Bad Behavior (18 page)

Ben forged ahead. “They wanted you to keep thinking that so that you’d pay them more money.”

“Son of a bitch,” Will muttered. “So Sophie isn’t in danger?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t think they got many ‘enforcers’ left, from what I heard. They’re losing money right and left—”

Grant interrupted, “They came after Sophie once, to get to me, and I think it’d be unwise to let our guard down, no matter what you heard, Ben.”

“But Ange is getting really sick,” Ben added. “He can’t even go up the stairs unless Tank helps him…” His voice trailed off and he looked horrified, like he’d just remembered something awful.

“What is it?” Grant asked.

Ben was frustrated to feel his throat tighten once again, signaling imminent tears. Swallowing hard, he pressed his lips together, nervously glancing up at his uncle.

“I, uh, I overheard Angelo talking to Tank and Mario.”

He shuddered, and Grant cupped his hand on his shoulder in support.

“He told them he knew. He knew what they did.”

Feeling his nephew’s body tremble beneath his touch, Grant prompted, “What did Tank and Mario do?”

Ben’s eyes filled with tears. “They held down Dad while Carlo stabbed him.”

Grant gasped and then helplessly watched the boy begin to sob once more. He scooted closer to his nephew and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, trying to console him.

“I hate that you had to hear that,” Grant murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Will stared silently at the man and boy huddled together, both looking absolutely miserable, and he was struck by how they seemed to be every bit the victim he was. The Barberi family cut a wide swath of destruction, even hurting their own in the process.

“I’m going to walk him out, sir,” Grant told Will as he helped the boy to his feet.

“All right.” Will nodded, standing as well. He hesitated a second before blurting, “I better not find out you’re cheating on my daughter with one of those hussies that bought you a drink tonight.”

Startled, Grant paused. Then, grasping the hint of acceptance embedded in that threat, a slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, sir.”

Once he and Ben made it outside the hotel, Grant reached into his pocket and extracted thirty dollars, handing the money to his nephew. “I’m getting you a cab.”

“No,” Ben protested, trying to give the money back. “I’ll just take the el.”

“Ben.” Grant grasped both of his shoulders and stared down at him. “It was brave of you to tell Sophie’s dad what you heard. But I don’t want you doing something like that ever again. If they find out you’re sharing their secrets, they’re going to kill you. Do you understand?”

Ben gazed up at his uncle with confusion. “Angelo wouldn’t kill me. He loves me.”

“Angelo doesn’t know how to love anyone but himself,” Grant corrected. “And I agree with you—something’s going on with his health. But a sick man makes a desperate man. You need to be careful, okay? Watch your back. Let’s go.”

Once he had Ben safely tucked into a cab, Grant hustled back, his head spinning like the revolving door he’d just come through. Sophie’s father, the thrill and challenge of his new job, trying to stay out of prison—those stresses were nothing compared to the unease he felt constantly about his family. He just
had
to keep Sophie and Ben safe.

“And she got me a job!” Grant beamed and leaned in to place a grateful kiss on his girlfriend’s blushing cheek.

“Really?” Hunter asked. “So you’re returning the favor, Sophie? Didn’t Grant help you get the teaching job at DePaul?”

Before Sophie could respond, Grant jumped in. “Yes, sir. But she’s the one who’s kept the job.” He gazed at her fondly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked you to stay for spring semester too.”

“I hope so,” she sighed. “But what about you? You deserve the credit for landing your job. Alex only hired you after hearing you perform on the cruise. Even my dad said you were a wonderful singer.”

“He
did?”

Sophie chuckled at his shocked expression. “Yes, he said the women were falling all over you, buying you drinks.”

Grant gave her an uneasy look. He wondered if Sophie’s father had identified yet another means of trying to break them up.

But her glance was only playfully suspicious. “You better stay away from those women, McCrooner.”

Apparently she hadn’t taken her father’s bait. “Not another nickname!” Grant protested, rolling his eyes.

“Hold on,” Hunter interjected, looking curiously at Sophie. “Your father
complimented
Grant?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Grant scoffed.

“But I thought your father didn’t like or trust him.”

“That’s been true in the past,” Sophie said. “And he’s still rather wary of Grant. But my dad was invited to the opening of Alex Remington’s hotel bar last night—Alex is a family friend—and he saw Grant perform.” She glanced at Grant for confirmation. “I couldn’t make it because of a work function, so I asked Ben to go for moral support. Grant gets kind of nervous.”

“And that was
before
I saw both Governor Grogan and your dad in the audience,” he added.

“Wow, Tom was there too?”

Both Hunter and Grant arched their eyebrows at Sophie.

“You’re on a first-name basis with the governor of Illinois?” Grant asked.

Sophie appeared embarrassed. “Well, I knew him before he was governor,” she explained. “My mom and dad would have Tom and his wife over for dinner, back when Tom was a state senator. Back then Tom was trying to quash a bill that would increase taxes on businesses, which made him my dad’s new best friend. And then my dad contributed lots of money to his campaign back in 2004.”

