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Part XII: 1988- End of Innocence
Jamie considered the ugly sweater, before she shook her head, "I hope it's a boy, personally."
Fitz spent most of Schiano's coughing fit worrying that the old man would die and then what would become of them? Would he and Quinn be tried for manslaughter? Had he ruined his entire life off the accident of a chance encounter? And now, to hear the monsignor mention his family...
His father.
What (oh what?) would Pieter Everard Eisenhardt Smith have to say about this? Fitz had thought he was being beastly clever hoodwinking that street peddler. He'd believed (deluded himself, no doubt) that he would prove himself a capable maven in the eyes of his father, but now...
"You mustn't, Monsignor!" Fitz threw himself from the chair and onto his knees, skinning them violently on the desk, though he bit back the resulting scream of pain, "My father will eat me alive! I only wanted to impress him, is all, a-a-a-and...ohohoh..." he sobbed, "I rollerblade for my figure. Positive exercise! Like on The Facts of Life!"
Oh, but the Monsignor wouldn't want to hear about that. They talked about sex on that show! Oh, he was really digging himself a hole.
"I will do anything," he sniffled, "Climb any mountain, ford any stream, follow any rainbow..." he leaned forward, "That is from The Sound of Music. It's about the war."
There! Not so effeminate anymore, was he?
***
"Hm," Pamela mused, trying to imagine her brother with a baby boy to...parent or whatever.
"Why?" she asked at length, "Like...what kind of...boy things would you do with it?"
-Fitz and Pamela
"I'm honestly not sure."
He'd never flat out said it, but she knew that her father had always wanted a son. Not that he was disappointed in the daughters he had. But it was something he had wanted.
"What about you? If you were having a kid, would you want a boy or a girl?"
Somehow, Fitz's pathetic begging, which Schiano had admittedly incited, only made the monsignor more exasperated. "Yes, yes, I know the Sound of Music. Charming movie. Wonderful movie. Yes, yes. Calm down. Calm down." Once Fitz's sputtering had concluded, Schiano turned to Quinn. "And what about you, and your lineage, young man? Need I remind you of what your forefather have done to this community and, in some cases, led this community."
Quinn rolled his eyes.
Schiano was not here for it. "I am talking to you, Mr. Maddox!"
The young Maddox's eyes, however, drifted to Schiano's now-scattered collection money.
"Look at me when I'm talking to..."
"You got a penny collection goin', Monsignor?"
Schiano narrowed his eyes, confused. "What?"
"Over there." Quinn nodded, feigning admiration. "Some dimes, too. A few quarters, maybe some dollar bills scattered there..."
"I don't see your point..."
"I think at the bottom of that pile, Monsignor Schiano," Quinn finally returned his gaze to the priest. "Is my family's monthly donation. Something like a thousand, two thousand..." He moved his hand slowly, pretending he was truly fishing for an accurate number, which both he...
...and Schiano were well-aware of, as the old man grumbled, "twothousandfivehundred."
"What was that?" Quinn held his ear up, wanting the priest to speak up.
Which he did, though he was already enthusiastic about it. "Two thousand and five hundred dollars."
"Approximately." Quinn picked at his nails. "Regardless, it is a pretty illin' amount of money, wouldn't ya say?"
Schiano, ashamed, buried his face in his hands, admitting, "It is pretty 'illing', yes."
"And you, Fitz," Quinn turned, crossing his legs in a suave gesture. "Your family has been pretty generous to the parish. Am I right?"
-Schiano and Quinn
Pamela was momentarily blunted to have her own question tossed back at her. Was Janey being catty or was she trying to build a bridge?
This, of course, begged the question why Pamela was interested in burning bridges. If one thought of her actions as bridge-burning, which she didn't…necessarily.
"I never really thought about it," she answered lightly, "Sounds like a lot of work, you know," she considered briefly, "But a girl, I guess. To have…things in common."
But now that she'd said it, she found herself imagining the possibility as reality: a daughter. She looked like her, which might be evidence of pride or a narrow imagination. She tried to imagine herself in the act of mothering and found it a difficult task. Changing diapers and cleaning sputum and breastfeeding…
Too much bodily excrement to be honest. Pamela couldn't imagine why so many women signed up for it.
Which could be interpreted as all the more evidence that Janey was telling the truth.
Or maybe it was the most natural thing in the world for a girl to dream of motherhood, and Pamela was deficient in some way. She liked that theory much less.
