Jersey Score

Chapter 1

Chapter 1Todd

The harsh glare shot into closed eyes like a sensory assault. The sounds were like an unexpected shriek. Just the process of opening blinds to let the morning sun in. Just a sign of a new morning.

“s**t, that’s bright,” he said, pulling the blanket over him. He’d had a few last night.

He felt the bed move, the feel of her body sliding back in. Caressing his shoulder.

“I guess you earned your sleep.”

He groaned. “What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock. Want some coffee? Something stronger?”

Todd Gleason propped himself up on a couple of downy-soft pillows, the blanket sliding off his upper torso. The sheets were pink. So were the full lips of the woman newly lying next to him. A knowing smile graced those pursed lips. She reached up and drew her pink-painted nails across his own lips, scraping at the day’s old scruff he was sporting. He just stared at her. She was pretty, that was good. And no, he hadn’t forgotten her name.

“Uh, Angela, I think we had enough to drink last night.”

“Ya think?”

She giggled. It was one of the first sounds he’d heard from her, last night at the tavern. It had drawn his attention, that, and the way she had kept staring at him from the corner edge of the bar. Called O’Donoghue’s, 44th Street in Manhattan. Eyes locked, chairs shifted, they’d gotten to talking. He’d bought her a fizzy drink, pink-colored. He’d asked for and got her full name. One Barbie-dolled-up dame named Angela Delvecchio. And he’d learned where she lived. Sort of. All he remembered was hearing New Jersey, where in the Garden State he couldn’t say. Even so, this is where he found himself now, waking up with a bit of a hangover.

“Yeah, coffee sounds good. Black.”

She teasingly brushed at his chest hair and then got up; said she’d be right back. Tossing on a shimmery pink negligee that failed to keep secret what was underneath. That giggle again, then she popped out of the bedroom, leaving Todd to his own devices. Sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor, he looked at the room in which he’d awakened. It had been dark when they’d arrived, and the lights hadn’t been among their necessities. Blue walls, sheets that had a seafoam pattern of ocean and shells, a couple of pink throw pillows which had been, well, thrown to the other side of the room. The bed was large, king-size, and there was a dresser and in the corner a vanity with a chair and mirror, lots of make-up and perfume bottles lined up like runway models along its surface. A typical woman’s boudoir, a bit frilly but it fit the personality of the woman he’d met just last night.

He said it inside his head again. Angela Delvecchio.

Amazing he remembered the last name. Too many syllables after too many drinks.

But what about what he didn’t know about her, either failing to remember or not having learned it to begin with?

Where was he? Angela’s home, yes, New Jersey, yes, what town? No clue.

What had they done?

Clue.

He was naked.

He got up and moved about the room, found a door that led to a bathroom directly off the bedroom, no need to go out into the hall. He did a quick pee (hey, it was morning, it was only natural). He took a hard look at himself in the mirror. Eyes slightly red, his face adorned with another day’s growth of dark scruff. Todd Gleason was a handsome man, with what some would call a devilish smile. Dimples were quiet right now. He was fit, and at six feet tall a healthy specimen of a thirtysomething man. Now, what to do about that nakedness that exposed said specimen? Perhaps, for decency’s sake he should find something to put on over his birthday suit, maybe even his clothes. It was morning, after all, time to take the Uber of shame.

But upon returning to the bedroom, he saw no sign of his suit, his shirt or shoes.

He remembered that while he and Angela had made their way to the bedroom, a path of clothes had been left in their wake. Todd passed across the gunmetal gray carpet to the closet, found another peignoir hanging on a hook. Good as anything, it was a royal blue and went well with his azure eyes. Wrapping it around his body, it fell to just below his privates; the top didn’t close too well, leaving most of his chest exposed. He thought he looked silly.

“Hiya, sexy.”

He turned to see that Angela had returned, two cups of coffee in her hands. She handed one to him.

“Thanks.”

“Black, like you like it.”

She then kissed him on the lips before crawling back under the covers, setting her coffee on the nightstand beside her. She patted the other side of the bed, inviting Todd back into the soft mattress which had endured an overnight workout. No choice without being rude, he slid back in and took a sip of his coffee.

“I smell pumpkin,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, I like creamer in my coffee. Since it’s October, everything is pumpkin spice.”

Todd cleared his throat, looked at his lady friend. “Angela, where the hell are we?”

She laughed. “Selective memory? No judgments, I don’t remember your last name.”

“Gleason, Ms. Delvecchio.”

‘Ooh, you get points for that.”

“Hard to forget.” Kinda true.

“How about Keansburg? It’s a town, though in Jersey we call them townships, or boroughs. Glam, huh? Except we’re pretty much a blue-collar place around here, but I like it. Grew up here, me and my brother. He got out, became a fancy-ass lawyer, lives in the nicer part further down the Shore. You know that’s where you are, kind of the start of the Jersey Shore.”

“So that’s the situation I find myself in.”

