Pagan Babies

By the time the Mutt had the Glock in his hand his ears were ringing, he couldn't hear nothing, he couldn't see nothing looking through the rear window at the dark street back there. No sign of Joh

25

VlTO BROUGHT TERRY INSIDE. HE said to a young guy in sunglasses standing in the hall, "Put your car around back." He said to Terry, "Wait in there."

The living room. Debbie turned from the fireplace as he went over to her. "You been here long?"

"A few minutes. Tony stuck his head in and said hi."

"He did?"

"I was surprised, too. He said, 'Be with you soon as the photographer gets set up.'"

"We're go

Debbie's gaze drifted off. "What do you think of the 0ecor? Nothing's been changed or moved in forty years. Fake logs in the fireplace."

Terry put his finger to his lips and Debbie hunched her shoulders and made a face. Terry stepped in close. "The room could be wired.

I mean by Tony, so he can hear what people think of his house. They don't like it, he has 'em whacked."

"It's lovely," Debbie said out loud. "They have some beautiful pieces." Then dropped her voice. "Like my grandmother's place."

"Mary Pat wanted to know if you liked their house. I told her you loved it. Then she asked, did I think you'd stand by me if I fucked up.

Would you?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I would. But how can we luck up? We've got it made."

"That's what I told her."

"She guessed about you?"

"She knew. She said for whatever the reasons guys become priests, I don't fit any of 'em. She called Fran and told him. He didn't get home before I left, so I haven't talked to him yet." Terry said, "On the way here," and paused to glance at the door.

"What?"

"Vito asked when I was going back to Africa. I said I think pretty soon, and he said, 'I think so, too.'"

"Yeah…?"

"Like they're go

"What's that mean?"

"What I just told you, they're go

She said, "They're not go

"Yeah, we could."

Vito appeared in the doorway motioning to them. They crossed the front hall with him to Tony Amilia's study.

Debbie looked at the ornate seventeenth-century desk-Oh, my God--and gave the mob boss a perky smile. She said, "Mr. Amilia, I can't tell you how much we appreciate what you're doing."

Tony was standing now, wearing a dark suit and tie for the photograph.

He said, "We're ready, let's get it done," and turned to the photographer testing his strobe, bouncing the light off a white umbrella on a stand. He looked over and said, "Hi, I'm Joe Vaughn," and edged toward them to shake hands, a young guy in his thirties, Tony Amilia's height; he seemed pleasant but maybe a little nervous. He said, "Father, if I could get you and Mr. Amilia to stand right against that wall-"

Debbie moved aside. She watched Joe place them in front of a commemorative plaque mounted on the wall:

The University of Detroit Mercy honors Anthony Amilia as a patron member of the Ignatian Circle in recognition of his generous financial support and dedication to higher education in the Jesuit and Mercy traditions.

"You see this?" Tony said to Debbie. "I went there when it was just U of D, before they went in with this other college and tacked the Mercy on. I don't think it helps the basketball team, you're U of D Mercy Titans. I was there they played football, Oklahoma, Kentucky, some good teams." He looked at the plaque again. "I want it to be part of the picture, show I do this kind of thing and it's not fake photography. Joe'll give it to the News and the Free Press and they'll run it. Joe takes my family pictures, different events, birthdays."

Debbie heard Terry say he went to U of D, too, but Tony didn't comment. He said, "Come on, take the picture."

Joe said, "You want the check in the shot, don't you?"

Tony motioned to Vito. "On the desk."

Vito brought Tony the check and Debbie watched Terry trying to read the figures, Terry smiling, taking the end of the check between his fingers as Tony presented it and then pulled it away from him.

"You don't need to touch it I'm handing it to you. All you have to do is look grateful. Joe, take the picture."

"I want to shoot a Polaroid first," Joe said. "See what we're getting."

"You're getting me and him and the check's what you're getting.

Now take the picture."

Joe went to work shooting, the flash popping, Joe getting warmed up, five shots in the camera, and Tony said, "That's enough. Vito, help Joe with his equipment. Pack it up out'n the hall." He walked over to his desk with the check.

Debbie said, "Well, that was quick. We are grateful, Mr. Amilia, more than I can tell you."

He was looking at Terry. "All right, Father, you all set? Vito's go

Debbie said, "Well, if that's it," standing at the desk now, waiting for Tony to hand her the check.

He turned to her saying, "Father's going home, you're staying awhile. I want to talk to you."

Debbie said, "Would you mind if Father waited? So we can go back together?" She beamed a smile at him. "We're pretty excited."

Tony said, "Do what I ask, all right? I would like you to stay."

She gave him a cute, wide-eyed shrug, all i

The man's expression did not change. He'd spoken and that was it, end of discussion. Debbie said, "No, if you want me to stay, I'd be happy to." God, overdoing it. She heard Terry, behind her, thank Mr.

Amilia.

He said, I'll call you later, Deb."

And sheturned in time to see him going out the door, Vito closing it behind them. She thought of what he'd said in the other room, about their making sure he went back to Africa.

The first thing Tony said was, "Don't be nervous. Come on over here and we'll sit down, have a talk."

He brought her to a grouping of white leather chairs around a slate cocktail table, a phone there, a floor lamp turned low, but she didn't sit down right away. Debbie walked a few steps past the chairs to a glass door that looked out on water, the wide expanse of Lake St.

Clair narrowing in the dark to enter the Detroit River. She stood close to the glass, hands shielding her eyes against the light in the study, to see what was out there. Nothing. Gray shades of night. His voice asked if she wanted a drink. She said without turning to him, "I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"Yes or no."

"Okay, but only if you're having one."

"I don't think I will, Miss Ma

Even as he said it she was thinking, Do you hear yourselfЈ? He even caught it. She remained at the glass door looking at nothing, into herself in the dark, wanting to get back to being herself and stop acting cute and so fucking grateful. She'd gone over the top thanking him and that was enough. Now there was a pinpoint of light out there in the gray that was a darker gray than the sky, two lights, moving.