"Yeah, who wants me?" Donny answered with the usual swagger in his voice.

"The person that's interested in the whereabouts of Mickey Spataro."

"You Purcell?"

That clinched it, Grace thought. Just a greedy little vermin. Certainly no professional. "You know where he is?"

"For a consideration."

I'll consider you all right. "Just get to the point."

"I want a cut of Lester's operation."

Grace laughed aloud. "What the hell does that have to do with me?"

"You want Mickey. I know where he is and until I get what I want you get nothin'."

She stared at a petrified Lester and considered her response. "Okay. I'll guarantee a cut but you'll have to negotiate how big with him. Meanwhile, unless I get what I want you can exercise your little threat and get nothing. Now if we have a deal, where is he?"

"I need somethin' more than your word over the phone, lady."

Bingo! Grace smiled. "Fine, tell me where you are and I'll come by with a written agreement to negotiate signed by Lester."

Donny pumped a fist in the air and looked at his smug image in the bar mirror. "Deal." He gave her an address and they hung up together.

"What am I signing, Grace?" Lester looked like he lost fifty pounds. His shirt was grey with perspiration and his face sagged like wet wash.

"Nothing. The idiot told me where he was and I am going to get Mickey's location then teach this little worm a lesson.

"Am- am I off the hook, Grace?" He pleaded, deflating to a slack puddle as she unscrewed the silencer and replaced the equipment in her purse.

"Just don't call me again, Lester, for anything. This is the end of us. It's too bad it was fun while it lasted."

She stood and straightened the over blouse then gave Lester a curt nod and left.

**********

Saturday arrived and Des was having second thoughts about going to the reunion. She couldn't decide on an outfit then she didn't like her hair and having Parker issuing calming phrases from the other room every two minutes wasn't helping.

"You look great, just put something on and we can get going." He said, coming into the bedroom, wearing a big smile and almost bumping into her.

She sucked her teeth and picked up the first dress she had taken from her closet. "You think so, really?"

"You could wear an oil drum and look beautiful." He went to her and kissed her ear. "C'mon, this could really be good for you."

"You'll stay with me right." She kissed his lips.

"Of course I will, but we have to stop mating this way."

The swat caught him on the backside as he darted out the door and he stopped in the hallway listening to her chuckle. He could live on that sound the rest of his life. Parker went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, drinking some and leaning back on the counter as he considered the path his life was taking.

^^^^^^

The theatre where the reunion was taking place was the same one where Beat Street played and had lost some of the shine it held at that time. The marquee glass behind the letters was dull and dusty and several of the bulbs around the frame were actually broken.

The entrance had six French glass doors, all painted in the same royal blue with red trim. Two were held open with rubber shims and a sandwich board sign announcing the reunion for the smash musical, Beat Street.

Des paused and held back as they faced the entrance and Parker had to encourage her with a palm on her back.

"What's the big deal? You were the star for cryin' out loud."

Des moved forward and scoffed. "Star of a flop."

"Not what that sign said." He pointed out.

"Well they weren't going to announce a reunion for a flop were they."

"C'mon, inside and stop procrastinating."

They walked through the empty lobby to the auditorium and stopped again. On stage under a battery of theatre lights was a large group of people all chattering and drinking, their voices echoing throughout the empty hall.

"Oh Parker, they're all dressed up. Look."

"Well you're dressed up too, what's wrong?"

"They're wearing cocktail dresses, I'm in short sleeves, Parker."

"So? Just tell them your supporting your right to bare arms."

Before she could speak someone from the stage called out and there was a general jumble of voices all shouting her name and waving her forward.

"It's Desdemona! She came!"

Parker urged her down the aisle and handed her up to several eager hands on the stage, leaving him to clamber up alone.

"Desdemona Jones." A large florid man sailed forward arms outstretched and engulfing her in a hug that looked painful. "I prayed you would accept. It wouldn't be a reunion without the star of Beat Street," He bussed her cheek and then held her hand and stood away displaying her to the rest of the gathering.

There was several minutes of hugs and tears and Des was passed from member to member like a trophy to be examined and visually devoured.

"You with Des?" A small man with a few days growth of beard and a large, quite full brandy glass, looked up at Parker.

"I am. Parker Nevins, and you?" He held out a hand.

"Cory Faber, I'm the superintendent of the theatre. I knew them all back in the day."

"Yeah? Must have been a great time when the show was running, eh?"

"It wasn't dull." Cory scratched his ear. "Des was somethin' then boy."

Parker grinned. "I happen to think she's something now."

"Oh yeah. Right-- well, I mean uhm younger . . . y'know?"

He suddenly turned at a sound from just off stage and Parker followed his eyes. A man was peering from the shadows and Cory swore under his breath scurrying quickly toward the intruder. The two men stood at the edge of the wing and as Parker watched what seemed to be an argument his mouth dropped and he immediately looked for Des.

"Parker, come and meet some of my old company." Des had achieved a very social mood and was smiling hugely as he stepped forward.

"Des, I need to speak to you."

"Don't be rude. These are the girls from the dance number that was featured in the title of the show." She began rhyming off names and pointing to the circle of women all grinning and nudging one another.

"Des-"

"Parker what's wrong with you?" She gave him a dirty look and when he jerked his head in the direction behind her she turned and stared at the two men arguing off stage. "So what?"

"It's him, Des. The guy that was following me in the car."

She looked again but they were both gone and suddenly the reunion lost its charm. Frederick Kaiser slid up to them and placed an arm around Des's waist, his normally booming baritone slipping into a raspy sotto voce.

"My dear, we are thinking of bringing back Beat Street with an updated story line and we want to do it with as many of the original cast as possible. The money is in place the theatre, this one again, is secured and we have some very interested sponsors willing to front the staging expenses. We want you back, Desdemona. What do you say?"

Flustered and nervous about Parker's warning, she found herself unable to answer. She wanted to call Holt.

"I can give you a few days to decide if that's what you need, but it wouldn't be Beat Street without the star."

"She'd be thrilled to do it but right now we need to be somewhere." Parker pulled her free and started backing away.

"That would be marvelous. Here, take my card and call . . . soon. So wonderful to have seen you again, Desdemona."

"Uh- you too, Frederick." She tossed a weak smile and let Parker lead her off the stage, up the aisle and out of the theatre.

******

Donny grunted painfully as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance. His left knee was wrapped in a compression bandage and he was on an intravenous feed of morphine for the pain.

"These assholes with guns." The driver said, slamming the doors and moving around to the driver's side.

The siren bipped as the vehicle pulled away from outside the bar and settled into a rhythmic hoot as it raced through traffic.

"How the hell can you be stupid enough to clean a loaded gun?" the assistant asked, shaking his head.

Donny felt the tears on his cheeks as he listened in his drugged state. Grace had wasted no time in learning where Mickey was hiding. She just asked once then blew his knee apart. There would be no cut of Lester's business and his story was a gun cleaning accident . . . or else. The tears increased.