Still, to answer your question, and to be completely honest, I wanted to know how low on the totem pole you see me. I mean she made it more than clear how she sees me.”

“Jesus, you are stung aren’t you, and by your own honeybee.”

“You have me mistaken for somebody else. Oh yeah, you. You paid for her, so she gets to be your honeybee.”

“She didn’t mean it. What she called you. She was just frustrated.”

“Bullshit. She meant what she said, and it is how she sees me! To her I’m nothing. She thinks that I should be begging you, or maybe her, to save me. That will never happen while I breathe air on planet Earth. And as for what she called me, there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that she’s said worse about me over all these years and will again. Tell me I’m wrong and try to keep a straight face doing so,” I said.

“Your wrong, but she has said things about you that you likely wouldn’t appreciate,” he said.

“Huh? What?” I said.

“She’s never called you names, not in my presence. But she has complained about you. Mostly relating to how hard core you are about communicating with us, all of us. And, also, how hard core you are about accepting help. Yes, help that she and I could provide if you would just lighten up,” he said.

“I’m likely gonna be in here for the next ten years. You know it and I know it. Twenty years’ worth, for her, my betrayer. Yes, because of her.

“When I get out, I’ll have nothing: no family, no money, no job. Oh, but on the upside, I’ll have a super resume: I’ll be a convicted murderer. I’ll be forty-six years old. I’ll likely be anything but healthy; and oh yeah, a master cocksucker. Yeah, now there’s a resume to be proud of. Wait till potential employers hear that last part!”

He looked down and decided to get back on topic.

“I can get you out sooner. I can set you up with money a job whatever you need or want when you do get out. I really can,” he said.

“Wonderful, the ones I’m in this situation because of are willing to try and make it not so bad. Thanks, but no thanks. I wouldn’t trust either of you as far as I could throw a cast-iron football with a broken arm,” My enemy looked down—again.

“About Jillian. You’re wrong. I do not intend to take your place. Really,” he said.

“You already have.”

“I know it looks that way, but when you get out...”

“No, no, when I get out; I’m gonna be gone. Oh, I know, if I stuck around, you’d give me and any relationship I might have with my used-to-be Jillian lip service. Tell my baby I’m a good guy. But who is it do you suppose would be walking her down the aisle when she marries? Who is it would do the father-daughter dance with her at the reception? Who do you think will be seen as grandpa by her children?”

“All negotiable things if you’d be willing to consider lightening up.”

“Why should I have to lighten up to get what’s mine; well, what should’ve been mine. And why do I have to be put in the position of having to negotiate in the first place! She’s my kid not yours. Well, unless you’re finally admitting that she really is yours, and you have all the cards and if I don’t play along; then fuck me! The fact is, Mister, I have no rights except the ones you’d be so generous to loan me. So, fuck you!”

“Chase you’re in here because you sacrificed yourself, your life, to save Valerie. Yes, I put a move on her and ended up having her as my own. Yes, I adopted Jillian as a practical matter. I think you probably know that. But the fact is, the real fact is, that I do not have all the cards. I have some of them, sure, but not all of them. You have some too.”

“You shouldn’t have any,” I said.

“The woman never stops talking about you. She knows she shit on your hopes and dreams, and she must live with that, as do I. We owe you and we want to pay. You need to let us.”