I AM A product of a parochial education.

This means that, for every secular class I took, I had to take a Christian philosophy or religion class.

Now I know a lot of people walk away from Catholicism because of the parochial experience, but me, I'm a true believer. I am Irish, I am Catholic, I believe God the Father, Christ the Son, the Holy Spirit, the Communion of Saints, and one Holy Catholic Church, World without End, amen.

If anybody wants to make an issue about it, I will mess them up. Lovingly, of course.

That's not to say I'm not ecumenical. I'm all for everyone believing what they want to believe. It's all a big whatever to me. I can't be bothered to care about what other people are doing. That's way too much effort.

Anyway, part of my parochial education required me to memorize a shit ton of Bible verses. My absolute favorite was Ezekiel 25:17: And I will execute my great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes, and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I lay my vengeance down upon them. That's some serious rhetorical shit, right? Gets me all breathless with anticipation whenever I think of it. Makes me want to go find a jawbone of an ass and throw down like Samson.

But I'm not all about the violence. I have some favorite non-violent passages, too. For instance I've always liked the one in Ecclesiastes where everything has a season. It goes something like, there's a season to be born and a season to die, there's season for mourning, and there's a season for kicking ass and taking names. Okay, so it doesn't say that exactly. I never got that one memorized. It was too long.

The point is, Blaine's call pulled me out of my self-pity. It wasn't the season to mourn. I had work to do.

"Blaine, calm down," I told him as went downstairs to Alex's office, the dog on my heels. "I want you to tell me exactly what happened, step by step. But give me a minute. I need some paper."

I marched up to Alex's desk and stared at him.

Alex was at his desk. He looked up, surprise on his face. "Hi, baby. That was fast."

"Shut the hell up. I need some paper and a pen."

Hiding a smile, he opened his right hand drawer and gave me a legal pad. "What are you doing?"

"Shut the hell up. Pen?"

"Nope. Tell me what you're doing, Siobhan."

"I'm writing my marriage vows, you twisted son of a bitch. Now give me a pen."

He gave me a pen. "Now that's more like it."

"Shut the hell up," I told him, snapping for the dog to follow.

"Remember, we're going out to dinner tonight," he called after me.

"Kiss my ass," I yelled back.

"I love you, too," he yelled back.

I looked at the dog and pointed at the door. "Sic 'em. Go get him. Tear out his throat."

The dog doggie grinned at me and sat down to scratch behind his ear. Great. He probably has fleas on top of it. "You're useless," I told him, and stuck my head back in Alex's office. "I thought of a name for the dog."

"What'd you think of?"

"Useless."

He nodded. "I like it. It's apt."

"Shut the hell up," I told him and marched back upstairs. "Blaine? Are you still there?"

"Yes. Is everything good on your end?" he asked carefully.

"No. My fiancé is a dick." I sat down on the sofa and pulled the dog up across my lap to use as a doggie lap desk. "Tell me about Jenny. What was she wearing?"

He sighed heavily. "Try not to throw up. It was an H&M white crochet halter dress with a black bra and panty set underneath."

I gasped. "Blaine. You did not let her wear that!"

"I tried. We all tried. She was determined."

"Please tell me she didn't wear the red stripper shoes."

"She wore the red stripper shoes."

"Good Lord." I wrote that all down. "What time did you actually leave the hotel?"

"Around 8 pm."

"Who went with you?"

"Just Troy. You met him the last time we were here."

"Okay." I wrote down Troy, Blaine, and Jenny. "So how did you get to where you were going?"

"We took a cab."

"Did you pay cash or with a card?"

"With a card."

"You got the receipt?"

"Somewhere in my wallet," he said. "Why?"

"It'll have the cab number on it," I explained, "in case the police get involved and need to talk to the driver. Now where were you going?"

"The Chelsea Market. We went to Haut Medoc...it's a wine bar we wanted to try."

"What time did you arrive?"

"About 8:30," he replied. "It was busy, but not crowded."

"Did you stay in the bar?"

