Could I be a bigger patsy?
I got myself a new attorney—one not recommended by Marty—and had him on speed dial. Randall Jacobsen joked that he saw more action with me than his wife.
“At least you’ve got a wife. Someone who cares about you.”
“It’ll get better, I promise.”
After I told Randall the whole story, he’d gazed at me with a combination of shock and pity.“You’re either the nicest guy in the world or the stupidest.”
“I think I might be both.”
He gave me a mournful look. “I’m sorry, Ronan. But at least I can contact the lawyers handling the case at the Justice Department to try and get your bank accounts unfrozen so you can pay off the rest of what’s owed. Your family played you.”
Why was I not surprised?
And wasn’t that a hell of an understatement? Had I only known the extent of what was going on…but I refused to think about it because I’d get too angry. And with the anger came a rage I’d never known existed, which frightened me.
A month after my release, I decided to hell with it. I’d been cooped up in my space and wanted to enjoy a meal outside in a restaurant instead of on my couch, watching a game. I jammed a baseball cap over my head, put on tinted glasses even though it was evening, and dressed in a T-shirt with a sweat shirt over it and faded jeans I’d dug out of the back of my closet. I used the side entrance to slip out. Once I’d walked away from the building and down to Ninth Avenue, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief and slow my steps. I window-shopped, staring at all the new stores that had popped up while I was away. The smell of something delicious from an Italian place hit me, and I decided to have dinner there.
Two glasses of Chianti and one chicken parm dinner later, I sat contented, people-watching from my window seat. Normally I loved sitting outside, but I didn’t want to risk someone spotting me and losing my little bit of freedom. The waiter returned with my tiramisu and espresso laced with anisette.
“Thanks. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Please come again.”
I flashed him a smile. “I intend to.”
His eyes widened. “You look familiar, but you say you’ve never been here? I’m trying to place you.”
Oh, fuck.
“No, first time. Can you bring the check when you get the chance, please?” I wanted him to leave before he recognized me. I scooped up the sinfully rich dessert, shoving it in my mouth so fast, I hardly tasted it. It didn’t matter that the espresso singed the roof of my mouth as I downed it. I had to get the hell out of there.
The waiter brought the check, and I tossed out cash, more than covering the total with a hefty tip.
“Thanks.” I hotfooted it out of the café, satisfied that I’d averted a mini crisis. Debating whether I should grow my hair longer to keep from being so easily recognized, I strolled up Ninth and turned onto my block. I was so preoccupied with trying to hide from the public, I failed to notice I was almost on top of the small group in front of my building that made it its life’s mission to harass me. I bumped into a woman who looked to be in her fifties.
“I’m sorry, excuse me.”
Ah, shit.
The moment I met her eyes, her jaw dropped. “You. You’re him. You stole my husband’s pension. He had a heart attack when we saw all the money was gone, and now he’s disabled. You’re a monster.” She turned to her fellow protesters. “It’s him. Ronan Michaels.”
The cadre of angry people surrounded me, and I hadn’t felt such fear since my first night in prison.
“You bastard. How did it feel to steal our money?”
“We lost our house because we had no money to make the payments.”
“My husband and I had to go back to work after retirement because we couldn’t pay our rent.”
Rivulets of sweat rolled down my spine, and my scars throbbed. I put my hands up. “I-I’m sorry. Didn’t you get your money?”
“Not everything. And not right away. It took a long time.”
“You should still be in prison for what you did.”
I wanted to get out of there because the looks some of these people were giving scared me. I understood they’d suffered, but six years in prison wasn’t a piece of cake either. If they only knew…
