Total Rush (32 page)

Bringing Nonna from Brooklyn to Manhattan the previous day had been harrowing. Despite repeatedly explaining to her grandmother that she was going to be taking a trip in the car, when the time came to bundle her up into the decrepit VW, she put up a fuss. Desperate to assuage her, Gemma lied and told her they were going to Mass. She sang songs in the car to calm her as they bumped their way back to Manhattan, courtesy of killer potholes and constant roadwork. It all seemed to work until they arrived at Gemma's apartment. Then it fell apart.

The tentative grip Nonna had maintained on normalcy disappeared completely, replaced by violent agitation that took Gemma hours to quell. Nonna cried. She screamed. She demanded to be taken home immediately. No matter what Gemma did or said, there was no soothing her.

Then, just as suddenly as they had begun, the tantrums inexplicably stopped. Whether from sheer nervous exhaustion or a brief flash of cognizance, Gemma wasn't sure. But she accepted the reprieve gratefully.

That night, Nonna barely slept, and neither did Gemma. Gemma kept reminding herself she had to endure only one more full day and night with Nonna at her place, and then she'd be able to take her back to Brooklyn. Besides, she was doing a good deed. At that moment her mother and aunts were probably chowing down at the breakfast buffet at their Atlantic City hotel, fortifying themselves for a day of serious gambling ahead.

“Can I have some water?”

“Of course,” Gemma told Nonna, going to the kitchen to get it. The plaintive quality of her grandmother's voice made Gemma feel tender toward her, in addition to causing a twinge of remorse over the months of frustration. The Alzheimer's wasn't Nonna's fault. Gemma had to remind herself of that, and try always to keep her mind fixed on one thing: compassion.

“Here you go.”

Gemma handed Nonna the glass, smiling. Nonna smiled back, looking at the glass in puzzlement. A few seconds later she looked back up at Gemma in mute confusion. Gemma's heart was seized with sadness.
She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't remember how to drink.

“Here, let me help you.” Gemma gently uncurled her grandmother's fingers from around the glass and began helping her to drink. That's when the phone rang. Setting the glass on the mantel where it couldn't spill, Gemma reached for the phone.

“Hello?”

“Is this Gemma Dante?”

“Yes,” Gemma replied cautiously to the male voice she didn't recognize. “Can I help you?”

“Ma'am, my name is Captain James Eisen and I'm with NYPD's Emergency Services Unit. I need you to come down to your store right away. We've got a hostage situation.”

Gemma blanched. “What?”

“Some guy named Uther is here, saying he's not going to release your employee unless you come down here and talk to him in person.”

“Officer, I know Uther. He's harmless.”

“Ma'am, he's got a weapon on him.”

That idiot.
“Does it look like a blade on a long pike?”

“Yes, it does. And he's threatening to use it on your employee if you don't get down to the store.”

“He would never do that,” Gemma said.

“Ma'am, we need you down here,” Eisen repeated. “I don't want to have to send in the SWAT Team.”

SWAT Team? Gemma blinked hard as nausea shot up the back of her throat. Then, in a voice of completely manufactured calm, she addressed Captain Eisen. “I'll be there as soon as I can, Officer.”

“There's a car on its way to pick you up right now, ma'am,” said Eisen flatly as he hung up.

Goddess, why?
Gemma anguished as she shakily hung up the phone.
Why this? Why now? What did I
do? She began twisting and untwisting a lock of her hair. She had to think. Clearly. Rationally. Think clear thoughts and execute them. Rational thought number one:
Nonna.
Someone had to come over and watch her.

Brooklyn came to mind first. Theresa, Michael, Anthony. Then rationality returned. It would take her Brooklyn relatives too long to get here. That left someone closer. Someone in the city.
Frankie.
Gemma knew she was sleeping but her hand shot out for the phone anyway. Desperation surged through Gemma as Frankie's machine picked up, instructing callers to leave a message. Gemma did as instructed, shouting her message into the mouthpiece of the phone in hopes of rousing Frankie. She frightened Nonna, who began, not surprisingly, to cry. Gemma longed to join her.