“So your dad’s a staunch Republican, huh?” Hunter asked.

“He’s about as far to the right as they come.”

“I guess that’s another thing you two fight about, then? Politics?”

Sophie eyed her psychologist with trepidation. “Actually, that’s the one subject my dad and I agree on. I’m the only psychologist I know who’s a Republican.”

Hunter did his best to appear neutral, but Sophie thought she could detect a hint of disapproval. For her, “coming out” as a Republican to another psychologist felt almost like coming out as gay man to a drill sergeant.

“But I’m a Republican only because I’m economically conservative,” she rushed to add. “On social issues I’m more in the middle—or even liberal. I strongly support the rights of minorities, women, and gay people.”

“I see,” Hunter responded. “You don’t have to defend your beliefs to me, Sophie. It’s okay if we have different political viewpoints.”

“Is it?” she asked dubiously.

Hunter was taken aback by how well she could read him. His partner Bradley was one of the only gay men he knew who was totally right-wing, and Hunter was so tired of arguing about politics that he
had
felt dismayed at Sophie’s revelation.

Sophie said, “I remember seeing a client who was a huge liberal. She would drone on and on about how the government should provide for everyone, and I have to admit I dreaded our sessions. It was hard for me to sit there and say nothing when I thought she was dead wrong.”

Hunter leaned back in his chair. “We may see politics differently, but I enjoy meeting with you, Sophie,” he said. “I guess it
is
true that we psychologists have certain values, and we can’t be completely accepting or nonjudgmental all the time, especially when the client’s values clash with our own.”

“Thank you for that,” she replied. “I enjoy meeting with you too. You definitely make me think, and I’ve been learning a lot.”

Smiling at Sophie, Hunter attempted to draw in the other half of the couple. “So how ’bout you, Grant? Where are you on the political spectrum?”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t think it would be possible to be raised by a Navy commander and not be a Republican.”

Hunter nodded. He’d expected that response. “Did you two know that about each other? That you’re both Republicans?”

“Yes, sir,” Grant answered. “We discovered that early on when we were working on Rog’s ship together. There was a fundraiser for Victor Ortiz at Navy Pier that got us talking.” He recalled with a smirk how Roger, who shared their conservative philosophy, had wanted to slap a “Loser Ortiz” bumper sticker on the stern, hoping the Democratic presidential candidate would tank.

“We already knew we were both Republicans, but those questions you had us ask each other made us discuss politics even more.”

“How did the love map questions go?” Hunter inquired.

“Pretty good,” Sophie said.

“She got kind of mad when we started talking about women’s rights,” Grant interjected.

“I wasn’t mad!”

“You sure seemed like it to me.”

“Okay, I was a little mad when you said women shouldn’t be in military combat. That’s just archaic.”

Grant kept his mouth shut, and Hunter watched their interaction with interest.

“I think I feel more confused than angry, though,” Sophie said. “I’ve been a feminist since college, and typically I don’t like it when a guy holds the door open for me or when he thinks I can’t do things for myself. But with you…” She swallowed, looking at Grant. “I like it when you try to protect me. It feels loving. It feels good. It feels right.”

“Then go with that,” Hunter encouraged. “It sounds like your wise mind wants to accept Grant’s chivalry.”

“Oh, wise mind? Like in DBT?”

Hunter began to answer her question, and their shrink babble caused Grant’s mind to drift away. As he thought about chivalry, he once again remembered his childhood.

“C’mon, boys!” Karita hollered from the bottom of the stairs. “We’re going to be late!”

Six-year-old Grant thumped down the stairs, adjusting his scratchy light blue button-down along the way, followed by his eleven-year-old brother. Together they sounded like a thundering herd.

Their mother greeted them with a warm smile. “You boys look so handsome.”

Grant studied his mother’s red dress and cascading blond hair. “And you’re so pretty, Mommy!”

Her smile widened, reaching her sparkling blue eyes.

In a rare show of affection, Logan leaned in and kissed his mother on the cheek.

She looked at her older son with wonder. “Well, thank you, Logan.”

The three stood awkwardly in the foyer until she nodded at the door. “Let’s go. Our dinner reservations are at seven.”

Clutching his Han Solo action figure, Grant scampered out the front door and headed toward the idling car where his father sat in the driver’s seat. He slid into the backseat, followed by Logan. Opening the driver’s side car door, Enzo stepped out looking dapper in his black suit. He glided around the hood of the car, arriving just before his wife. Smiling, he opened the passenger-side door as his eyes swept appreciatively over her body.

“You look
bellissima
, honey,” Enzo said, then nuzzled in to plant a kiss on Karita’s neck.

Grant grinned. It was a good night.

“I’m sorry, Grant,” Hunter said. “We must be totally boring you with all this talk about dialectical behavioral therapy.”

Shaking his head, Grant blushed. “I sort of stopped listening, sir.”

Hunter chuckled. “I like your honesty. Let’s see, where were we? Talking about feminism and chivalry?”

