Chapter 13
After Ralph sent Angie off in a cab, he went back in and sat at the bar.
“I’ll have a Four Roses, neat.” He thought about his long conversation with Angie earlier.
What a sweet, funny, salt-of-the-earth woman she was, a real straight shooter.
She’s a smart lady, good heart too. But maybe a little naive about how the world works sometimes.
She reminds me of my wife, he realized. How could Vinnie have left her with nothing?
There just had to be more to the story. He knew Vinnie to be a stand-up guy.
I’m going to make sure she lands on her feet. She deserves that much.
The bartender put the drink in front of Ralph. He took a sip, then glanced at his phone; Rebecca had called several times. This has got to end—now—it has to be in a public place—no more temptation. He took another sip of his bourbon and sent her a text: Meet me at Gibsons for a drink at seven.
She responded immediately: SURE, then your place, with a heart emoji.
Ralph didn’t respond to her text. He enjoyed his bourbon and recollected when he and Rebecca had discovered each other after a ribbon cutting at one of the buildings his firm had built for the city.
The chemistry between them was maddening, pure lust. But now it had to end; his whole career was at stake.
If her husband or anyone else caught them together, Ralph would have to pack up and leave town.
The sex was amazing but not worth the cost of losing his business.
He had an entire office staff who depended on him—and faithful clients who knew he could get their projects built navigating all the red tape from City Hall.
He checked his watch, finished his drink, and hopped into a cab to Gibsons.
He rolled down the window. A cool breeze came off the lake, the sky was blue, and sailboats were sprinkled on Lake Michigan.
I love this city, he thought. Heavy traffic afforded him a chance to relax and close his eyes for a few seconds.
The cab pulled up to Gibsons and he walked inside.
“Hello, my love,” Peaches greeted him.
“Just drinks tonight.” He leaned over and kissed her soft, full cheek. “I need to make a reservation for next Monday night for two, corner table, please.”
Peaches made a note. “You got it. I think your guest is waiting in the bar.” She winked at him.
“You don’t miss a trick—do you?”
Peaches batted her eyelashes and smiled back at Ralph.
As soon as Ralph entered the bar, he saw Rebecca sitting at a table window-side, sipping a martini. He made his way over.
“Lovely to see you.” Ralph looked at Rebecca, then caught the eye of a waitress walking by. He pointed at Rebecca’s martini and put his thumb up.
“You look dashing as always. I love it when you wear that blue suit, perfect fit in all the right places.” Rebecca’s eyes drifted from his chest down to his crotch.
“Thank you for meeting on such late notice, Rebecca,” he said, as the waitress placed the drink down in front of him and slipped away. “Cheers to what has been a fabulous interlude that must now come to an end.” He looked directly into her eyes and took a sip of his martini.
“We won’t be cheering to that, love. I believe I was clear. I decide when we’re done—not you. I thought we had sorted this out already.”
“Unfortunately, recent events prevent me from continuing this relationship. It’s entirely too risky and we need to end this amicably. Make no mistake, I will miss you terribly. Please understand.” He placed his hand gently on hers, and she pulled away.
There was a moment of silence between them, then Rebecca threw her drink in his face, stood up, and stormed out.
Her martini was dripping down his forehead, eyebrows, eyes, and cheeks.
He winced, and his chest tightened. This was his neighborhood watering hole; he didn’t want a scene.
You have to pull yourself together, he commanded himself.
Ralph took his napkin and wiped his face. He could feel the eyes of the patrons upon him. He stepped off the high-back chair—stood tall and made his way to the reception desk where Peaches was standing. He handed her his credit card. She quickly processed the bill and printed out the receipt.
“Trouble in paradise, my love?” Peaches slid the receipt over to Ralph.
He forced a smile. “It’s always something. See you on Monday.”
“Looking forward to it—you take good care, sweetheart.”
“Will do.” He left Gibsons and walked home.
The doorman greeted him outside and opened the door. “Welcome home. Flying solo tonight?”
“You got it, and if anyone comes calling, I am out.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Ralph proceeded inside and took the elevator up to his penthouse.
He took a shower, set his suit aside to be taken to the cleaners, and changed into his robe and slippers.
He went into the living room and poured himself a Pappy Van Winkle bourbon, a gift from a developer.
He sat in his Eames lounge chair and put his feet up on the ottoman.
He let out a long sigh. “What a day.” The best part, he realized, had been having drinks with Angie.
Just as his mind was lingering over his visit with her, his cell phone buzzed with a text message from Angie: Thanks for the beautiful flowers, what a kind gesture. I look forward to dinner on Monday.
He texted back. I’m glad you liked them—see you at Gibsons Monday at 7.
Ralph’s phone rang; it was the doorman. “You have a visitor—can I send her up?”
“No, I told you to tell anyone who came to visit tonight that I wasn’t home. You’ve done this before. No company tonight—get it?” He hung up.
The phone rang again; he let it go and slowly sipped his bourbon—finally, the phone stopped.
He turned on the late-night show with Jimmy Fallon and enjoyed a few laughs in the opening monologue.
Ralph felt his head start to nod, so he got up, put his empty glass in the sink, and went to bed.
Rebecca’s scent still lingered on his sheets.
He was too tired to change the bed linens so he inhaled deeply, recalled their fabulous sex from the night before, and fell sound asleep.
