Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey (19 page)

As Marcia finished eating, Jakub knocked on
the door. She let him in.

“Tea?” she asked.

He smiled and nodded.

“You’re a good cook.” Marcia turned on the
flame under the kettle.

“I cooked for my wife.”

She made tea for them and put a pastry she
bought at the Jewish bakery on a plate in front of Jakub as he sat
down at the kitchen table.

“Your husband?” Jakub asked.

“He’s sick. He’s very sick. Cancer.” Marcia
said, tears forming in her eyes.

Jakub patted her hand.

“Your wife?”

“She died—cancer—now two years. I cooked for
Veronika, the last year.” He looked down at his plate.

“I’m sorry. Veronika, pretty name,” Marcia
said, patting his hand.

“I called her Nika. My plum dumpling was her
favorite.”

“How long were you married?”

“Twenty-six.” Jakub held up first twenty
then six fingers.

“Children…I mean besides Johnny?”

“Two.”

“You live here?”

“Had a house but after Nika…I move over
Johnny’s garage. We fix up apartment there. Very nice.”

“You fix up this house too?”

He nodded.

“Very nice.” Marcia smiled at him.

“Thank you. How long you marry?”

“Eleven years.”

“Children?”

She shook her head. Jakub put his hand on
hers and squeezed.

When they finished, they went into the
living room and Marcia turned the Mets game on the television.

“Never the Yankees?”

“Maybe next time, Jakub,” she said,
smiling.

At ten o’clock she went up to bed while
Jakub turned out the lights and went home to his silent
apartment.

* * * *

In the dean’s office at the university

The phone rang. Mac tensed when he
recognized the voice of his blackmailer.

“Mr. Carlson, I need more time,” Mac
said.

“Did you talk to your wife?”

“She agreed we should pay you. But we need
to liquidate some things to get the cash which takes about three or
four days,” Mac said.

“I guess this being such a surprise and all,
I understand you need a few more days. But four days from today,
I’m going to instruct my lawyer to file papers. And I will be doing
a paternity test, so be prepared, Mr. Caldwell.”

“I will. Thank you for understanding,” Mac
said, gritting his teeth. He slammed the phone down and muttered
out loud, “I’ll pay you when hell freezes over.”

* * * *

Callie called Peter. Although he didn’t
remember much about that night he did recall mentioning Jason to
the busty brunette. Callie needed to make things right. She dropped
the kids off with Sam and drove to The Wet Tee Shirt at four thirty
in the afternoon.

The bar was dark and empty when she walked
in. She could hardly see two feet in front of her and started when
a man came out of the shadows. He sidled up to her as she stood
nervously by the bar, tapping her foot and not knowing what to
do.

“Looking for a job, little lady?” the man
asked, his eyes traveling her length.

She shook her head, watching his gaze stop
at her chest.

“Then what can I do for you?”

“First, you can stop looking at me like
that,” Callie said, stilling her foot.

“Like what? I thought all pretty girls liked
to be admired.”

“Admired, yes. Leered at, no. I’m here to
see Deena.” Callie rested a hand on her hip.

“Deena? What for?”

“A private conversation,” Callie said,
facing him, staring into his eyes, exhibiting more courage than she
felt.

“About what?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be private,
would it?” she snapped.

“Ow…and she bites too. I like my women
feisty.” He faced her with a cold-eyed stare.

“But I’m not your woman. Deena, please?”

He pointed to the dressing room in the back.
Callie gave him a curt nod and moved to the door. She knocked.

“Come in.”

Callie took a deep breath, put her hand in
her pocket to still its tremble and walked in. She had never come
face-to-face with a woman Mac had slept with before. Her hand
continued to shake slightly when she opened the door and walked in.
Deena turned around to look at her.

Deena’s hair was dyed very dark brown and
hung down to her shoulders. Her eyes were brown and her chest size
was larger than Callie’s. The dancer was five foot six, five pounds
overweight with long legs. Her face was pretty but worn, tired
looking with lines around her eyes she was too young to have. She
looked older than Callie expected. She eyed Callie, her gaze
traveling up then down the young woman’s body.

