On the Road
Keris and O’Malley watched Alfonso pace the room like a hyperkinetic Energizer Bunny, storming from wall to wall, pausing occasionally only to whirl and yell at one of them. Both of them, running on too much abuse and too little sleep, were close to quitting. The more he paced and the more he yelled, the more his language deteriorated until he sounded like a thirteen-year-old trying it out because swearing was a newly acquired skill. In a young boy, it had a bit of innocent charm, in Alfonso it was just ugly.
Finally, O’Malley had had enough. The next time Alfonso turned on him, he held up a hand. “Shut up, Lou,” he barked. “Shut and listen.”
Alfonso did stop, astonishment all over his face. Then he took a few paces, muttered, “What the fuck? Who works for whom around here, O’Malley?”
O’Malley said, “Shut up, Lou,” again.
Keris watched, fascinated, rooting for O’Malley, hoping he’d get a chance to have his say before Alfonso sent them both packing, because she was here to work with O’Malley. She couldn’t stomach Alfonso on her own. Half the time, he wouldn’t listen no matter how good her advice was. She’d busted her ass trying to broker a potential truce between Alfonso and his daughter, and he wouldn’t give her five calm minutes to hear the details. If he didn’t listen soon, she’d lose Gina again. She’d had enough of loony abused wives and bitter, manipulative daughters.
“This whole business with Senator Buxton’s daughter has gone too far, Lou,” O’Malley said. “It’s gonna come around and bite us on the ass. It’s time to concentrate on your campaign. Focus on who you are and what you’re going to do for this country, instead of trying to find an underhanded way to destroy your opponent.”
“Don’t lecture me, shithead,” the Governor said. “I want that girl!”
O’Malley’s pale face flushed red. “I’ve cut you all the slack I’m going to, Lou. I’m not your office boy. I’m your campaign manager. If you won’t listen, maybe it’s time…”
The phone rang. “Betcha they’ve got her,” Alfonso grinned. A minute later, his countenance considerably grimmer, he set it down, shaking his head. “Trask’s been shot.”
“Call it off, Lou,” O’Malley said. “This is not worth wasting more good men over.”
Alfonso shrugged. “Don’t know how I can. Morrissey’s disappeared. Gone after the girl, I’ll bet. Besides, I don’t want to call it off.”
“Morrissey wouldn’t…”
Keris Carlyle cleared her throat. Maybe it was time for a distraction. “Lou,” she began, “if I could have a few minutes of your time.”
Both men turned and glared at her. “Not now, Keris,” O’Malley said.
“Not now, Keris,” Alfonso mimicked.
She straightened her shoulders and looked down at the loathsome man. “Jennifer Cates will be the least of your problems if you don’t listen to me.”
As if sparked by an erratic plug, Alfonso suddenly resumed his pacing. “Don’t you two get it? I knock Buxton out of this race, I’ll hardly have to think about issues.”
In spite of her resolve, Keris heard herself saying, “Oh, come on, Lou. Not even you are that stupid.”
The Governor pointed a thick, hairy finger at her chest, marching up to her until it was touching. “You’ve gone too far this time, you stupid cow. You are fired,” he said.
“Go ahead. Fire me, you ugly little pig,” she said. “And when your wife and your daughter nail your balls to the wall, don’t ask me to sew them back on. I won’t. And Mikey won’t.”
She backed away from the finger, trying not to look to see if he’d left a spot on her jacket. Backed right to the door, not out of deference, but of a desire not to expose her back to the man, and walked out.
Mike O’Malley stared down at his boss. “You listen to me, Lou, or I swear, I’m next. Call this thing off.”
“I can’t,” Alfonso smirked. “Can’t reach anyone. Don’t know where anyone has gone.”
“Who was that on the phone?”
“Van Allen, relaying word from the hospital.”
O’Malley, envisioning a disaster worse than the disasters he imagined every day, squeezed his head between his hands and glared at the Governor. “What does it take to get you to see the light? We’ve got two troopers wounded and one dead, all tied up in this Jennifer Cates thing. If the press gets wind of it, how do we explain New York state troopers getting shot up in Maine, when the Maine cops don’t even know about it. You’re a governor, you know how this works. We don’t go pissing in someone else’s back yard. Call Van Allen and tell him to call it off before it’s too late.”
Alfonso stuck his hands in his pockets, like a kid playing innocent, and tried for an engaging grin. “Nope,” he said. “No, Mikey, I won’t.”
The phone rang again. Alfonso answered. Too frustrated with his boss to care what the man thought, O’Malley picked up the extension as Van Allen said, “Governor, I just found Morrissey’s retirement papers on my desk. You know about this?”
“Heck no. I don’t care when he retires, once he brings me back the girl.”
Van Allen said, “He’s not on the job, sir, he’s on vacation.”
“What the fuck’s that mean?” Alfonso growled.
O’Malley replaced the receiver. He knew exactly what it meant. It meant they were about to get bitten on their collective asses. He wished he’d quit, like Keris. But there was a part of O’Malley that wouldn’t let him. He was tired, and his head hurt, but he was already searching for a way to put a good spin on this.