Bad Behavior (19 page)

“Do you think that’s good enough to confront him with?” Nora asked.

Tanya nodded. “Yes. Great job, Nora. And I know his office hours last a little longer, so let’s do it now while we’re sure he’s available. But first I want to make a copy of this on my computer, just in case.”

She attached a cable to the digital recorder and her hard drive and quickly downloaded the recording.

“So, are we ready?”

Sophie felt suddenly nervous. “Wait, don’t we want to plan this out?”

“I’ve been rehearsing what I’d like to say to that slick bastard for over a year,” Tanya replied. “Let us handle this, Nora. You have more to lose as a student than we do as faculty. C’mon,
chicas!”

Sophie and Nora exchanged amused glances and dutifully followed Tanya down the hall. Once they reached the office, they were grateful to find David alone, typing on his computer.

“Oh, David,” Tanya called in a sing-song lilt. “Could we have a word with you?”

He glanced up and seemed startled to find three self-possessed women standing in his doorway. He squinted his Richard Gere eyes and ran one hand through his Richard Gere hair. “Well, sure, lovely ladies. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He gestured toward the two empty chairs across from his desk and looked back at the three women. “Hmm.” His eyes took on a naughty glint. “Nora, perhaps you could sit on Sophie’s lap?”

Sophie looked stunned.

“Uh, no thanks,” Nora stammered, blushing. She scooted behind the chairs and pointed to them for Sophie and Tanya. “I’ll just stand.”

Wasting no time, Tanya folded her arms across her chest and said, “We’ll all stand.” She glared at David. “We’re here to discuss your wretched behavior with the women in this department.”

He immediately dropped his smug grin. “My…what?”

Tanya had been correct; they didn’t need any preparation. The words came spilling out of Sophie.

“Your behavior has been deplorable, David,” Sophie said. “We’re tired of the mind games you’ve been playing with me, with Tanya, and now with Nora.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Sophie glared at him. “I’m talking about how you shamelessly flirt with young women—mostly students or new faculty—to get them to like you. You lead them on by inappropriately disclosing your own marital woes, trying to forge an intimacy with them. Then when the woman finally flirts back, you pretend like she’s making up the whole thing. You act like she’s some desperate floozy trying to break up your marriage.”

“I do no such thing!” David protested. “Listen, Sophie, if you’re still bitter about me turning you down, when I already told you I had a happy marriage…” His voice trailed off as his eyes locked on to the digital voice recorder Nora had extracted from her book bag.

Delighted in his shocked expression, Tanya snatched the recorder from Nora. “You do no such thing, huh? Let’s see about that.”

Nora and David’s recorded voices filled the office space. As David listened to his compliment about Nora being pretty, he narrowed his eyes. “What girl doesn’t want to hear that she’s pretty?”

“First of all, David,” Tanya said, clicking off the recording. “Nora is forty-one years old. She’s not a girl—she’s a woman. Secondly, it’s
not
okay to comment on the physical appearance of a student like that. As a professor in this department, you have power over her, and that comment could create an intimidating or offensive environment. But that comment was not your worst, by any means. Let’s proceed.”

They played the rest of the recording, this time continuing past David’s comment.
“I bet you’d understand, though, Nora. You wouldn’t be incessantly nagging your man to spend every waking hour with you.”

“It does seem easier to get my graduate work done as a single woman,”
Nora agreed.

“Sometimes I wish I was single,”
David sighed.
“It would certainly make things more interesting around here.”

“This is ridiculous,” David interrupted with blustery anger, and Tanya paused the recording. “You girls are way off base, and you’ve illegally recorded my private conversation. I should report you all to the chair.”

Sophie had been studying his reaction intently. “Why do you look so nervous, David? What’s next on that tape?”

“I’m not nervous. I’m furious! How dare you—”

“Play the tape, Tanya,” Sophie ordered brusquely, and her friend obeyed.

David slumped in his desk chair as his recorded voice spoke again:
“Being married does have its advantages, though.”
There was a faint rustling sound, and suddenly his voice became louder, as if he’d leaned in closer to Nora—and closer to the recorder.
“Like sex any time I want it. It must be tough to be divorced, though you certainly don’t look deprived. What’s your secret, sexy Nora?”

Sophie and Tanya both dropped their mouths open.

“This is totally taken out of context!” David blathered. “She was sitting there with her short skirt, coming on to me—”

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on Nora,” Tanya fumed. “You know you were inappropriate. You know better, David.”

“Listen, I’m sorry if my comments were misconstrued.”

