Chapter 16

I drove directly to Franklin's house, calling him on the way to let him know I was coming and to ask Mary Jane to start softening Juniper up for a meeting with me.

It still wasn't entirely clear whether she would be willing to see me. Franklin said he had spoken to the psychiatrist and that Dr. Mendelssohn had called Juniper afterward on her cell. "They might be still talking now," he said.

When I got there, I gratefully accepted a steaming cup of coffee from Mary Jane and sat down alone in the kitchen. Franklin was nowhere to be seen, and Mary Jane went off to retrieve her daughter. Mama had appeared nervous but seemingly cheerful. At least she was happy to see me.

It was a start.

Juniper came into the kitchen alone, wearing pajamas and a terrycloth bathrobe. She was teary-eyed, and her face looked puffy, maybe from crying, maybe from whatever drugs she was taking. For a woman of her great height, she looked stooped and shrunken. Her little finger on her left hand was elaborately bandaged and evidently held by some sort of splint.

She was a far cry from the glamorous Amazon I'd first met at that sports banquet less than six months ago.

"What happened to your hand?" I asked.

She didn't answer my question, but I got a weak smile. "You're just what the doctor ordered," she said. "Literally ... My shrink called and ordered me to talk to you."

"He's a pretty smart guy. I thought he'd give me a big runaround when I called him, but he was pretty doggone straight, for a head doctor."

"Yes. He's a good one. I've had some bad ones, so I know a good one when I see one."

"Juni -- why did you run away again?"

"Most people, when they run away, they leave home," she said. "Me, I leave home, and then I run away back home again."

"Only you didn't. You came back to town, but you didn't come home."

"I was too much of a mess to face my mom right away."

"But why? It wasn't like the other time, was it? ... When you left angry with me because of Carla? And you went with those guys. It wasn't like that, this time ... Was it?"

"Did I run home to find some guy to fuck? No."

"Why, then? What did I do?"

She busted out bawling right at that moment. It was sudden, unexpected, and very loud. The drugs had seemed to have dulled her responses earlier, but not now. She fell, rapidly, into a protracted sobbing fit.

It was alarming. I looked around for help from Mary Jane, but Juniper and I remained alone in the kitchen.

I got up and stood behind her chair. I put my arms around her, tried to comfort her as best I could. Her body in the terrycloth robe was warm and inviting, but she made no move to respond.

"What happened?" I said, finally.

"It wasn't anything that you did," she said.

"But what? What made you leave Boston?"

"You won't believe me if I tell you," she said.

"I won't believe you? Why? What? Go ahead and tell me, and we'll see."

"We're not gonna work, you and me," she said.

"Who says?"

"It's just ... impossible." she said.

"We had it going real good again," I said. "We were going to make it together. None of that old crap ever meant anything to me, Juniper. Nothing. The only thing that means anything to me is now -- the present."

"They came to my room," she said.

"Who? What room? ... In Boston, you mean?"

"In Boston. At the hotel. They had a key. They had a key!"

"Who, Juni?"

"Toby Marr! And Clarence! They just opened my door and came in, and there wasn't anything I could do, Travis! Honest to God, there wasn't anything I could do!"

"They broke into your room at the hotel? Both of them?"

"I tried to fight them, Travis. I didn't just give in to them!" She held up her damaged hand. "Toby broke my finger! ... Just pulled it back and snapped it!"

"What happened, Juni? Tell me what happened."

"They raped me. They both raped me and forced me to ... to suck them and just ... they just stayed there for ... I don't know. Hours. It was ... it was sickening, Travis. It was ugly and filthy and sickening..."

"Those rotten motherfuckers!" I said. "Those miserable, cock-sucking sons of bitches!"

I was in front of her chair now, on my knees and trying to embrace her sobbing body. She still wasn't responding at all, but I could feel her body's harsh movements brought on by the uncontrolled sobs that were wracking her.

"Have you told your mom? ... Franklin?"

"Just the doctor. And now, you."

"Jesus, it wasn't your fault, Baby! You can't let this get to you like this. It wasn't your fault! ... Can I tell them? Your folks? We've got to call the cops! In Boston. We've got to get these motherfuckers arrested and jailed. I guess I better call the Baltimore police first. I..."

"No! We can't do that! I don't want to prosecute them! We can't do that!"

"Baby, come on! This is rape we're talking about! Rape! I know you were with Toby. With both of them, in the past. That doesn't change anything! They can't just ... they don't have a goddamned license to attack you anytime they..."

"Travis, don't you see what a mess this is? You don't see it, because you don't know enough. You don't know enough about me. And the things I've done. Okay, you knew about Toby and about Clarence Wolcott. Probably from Franklin. But it's not just that I slept with both of them in the past. It's worse, Travis!"

I was still trying to comfort her, but I also had one ear cocked, listening for the arrival of hoped-for reinforcements from her mother and Franklin. I needed them in here. I needed help with this. Juniper was almost out of control, and I wasn't helping as far as I could tell.