He sighed, then sighed again. "Siobhan, I'm going tell you this, but please, you can't tell anybody..."

"Blaine," I interrupted, "if she's missing for real, your life is going to be under a microscope. So whatever it is, get used to the idea that it's going to come out."

"I picked up a guy," he blurted out. "God, I picked up a guy, and I left with him. I told Troy not to leave without her, but he's not reliable like that, and he ended up going down to the West Village for an afterhours party." He paused. "If my husband finds out, well, I don't know. I just don't know."

I didn't say anything. I'm not big on adultery. "So when was the very last time you saw her?"

"We were at the bar. She had a glass of red wine. Then I met Marco, and..." he choked up. "What was I thinking?"

"You weren't," I told him. "But that's not the point. I need a time. What time do you think it was?"

"I don't know. Like around 9 pm or so?"

"Okay. At what time did you realize she was missing?" I asked.

"At pick up this morning," he replied, sniffing. "She didn't come downstairs and she didn't answer either her cell or room phone."

"What time was pick up?"

"5:15 am. We had a 7:30 am departure."

"Did you go up to her room?"

"No...the Captain, he's a dick. Former Marine pilot, and they're the worst, let me tell you. He loves to leave crew members behind on these early morning pickups. 'Pick up is at 5:15, you be down here and on the bus at 5:10,' "he mimicked in a fake southern accent.

"Well, that's not awesome," I replied. "What happened when you got to the airport?"

"She didn't show. At that point, we all kept calling and calling, but no answer."

"Did you leave on time?"

He didn't answer.

"Blaine? Are you there?"

"Siobhan, we left her. I feel...I feel so horrible. I just kept thinking that she would call when we landed, and it would be fine, but she didn't."

"What time did you land at San Francisco?"

"About 11:30 local, 1:30 pm, New York. I went down to flight service and talked to the MOD, but...and this is when it gets real good, Siobhan, they told me to mind my own business."

I looked at my watch. It was after 2 pm. That wasn't good. Then it occurred to me what he was saying, that his Company told him to mind his business. "What?" I asked. "Repeat that."

"Yeah. That's right. They told me that she was a grown up and if she missed her trip, then that was her own failure to be responsible. When I suggested that maybe something happened to her, I was told that the Company doesn't file missing person reports for absent employees, and if I moved forward on this, then I would be fired for insubordination."

Wow. I could smell the tort of negligence all over this. It smelled sweet, like the combination of money, and vengeance, and a really good sale at Banana Republic. "Okay, so I need you to pull up the crew list, including the Captain's name, the time you left and landed, and the MOD who told you not to move forward on it or you would be terminated. PDF it, save it in more than one location, and I will call you when I need them. Now, I'm going to get busy. I will keep in touch."

"Thanks, Siobhan," he said relieved. "I knew you'd be the one to call."

"Don't be too grateful, Blaine. Jenny's my sister. Anything happens to her, and you'll be a named party in this suit, along with everyone else who failed her." With that I hung up.

Since it was already after two, I threw on this old black trapeze with a pair of Uggs, put my hair into a knot and went downstairs. Alex was in the kitchen, making a sandwich.

"Hi baby. Hungry?"

"Shut the hell up. I'm going out."

He shook his head. "Um, no."

"What?" I asked, askance. "Did you just say no?"

"You're way to upset to go out right now," he informed me. "How bout I make you a sandwich and we watch a movie?"

I ignored him and headed to the door. He actually blocked me. "Don't test me, Siobhan," he said, losing some of his earlier good humor. "I don't want to fight with you, but I'm not going to let you leave right now, either."

If the situation with Jenny weren't so dire, it would have been a throw down. As it was, I pushed off of him and stormed upstairs.

"I'll make you a sandwich," he called after me.

"I hate you."

"A tomato mozzarella one. I even have pickles."

I slammed the door, locked it, and pulled the chair in front of it. Then I walked to the windows and opened them. I had a minute before the alarm sounded, so I hustled myself out and onto the fire escape. I made in down to the alley by the time the alarm went off.