“If you’re looking for a job, we don’t need
any dancers right now,” Deena said and turned her attention back to
applying eyeliner.

“I’m not looking for a job,” Callie said.
“I’m looking for you.”

“Me? What for?” She narrowed her eyes.

“I want to talk to you for a minute.”

“What about?” She swiveled around in her
chair to face Callie.

“About my husband, Mac Caldwell, and my son,
Jason.”

“So you’re Mac’s pretty little bride, eh?”
she snorted, a derisive smirk on her face.

A sound at the door captured Callie’s
attention. She saw a shadow move closer to the open door.

“He’s some catch. You’re a lucky girl,”
Deena said, putting the top back on the eyeliner and returning it
to her dressing table, never taking her eyes off Callie.

“I am,” Callie said.

“Mac and I were together a long time ago.
Nothing for you to worry about,” Deena said, picking up her
mascara.

“Mac’s brother, told me he told you Jason,
our son, wasn’t Mac’s biological son. Who did you tell?”

“He told you that? He’s lying,” Deena said,
keeping her gaze on the mirror.

“Lying? Peter? I don’t think so.”

“Hmmmm, Peter. Let me see. Cute blond guy,
right?”

Callie nodded.

“He was pretty drunk. Maybe he was talking
to Rita, the other dancer,” Deena said, putting down the mascara,
and picking up a tube of red lipstick, applying it thickly to her
lips while she watched Callie in the mirror.

Callie took a picture of Jason out of her
purse and held it up.

“Please look at this,” she said, stepping
closer and shoving the picture in front of Deena. “This is the
little boy you’ll hurt if you go ahead with this blackmail
plan.”

Deena glanced at the picture and her eyes
flashed with anger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I
never talked to Mac’s brother. I don’t know anything about
blackmail. And as for this kid, I could care less. Aren’t you the
self-righteous little wife and mother. Some nerve, coming in here
and accusing me of blackmail! Go home and screw your husband. Leave
me alone,” Deena spat at Callie.

“I thought you’d have more humanity…”

“Yeah? Hey, you know Mac’s favorite
position? He used to beg me for it all the time.” Deena’s eyes
narrowed, a vicious gleam appeared.

“Mac doesn’t have to beg
me
in the
bedroom. He gets what he wants, when he wants it!” Callie shot
back, tossing her hair. She turned her back on Deena and sashayed
out.

Humiliation swept over her as she walked to
the car without the information she came to get. She underestimated
the callousness of the dancer.
What could Mac have seen in
her?
She smacked her forehead.
He’s a man, isn’t he?
Callie chewed her lip as she turned the key in the ignition. She
was out of ideas.

* * * *

The next day, after a quick conversation
with Peter, Mac put the pieces together. He climbed into his car,
unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, loosened his tie then
started the engine. He headed for The Wet Tee Shirt.

He walked in and stopped for a moment,
letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He spied Deena sitting at
a table near the stage. She looked up and her eyes locked with
Mac’s. Mac felt anger rise up in his throat; he hated her for
trying to destroy his family but he stuffed the feeling down before
it reached his eyes. He couldn’t let his anger show. He needed to
be in control, cajole her…be friendly…charming, no matter how much
it killed him to sweet talk someone he despised.

“Hi, Deena. How you been? Can I buy you a
drink?” he said.

She smiled up at him. A look of lust flashed
across her face as she looked him over. Then she pulled the corners
of her mouth down, knitted her brows and her look turned sour.

“Sure, Mac. Been a long time. What are you
doing here?” She motioned to the bartender.

“I came to see you.” He sat down across from
her.

“Yeah? What for?”

“How are you?” Mac lounged back in his chair
when the guy behind the bar brought over their drinks.

“How do you think? I’m still working in this
dump, aren’t I?” Deena sat back in her chair. “You look good, damn
good, Mac.” Her gaze traveled slowly over his body.

“You’re looking good too,” he lied, taking a
sip of his drink.

“I’m not surprised to see you,” she
said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Your cute little wifey paid me a visit.”
Deena narrowed her eyes.

“Callie was here? She came here?”

“But she didn’t get what she wanted, so I
figured you’d come.”