Sophie perked up. “Oh! Speaking of women’s rights, I helped score some points for our side yesterday at work.” Turning to Grant, she added, “I haven’t had a chance to tell you about this yet. You gotta hear this story.” She giggled. “Tanya, Nora, and I cooked up a little plan to get back at David.”

“Tanya’s your colleague?” Hunter asked. When Sophie nodded, he asked, “Who’s Nora?”

“She’s a grad student in the counseling psych program—Tanya’s advisee. Grant met her when he visited me at work. Anyway, it seems David had begun to play his game with Nora already—flirting with her, trying to get her to like him. Pretty soon he’d lower the boom and break her heart by telling her he’s happily married and she naively misconstrued his intentions. But we wanted to lower the boom on
him
first.”

Her grin was devilish.

“What happened?” Grant leaned forward expectantly.

“Well, we had Nora in Tanya’s office, giving her a pep talk,” Sophie began to explain.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Nora protested. “What if I laugh or something?”

Tanya frowned. “Nora, remember how angry you were when Sophie and I told you what happened to us? How David totally led us on and then pretended like we desperately made it all up?”

She narrowed her eyes. “The pompous prick.”

Sophie laughed. “Keep up that attitude, and you’ll be just fine.”

Taking a deep breath, Nora nodded and patted her book bag for reassurance. Then she left, heading to David Alton’s office.

“Do you think this’ll work?” Tanya asked when she’d gone.

“Yeah, he’s too self-absorbed to suspect anything,” Sophie said. “Of course the prettiest grad student in the incoming class would be fawning all over him. He’ll eat it right up.”

Tanya rolled her eyes at Sophie. “We must take him down.”

Receiving a nod of agreement, Tanya switched gears, knowing it would be a while before Nora returned. “Hey, could you help me with a manuscript? This abstract is just not sounding right.”

“Sure,” Sophie replied. They worked on the journal article for about twenty minutes before Nora burst back through the door, sporting a huge grin.

“Oh my God!” Nora laughed gleefully. “He was like putty in my hands!”

“Did the recorder work?” Tanya inquired.

“Let’s see,” Nora said, extracting a small digital voice recorder from her bag. “It’s a good thing David required us to buy these for doing assessments.” She pressed the play button, and her tentative voice came across quite clearly on the recording.

“Um, Dr. Alton? Do you have a minute?”

“Of course, Nora. Please come in. What can I do for you?”

There were muffled sounds of the student sitting down, making herself comfortable. “This is when I hiked up my skirt a little,” Nora said with a chuckle. Her voice on the recording resumed.

“Well, I need some help with a research idea. I tried to ask Tanya about it, but she doesn’t have experience in this area.”

“Tanya’s rather young,”
David answered in a knowing tone.
“It helps when you’ve been doing research for over twenty years. I’d offer to be your advisor, but I have a long waiting list of advisees already.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, but I’ll try to make it through with Tanya. Anyway, I know you’ve done some research on marriage, right?”

“Yes. I’ve administered personality assessments to thousands of married couples.”

“Wow! Well, I want to study how acculturation affects marital satisfaction in Mexican-American couples.”

“Sí, bueno,”
he said.
“Sounds interesting. One truth I’ve learned in all my years of academia is that we tend to conduct research on personally vexing subject matter.”
He paused
. “So, Nora, is that true for you?”

She cleared her throat uncomfortably.
“Um, is
what
true, Dr. Alton?”

“I heard you’re recently divorced, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Your ex-husband must have been an idiot to let go of a girl as pretty as you.”

“I had no idea what to say to that!” Nora interjected, hitting the pause button. “I was totally blushing.”

She hit play and David’s voice continued.

“But what I’m trying to ask is, are you researching marriage to make sense of what went wrong in your own?”

“Stop the tape!” Tanya demanded.

Nora quickly clicked the button.

“That is
highly
inappropriate of him to ask you that question,” Tanya continued.

“I thought so,” Nora said.

“Yeah, it’s like he’s your therapist, not your professor,” Sophie added. “I hope you didn’t feel pressured to answer that.”

Nora grinned. “You’ll hear how I handled the question.” She rewound the recording a bit and pressed play again.

“Are you researching marriage to make sense of what went wrong in your own?”

“I could ask the same of you, David,”
Nora said.
“You study marriage—why is that?”

“Touché,”
David responded.
“I’ve found that marriage can be quite complex and difficult—I guess I want to examine it and pick it apart in my research, to try to make sense of it all.”
He chuckled.
“Though I’m twenty-five years into my own marriage and still as clueless as ever. Ah, one second.”
The sound of David’s chair squeaking came through clearly on the recording.
“Here’s the old ball and chain now—sending me a text.”
After a pause, David emitted a long-suffering sigh.
“She wants me drive to Wisconsin this weekend to visit her parents.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“To visit those windbags? Hardly. Besides, I have some writing to do. My wife will never understand the demands of acadème. I bet you’d understand, though, Nora. You wouldn’t be incessantly nagging your man to spend every waking hour with you.”

“That’s enough,” Sophie said. “I don’t want to hear any more.”