***
"Well, yes," Fitz answered glumly, "But I don't see what that has to do with any…" at which point, he lit up with realization, "Oh, totes begotes, Monsignor! Yes, yes, the Smiths are, in fact, top contributors to the St. George capital campaign," he leaned forward, "If not for the new insulation provided by my father's campaign, the entire congregation would have perished from asbestos-related illness!"
He smiled pleasantly, wondering why he hadn't thought of weaponized nepotism. That's why Quinn called the shots, he supposed.
-Pamela and Fitz
Quinn suavely crossed his arms and legs, having gained full control of the negotiation. "To think, our congregation cast with a horrible plague...asbestos. Asbestos." He spat the word out with a shudder, the mere idea of the word sickening him. "Now, if this little...'excursion' of ours was to get out, say, to the higher-ups at St. George's or even the cops, well..." Quinn feigned helplessness with a sigh. "...you'll always have your pennies, Monsignor."
A man defeated, Schiano sat in his chair, burying his face in his hands. He used to be a man of integrity, with values! Yet, here he was, two brats trapping what was left of his pride in a vice. Was this how he was supposed to carry on his vocation? Accepting money from fat cats to make sure his kneeling pads were properly cushioned and his church organ was of the latest Yamaha variety?
...
Wait a minute, this was exactly what Schiano was expecting when he first donned the cassock! The Catholic Church was supposed to be corrupt! If they weren't, there'd be no order and it would collapse into a bunch of messy sects and denominations! Why, they'd be no better than the Protestants!
At last, Schiano removed his face from his hands. "I see your point."
Quinn smiled, quite satisfied. "I figured you would." He got up from his seat and stretched. "Welp, it was super-cool shootin' the breeze with ya, Monsignor. I promise onna these days I'll come in for confession. It's just, who's got the time, amirite?"
"Oh, I'm not done with you yet."
The suave bola act fell like a bag of wet cement. "Whaddaya mean?"
"I ain't squealin' to the police or your headmaster, we can agree on that much." Schiano wagged his finger. "But I gotta keep order in these four walls. You ropin' in my altar boys didn't help with that. I'm not gonna get your respect, but I need theirs. They need to think I sorted you out but good, so they won't step outta line again."
Quinn shrugged, annoyed. "Just say ya yelled at us real loud, man."
"They won't buy that. I need evidence." Schiano pressed his hands together, effortlessly returning to the negotiating table. "Say...some confiscated goods from your little party."
"Ah." Quinn nodded, catching the priest's drift as he sat back down. "S'pose it's only fair. Can't have you walkin' away with zilch. You've been a real homie throughout all this."
"Yes. And I demand compensation."
Quinn clapped his hands together. "Y'know you can't ask for too much, Monsignor..."
"Remember, my boy, I may be crooked, but I can grow a spine any day now." Schiano leaned in. "Don't let today be that day. For your sake."
Giving Fitz a look, Quinn exhaled. "Name your price."
"Your speakers." Schiano replied suspiciously on the spot. "All of them. That'll show the boys I mean business, that I won't hesitate to confiscate their gizmos and gadgets..."
"...and it'd be nice to amplify some of those hymns, for the old folks in the back, huh?"
Schiano didn't dignify that with a response, sitting back. "That is my offer. Take it or leave it."
Quinn gave the idea some thought, eventually looking to his partner-in-crime. "You budgeted for the amps. How much will losin' them set ya back?"
-Quinn and Schiano
"Oh, er..." Fitz blushed, "$2,500, Quinn."
He paused two seconds, guilt at his "client's" first ever inquiry into his campaign's financial workings.
"On sale."
-Fitz
"Pfft." Quinn scoffed nonchalantly. "I can comp that. You got yourself a deal, Monsignor."
"Alright. Bring them on up." Schiano wheeled his chair back to his (still) disorganized offerings. "And if I see you boys making trouble on the premises again..."
"...we'll have another rad chat." Quinn replied cockily. "Look forward to it. C'mon, Fitz. WE OUTTA HEAH!"
-Quinn and Schiano
"We so are!" Fitz shrieked in a state of mild hysteria, getting up so quickly he turned the chair over, "Oh, sorry about that."
But he was too anxious to linger. Everything else aside, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep tonight. Or tomorrow. Hopefully by next week. What was in that unusual candy? Maybe it was better if nobody reproduce it, for the public good.
Is this what it means to grow up? To learn some things must be sacrificed...for the greater good?