“Misconstrued?” Sophie asked incredulously. “How is a woman
supposed
to take ‘What’s your secret, sexy Nora?’ You know, David, you try to act so suave and subtle in this sick little game of yours. You’ve been playing it for years, and you probably would’ve gotten away with it for even longer, but I’ve dealt with men even more devious than you, so nobody’s going to pull the wool over my eyes. We’re not going to tolerate this from you.”

“That’s right, David,” Tanya confirmed. “Let me see your cell phone.”

David’s mouth dropped open. “No!”

“I bet that text message from your wife never happened. I bet you made it all up as part of your little seduction act.”

“That’s ludicrous!” he spluttered.

Tanya simply shook her head. “If you
ever
try to lead on another woman like this, we’re giving a copy of this recording to your wife.”

He inhaled sharply, narrowing his eyes. “You’ll do no such thing!”

“If you don’t like our way of handling this situation, we can surely go to the university ombudsman and initiate sexual harassment charges,” Sophie countered. “You
might
still be able to keep your job…”

That shut him up quickly, and Tanya added, “Nora’s a student in this program, and we expect you to treat her fairly. If you try to use this against her in any way, the tape goes public—to your wife, to the chair, to anyone we deem appropriate. You will stop hurting women with your games.”

David looked completely defeated. The gray hair and crinkles around the corners of his eyes, which usually added a dash of distinguished allure, now just made him appear aged and weary. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”

“Well, you hurt me. I felt completely embarrassed after you led me on and turned me down,” Sophie informed him, feeling stronger with each word. “I’ve met your wife, and she seems like a really nice woman. She deserves better. Get some help, David.”

The three women rose to leave, and Nora, who’d been quiet up to this point, could not resist a parting comment. “Even though I’m divorced, David, I still have a very stimulating, satisfying sex life.”

With that, the three swiftly departed, barely containing their excitement until they fell into Tanya’s office, where they broke out laughing.

“That was so fun!” Nora exclaimed. “Can we do that again?”

“Hopefully we won’t have to do that ever again,” Sophie said. “Surely he’s learned his lesson.”

“Thank you both so much for saving me from that man,” Nora said, smiling suggestively. “Now I can focus on the Mexican cutie I’ve met.”

“Oh?” Tanya responded with a devilish grin. “Is he ‘your secret’?”

“Careful, Tanya,” Sophie advised. “David may cross the teacher-student boundary, but it doesn’t mean we have to.”

“Ah, I don’t mind,” Nora said. “After what we just went through, I know I can trust you both. His name is Esteban…”

“Do you realize what you just did?” Hunter asked as Sophie finished.

“What?”

“You set some boundaries,” the psychologist responded. “Not only with David, but also with Nora. You insisted that you and Tanya avoid exploiting your power by protecting Nora’s privacy.”

Sophie shrugged, and Grant tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t you see how much progress you’re making?” Hunter prompted. “Crossing a boundary—exploiting your power—was the very reason you were sent to therapy. Violating a sexual boundary with your client was what got you into so much trouble. I think you’ve learned a lot, judging by how you handled the David situation.”

As Sophie tried to process her psychologist’s words, Grant narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting Sophie is the same as
David?”

“There are differences,” Hunter said quickly. “Given David’s repeat offenses, his behavior seems a hell of a lot more premeditated. I think Sophie got in over her head and didn’t realize the implications of her decisions. And the consequences of the boundary-crossing were much more severe for Sophie. She went to prison. David simply got a slap on the wrist and a threat of exposure if he ever does it again.”

“I never would’ve thought to compare my behavior to David’s,” Sophie said, knitting her sculpted eyebrows together. She gave a sad smile. “But you’re right. I exploited my power, and I crossed a sexual boundary with Logan.”

“The difference is you’re learning from your mistakes,” Hunter added.

Feeling acutely uncomfortable, Grant jumped in. “And you shouldn’t have gone to prison for that, Sophie. That’s on Logan—not you.”

She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, and he continued.

“I know how manipulative my brother could be. Maybe he learned that from my father, I don’t know,” Grant said. “But I’m sure Logan exploited you too.” He gazed into the distance. “I remember one time he asked me for a lot of money—he was in deep with some bookie—and when I couldn’t help him, he stormed off. I felt awful, and I wished I had the money to give him. I knew it’d be wrong to enable his gambling addiction, but there was nothing I wanted more than to help him out. I know him. I know how persuasive he could be. And I know it wasn’t all your fault.”