But she eventually stopped sobbing and gasping for breath and got very calm and quiet in my arms. I drew back a little and looked at her mottled face. Her nose was running and I got up, found a box of tissues, and handed her one.

It required three, eventually.

But she was quiet now. She looked absolutely terrible, but she wasn't crying anymore.

"Can you imagine arresting these guys for raping me?" she said. "What are they going to do? Extradite them to Massachusetts? Two big-time ballplayers? Role models for our youth?"

"It doesn't matter that you've ... had relations with these men before, Juni. They still raped you! Goddamn it, they've got to go to jail! They can't just..."

"Travis, just stop! I'm not going to swear out any complaint against them. I'm not! Not ever!"

She laughed bitterly. "You said -- what was it you said? That you knew I'd slept with both of them in the past. Well, you know what, Trav? You're right, I did. Only it wasn't the way you think. I mean, sure, I had sex with both of them back when I was in my slut mode. But what you don't know, lover, is that this wasn't the first time those two goons have done me together, either.

"No. Back when Clarence Wolcott was an Oriole the first time, he and Toby were big buds. The Salt and Pepper Twins. And we had us a threesome, Trav. I did 'em both -- together."

"Juniper, I..."

"Don't try to deal with it, Travis. Don't try to think of something to say to me. What would it be? What the hell could you possibly say?"

She wasn't crying now. She was just staring at me, and talking in a low monotone. "You call the cops on these monsters and what happens? Maybe they take it seriously. Maybe the police investigate and find out how they got a key to my room. Maybe they even get enough evidence to bring a criminal complaint.

"And then their lawyers will trot out all these juicy details about our little three-ways in the happy days of the recent past.

"You think that's all irrelevant? You think maybe a judge wouldn't allow it? Hell, even I think it's relevant, Travis, and I'm the fucking victim! Ha-Ha! 'The fucking victim.' Yeah, that about sums it up, all right.

"Can't you just see me up there, testifying? 'Yes, your honor, it's true I did them both -- simultaneously -- a couple years back, but that was back then. This little reunion we had in Boston? That wasn't consensual, you see.'"

"They can't just ... walk away from this," I said. "If you won't let me call the law, I'll have to take care of it myself."

"Christ, Travis, what are you talking about? You'll get yourself thrown off the club. You told me what Paul Warren said to you before, about fighting with Toby ... You think he was kidding around? He wasn't."

"Juni, something really bad has got to happen to those cocksuckers, or I will lose my mind. You can't allow them to walk away. You just can't."

"There's nothing we can do. Anyway, there's two of them, and they're both bigger than you. You can't take them on. Not even one at a time."

"Can we talk to your folks about this? All of it? Can we bring them in here, and let them know what has happened?"

"My mom doesn't know about how I was the meat in a sandwich between those two oversized jerks -- the kind of men that I never should have even given the time of day."

"We need to have your folks on our side on this, Juniper."

"On 'our' side? You signing up for this partnership, Travis Horton?"

"Absolutely. Nothing you ever did justifies this, Juniper. Your mom will recognize that. Trust me."

"Sure, what the hell? Call them in, and we'll have a confessional. Maybe you and Franklin can each tell us about what's the worse thing you've ever done in bed. We'll make it a group therapy thing. Take some of the heat off of good old Jay-Jay."

For the next two hours, we talked, the four of us. Eventually, reluctantly, we all acceded to Juniper's adamant insistence that all forms of legal process be ruled out. Even if the authorities were willing to take on such an unattractive case, Juniper was entirely averse to turning herself into a spectacle in the public press.

"I've got enough to live down as it is," she said, "without becoming famous for balling ballplayers."

I was still seething, and was determined to find a way to bring some important pain into the lives of these two miserable bastards. My desires in that regard weren't part of our kitchen-table discussion, because I knew everyone present would join in trying to discourage me.

Franklin, however, could read my mind. "You go after them, it'll just end up hurting you more than it does them," he said.

"I'd take a nice, long suspension -- even a jail term -- just for the satisfaction of making them bleed a little," I told him.

"I feel the same way, Travis," he said. "But there's no long-term profit in it."

"What, then?" I asked.

What Franklin and I came up with was to call a meeting. Both the president and the general manager of the Baltimore Orioles Baseball Club, Inc., plus Paul Warren, pitching coach Arlie Stone, Franklin Jones, and me.

Franklin managed to get all of them to agree to meet with us that very evening. The meeting would be at 8:30 p.m. at the home of Philip Archer, the club president.

Possibly Larry McPhail, the club's vice president and general manager, had been to the president's home before, but I could tell that Paul Warren had not, and certainly Arlie, Franklin, and I had never so much as driven through the neighborhood.

It was pretty posh.

If Franklin was impressed by his surroundings, he gave no indication. He took charge of the impromptu meeting. I was growing increasingly proud of him.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us so promptly," Franklin said. "This is a matter of great importance to the Orioles' organization. And, for Travis and for me, it's a personal matter very near and dear to us."