The Hardest Thing

lucky with Marshall.” He laughed, and clutched his guts in pain. “If you can call it lucky.”
    “So you embroidered the truth a bit. I can live with that.”
    “There’s more. When we were on the road…”
    “Go on.”
    “I made contact with Marshall.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I wanted proof that he was going to pay me. I’d played ball with him—I left town, I told you the cover story and all the rest of it—but how did I know he’d keep his side of the bargain? He got what he wanted. I was out of the way, and you wouldn’t let me talk to anyone. What if he just decided to cut me out? So I called him up and said I wanted money, or I’d go to the police and tell them about Trey Peters.”
    “How much did you ask for?”
    “A hundred-thousand dollars.”
    I whistled.
    “That kind of money means nothing to Marshall,” said Jody. “He said Ferrari would deliver it as a gesture of goodwill.”
    “And instead, he sent someone to kill us, right. That night in Lincoln. You thought that guy was delivering the money?”
    Jody said nothing for a while, just shrugged his shoulders and stared at his feet. He looked sick and old.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have nothing, Dan.”
    “Oh, yeah? Try me.”
    “A hundred-thousand dollars would get me out of New York. I could start again.”
    “As what? A masseur?”
    He wiped his eye with the back of his hand. The tears looked real enough. “You can laugh if you want.”
    “I’m not laughing, Jody.” I waited for him to stop crying. “So what happened?”
    “You remember that gas station we stopped at—after the guy tried to shoot us?”
    “Bill and Hank? I’m not likely to forget it.”
    “While you were filling the truck, I called Marshall again. This time the price had gone up.”
    “And he agreed?”
    “Yes.” Tears ran down Jody’s face. “Two hundred grand. I could have started a new life with that.”
    No mention of me. He was only ever thinking of the money. I felt sick. “Go on.”
    “He asked me where we were headed, and I told him Buffalo. He wasn’t happy about that, told me I should have stayed out of New York, and I knew he was scared. I said I’d go straight to the police and tell them he’d tried to have me killed if he didn’t have the money waiting for me there.” He sobbed and doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. “And then they picked me up in that car.”
    I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn’t. My hands lay like lead in my lap. We watched the traffic go by.
    “When we got to that place in New Jersey, they took me into a room and said wait for Ferrari, he’d be there in a minute, and they locked the door. That was it. Nobody came. No food, nothing to drink, I had to
piss in the corner of the room. It was cold. I couldn’t hear anything. I shouted but nobody came. I thought they were going to leave me there to die. And I guess I realized that I’d made a mistake.”
    “At last.”
    “Marshall never meant to pay me. And the only good thing that had happened to me… Well, I screwed that up, didn’t I?”
    I didn’t ask what he meant. I didn’t want any more “I love you” bullshit. He may have loved my dick, but he loved money more. That’s what he was thinking of all the time. I was just—what? Something to pass the time? A driver? A human dildo? Two hundred-thousand bucks was worth more than my stupid dreams of goldenrod and joe-pye weed and dogs in the yard.
    “Finally I heard noises; someone had turned up. I shouted and shouted till I lost my voice. Then Ferrari came.”
    I swallowed and felt tears prick my eyes. Whatever Jody had done, he didn’t deserve what happened.
    “I think he was drunk, or he was on GHB or something. He was crazy. I tried talking to him, I asked him for my money, and he started hitting me. He got my head and started beating it against the wall until I pretty much passed out. Then he…you know.” Jody’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He fucked me.”
    “He raped you.”
    “I don’t know. I thought if I let him do it he might let me go. He might be nice to me.” Jody put his face in his hands and started weeping. “God, he hurt me so much. And then… He took me to that room…where you were…and he made me…”

    “I know.” I put my arm around his shoulders. “I know what he did.”
    He cried like his heart was breaking. The day was turning cold, and he wasn’t wearing enough. People were staring. “Come on,” I said.