She laughed; she got it. It’s one of the things he’d liked about Angela when they finally got to talking, ordering another round of drinks from the pretty blonde bartender, Sue. Todd was good at names, part of his job training. Angela spoke fairly well, accent notwithstanding, and in addition to being pretty she was cultured. She’d claimed to have met a girlfriend in the city to attend the Sunday early evening performance of The Lion King. Todd had remarked that she must have Hakana Matata’d her way here right after the show. Angela Delvecchio knew her pop culture.

“You’re pretty hot, Todd Gleason,” she said now. “Such a beast.”

“And you’re the beauty.”

Keeping Disney’s profits high.

A heated look crossed between them. Todd suddenly uncertain on how to play this scene. The morning following a hook-up could be peppered with awkward moments. Or sometimes the less unceremonious thanks, but you can see yourself out even before sun-up. Instead, Angela slid in closer to him, running a long-painted nail across his chin before ruffling the dark mat coating his chest. She’d enjoyed playing with it all night, her bouncy breasts rubbing against it while they…no imagination needed here to ascertain what activity they engaged in. Was she looking for round two…or was it a third…hell, he’d lost count.

“I’ll have to get back to the city eventually.”

“Hang on, then,” she said, reaching for her cell phone which lay next to her coffee cup on the nightstand. Unlocking it, he watched as she expertly navigated an app she opened. A couple more taps and then she set it down. “Easiest, and cheapest way home, is by taking the train. New Jersey Transit will take you all the way to Penn Station in little more than an hour. You just missed the most recent one—next train is in fifty-four minutes.”

“Sound like we might have time to get to know each other some more,” he said.

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

Todd slid a hand over to her, caressed her flat belly while untying the negligee, revealing her generous breasts, those supple red n*****s. With a quick kiss, she slipped out of the pink garment and flung it to the floor. She said the one he was wearing looked a little tight on him, and so she helped him discard his morning attire.

In the distance, a train whistle blew.

“I thought you said the train wasn’t for an hour.”

“Oh, that sound you heard came from the southbound train.” Then she climbed onto him, seductively lowering herself. “You’re going northbound.”

* * * *

Indeed, it was the northbound side of the platform at a station with the dual name of Aberdeen-Matawan. Todd had no clue why they needed two, or in his current state, where the hell in the state he was. Was that the hyphenated name of just one town township, he heard in his mind, or two different ones that shared a neighboring train station? Not usually so geographically challenged, having been overseas many times and good at reading maps, Jersey was confusing to him. Maybe he should have just called an Uber, but he remembered the trip last night had cost over a hundred dollars, and for a guy who didn’t like to spend money, at least his, the thought of spending two hundred for a night-long one-nighter went beyond his wallet. Not that he was poor, not by any stretch. But his cash was tied up. It was complicated.

So, he’d agreed to take the train. He could see the lights coming from down the tracks.

Angela had dropped him off, kissed him and thanked him and said, “Keep in touch. You were fun, but also slightly mysterious. I still don’t know what you do.”

Saved by the whistle.

Would he? Keep in touch, that is? That’s the very notion he was pondering as the train rumbled toward the outdoor station, coming to a screeching stop. Doors opened; he sat in the last available car at Angela’s suggestion. The time was ten-eighteen, so most of the early commuters were already at work in the city. Should be a quiet ride this Monday morning, she’d coached. It looked to be, just seven other people were on board his car, including a woman talking loudly into her cell phone, a guy with a pair of

AirPods stuffed into his ears, and another guy playing a videogame with sound. Todd bypassed them all and took a seat toward the back, the only other people there were two guys in a last four-seat compartment.

He plopped down and wondered what he’d do for the hour-plus ride back to the city. This was all new territory to him.

Commuter train rides seemed endless, being way different from the subway that showed within minutes of the last one (mostly). Stopping at every little town as it chugged toward its big city destination, passengers had to occupy their time. You could read a book or tap apps or listen to music on Spotify or even stream shows, or…or, in the case of the ever-intrepid Todd, one could always eavesdrop on the conversations of those men seated behind one. That’s what made one intrepid. One could hardly be faulted for listening, not like he had to move closer to get the gist of their conversation. They were talking loudly, their chosen topic intriguing to say the least. Someone had died.

Todd closed his tired eyes, using what brain power he had to focus.

“She’s dead, and she earned it.” Tough guy, New Yawk accent.

“Unlike her money. Shoulda never have gotten her hands on it.” Whiny guy, same accent.

“You marry rich like that. I’d say she earned it. That old guy looked like melting cheese.”

The big guy; credit him with that vivid description.

“And then he croaks. She had to screw that thing for eight years of marriage. Rumor is she killed him.”

“With s*x, probably.”

“They did find him in the bed, stiff arm across his chest as he stared at the ceiling.”

“Nothing else stiff.”

The guys were painting quite the picture.