“It's okay,
cara,
” Gemma soothed distractedly, stroking Nonna's thick, white hair. Then, back into the phone: “PICK UP PICK UP PICK UP I'M BEGGING YOU PICK—”

“Cool your damn jets.” Frankie sounded pissed.

“I'm sorry but it's an emergency,” Gemma began babbling. “Uther is holding Julie hostage at the store! I need you to come here and keep an eye on Nonna for a little while.
Please
, Frankie,
please
.”

“Slow down, honey.” Frankie paused. “I think I might have heard wrong. Did you just say Uther was holding Julie hostage at the store?”

“Yes!”

Frankie yawned. “How come all the fun stuff happens to you?”

“This isn't funny! The cops just called me and they're going to send in a SWAT team if I don't get down there and talk to him! I need you to come over as soon as possible. I won't be long, I swear!”

“No problem. Just let me throw on some clothes and I'll grab a cab.”

“I'll tell the doorman to let you right up. You're a life-saver, Frankie, I swear to God.”

“I try.”

 

 

Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. No Frankie. In the interim, the police car arrived downstairs and Captain Eisen had called twice, claiming the situation was becoming increasingly more urgent. He did little to hide his impatience at having to wait for Gemma to arrive. Gemma kept picturing her own head bursting open from pressure, brain matter showering down like confetti. She glanced at her grandmother, who was dozing peacefully on the sofa, her soft chin resting on her chest. Gemma was torn. If she left now, before Frankie arrived, and Nonna should wake up . . . but if she didn't leave now . . .

A decision had to be made, and fast. As she had always done, Gemma took a deep breath and tried to quiet her mind, but it was no use. Since no clear instruction came swimming up from her subconscious, she grabbed on to the next thought that came twirling by.

Throwing on her coat, Gemma left her sleeping grandmother alone in the unlocked apartment, and prayed for the best.

Slouching in the
back of the police cruiser, Gemma searched for the positive. Uther was distraught, not dangerous. All she had to do was treat him with respect, and he would come to his senses and let Julie go. That belief lasted until the cruiser turned the corner onto Thompson Street and she saw that
Dog Day Afternoon
was being reenacted outside her store.

“Oh my God!” she burst out. “This is
completely
unnecessary!”

“Ma'am?” The officer in the driver's seat turned around to look at her as the car coasted to a stop. “I hope to hell you're right.”

Swallowing, Gemma lurched out of the squad car. Police cars clogged the streets. A large, white Emergency Services Unit truck was parked outside the store. Guys in black jackets with SWAT written across the back stood around talking. Two men with SWAT jackets and rifles were on the roof of the opposite building.

“Where's Captain Eisen?” she asked as the two cops who had fetched her brought her toward the white truck.

“Right here.” A lanky police officer with a kind smile and a scar dividing his right cheek politely extended his hand. “Captain James Eisen.”

“Gemma Dante.” She caught the officer sizing her up, and immediately felt ashamed. She'd left the house without so much as running a brush through her tangled hair, in sweats, and in her slippers.

“I understand this must be very upsetting for you,” Captain Eisen said.

Gemma looked around at the cops, the flashing lights, the flak jackets, the guns. “Officer, Uther isn't dangerous. Believe me.” She began heading toward the store when Eisen pulled her back.

“Whoa! What do you think you're doing?”

“I'm going to talk to him. Isn't that why you brought me here?”

Eisen looked at her like she was nuts. “You can't go in there. We've set up a telephone line into the store. You can talk to him on that.”

“Oh—okay,” Gemma said. Her head was spinning. It all felt surreal, like she was dreaming, or in some prime-time TV show. She barely registered it when Eisen put the phone in her hand.

“Say anything you need to say to get him out here. Anything. Lie if you have to. People's lives, including his, are at stake. If he won't listen to reason, we have a hostage negotiator standing by.” He slipped on a headset and gave her the signal to go.

Gemma nodded; inside she was filling with panic. Had Frankie arrived at her apartment yet? And if not, what had happened? Was Nonna screaming, crying, frightened, out of control? Would Uther listen to reason?

