In Another Life V

Chapter 8

"Jeannie, I'm just heading off to work," said Jack Napier, entering the living room.

Jeannie grunted, flipping a page in her magazine and continuing to smoke. "I'll be home early," he said, bending down to kiss her forehead.

She drew back, glaring at him and grunting again. "You ain't gonna talk to me before I go?" he asked, quietly.

"I have nothing to say to you, Jack Napier," she muttered, flipping another page. "And I'm sure you have nothing to say to me that you haven't already said. I'm not really in the mood to hear more lies anyway."

"I'm not lying to you, baby," he murmured. "I wasn't with anyone, and nothing happened..."

"You know, no matter how many times you repeat it, it doesn't sound any more true," she interrupted. "Just get outta here, Jack. I'm happier when you're gone anyway."

He looked at her. "Why do you treat me like this, Jeannie?" he murmured. "What have I ever done to deserve this hatred and coldness from you?"

"You don't know?" she snapped, glaring up at him.

He shook his head. "I...I think I've always tried to be a good husband..."

"What you have been, Jack, is an utter failure," snapped Jeannie, angrily. "I married you because I had hoped that in a few years, with all your apparent talents and promise, that you'd be running your own gang, and I'd be the wife of a mob boss. But I've spent fifteen years waiting for you to have some kinda career success, and here you are still some second-rate gangster taking orders from Sal Valestra. You betrayed my trust in you, and you failed me. And so I'm stuck in this dingy little apartment day after day, waiting for you to bring home your pitiful little salary and trying to find some way to entertain myself. And so one day it hit me that maybe I could occupy myself with having a baby. That's what women do, so they're not stuck at home bored all the time. And I thought this is one way in which Jack can't possibly disappoint my hopes. And yet, in a monumental feat of failure, you have. The most basic, unskilled thing a man can do, the simplest biological impulse, and you can't even fulfill that. You're not a man, Jack Napier, and certainly not a man I should have married. You're a clown, and a fool, and a joker, and that's all you'll ever be. And since you've made me so miserable, I'm determined to show you the same courtesy. That's what a marriage is, after all – tit for tat. Now go off to your pathetic job, or to some pathetic woman who thinks failure is attractive. But that's not me, Jack. I can't love a failure, or a fool, or a joker."

Jack just looked at her, staring back at the hatred in her eyes and wondering if he should respond. But how could anyone respond to that? He turned and left her without another word, quietly shutting the door to the apartment.

Jeannie waited until she heard his footsteps die away down the stairs, and then reached for the home telephone, dialing a number.

"Hello?"

"Sal? It's Jeannie."

"Why, Mrs. Napier! What a wonderful surprise! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"It's Jeannie," she repeated. "Call me Jeannie, Sal. I don't want to be associated with anything to do with my husband, and certainly not his name."

"I'm very sorry to hear that you and Jack are having problems," replied Sal, in a tone that implied the opposite. "How can any man not appreciate such a beautiful and precious treasure in his midst?"

"You've always been a sweet guy, Sal," murmured Jeanne, smiling. "Sometimes I regret my hasty marriage to Jack, y'know, when I know there were lots of other nice guys out there. Guys who would probably have made me a lot better husband."

"I'm very flattered that you think so, Jeannie," murmured Sal. "Now how can I help a gorgeous woman such as yourself?"

Jeannie was silent for a moment. "Do you know who Harley is?" she asked, suddenly.

"Harley?" repeated Sal. "No, I can't say that name rings a bell. Why?"

"Just...Jack shouted out that name when he and I were...being intimate recently," said Jeannie, slowly. "I just thought she might be a waitress or a stripper or someone you might have come across when you were all out together."

"Harley," repeated Sal, thoughtfully. "Harl..." He paused suddenly.

"Sal? You still there?" asked Jeannie. "What is it? Do you know who she is?"

A cruel smile formed around Sal Valestra's thin lips. "Oh yes, Jeannie," he murmured. "Yes, I think I might."

...

The door to Harley's room opened, and her heart sped up as she expected Jack to enter. But it plummeted suddenly when she saw Sal Valestra enter the room instead.

"Time I had a little chat with you personally, sweetheart," he murmured, approaching her. Harley backed away, but he seized her by the shoulders roughly, slamming her against the wall and tightening one hand around her throat. As she struggled, he used his other hand to wipe the makeup from her face.

"He ain't been torturing you, has he?" Sal murmured, quietly. "He's been screwing you instead."

He released her throat suddenly and Harley gasped for air, and instantly cried out in pain as Sal's hand struck her across the face. "You know he's married, don't you, you little whore?" he hissed. "To a real babe of a dame! I dunno any reason why he'd cheat on her for you!"

He struck her again and Harley shrieked as she felt blood begin to pour from her nose. "He's a goddamn idiot, I guess," muttered Sal. "Or maybe you slept with him so he wouldn't torture you, I dunno. But I do know one thing."

He seized both her arms, twisting them behind her back so she screamed in pain. "He disobeyed my orders," he whispered. "And he made a huge mistake. One he's gonna really regret by the end of today. And so will you," he muttered, dragging her out the door.