117: He Wants Italian

The over-important sales clerk handed Jon his purchase, and her face had only released its pucker of disapproval when he signed the credit card slip.  Even then, it was fleeting.  She’d again pinned Millie with her condescending glare, but that was fine.  He had her name.  He’d have a call made to the store manager later.

Jon was just holding the door for Millie when his phone rang, and he dug it out of his jacket pocket to flip open the cover and inspect the screen.  The number wasn’t one he had in his contacts, but it was a New York exchange, so he slid his thumb across it with a quiet request for Millie to excuse him as he stepped to the side and put his back against the building next door. 

The older woman’s beret bobbed in a nod, and with a smile, she maneuvered her cart a few feet away to rifle through some items in her cart.

“Jon,” the rather familiar voice greeted.  “This is Edward Del Vecchio.”

Chiara’s father?  This couldn’t be good.  “Edward.  What can I do for you?”

“Charlie just called me, and it seems as though the problem of Owen is going to linger longer than we hoped.  After talking to one of her colleagues this morning, she says that, in order to keep from turning over half of everything, she needs to wait until the son of a bitch is convicted before filing the divorce papers.”

There were very few people in his life that he’d ever possessed such an intense dislike for as he did Owen Foster.  The mere fact that this boil on the ass of humanity sat around breathing perfectly good air was a major annoyance to Jon.  His continued presence as a lumpy-ass roadblock on Chiara’s path to happiness pissed Jon off.  Royally.    

“What’s the conviction timeline look like?”

Edward’s sigh told as much as his, “I’ve got calls out, but it’s not looking very promising to get this thing on the fast track.  It could be as much as a couple years before it’s all said and done.”

Jon mentally added the four months to a year for the divorce on top of that, finding that the counselor’s sons were going to be graduating college before this shit was over with.  Did he want to hang around that long and wait for his girlfriend to be single?  Did he want to doggie-paddle in this relationship for another two or three years? 

The answer was “no”, but what in the hell was he going to do about it?  Lack of a Mafia connection sorely limited his options, and while biding that kind of time wasn’t appealing, the woman herself was.  Maybe he’d feel different in another year, but right now, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I hate to hear that,” is what he told Edward, eyes flicking up and down the street, registering that Millie still awaited him.  “I don’t like thinking of Owen hanging on Chiara’s back that long.  She’s going to be unhappy about it.”

“She’s more concerned with your reaction, son.  I get the feeling she might think this is going to be too much for you to willingly endure.”

Jon didn’t agree, because he believed the counselor knew him better than that.  More likely was that she didn’t want to hear him bitching while they waited it out.  If it took two or three years, then Jon’s bitching was going to become inevitable.  He didn’t like other people fucking with his timetable, especially inconsequential pieces of fuck like Owen Foster. 

“Nobody wants to endure it, Edward.  What can we do to make this go away in a reasonable amount of time?”

“Pray,” came the simple answer.  “It would take his death or a miracle for this to evaporate as quickly as any of us want.  I have no idea what his health is like, but I’d say the chances of a miracle are better than his death.”

Shifting the small jeweler’s bag from one hand to the other, Jon kind of wished old Aldo’s sweetheart was still around to point him in the direction of a hitman.  It would be most justifiable expense he’d never be able to claim as a tax write-off. 

“I’ll keep thinking.  Maybe something else will occur to me.  Let me know if you have any luck with your contacts?”

“Of course.”  The older man hesitated before quietly requesting, “I’ve already interfered in her life enough, one would think, but I’m going to step outside the box and do it again.  I see such a difference in my daughter since you came along.  From the time she came back from the Hamptons this summer, she’s been happier.  Focused.  She loves you, son.  I’m asking you not to give up on her too soon.”

Jon lifted one side of his mouth in a smirk, thinking that the counselor’s family should’ve already figured out that he was one tenacious motherfucker.  “’Give’ and ‘up’ don’t travel side by side in my vocabulary, Edward.  I’m more the ‘make it happen’ kind of guy.  Thanks for the information.  I’ll talk to you soon.”

Exhaling through his nose with irritation, he turned to find Millie watching him with curious eyes. 

“Dare I ask if that was something about the swift justice that Charlie Girl needs?”

“It was,” he absently confirmed, trying to think of something – anything – that he could do to expedite this process. Owen was obviously greedy, but was he trustworthy enough to pay off?  Jon feared not.

“Who is Owen, if I might be so bold?  And what is he being convicted for?”

Peering into the calculating eyes of the silver-haired woman, Jon abruptly decided that he didn’t care who knew what.  The only one that had anything to be ashamed of was Owen.