“What did she want?”

“Beats me, Mac. Is there something wrong
with her?”

Mac heard someone moving around behind
him.

“You know what I want, Deena.” Mac rested
his hand on the table.

She put her hand on his. He laced his
fingers through hers.

“I know what I want.”

“What’s that?” A flirtatious smile curved
Mac’s lips.

“You, baby,” Deena whispered, shooting him a
heated stare and squeezing his hand. Mac laughed and squeezed her
hand back.

“Much as I’d love another…round with you,
honey, do you know what’d happen to me?”

“You’d have a great time?” She smiled,
leaning over the table, flashing her cleavage at him.

“I’d be drawn and quartered, shot dead, six
feet under, babe.”

“A real bitch, huh?”

“The worst…the general, the old ball and
chain.” Mac ignored the queasy feeling in his stomach caused by his
lies.

“Doesn’t like you playin’ around?”

“She’s very jealous…and vindictive. God
knows what she’d do to you after she got through with me,” Mac
continued, praying silently for Callie’s forgiveness.

“Too bad,” she said, giving him a wicked
smile. “You still ring my chimes.” Deena licked her lips
slowly.

“I feel the same way.” He leaned in closer
to her, purposely staring at her breasts.

“So if you didn’t come here to get laid,
what did you come for?” Deena asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I need some information.” Mac stroked her
hand.

“What could I have…besides my body and my
moves?”

“You know what I’m looking for.” Mac’s eyes
bored into hers.

“I don’t think so.”

Mac pulled a twenty dollar bill from his
pocket. “You do, Deena. I think you met my brother, Peter.”

“Peter? I don’t recall,” she said, stuffing
the twenty between her breasts.

“You’d remember him, he’s the best looking
guy who ever came in here.”

“Yeah? I thought you were, Mac.”

“You flatter me,” Mac chuckled, realizing he
couldn’t rush her.

“I noticed him. So what?” She crossed her
legs.

“He came in, got drunk then told you
something…about my family.” Mac struggled to control the heat of
his anger smoldering beneath the surface.

“He did? What did he tell me, Mac?” Deena
got up and slipped onto Mac’s lap.

“He told you something about my son,” Mac
said, putting his arms around her.

“What did he tell me, Mac?” She kissed him
and slid her hands up his chest.

“He told you a lie.” Mac nuzzled her neck,
shutting his eyes then covering Deena’s mouth with his.

“Oh, yeah…you still got it, Mac.”

Mac’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“He told you Jason wasn’t my son. But he was
wrong.” Mac moved his mouth to her ear lobe, then down her neck. He
slipped his hand over her breast.

“Was he?” she said, her breathing heavy, her
eyes closed.

“He was drunk and got it wrong. Jason isn’t
Callie’s biological son, but he is mine.” Mac pulled back, looking
into her eyes. His hand dropped to her waist.

“Why should I care?” she asked, still
breathing heavy, her eyes half-closed.

“Who did you tell, babe?” Mac whispered, his
lips sucking on her ear lobe.

Mac heard the scraping of a chair then
footsteps behind him but he paid no attention. Deena cracked her
eyes open. She pushed Mac’s shoulders back and eased off his lap
and back into her own chair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,
Mac.” Suddenly her face was a mask, a glint of fear showed in her
eyes.

“Tell me, for old times’ sake,” Mac said,
stroking her hand.

“I didn’t talk to Peter. Must have been
someone else. Maybe Rita. Not me.” Deena shook her head, her eyes
watching someone or something behind Mac. A look of alarm swept
over her face then was gone. Mac turned around, but it was too dark
for him to see. He thought there was someone lurking in the shadows
behind the jukebox but he couldn’t be certain.

“So you think you can come here and get
laid, huh? You married men are all alike, always looking for
something on the side. Why don’t you go home and screw the hell out
of your perfect little wifey, Mac?” she spat at him.

Mac was confused for a moment. One glance at
her face told him she was afraid of something or someone. He went
along.

“Okay, Deena, if that’s the way it is. My
loss…”

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Mac. Get
lost,” she announced louder than necessary, stood up and walked
quickly into the back room.