Pondering this, he shuffled out of the Monsignor's office in Quinn's wake, ever ignorant of one distressing fact: that, in his haste, one crumb of the mysterious white rock candy had tumbled from his shorts and onto the faded pile carpet of the fusty rectory.
-Fitz
"Hm."
Considering everything that she had heard about Rachel, and her home life with Pamela...well it clearly didn't turn out very well.
Pamela frowned and was about to ask what that was supposed to mean, but she was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Hoped I'd find you here."
She whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of an olive-skinned boy in a distressed surplus jacket and boot cuts, "...Leo," she was so shocked she used his actual name instead of one of the guys' shorthands.
"What are you doing here?"
"Stopped by the house. Your cleaning lady told me you'd gone to the mall."
Pamela made a mental note to remind their nosy housekeeper she wasn't anyone's goddamn secretary, at the same time realizing Leo wasn't looking at her, but at Janey.
"I know we haven't known each other long," he told her, "But I've got a bone to pick with you."
-Pamela and Leo
Jamie took a deep breath. There was no point in lying, or trying to defend her actions. She simply said, "I know why you're here."
"Then maybe you'll explain yourself," he folded his arms, "If you can, Audrey."
He didn't look away from his quarry as he spoke, and so was entirely oblivious to Pamela's stricken expression.
-Leo and Pamela
Jamie considered what she could say. She had no excuse that would be acceptable. No reason that she could explain. If she told the boy the truth, that Jimmy's son was the reason she attempted what she did...she'd fail her mission.
"No, I can't."
"How convenient," Leo looked sideways to Pamela, "Couldn't you go somewhere else?"
"That's cute. Being told to respect boundaries by one of the free folk. Tubular."
"Where do you get all the gypsy stuff from anyway?" Leo demanded, "Les Miz?"
"Hunchback," Pamela repeated flatly, "Read a book."
"My mother took you into our home. That means we have to treat you with xenia. You know what that is?"
-Leo and Pamela
"No, I don't know what that means," Jamie shook her head.
"Xenia," Leo enunciated the word, "Sacred hospitality. You take someone in, you give them food and shelter. After that, you can't do wrong by them and they can't do wrong by you. It's a code older than writing. Roma live by it...you have to when your entire way of life is built on having no set home. We took you in. Jimmy vouched for you, said you were in trouble, and we took you in."
Anger didn't suit Leo well. He sounded more quivery than really upset, sounding more hurt than furious.
"Jimmy is many things. He's not some kind o-of lech. He'd never put a hand on a girl if she didn't want it," but there was an undercurrent of doubt to his own words, as if he himself were wondering now, "Look, I'm sorry to do this hear and now, but I've lost sleep. Jimmy's like a brother to me. If he did anything to you..." he couldn't finish. Maybe he was afraid to.
-Leo
"He threw a punch," Jamie said, looking him in the eyes, "But I started it."
"I figured you did," said Leo, "There's something off about you...everything about you. The way you act, the things you say, the way you treat people...it all screams some kind of agenda. My family doesn't need that. We've had enough, some of it my fault. Jimmy's a difficult person, and he can be dangerous when he wants. I may be a pushover, but maybe that's for the better, maybe I can guilt you into dropping whatever ugly trick you're pulling here and getting out of..."
"Hey!" Pamela stepped in between them, positioning herself like a shield in front of Jamie, "Back off, Galahad."
Leo cocked his head to the side, "You're taking her side?"
"She's a friend of the family."
"Jimmy told me. She's a little more than a friend."
"Pretty bold talk without Big Sally around to back you up," she turned to Jamie, "Go and try on some of those maternity tops. I'll deal with him."
-Pamela and Leo
"I can't leave," Jamie said, before she turned away, "Not yet."
As she walked off, she found herself shaking.
It couldn't be much longer, until the tragedy happened, right?
Pamela waited until Jamie had vanished behind a grotesque giant lazy Susan featuring a display of Hello Kitty and GI Joe themed prams.
"Now," she began, "Let's talk."
"Pamela, believe it or not, I'm not interested in your conversation," said Leo, "I'm here as a courtesy for Jimmy."
"Jimmy," she rolled her eyes, "He's a big boy, isn't he? He can take care of himself."
"You don't know he gets. Sometimes he loses control. He doesn't mean it, but he does, and the messes he leaves behind..."
She thought of Sam holding her beneath him in bed, his fists lashing against Leo's own face, "Guys just love saying they lost control. Then you're supposed to feel bad for them even when they totally fuck up."
