'How'd you like to make a quick five grand?' Nick asked.
'On top of what you already owe me?'
'How much is that?'
'Two grand.'
Nick pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and peeled off twenty hundred-dollar bills. Handing them to Valentine, he said, 'On top of that.'
'What do you want me to do?'
Nick hesitated. 'This is going to sound stupid.'
'Try me.'
'I want you to find Nola.'
'I thought you'd be glad to be rid of her.'
'I've had a change of heart.'
'Nick, she hates your guts.'
Nick stared through the windshield, swallowing hard. 'I know.'
'She's also guilty as sin.'
He swallowed hard again. 'Probably.'
'She really did a number on you back there, didn't she?' Valentine said.
'Hey,' Nick said. 'I did it to myself.'
'How's that?'
'I had an epiphany,' he explained.
Nick had been having epiphanies a lot longer than Valentine had. His first epiphany occurred, oddly enough, during a religious festival that bore the same name. He had been all of sixteen.
Every January sixth, the tiny Greek fishing village in Florida where Nick grew up celebrated the Epiphany. This day had been chosen to commemorate the baptism of Christ in the River Jordan, when the Holy Spirit descended on the young Jesus in the form of a dove. In the view of the Orthodox Church, this event above all others revealed Christ's divine nature and mission.
'Bigger than Christmas,' Nick explained.
The day was always the same. The town would shut down and everyone would pack into the Orthodox Church of St. Nicholas. After a brief service, clergy and congregation would form a procession and walk to Spring Bayou, the priests dressed in embroidered robes and bearing jeweled crosses and croziers and magnificent silk banners. They were followed by a young girl dressed in white, her hands cradling a pure white dove.
'She was always the prettiest girl in the town,' Nick explained, the memory making his face light up. 'One year, they chose a girl I was in love with, Zelda Callas.'
After an invocation by the archbishop, the dove is released to fly over Spring Bayou. The archbishop then casts a white cross into the water, and fifty boys leap out of a semicircle of small boats in a mad scramble to retrieve it.
'The kid who gets the cross, he brings it back to the archbishop, and he gets a blessing and is guaranteed a year of good fortune, courtesy of Jesus Christ.'
'Not a bad deal,' Valentine remarked.
'You said it,' Nick said, shaking his head. 'I needed some good fortune back then. I'd lost my father and my grandfather and had to quit school to support my mom and sisters. Let me tell you, I was determined to get that white cross and get blessed and impress Zelda Callas. I mean, I was ready.'
Nick kept shaking his head. Valentine said, 'And then?'
'Didn't happen.'
'You didn't find the cross?'
'They didn't let me jump. The priest asked my mother to keep me on shore, out of respect for my father and grandfather. To tell you the truth, I don't think they wanted me in the water, scared I might drown. You know how it is.'
'Sure,' Valentine said.
'Then the damnedest thing happened,' Nick went on. 'I was standing on the shore, watching all my pals jumping into the water, and I had my first epiphany. Right there, my father appeared to me, and he shook his finger in my face. 'Never give in,' he said. Then he was gone. Poof, just like that.'
'You really saw him?'
'Sure did,' Nick replied. 'And he was mad. Never give in. It was like he was scolding me. And you want to know something, Tony? I haven't given in to anybody ever since. That's been my mantra, and it's gotten me where I am. It's who I am, you know?'
'I understand,' Valentine said.
'And then I'm standing in Nola's house and I have another epiphany. It was in that house that I learned that my father was wrong. Sometimes, you have to give in. God, what a mistake I made.'
'You loved her?'
Nick filled his lungs with air. 'Yeah. And she loved me. She even signed a prenup. What more could I ask for? I got down on my knees for her, Tony. Got down on that ugly carpet and slipped that giant rock on her finger and asked her to marry me. And she says yes, and what do I say? Stupid fucking me. I say, 'But you've got to get your tits done.' And then the excrement hit the air-conditioning.'
'So you got drunk and wiped it from your memory,' Valentine said.
'That and a lot of other stupid things,' Nick admitted. He stared at him. 'So, will you do it?'
'You mean find Nola?'
'Yeah. I need to see her one more time.'
'You really feel bad about this, huh?'
Nick grunted in the affirmative.
Valentine gave it some thought. He hadn't tracked anyone down in years. Still, five grand was a lot of dough, and there was a fringe benefit. Along the way, he just might stumble across Frank Fontaine and get to extract a little payback. What was that old expression? Revenge is a dish best served cold. Suddenly, a few more days sweating through his clothes did not seem like such a bad idea.
'Why not,' Valentine said.
His suite was still being cleaned when Valentine returned later that afternoon. Ushering the Mexican chambermaid out of the bathroom, he locked himself in, stripped off his smelly clothes, and took a long, ice-cold shower. He emerged shivering and revitalized.
The suite was clean, the air reeking of Windex and fresh flowers. He found the remote on the dining-room table and flicked on the Yankees-Devil Rays game. Top of the seventh, Devil Rays ahead by two. He'd have to track Gerry down, rub it in. It was a crummy thing to do, but it would make him feel good, so it couldn't be all that bad.
He searched his bedroom closet for something lightweight to wear. All he'd packed were long-sleeved shirts, all solid colors; three pairs of slacks, all black; and a couple of navy blazers. He was still dressing like a cop, and he supposed it would be his uniform until the day he died.
All the booze had been removed from the bar and replaced with Evian and Diet Cokes. What service. He popped a soda and lay down on the couch. Seventh-inning stretch, the announcers hawking dog food and motor oil. You didn't last on TV these days if you didn't know how to sell. A Bud Light commercial came on, its stars two smart-ass ball players, one with a lengthy criminal record. At home, he listened to baseball on the radio, the way it was meant to be experienced, and limited his TV watching as much as possible.
The Yankees tied it up in the ninth and sent the game into extra innings. In the eleventh, Boggs hit a solo shot into the bleachers, and the Devil Rays chalked up another win. Gerry would be going insane right about now. Going into the bedroom, he dialed Mabel's number.
'He's gone,' his neighbor informed him. 'Left on the twelve-o'clock flight. Said he had some business to take care of. He's a wonderful young man, Tony. I can't see why you dislike him so.'
'Someday over a milkshake I'll give you my side of it,' Valentine replied, sinking into the bed's soft mattress. In the ceiling mirror he watched himself wiggle around, then said, 'You're not going to believe this Mabel, but there's a mirror above my bed.'
'That must be nice, lying there watching yourself shave.'
