“Hey!” a man’s voice shouted from behind me. “Hey, wait! You with the backpack!”
I stopped, turning around. A young guy weaved around foot traffic to get to me. He carried an icepack in his hand. When he got close to me, he held it out, and I took it.
“Mr. Mac wanted me to give you that. And this.” He dug in his back pocket, coming out with a gift card. “He said come in whenever you want. Just use that card.”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “Mr. Mac, your boss? The guy who got out of that car?” I nodded toward the expensive one. The young guy nodded and I went on. “Does he always hand out these cards to the needy?” I held it up.
The guy squinted at me for a moment before his features relaxed. “No.”
“What about women?”
“Uh, no.”
“What about the other guy, the one who rushes out to meet Mr. Mac? Will he give me any trouble?”
“Bruno?” His nose scrunched up. “No. Whatever Mr. Mac wants, Mr. Mac gets.”
I nodded, he nodded, and then he hustled back inside. I stood there for a moment staring at the card. If there was one thing I had learned throughout my life, it was that nothing was ever free. Everything came at a price. I didn’t mind Mr. Mac looking at me, for whatever reason, but this—no matter how nice—made me feel like a charity case.
Yeah, okay, I was a charity case, but for some reason, coming from him, I couldn’t stand it.
Maybe because I wished that I was on steady ground with him. I wished, for once in my life, to be a woman who could compete with his…everything. Even if I wasn’t poor, I doubted he would’ve been interested in me. Not with the models that came and went from the restaurant he either owned or frequented. If anything, he noticed me because I was poor. It was no secret when you looked at me.
Jocelyn once told me that a woman should never want to be treated as a man’s equal. She should demand to be treated better. Our doors should be held, along with receiving the same pay and opportunities, that sort of thing. And she also said that if a man truly loved you, he’d treat you as though he didn’t deserve you, but hell if another man could do better.
My feelings and thoughts were not truly lining up, but for whatever reason, one somehow fed the other. Either way, I gave the card for Macchiavello’s to a woman and her daughter on the subway. The mother had cancer. She had a scarf wrapped around her head, no hair underneath, and dark circles underneath her eyes. Maybe a nice dinner would get their minds off things, even if for a short amount of time.
I was too late arriving at the shelter. So I walked the streets the entire night, thinking of the man in the suit, Mr. Mac, and why he’d been so kind to me. If I couldn’t accept his kindness, maybe thoughts of him would ward off any evil until daylight brightened the darkness.
5
Mariposa
“Shit! Mari! What in the hell happened to you?”
Keely grabbed me and pulled me so hard into her that I winced. She was a hugger, but since she had been my best friend since we wore kiddie underwear, and I considered her family, I didn’t mind.
Keely Ryan and her family had lived next to mine on Staten Island. Her parents were Irish/Scottish immigrants who had seven mouths to feed. Keely had four brothers. But after the kids were old enough to fend for themselves, her parents decided to move back to Scotland. Keely and two of her brothers stayed in New York. The rest of the boys followed their parents.
We stayed close even after I’d been put into foster care at ten.
She released me so suddenly that I almost stumbled back. She was a whirlwind. Her hair was fiery red with countless ringlets. Her skin was pale with freckles. She had the purest blue eyes, and she was at least five foot ten inches tall. The volume of her hair probably put her closer to six.
“I called Caspar and he told me what happened.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Why didn’t you come see me sooner? Why are you just standing there not answering my questions?”
“If you’d give me a second,” I said, adjusting my backpack, “I would.”
“What happened to your face?”
“It seems Merv had a difference of opinion with it, due to the fact that my body refused to screw him in return for rent.”
“That bastard! He did this to you?” She reached out and I moved my face.
“Yeah.” I didn’t like how her kindness made me feel, and I didn’t want her to worry. She’d want me to stay with her, and because her roommate was a certified bitch and possibly a psychopath, I didn’t want to have to refuse her offer.
Keely struggled to make ends meet, too. She’d been trying for years to land a major role on Broadway but hadn’t yet. She sounded like a jazzy bird when she sang, and she had the Irish’s flair for theatrics to go along with it. She took as many jobs as she could to keep her head above water.
To keep afloat, she had to share rent with someone. Sierra was her third roommate over the years, but one that she could, so far, depend on. But Sierra didn’t like me. I had accidentally eaten her eggs one day when Keely told me I could help myself to whatever I wanted in the fridge.