The line picked up and Uther answered. “Yes?”

“Uther, it's Gemma. I'm right outside the store.”

“Stand where I can see you, Lady Love.”

Gemma covered the mouthpiece. “He wants me to stand where he can see me,” she whispered to Eisen.

Eisen motioned for her to stand in front of the store window, and Gemma obeyed. “I'm right here in front of the window, Uther.”

A few seconds later, she could see Uther inside the store. The damn fool was in his chain mail and soup bowl helmet, halberd in hand. He peered out at her, then disappeared back into the bowels of the store. The cops had to think he was a freak.

She heard him pick up the phone. “Uther, do you see me?”

“I do, lambkin, I do.”

“Talk to me. What's going on?”

“You wounded me to the core of my mortal being, sweetness.”

“I—I'm sorry. I thought a lot about it after you left.”

“Thought what?” Uther's voice was a tightly wound coil.

“About my folly. I was o'erhasty, was I not?”

“You were.” Uther gave a satisfied chuckle. “Speak on.”

“My mettle ran so hot I acted rashly. I acted the flibbertigibbet. It was wrong of me to cast you out as my student.”

“Wrong to reject the proclamation of my heart, too.”

Gemma closed her eyes. Eisen
said
to lie if she had to. “Yes. I realize now that thou wert right; the stars hath decreed we should be together. My blindness was my folly. I see that now.”

Eisen shot her a severe “What the fuck?” glance.

Gemma returned a “Believe me, I know what I'm doing” scowl.

She could sense Uther beginning to relax as she spoke to him in a language he felt comfortable with. “Canst thou forgive me?” she asked humbly.

“I must think on it.” There was a long silence. “How do I know this isn't some infernal trick to get me to surrender to mine rancorous enemy?”

Gemma covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “He means you,” she whispered.

“I don't care if he means the Dalai freakin' Lama,” Eisen whispered back fiercely. “Just keep doing what you're doing. I think it's working.”

“I'm a lady of honor, Uther.” Her voice dropped. “Not only that, but you're a Pagan, or have you forgotten? Pagans eschew violence. All violence. If you're truly a bard of the old ways, you'll let Julie go and come out peacefully.”

She heard Uther sigh. “'Tis true. In my haste to plead my case, I forgot to honor the old ways.”

“You can honor them by letting Julie go. Now.”

“I release the fair maiden to your care.”

Gemma and the surrounding police all held their breath. Seconds crawled like decades. Finally Julie emerged, pale but unharmed. Seeing Gemma, she ran to her and burst into tears.

“That was awful!” she cried.

Eisen motioned for her to be quiet and signaled Gemma to get back on the phone.

“The maiden is here beside me, Uther. You are a fair and generous fellow.”

“You doth inspire me.”

Gemma swallowed. “True inspiration requires you to come forth as well.”

“Without his weapon,” Eisen whispered urgently.

“Will you do that?” Gemma coaxed. “Will you come to me plain, no weapon in thy hand?”

Uther's voice was pathetic. “Will you love me true?”

Gemma blinked back tears. “I will. Hang on one moment.” She again covered the mouthpiece and turned to Captain Eisen. “You're not going to shoot him, are you? Promise me if he walks out that door peacefully, nothing will happen to him!”

“I promise,” said Eisen.

Gemma got back on the phone, her voice cracking. “I await you with loving and open arms, my liege.”

The tension was unbearable. Gemma closed her eyes.
Please, Uther, do as I asked and walk out without your weapon. Please.

There was total stasis, everyone holding their breath, the air itself unnaturally still. Then, blinking against the bright morning sun, Uther emerged. Before Gemma could go to him, two cops sprang from either side of the door, clamped Uther's arms behind him, put him in handcuffs, and quickly carried him toward a waiting cruiser.

“Wait!” Gemma shouted, throwing down the phone. Reaching Uther, a tear trickled down her cheek. “I'm so sorry, Uther. But what you did . . .” She shook her head, unable to continue. Uther smiled at her sadly and let the cops guide him into the back of the squad car. The lights on the roof began flashing and then they were off.