"He feels terribly about what happened. But that doesn't mean that girl isn't in the wrong. Kirk's your brother, isn't he?"
"That's what it says on the tax return," she folded her arms, "Don't pretend you're on some charitable errand for my family, Leandro."
He winced, unused to his full name being used by anybody, much less her, "She used Jimmy. She took advantage of my mother's trust. She's probably using your brother."
"Dude, do you think I was born yesterday?" she laughed disbelievingly, "I know she's full of shit. First question...who the fuck is 'Audrey'?"
Leo looked confused, "How do you mean?"
"Well, as far as I know, the lovely young lady's name is Janey. That's what Paula told us, and she never said a thing to correct us. But you say her name is 'Audrey'..."
"That's what she told Jim and me," Leo hesitated as Paula smirked.
"So she's lying," she nodded, "I thought she was."
"What're you going to do?" Leo asked as Pamela turned as if to leave, "Pamela!"
He reached for her arm, holding her in place. She stopped short.
***
"Hey," Sam slowed down, spotting the familiar face near the dressing rooms, "It's you."
He folded his arms, "You seen Pam?"
-Pamela, Leo, and Sam
Jamie held her thumb over her shoulder and said, "That way."
"Fountain of personality, huh?" Sam rolled his eyes, "What, did Kirk twist her arm into babysitting you, or is she doing a public service?"
-Sam
"I'd say the first," Jamie replied, "There are the rooms, right?"
"Like I go to the Gap," Sam said dismissively, "Look, I'm sure you're a real fascinating chick and one day some shrink is gonna have a field day with you, but I've got more important things to..."
A short, high scream sounded close back...from back in the maternity section. Sam's eyes hardened in recognition, "Pam!"
-Sam
Jamie's eyes widened at the shriek.
"We need to help her!"
Sam didn't linger, charging across the store with an athletic and alarming ferocity. A few others had heard Pamela's cry, clearly, but Sam's sprint definitely stirred up more attention.
"Pam!" Sam barked her name, knocking over a good chunk of the pram display, only for the blood to drain from his face at the sight before him.
Pamela was shrouded by up against the wall, framed by floor-length maternity kaftans. Her eyes were wide and she was breathing raggedly, as if she had just pulled herself from a fight. The sleeve of her turquoise blouse had been ripped at the shoulder.
Standing a few paces from her, his hand still outstretched as though grabbing out, was Leandro Lakotos, bright eyes and panting just as she was.
Pam's bug-eyes went on to Sam, shimmering with tears. Her throat worked, but no words came out, just the ghost of a sigh.
"What..." Sam's own face was working spasmodically, his words trembling, "What did..." his attention moved from Pam to Leo, "What did you do?"
-Pamela, Sam, and Leo
Jamie's eyes widened at the sight before her. Shut. Shit. SHIT...
"What...what happened?"
There was a tense silence that couldn't have been more than a few moments, but felt like an eternity all the same. Even the cheesy pop music on the PA seemed weirdly muted.
Pamela kept shaking her head, fractured words beginning to sound like sobs. Leo's arm slowly lowered to his side. He didn't look away from her.
"What happened here?" Sam had recovered enough to supplant shock with anger, "Pam, did he make a pass at you?"
Pamela jumped a little, her hand going to the bare skin of her shoulder, where the sleeve had torn, "I…Sam, I…"
"You laid a hand on my girl, you son of a bitch?" Sam shoved past Jamie, grabbing Leo by the lapels of his jacket and pressing him into the wall, practically flattening the rack of clothes to his back, "I always knew you were a freak, but I didn't think you were suicidal."
"Sam…" Pamela began weakly, "Sam, it's not…it's not worth…"
"Did he hurt you?" Sam asked.
"I said it's not…"
"Did he hurt you?"
"Why are you asking her?" Leo asked, not looking away from Sam once, "I'm right in front of you. Ask me what I did to your girl."
Pamela was white as a sheet. She took a few shaky steps away from the wall, her eyes shining with tears.
"You smug little stain," Sam was practically growling the words, "I don't know how the fuck they do it wherever you come from, but around here...you just signed your death warrant, pal."
One hand still on Leo, he made the other into a fist, making as if to connect with the other boy's jaw.
-Sam and Leo
"Sam, wait. Please, he's not worth it!" yelled Jamie stepping forward, "What if a cop see you?"
She couldn't let this happen...