The next morning Ralph awoke at his usual time—five—donned his running outfit and took a long run along Lake Shore Drive to clear his mind.
He turned left out of his place, took the underground pass, and enjoyed the cool breeze off Lake Michigan; the water was choppy.
Other runners and bicyclists passed him going the other way; the fresh air felt good.
He got to his turnaround point and headed home.
As he approached his building, sweat dripping from his brow, he checked his watch. Five miles—perfect.
As he walked through the lobby, the doorman stopped him. “Mr. Conti, there’s a note someone left for you last night.”
“Thanks.” He got in the elevator and opened the note. You better watch your fucking back, no one breaks up with me! R.
Ralph shook his head, went up to his place, showered, and took a car to his office. Eunice greeted him as she did every day—with his printed agenda, a hot cup of coffee, and a warm chocolate croissant.
“It’s going to be a hectic day. The city building inspector called and insisted you be in his office by ten sharp, or they are going to stop construction on the Sinclair apartment building today.
I moved around all your meetings. I’ll need you back here no later than noon.
Oh, and Cookie from City Hall called several times insisting to talk with you.
Maybe you can swing by when you’re done with the inspector. ”
“Never a dull moment, eh, Eunice?” Ralph sipped his coffee and sat at his desk, eating the croissant and checking his emails.
Eunice stood at his office door. “I’ll make sure there’s a car downstairs for you at nine thirty.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re the best.”
“Thanks, boss.”
The car dropped Ralph off at City Hall; he caught the elevator up to the building department.
His least favorite inspector was sitting at his desk, a Cubs baseball hat on his head, a pencil hanging out of his mouth.
“About time you got here, asshole. I have to leave in ten minutes. You got real big problems on the jobsite, buddy. They’re not building to code—who the fuck gave this job the green light in the first place? ”
“Nice to see you too, Barry. I’m sure we can straighten this out. Show me the drawings.” Ralph walked over to Barry’s round table where a thick stack of drawings was sprawled out.
Barry pointed at the areas of concern. “Here’s the problem. Your fucking fancy architects forgot to put in handicap bathrooms on the first floor; that’s all I need is to have the ADA people up my ass about this. I’m stopping this job until you get this rectified!”
Barry had a pungent, unpleasant body odor that took Ralph aback. “Smells like you’ve been working around the clock, Barry—been home lately?”
“Fuck you, Ralph—it’s the city—nobody gets a day off. Fix this and call me when it’s done. I already sent Mario over to the site to stop the job. You’ll need to call your contractor before he signs on to another job. I don’t have time for this shit, Conti.”
Barry left his office.
Ralph was studying the drawings. “I have no idea how these got by the planning department—they usually catch this shit.” Ralph paused.
This is something Vinnie would have caught.
Ralph made a few calls to get things back on track and then headed down to Cookie’s office, her assistant escorting him to her office.
Cookie was standing, her arms folded, looking out her window at the Chicago skyline. “We have a big problem, Ralph.” She turned around and motioned for him to sit.
Ralph sat. “What’s wrong? The day can’t get much worse.”
“Oh, you should never say that. Our friend Mario is on a rampage. I’ll spare you the details, but he will be getting Vinnie’s pension in a few weeks.
He made me change the beneficiary to him, and now I have to tell Angie she’s SOL and doesn’t get a dime, and I can’t even share who the beneficiary is.
The deed is done, and I need you on cleanup. Don’t ask me any questions.”
Ralph studied Cookie’s face. “What he’s done is illegal.”
“‘Done’ would be the operative word. There’s no proof it was any other way. And don’t try talking to Mario, please, or he will have me fired, or worse—he has friends.”
“So, what do you expect me to do?”
“You’re smart and rich, figure something out to help her. She can never know who is getting Vinnie’s pension. I’m going to find her a job with the city, but she doesn’t have any real skills, so it won’t pay much, but at least she’ll have benefits.”
Ralph sighed. “This is so wrong. I hear you—it’s your ass on the line. Do me a big favor. Can you sit on this pension thing for a couple days? Don’t say anything to Angie. Please.”
“The best I can do is wait until Monday, and then I must process the paperwork. Mario is in a big hurry to get the money—he’s going to take a one-time payment rather than get monthly checks.
Seems he needs cash fast.” Cookie stood up.
“I have a meeting upstairs. Call me no later than Friday at three p.m. with whatever miracle you have up your sleeve.” Cookie walked out and Ralph followed her to the elevators.
The doors opened and out walked Rebecca with her husband, Alderman O’Brien.
Ralph took a few slow, deep breaths and looked down.
“Hi, Cookie—how are you?” the alderman said.
“Great, Alderman O’Brien. Nice to see you too, Mrs. O’Brien.” Cookie’s elevator came and she quickly boarded.
“Nice to see you, Ralph. I’m hearing good things from my precinct about your new low-income housing project. I know it was tough to get through the system, but you did it—thank you.”
“We need to get to our meeting, honey,” Rebecca announced.
Ralph avoided direct eye contact and looked straight at the alderman. “I’m glad it’s working out. I’ll let you both know when the ribbon cutting is scheduled.”
“Please do.” The alderman and Rebecca walked away arm in arm down the hall.
Ralph cleared his throat and took the elevator down.
He could feel his own stomach acid making its way up to his throat.
All the way back to his office he was trying to figure out a way to fix this pension thing and not get anyone in trouble or killed.
He placed a call to a friend who had connections everywhere.