When The Wrong One Loves You Right

Caged Bird Sings

It was nine o'clock in the morning and I had been sitting in the hospital waiting room with Aaron for over two hours. The interrogation down at police headquarters had been simple, cut and dry. Marvin had evidently been wire tapping his opponents' campaign headquarters and someone had squawked about the escort service. He was also now facing charges of aggravated assault and attempted murder. I was assured of immunity for having been his business partner if I agreed to turn states evidence, as had Polly. I shook my head and I lifted the styrofoam cup of bitter hospital coffee to my lips and took a sip. I scalded my lips and tongue but I didn't care. 

Who would have thought a roughened thug like Polly D'Amato would turn out to be an unlikely hero? It was due to his alerting the police about the location of the poker game that night that had led to the successful bust and probably saved our lives.  

Det. Lt. Brannigan explained to me that all they really needed from me was Marvin's many passwords and security codes. Which he had stupidly given me before he began to mistrust me. Despite my emotional upheaval, the bout of vomiting occasioned by pregnancy hormones, and being worried sick about Phillip and the unknown, I was able to bleat out the various names, numbers, and figures. I gave them everything they wanted and then some. They were delighted with my cooperation. I sang like the freed railbird I was.

When the kindly Det. Sgt. Asbury offered me a ride to the hospital, I jumped on it. I hurriedly texted Aaron to meet me there.

It was Aaron who had called and texted Phillip's family and I knew with a knot of dread in my stomach that they were en route as we sat there. I was bracing myself, not only for the wrath of the family Altman but for word of Phillip. Aaron informed me he was in surgery as soon as I got there.

My brother had been thoughtful enough to bring me a pair of jeans and and an old Syracuse tee shirt once I had called him and told him what was going on. The red Dior dress was wadded up in the trash can of the ladies room here on the surgical floor. After changing I took a long look at the skating rink sized diamond on my finger. Anger and hatred came boiling up to the surface...mostly directed at myself. I tore the ring savagely from my finger. I dropped it into the toilet and flushed.

"That's where that goes," I said aloud to myself. 

Now, still huddled inside Phillip's suit jacket, hugging it to me and breathing in his scent every now and then for comfort, I tried not to torture myself with should-haves and what-might-have-beens. It was nearly impossible though as I replayed the scene over and over in my head like a sick masochist, forever watching that gun go off in a loop as my foot made contact with Marvin's wrist too late. My phone kept vibrating with a constant flow of texts from Leslie and Iva. 

Iva: wth is going on???? Feds just raided my desk and your office!

Leslie: Cam? The police were just at my place! What the fuck is happening????

Then again...

Leslie: I was entertaining a senator!

Leslie: IN BED

Leslie: Cam???

Leslie: Cam!!! Talk to me!!!!

Iva: Cam where r u?? Please answer me.

Finally I texted them both the same message:

Marvin Goff is a cut rate impotent cunt. And he's under arrest.

Then I powered off my phone. I only cared to talk to one person that night and he wouldn't be texting me. A sudden sob escaped my lips. I hadn't allowed myself to cry at all until now. I hung my head and like a flood gate, tears were dripping freely into my lap.