The girl was not waiting to have her picture taken.
Dressed in fashionably ragged jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the letters NYPD, she sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her skinny arms wrapped around them to hold them in place. Her hair, blond with streaks of pink, hung over her eyes, partly obscuring the tears that ran down her cheeks. When Jeremy entered she drew in on herself, tightened the grip on her knees.
She did not look more than fifteen.
“Oh, Nicky, Nicky, Nicky,” Jeremy said softly. “Nicky Bondurant. Look at you.”
He sat in a matching leather chair next to hers and turned so that he could address her more directly. He drew out the folded silk handkerchief that was tucked into the front pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to her.
“Dry those eyes, darling,” he said.
Tentatively, she reached out for the handkerchief, dabbed away the tears, and wiped her nose. When she went to hand it back, Jeremy raised a hand.
“It’s yours,” he said. He waited, wondering whether she would speak, and when she did not, he said, “You hurt me, Nicky.”
She said nothing.
“After all the things I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me.”
Nicky sniffed. She was studying a frayed opening in her jeans that allowed a peek at her knee.
“Has there ever been anything I denied you? When you needed a new phone, who got that for you? Tickets to Hamilton? No problem. Who got you in to see Saturday Night Live? You even got to meet some of the cast, after. Remember that?”
Nicky spoke for the first time. “Yes.”
“Do you remember what it was like when you first came to New York? How hard it was for you to get by?”
“I know.”
“Who’s shown more interest in your welfare? Me, or your mother in Norfolk who couldn’t have cared less when you left home?”
Nicky sniffed. “You.”
“And who set you up with your own little apartment so you didn’t have to keep living with that family in Brooklyn?”
“You.”
“I understand how hard it can be for a young girl on her own. The challenges, the troubles, all the obstacles. I’ve taken you under my wing and what kind of thanks do I get?”
“I’m really sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“You’re not like so many of the others, you know. You’re special. Despite coming from a tough background, where you were neglected and taken for granted, you’ve got compassion. Empathy. You could have ended up as one of those kids on the street, looking through Dumpsters for scraps of food, begging for change. But you’re better than that. I see things in you. I’ve always imagined a future for you with me, with my organization, in any number of roles.”
Nicky said nothing.
“I’ve been happy to help you and the other girls. But lately, they’ve been the ones showing more gratitude, more loyalty.”
Nicky forced herself to look Jeremy in the eye. “It’s not... right.”
“What’s not right, Nicky? How I’ve provided for you? How I’ve looked after you? I’ll tell you what’s not right. Considering, even for a moment, of going behind my back and telling outsiders about matters that are nobody else’s business.”
“Do your friends know... how old I am? Do they even care?”
Jeremy frowned. “Age is just a number, Nicky. An artificial construct. You’re a very mature young lady. Why else would I have anything to do with you? But I was dismayed when one of the girls came to me and told me what you were thinking of doing. That’s why I wanted to take this opportunity to speak to you before you did anything foolish. Not for my sake, but for yours.”
Nicky whispered, “What do you mean?”
Jeremy smiled. “Do you know who’s here, right now? At my party?”
The girl shrugged. “Lots of people, I guess.”
“Yes, lots of people. Important people. Lawyers. Politicians. Judges. Prosecutors. Movie stars. You know what all those people have in common, Nicky?”
She shook her head.
“They run the world,” he said. “They make the rules. Fuck Santa. They know who’s been naughty and nice. And you know what the important thing is that they have in common?”
Nicky waited for the answer.
“They are all my friends,” he said. “No, more than friends. Many of them are beholden to me. They owe me. I’ve made many of them rich. I’ve come to the rescue of their charities and foundations. They have a hospital wing named after me in Queens. Did you know that? I’ve made dreams come true for more of them than I can count.” He paused. “All manner of dreams.”
He smiled.
“So who, exactly, do you think you might go to with some wild stories about what’s gone on here? Maybe that prosecuting attorney who shows up on MSNBC all the time who loves a good spanking from Leanne? Or that judge who likes to pontificate on Fox News who always asks for Sheena when he comes here because he likes the way she ties knots? Would it be one of them you want to go to?”
Slowly, Nicky shook her head.
“Nicky, what you need to understand, and I say this in all kindness, is that you are nothing.” Jeremy let that sink in for a moment. Her eyes began to well up again with tears. “You are as insignificant as an ant. You are a bug on the bottom of a shoe. You are a discarded condom, my dear. No one will ever listen to you, no one will give you the slightest attention. You will be dismissed. Oh, someone might nod sympathetically, might say they’ll look into it. But then your statement will go into the trash and you will never hear from anyone again.”
He smiled, touched her cheek, and caught a tear on the edge of his index finger. “I’m telling you this to spare you the pain. The shame and the embarrassment. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Nicky nodded.
“That’s good. That’s very good, Nicky. You’re a good girl. You really are. Now, although I’ve been hurt by what you were thinking of doing, I know you can find a way to make it up to me.”
“Yes?” she whispered.
He nodded in the direction of the Winnebago.
“You can be the first to try out the new playroom.”
Nicky released her grip on her knees, put her feet on the floor, and stood. She turned and walked toward the door to the Winnebago.
“I’ll be along shortly,” Jeremy said as she reached the door, opened it, stepped in, and closed the door behind her.
Jeremy sighed. Personnel matters were always the most trying.
He got out of the chair, glanced at his watch. He figured he could be back at the party in five minutes. He took a step in the RV’s direction when the phone on his desk rang.
His personal line. Only a few people knew it.
Before he picked up, he saw that the caller was his older sister, Marissa, from Seattle. What could she want? They hadn’t spoken in months. A family emergency, perhaps? The last time he’d heard from her, their mother had dropped dead of a heart attack. The funeral had been the last time he’d seen his sister.
Jeremy grabbed the receiver and put it to his ear.
“Marissa.”
“Hey, Jer,” she said.
No one else called him that. He hated that name.
“What’s happened?”
“Why do you assume something happened?”
“You don’t usually call just to say hello.”
“Nothing’s happened,” she said. “I mean, no one’s died or anything, this time.”
“Walter’s fine?”