Todd had snuck more than a brief glance at them when sitting down, quickly absorbing physical details. Like taking a photograph, his mind developed the details.

The first guy was a thick tree-trunk of a man, his body massive, arms coated with coiled dark hair that could have been bark. Thick tufts of graying hair spilled out of the open triangle of his shirt like a bowl of overgrown moss. He had big brown bug eyes and a nasty grin and really, maybe this wasn’t nice to think but undeniably true, a face maybe not even a mother could claim as cute. It’s like his features had failed to meld in the womb and he’d been paying the price since delivery into this world. He was probably going on fifty. So, you know, dealing with his unflattering appearance a long time.

As for this second guy, what was his deal? Younger, yup, guessing maybe thirty-five. Short, maybe five-two, thin and wiry, with patchy chin hair, he also was not gonna be picked for the cover of GQ anytime, um…let’s just go with never. He looked like the quintessential second banana, like Ned Beatty’s Otis in the classic Superman movie. A “yeah, boss” vibe oozing from his thin, sweaty self. A sycophant for sure, but Todd doubted either man would know what that word meant, much less be able to spell it.

They stopped talking because coming down the center aisle was the conductor. Todd just handed over his paper ticket which Angela had helped him buy from the machines found on the platform. A paper tag was placed on the metal fixture attached to the seat in front of him. The conductor did the same for the two guys behind him. Then he made his way back to the next car, leaving them alone. The conversation had already picked up, the whistle of the train drowning out what was said.

A pause before Todd could discern: “That’s an idea.”

Shit. He’d missed a detail while the conductor conducted his business.

Todd’s ears perked back up, even as he slinked his body further down in the seat. Closed his eyes again, playing possum. Maybe they wouldn’t pay him any mind and they’d keep talking in those loud voices. On the surface, these two weather-beaten lugs seemed to be plotting something nefarious and the unheard ca-ching-caught Todd’s attention like a man ready for a Venmo transfer; a labored metaphor for sure but it applied in this modern age. Wide open eyes suddenly saw potential, an exponential opportunity drifting over the empty seat between them. It wouldn’t be hard to pit one against the other, he thought. Thinking of those useless henchmen from the old Batman TV show biffing, zowieing, oofing their way through a fight. Not to be judgmental, but Todd smelled a shady odor not even Old Spice could hide. Criminals like them were so incompetent they were the type to rob a failed bank.

Here’s what he’d learned. A lady with the name of Kerry-Anne, no surname provided, had died recently, and these two guys had come all the way from Manhattan to attend her funeral. No cause of death was spoken of, but Todd guessed it wasn’t natural causes. Sounded like the victim had been young, maybe thirty from the fact her husband had been way old. Those details were suspicious. Todd surmised who the players were: this Kerry-Anne, her late, rich husband, a quick mention of a sister set to inherit a large fortune, and an ambulance chaser-type of a lawyer, then finally these two guys. What their connection was to all this, Todd was still in the dark.

Speaking of the dark, the train shot into the tunnel that connected New Jersey with New York City, specifically Penn Station. The ride was almost over.

“Last stop, New York Penn Station. This train is going out of service.”

Kinda like poor Kerry-Anne.

Something about all this wasn’t right to Todd. A piece of the puzzle was missing, and he was running out of time, just as the train was running out of track.

Todd took out his cell—see, you don’t need a book when you’ve always got your smart phone—and he, with a slide to the edge of his seat, surreptitiously snapped a photo of the two yahoos. He didn’t catch their names, as neither had spoken any. This photo would just have to make-do for now. Maybe nothing would come of all he’d heard. But he had the sense these two cards didn’t have the sense to know when to fold themselves. A bad gamble.

Then came the big reveal.

“That lawyer, though, gave a nice eulogy,” said the younger one.

“Yeah. You do that when trying not to look guilty,” spoke the furball.

Hmm, maybe he was smarter than Todd was giving him credit for.

Color Todd intrigued. Less rainbow, more green. Think about it: money, envy, a funeral, an inheritance, the distraction that was Angela Delvecchio, all were parts of a caper which might enrich Todd Gleason’s coffers, maybe his soul if he could stop a criminal in the process. A criminal other than himself.

He hated it when his scams came with a spiked attitude of do-the-right thing.

The train’s doors opened with a pinging sound and soon Todd shuffled along with too many other people as they made their exit onto the platform. Todd never losing focus on the two dumb asses, and, well, everyone else.

The other passengers he could care less about them. But he wasn’t done with his two new friends.

It was only then that Todd realized something was very wrong.

Being back in the city, maybe, had made him remember what had gone down before he’d met Angela. His suit might be ruffled a bit, Angela had thrown it all over the living room without care of wrinkling it. But there was something else nagging in his brain. He checked his pockets. He had his wallet. He checked the inside of his jacket pocket; yup, cell phone put back in place. So why did he feel as naked now as he had in Angela’s bedroom?

“s**t,” he said aloud.

Where the hell was the watch?