He hung up before she could tell him to take care.
Rina picked up the packages from the floor of the phone booth and tried to regain her composure. She had been stunned by the news, by the way she had found out. Calling up Raisie just to find out if Peter was there. Hearing all the weeping in the background. It broke her inside and out.
Leaving the city earlier than planned, Rina knew that her ride back to Brooklyn wouldn’t be ready for a couple of hours, so she told her that she’d find her own way home. She had completely lost her desire to shop or eat or do anything other than mope. Her bags were as heavy as her heart, her entire body zapped of its vital juices. All she wanted to do was go into a private corner and weep.
She went through her wallet. There was enough for a cab, but what a waste of money. Instead, she consulted a bus schedule. It was a short hop, but with all the downtown traffic, who knew how long it would take her? She began a slow trudge over to the stop. Her shaytl felt like a helmet on her head, her shoulders aching from toting around pounds of outfits. Why did she always go so overboard? As if L.A. didn’t have children’s clothing? She was a hog, just buying because it was there and because it was cheap.
Where was her restraint?
Lugging her bags as she tried to negotiate a crowded sidewalk, evading the masses of human flesh, trying to pass without bumping into people who were bumping into her. If she were honest, she’d admit that she was thrilled to be leaving. How she wished that Peter would come with Hannah and her. She hoped he would be okay. She truly hop-
Without warning, she was thrust forward with such impetus that she tripped over her feet, her head abuzz from several loud background pings and pops. She found herself flattened against the hood of a parked car, her face smashed against the hard metal, pushed down by an arm. The motion was so sudden and carried out with so much intensity, she had bitten into her lip. Blood filled her mouth. Scarcely able to breathe because something or someone was pressing down on her, covering her, smothering her with horrible, heavy weight. The force of the crash had winded her, sending a deep, searing cramp into her belly. She was gasping for air.
Then, as quickly as she was crushed, she was liberated. Pulled upward and onto her feet-dazed and confused.
“I tripped,” Donatti was telling a crowd of onlookers. He looped his right arm around Rina and drew her against his chest. “Are you okay, darling?”
One second more and she would have yelled for help. Except a sensation stopped her… something warm and wet seeping into her coat. When she looked down, she saw his left hand gripping his jacket as blood was squirting out from a tear in his clothing. Her eyes grew several diameters as her brain integrated what those pings and pops had been. Her lips parted as she opened her mouth to scream.
Donatti grabbed her neck and kissed her hard on the mouth for what seemed like minutes. In fact, it was only a few seconds. But it did the trick. It shut her up.
“Thank God you’re okay!” He liberated a handful of Hannah’s clothing from one of Rina’s packages and wedged it between his jacket and shirt. Kissing her again before turning to the stragglers still gawking at Rina. “Do you fucking mind?”
Quickly, they dispersed, embarrassed by their own curiosity. Donatti pulled her closer, snaking his hand around her shoulder. “Let’s get a cab.”
It was clear to Rina that he was using her for support. She put her arm around his waist and hailed a cab, helping him in first. Then she got in beside him, handing him another handful of clothing. Donatti acknowledged the gesture with a nod, stuffing the clothes against his wound.
“I’ll pay you back-”
“Please.” She leaned over to the driver. “Where’s the nearest hospit-”
Donatti yanked her back in the seat, then gave the cabbie his home address. Rina was about to protest, but his eyes, reptilian and venomous, warned her off. Instead, she took out a red T-shirt and dabbed his wet forehead. He took the cloth from her and wiped his entire face. Then he sat back and closed his eyes, keeping his breathing as rhythmic and smooth as possible.
The ride seemed interminably long. Traffic was heavy and not a word was uttered between them. As they rode through the city, she noticed that he was inching farther and farther away from her until his head was plastered against the window. His bleeding seemed to have slowed. Or maybe he was just bleeding into the blob of clothing pressed against the wound.
Rina closed her own eyes.
Inevitably this too would end.
All things end.
But nowadays, the endings hadn’t been too good.
The coming of Mashiach? Better to have faith than to lose it.
Forty minutes later, the cab slowed as it pulled curbside. She opened her eyes, then reached into her purse. Donatti placed his hand over hers. With effort, he slipped his hand into his jacket, parting it just enough for Rina to see the gun. He pulled out his wallet, extracting from it two one-hundred-dollar bills. He leaned forward and snapped them in the driver’s face. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as a bullet.
“You take her to whatever address she gives you.”
“But-”
Donatti slapped a bloody hand over Rina’s mouth, then slowly brought it back to his side. “You take her to whatever address she gives you; then you forget you ever saw us. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“Yes, sir.” The man’s voice was a tremor of terror.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
“Who?”
“That man with that older man, the one with the trial… with the fancy lawyer…” His head was bobbing like a buoy. “I know, I know.”
“It’s good you know who I am,” Donatti said. “Because now I know who you are. You’re Faroom Narzerian. I bet you have a family, right?”
The head bouncing up and down as if on a spring.
“That’s good. It’s nice to have family.” Donatti picked up the cabbie’s hand and crushed the bills in his palm. “Now if you really forget who I am, then I will really forget who you are. But if you don’t forget, I have a very… long… memory. Know what I’m saying?”
“Yes, sir.”
He glanced at Rina, his eyes rolling in their sockets. He reached out to open the door. His hand was painted with blood. “Take care.”
Again she started to speak. Again Donatti smacked a hand over her lips. Hard. Her lip was already sore from where she had bitten into it. It hurt. She hurt. He spoke in low, deliberate tones. “Remember what you said about what would happen to me if I laid a finger on you?”
She removed his hand from her mouth and wiped her lips with the tips of her fingers. “Yes.”
“Take it back.”
“I take it back.”
“You can do that, right?”
“Yes, I can do that.”
He stared at her.
“It’s okay.” She nodded. “I understand what you did and why you did it. It didn’t count.”
“You’re right. None of that counted.” In a flash, he was on her, his mouth kissing her hard on her swollen lower lip, sucking up her blood. “Now that one… that did count.” He managed a devil’s smile. “Get out of the city. Go home. Take care of yourself. I mean that. I like you.”
He opened the door and limped out. She watched him unlock a glass door and slip inside a foyer. Within moments, he was out of sight.
24
Jonathan had gone beyond pale, his complexion having turned chalky-dry and gray. After finishing with mounds of paperwork, Decker took his brother’s arm-an act of physical as well as emotional support-and the two of them trudged outside to the parking lot to retrieve the van. Seeing Jon’s shaking hands, Decker offered to drive. Jonathan told him no, then opened the car doors, taking the driver’s seat. They sat for several minutes in silence, staring out the windshield.
Jonathan’s eyes were moist and red. He whispered, “What kind of monster does things like that?”
Decker didn’t have an answer. Guilt was still pouring into his conscience. He should have taken Shayndie forcibly, brought a gun and shot Donatti. If he had planned it more carefully, had trusted his own instincts instead of that bastard-