“Chiara’s husband.  He’s been blackmailing and extorting her for a lot of years, but was arrested last night.  It unfortunately sounds like it’s going to be a good long while before he makes his way through the legal system so she can officially divorce him.”

“I didn’t realize she was married, but if he’s done those nasty things, it’s understandable that she wouldn’t act as though she was,” Millie murmured, adjusting the beret with the seashell pin.  “Owen Del Vecchio?”

“Foster,” Jon corrected, thinking that he might call Tico.  He used to know some shady guys back in the day.  “She never took his name.”

“I guess I can see why,” came her disdainfully sniffed response.  “Tell Charlie Girl I’d very much like to see her on Thursday if she can arrange it, would you, Jon?  And thank you for inviting me to go shopping with you.  Now that I’m aware of her… tribulations, it pleases me even more than she has you in her life.  Please put that bracelet on her and throw away the screwdriver.”

Bending to brush his lips over her weathered cheek, he squeezed her shoulder with a chuckle.  “I might just do that.”

J J J J J

[3:19 PM]JON: Dinner out tonight?

Charlie smiled at the text message and stretched arms high above her head to alleviate knotted muscles.  She had been sitting hunched over her desk for three hours now, vainly trying to rush her last two cases and hopelessly dreaming of a miracle to make Owen cooperate when she’d really rather be working on her first commissioned piece – a portrait for the governor of New Jersey.

The offer had come just before lunchtime, and the commission was more than Charlie had a right to expect, prompting her to go downstairs for a beer and sandwich in solo celebratory launch of her new career.  If this kind of price tag was what she could expect, there might actually be a decent living in art, and the thought thrilled her almost as much as celebrating out with her significant other – particularly since he was the reason she was considered for the job in the first place. 

Because she wasn’t quite sure just how far his influence extended, there was always a possibility that Jon had something to do with the salary, too.  If so, she would have to properly display her gratitude.

[3:21 PM]CHARLIE: Sounds fabulous.  When/where?

[3:23 PM]JON: Italian ok? I’ll get Nana and meet you in Brooklyn at 6.  We’ll go from there.

He wanted Italian.

After the hateful thoughts she’d had about Owen’s choice of that French restaurant the other night, the mere suggestion of Italian food had her falling in love with Jon all over again.   

[3:24 PM]CHARLIE:  Perfect.  Having a good day?

[3:25 PM]JON: Yep. You?

[3:27 PM]CHARLIE:  Yes and no.  Tell you about it over dinner.  Xo

[3:28 PM]JON: Ok.  But I’ve already talked to Vince and your dad.

Frowning at the screen, she tapped the icon that would end the typing and bring her in vocal contact with him.

“Hiya, Counselor.”

The smile in his voice cooled her jets a bit, but Charlie still jumped right in with, “What were you talking to my dad and Vince about?”

“Your dad called me after you talked to him this morning, so the same thing you talked to him about.  Vince called to follow up on that and also told me Owen’s lawyered up.  His arraignment was about an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t Vince call me?  Is Owen out on bail?  Who is his lawyer?” 

God, she shouldn't have called the boys earlier and told them this was over.  It might just be getting started.

Why hadn’t she thought this whole thing through?  If he was out on bail, that was going to put him on her doorstep, pissed off and looking for a place to stay.  It wasn’t like he could go back to the Crowne Plaza since Charlie had emptied their joint bank accounts after her sandwich and beer lunch, moving the funds into a single account bearing only her name.   The credit cards had been cancelled shortly after, and those two actions left Owen penniless and homeless.

He wouldn't be happy wandering the streets of New York with no money, but Jon’s quiet chuckle snipped the thread of trepidation that was starting to unravel inside her. 

“I asked to tell you that lawyers clearly don’t like seeing their own screwed over,” he drawled with amusement.  “None of ‘em would take his case.  Vince says they finally had to force a public defender to do it.   Owen hasn’t found anybody to post bail yet, and hasn’t proven that he has the means to do it himself, so he’s on Riker’s Island.”   

Charlie’s fingers came to cover her mouth, stifling the giggle that wanted so desperately to bubble free.  She hadn’t even considered what kind of treatment Owen might be subjected to because of her profession.  It may not be the miracle she’d asked for, but it was welcome nonetheless. 

“Does it make me a bitch to say I wish I had some confetti about now?”

“I’d say it makes you human,” he countered adamantly.  “There’s a couple more things for me to take care of before I pick up Nana, so I need to run, Counselor.  See you at your place.”

“Do you still have your key?”  Despite his warning that he would lose it, as far as Charlie knew, he still had possession of her house key.

“I do, as a matter of fact.  See you at six.”

Disconnecting the call, she dropped the phone to her desk and smiled at it.  For a day that had started off so badly, Charlie was feeling awfully good about it now.