Sophie smiled through a mist of tears. Grant handed her a tissue, and she sniffed. “It seems like I always cry in here.”

“Emotion precedes change,” Hunter explained. “If you’re crying, we’re probably getting to the heart of the matter. You’re doing some good work, Sophie. How’re you feeling?”

“Kind of stupid and guilty.”

“And how are you feeling about the David situation?”

“Vindicated,” she replied immediately.

“You confronted a demon from your past,” Hunter acknowledged appreciatively, “a man who led you to feel shame and unworthiness—a man who hurt you. You confronted him.”

“I guess I did,” Sophie replied, easing into a slow grin.

Hunter looked at Grant. “Is that something you want to feel as well? Vindicated?”

Grant appeared puzzled. “Yes, sir?”

“Then perhaps you need to confront your demon too.”

A sudden understanding dawned on Grant, and his stomach clenched.

“Did you find out from your PO if the visit is permitted?”

Sophie caught on too and protested. “No, he shouldn’t visit his father! Don’t do it, Grant.”

“Officer Stone said the DOC would allow me to visit him, since I’m his son,” Grant said grimly.

“What do you think, Grant? You’ve been making progress too, dealing with the trauma from your father. Your nightmares have decreased, and you can talk about him and your brother more freely now. Do you feel ready for that next step?”

Grant nervously glanced at Sophie and hesitated at her apprehensive gaze. “I’ve been thinking about visiting my father,” he finally confessed. “But I seriously doubt that confrontation would go as well as Sophie’s did.”

“Well, what would be your goals be for visiting him?” Hunter asked. “Sophie reached her goal of stopping a colleague’s inappropriate behavior, but you obviously have no control over your father’s behavior. The one thing you have control over is speaking your mind, regardless of how your father responds.”

“I do have some things I’d like to tell him,” Grant said tentatively.

“I’m sure you do…Sophie, you look upset.”

Her tears had started falling again, and she wiped them away with the balled-up tissue in her fist.

“I’m scared for you,” she said to Grant. “I don’t want you to go. But if you think that’s what you need to do…”

“He’ll be in a cage, Sophie. He can’t hurt me.”

“Physically,” she said. “But what about emotionally?”

Grant bit his lip.

“Maybe we can check with Jerry to see if I could go with you,” she suggested.

“No!” Grant snapped, startling her. “I don’t want you anywhere near that place.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry—it was just an idea,” she said.

“Is this what you were talking about, Sophie?” Hunter asked. “The tension you’re experiencing between wanting to be a strong, independent woman and wanting to be protected by Grant?”

“Yes.” She slowly nodded. “I know how scared he is of his family hurting me—I know he just wants to protect me, but sometimes I want to protect him too.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Grant asked. “Just sit back and let them try to hurt you again?”

“Of course not, Grant,” Hunter answered. “It’s complicated. But we’ll figure it out together.” Glancing at his watch, he added, “Next time. Grant, I want you to write down what you’d like to say to your father, and we’re going to review it in our next session.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant replied, nodding soberly.

Hunter rose, and the couple followed suit. As they began walking out, Grant once again placed his hand on the small of Sophie’s back to guide her. Then he abruptly halted, removing his hand. “Uh, is that okay if I touch you here, um, Bonnie?”

Sophie grinned and guided his hand back to its resting place. “It’s perfect, McSailor. Thanks for asking.”

If you don’t like what you hear, just leave.

Dr. Hayes’ words played over and over in Grant’s head, running in a calming loop as he anxiously made his way to the visitor’s entrance of Gurnee State Penitentiary.

You’re in control now. You’re an adult. He can’t hurt you. Grant added a few of his own reminders to the litany of support. Swallowing hard, he joined the back of the rag-tag line of visitors waiting to enter the prison. As he surveyed the wait ahead of him, Grant was grateful it was only an autumn breeze flapping his jacket, not yet an icy winter wind.

Most of the visitors were shabbily dressed, haggard, and reeking of cigarette smoke. But whatever their scruffy appearance, Grant would’ve given anything to have a visitor like one of them when he’d been incarcerated here. Once his father had forced him to remove Joe Madsen from his list of approved visitors, there was nobody else. It had been a painfully lonely two years.

You have a shield around you. Nothing he says can get to you. You’re an adult now.

Despite the soothing words repeating in his head, Grant’s heartbeat continued to pound in his ears, thumping with a panicked cadence. He looked longingly over to the compact car sitting innocently in the visitor lot, rented for this visit. Drumming his long fingers against his thigh, Grant contemplated running back to that car and hightailing it away from this place that held so many shameful memories.