A part of me was expecting Alex to be there. I guess he had underestimated my resolve.

Anyway, I grabbed a cab and made it to the Hotel 57th in a rapid 10 minutes. Fortunately, the reception area wasn't crowded. I walked up to the front desk, where the dude working greeted me in a professionally friendly manner. He was youngish, expensively coiffed and well-groomed. This little fact compared to the public service job and the high price of the city led me to believe he was potentially corruptible.

I smiled. "Hi! I'm meeting my sister here. Here name is Jenny Murphy."

"Jenny Murphy," the man repeated looking at his computer. "She checked out already."

"She did?" I exclaimed. "Well, that's weird. What time did she leave?"

"About an hour or two ago," he replied giving me a knowing look. "She was with another woman, who also said she was her sister."

"Well, we do come from a large family," I replied. "You wouldn't happen to have any security footage of this transaction, would you?"

"Now why would you need to see that?"

"I don't need to see it," I answered. "But these 10 Ben Franklins need to see it."

The man looked down at the stack of $100 dollar bills and smiled happily. "Then allow me to accommodate the Mr. Franklins." He buzzed open a door while at the same time scooping up the money.

I came inside and followed him to a computer room. He sat down, entered a code, and then pulled up the security feed. Up came a picture of my girl, Jenny. She was still wearing the crochet dress. With her was a dark haired woman with large sunglasses who skillfully managed to keep her face from the camera.

"Is that your sister?" asked the dude.

"Yes. It's bringing tears to my eyes. Can you print that for me?"

"I sure can. Would if the Mr. Franklins would like it emailed, he'll need five more."

I frowned and paid him. "Email it to Discovery at the McIver Group dot net." I watched as he did so. "Tell me, does my sister still speak with a strong Russian accent?"

"I don't know," he replied. "Five more Mr. Franklins will help me remember."

I pulled out my stun gun.

The dude cleared his throat. "Well then. Like she got off the boat yesterday."

I put my stun gun away. "Thanks, Dude. I'll tell my sister how helpful you were."

"Yeah. Don't do that."

"Suit yourself," I said as I waved bye-bye and left the hotel. I hailed a cab at the same time my phone rang. Alex. Surprise.

"Shut the hell up," I answered and waved the cab away.

"Where are you?"

I crossed the street and headed downtown. "No," I replied.

"Oh, so it's like that, is it?" he huffed. "You know, Siobhan, everything I do, I do because you lack the emotional stability to make wise and appropriate decisions for yourself."

"Really? It's emotionally unstable to want an education?" I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at it. "Is it 1950, Alex? Because I'm feeling like it's 1950."

"Home, Siobhan," he answered. "Get home now."

"No."

"Goddammit, Siobhan, I've had enough!" he exploded. "Get home. Do you hear me? Get home now."

I, who have known Alexander Cosetino all of my life, had never once heard him curse directly at me. I stopped dead in my tracks, and caused a little old woman walking too close behind me to plow into me. She called me a derogatory name and flipped me off as she stormed around me.

I took a deep breath and found my center. "You know, Alex, I have had a very hard day. I need some air. But let's get one thing straight. If you're expecting me to be all scared of you and Cesare, and all your bullshit, then fuck you and fuck your contract, and let's get to fighting."

He was quiet for so long I thought the call dropped. Then he said, "Please be home by 7. We have reservations."

"And if I'm not?"

"I'll call Cesare, and we will, as you say, get to fighting."

I ended the call. I had other things to worry about other than this Cosetino bullshit. I hailed a cab and headed for Chelsea.

_____ *_____ * _____ * _____ * _____

Siobhan's on the case, watch out. But Alex isn't one to mess with. Better find Jenny fast, Siobhan, before Alex shows up.

Thank you so much for taking time to read Siobhan's story! I look forward to your comments, and if you liked it, please remember to vote!

©Copyright Liz Charnes May 2018

This work is protected by copyright and cannot be copied or used in any way without my express consent. Please don't steal it. Thank you!