Jason Pinter - The Fury

She was Stephen Gaines's mother all right.

"Wait," I said. Suddenly I was the one confused. I'd been so caught up in discovering the earring and finding Helen that the biggest question hadn't even occurred to me to ask.

"How in the hell do you two know each other?" I said to Helen, then turned to Clarence.

Clarence bowed his head. Then he stepped by me, went and sat down on the bed next to Helen. She placed her hand on top of Clarence's head. He smiled weakly, tilted it slightly.

"Butch Willingham," Helen said, "saved my life. When

I came to this city I had nothing. I started using, but I was out of control. I bought from Butch, but he never sold me enough to kill me, which is what I wanted. One day, Butch found me passed out in a gutter. Facedown. Drowning in filth. He took me in. Nursed me back to health. He was my lover. My protector. He was the husband your father never was. The father Stephen never had."

"And when my dad died," Clarence said, "Ms.

Gaines always looked after me. The city wouldn't allow her to adopt me because of her…issues…but she visited every day. She was the mom I lost when I was a kid."

"So when Beth-Ann was killed," I said, extrapolat ing what I'd learned, "you called Clarence."

"He was my only friend left," Helen said. Her eyes were sunken. She began to weep softly, her small body trembling. Clarence wiped her tears away with his finger, took her frail hand and kissed the back. Helen smiled, nestled her head against his neck.

"She was here when I called," I said. "That's who I heard in the background."

"I wouldn't let her stay at my pad. Too many people have my business card. Bernita here doesn't even have e-mail."

"I found the earring," I said to Helen.

"Earring," she said, stumbling over her words. "Oh my, from the cabin!"

"That's right."

"I didn't even know I had the other one with me. It must have fallen."

"Onto Clarence's carpet," I replied. "So he shuttled you downstairs to hide while I talked to him."

"Didn't have time for anything else," Clarence replied.

"You went to all this trouble," I said.

"I'd do anything to protect this woman," Clarence said. "Anything." Then he stared at me, his eyes gone from tender to fiery in an instant. "Anything."

I knew he was talking to me. That if I even thought about exposing Helen, about putting her in harm's way,

Clarence Willingham would have no problem making sure nobody heard what I had to say.

"So you hid her here," I said.

Bernita chimed in, saying, "Man did pay me."

"I trust Bernita," Clarence said. "Helen wasn't so sure at first."

"I didn't-still don't-know who to trust," Helen said.

"I couldn't keep her with me," Clarence said. "I have clients coming over to my office, and there's no way she could have stayed upstairs. Besides, who would think to look here?"

"I would. I did," I said.

"Yeah, well, most people ain't you, Parker." I wasn't sure whether he meant that as an insult or a compliment.

"We need to talk about Stephen," I said. "Helen, I need to know what happened. The police have arrested my father for Stephen's murder. They know he came into the city to see you. They know you tried to black mail him. I need to know why. It wasn't for rehab for

Stephen. I need to know what that money was for, and what happened that night."

Helen Gaines's hand went to Clarence's and held it tight. He put his arm around her, comforted her as she began to cry, this time harder. She wailed, her hand covering her mouth to stifle the sobs.

"Oh…my baby," she said. "My baby is gone…"

"Helen," I said. But all I could do was wait it out. It hadn't even been a week since Stephen was murdered, and though Helen Gaines seemed far from mentally stable, there were some things that pierced the heart no matter how calloused it had grown.

She cried for several minutes. Clarence held her head, stroked her hair. His eyes were closed, too, and on his face I could see the pain of a man whose surro gate mother was going through hell in every way, shape and form. Clarence had admitted abusing drugs in his younger years, but recently had begun to wean himself off of them. No doubt having a dealer as a father exacany curiosity he had. And even though Butch was a supposedly "clean" dealer, being exposed to that kind of trade could stir a desire that wouldn't have existed otherwise. The temptation was there. His father put it there, and Helen Gaines had become a victim of it as well.

Maybe Helen and Clarence had actually bonded over this. Perhaps it was even Helen who, after Butch was gone, tempted Clarence. But looking at them now, young man and older woman, they needed each other more than anything in the world.

"Helen," I said, "I need to know why you got in touch with my father. After all those years, why did you suddenly need the money?"

Helen removed her head from Clarence's shoulder.

She wiped her eyes, only succeeding in smearing the mascara she had on. Clarence took a tissue from his pocket, handed it to her. She thanked him, cleaned herself up.

"The money wasn't for me," she said. "It was never for me. It was for Stephen."

"Rehab?" I asked.

"No. That ship sailed a long time ago. We tried- both of us, actually. But it's easy to say you want to stop, it's another thing to do it. It'd be like rewiring your brain. When you have two people so close, both addicted, you can either band together and use each other for strength…or you can slip into the comfort of nothingness. We chose the latter."

"So you know your son was using, and that he probably started because of you."

Helen nodded. "I was young and stupid when I came here. Do you know what it's like to be nineteen years old with a baby? To have to leave the only place you've ever known and go somewhere where you don't know anybody? To raise a child in a different world? I couldn't handle it. So I escaped. But Stephen could have made so much more of himself."

"Stephen wasn't just some street dealer," I said. "He was much higher."

Helen blinked. "I knew he wasn't standing out on corners. He had nice suits. Lots of them. He would wear them during the day, even though I knew where he was going. I always found it strange that someone in that…line of work would get dressed up so nicely.

We never had money for anything else."

I thought about the building in midtown. All those suited young men entering to get their daily packages.

A horde of young, urban professionals. Only the defi nition had turned a one-eighty.

"How long had he been selling?" I asked.

Helen looked at the ceiling. Wiped her eyes again.

Clarence was staring at her as well, his eyes soft. I wondered if he'd ever heard these stories.

"Screw this," Bernita suddenly announced. "I'm getting a beer and watching Judge Judy. " Her pink bathrobe turned with a flutter, and she left the room.

"She's a great cook," Helen said. "Made chicken a l'orange last night."

"I have about ten pounds of leftovers in my fridge at home," Clarence said with a laugh. "I know what you're saying."

"How long?" I repeated.

"Almost ten years. He dropped out of CCNY after his sophomore year. I worked about a hundred differ ent jobs over the years, but even with that and the money

Stephen made, with his student loans, there was no way we could ever really make ends meet. Not in this city.

That's actually where I met Beth. We were both secre taries at a public-relations firm. They fired us both within the month when we came to work high. So

Stephen dropped out. Partly because of the money, partly to take care of me. He said the only experience he needed was in the real world. And I was too stupid to stop him. And besides, he was making more money doing that than I ever did working real jobs. And none of it was taxed."