Then the youthful face of his nephew sprang to mind, and Grant’s throat tightened. If he wanted Ben to escape the destructive forces of this family, he’d have to set the example. He’d have to stand up to them first. He’d have to face his own demons, before those demons sunk their claws into his nephew and dragged him down as well.

The line slowly shuffled forward, and when Grant finally approached the thick steel door held open by a corrections officer, he stole one last glance behind him at the parking lot before inhaling deeply and stepping into the dimly lit concrete structure. Greeting him was a familiar smell: the woven vapors of mildew, sweat, and fear—which instantly unsettled him.

When it was his turn to sign in, he reluctantly handed one CO his driver’s license and submitted to a pat-down by another officer.

Peering at the ID, the CO told his partner, “Hold it, this one’s not going in.” He glared at Grant and pointed to the bright red letters stamped across his driver’s license: REGISTERED OFFENDER. “Parolees can’t visit prisoners, you idiot.”

The other CO nodded, squinting at Grant. “Oh, yeah, I remember you. Back so soon?”

“Yes, officer,” Grant said, keeping his head down. Thankfully neither CO had been involved when he experienced his psychotic break in solitary. He bit his lower lip, slowly pulling a folded letter from the inside pocket of his jacket. “This is a letter from the DOC attesting to the special permission I’ve been granted to visit my father.”

The CO grabbed the letter and studied it carefully. “It looks legit.”

But the other guard still looked suspicious. “We don’t got no prisoners named Madsen here. Who’s your dad?”

Grant took a deep breath. “Vicenzo Barberi.”

Their eyes bugged out and one officer said, “No shit?”

“Yes, sir.”

They stood gaping for a moment, then one officer grasped Grant’s arm and cocked his head toward the visitation area. “Let’s go, then, Mr. Barberi.”

Grant winced.

As they walked toward the cages, the CO suddenly became chatty. “Why’d you keep your family ties secret, Madsen? Your dad could’ve provided protection in here.”

Grant pursed his lips. “I’ve never wanted to be part of them. But I couldn’t get away.”

“They responsible for you doing time?”

Grant cast a sideways glance at the officer. “Something like that, yes, sir.”

“That your brother who was murdered, then?”

Looking down as they arrived at the cage, Grant replied, “Yes, sir.”

“My buddy Carl was the one your dad popped when he heard the news. Barberi broke his damn nose. As far as I’m concerned, he should
still
be in the hole for that stunt.”

“Sorry about that,” Grant offered, not knowing what to say.

Frowning, the officer said, “Have a seat, Madsen. Your old man will be along any second now.” Leaning in once Grant sat down, he added, “And if he gives you any trouble, you come get me. I’d love to send the asshole back to the hole.”

Grant looked up, surprised and bolstered by the CO’s kindness. “Thank you, sir.”

The CO turned to leave but then paused. “So why now? Why you visiting him now?”

Swallowing, Grant blushed. “Some stuff went down between me and my dad a long time ago, and my shrink—my PO ordered me to see one—he thought it’d be a good idea for me to get some things off my chest.”

“Oh, Lord.” The CO cracked a big grin and looked skyward. “You’re taking advice from a shrink? Good luck with that.”

The officer chuckled as he walked away, and Grant found himself smiling, which released some of his built-up tension—and also surprised him. He hadn’t expected much to smile about today. This whole scenario was preposterous and likely ill-advised. Why the hell he was going through with it? But it was too late to back out now; he heard the jangling keys and the sliding cell door that announced another inmate’s arrival for visitation. Feeling his stomach twist with fear, he instinctively stood. His smile vanished and his eyes became glued to the chained prisoner two COs guided into the cage reserved for the most violent offenders.

Though his father was sixty-one years old, there was nothing aged or feeble about him. He emanated ferocity, even chained and locked up in a cage. The gray had further invaded the black of his thick hair, and the hard lines of his face had etched deeper into his skin, but the coal eyes looked exactly the same as they had five months ago when Grant had last seen him, just before he’d been released on parole. His father would never be released, thankfully.

As father and son sat down, separated by the metal cage between them, they stared at each other for several moments. Grant felt his heart racing, and beads of sweat dripped down his spine, but he also felt a sense of resolve, which kept his anxiety from blooming into panic. He nervously licked his bottom lip and clenched his hands into fists.

You’re an adult now. He can’t hurt you.

Slowly shaking his head, Enzo was the first to speak. “I can’t
believe
you’re wearing that White Sox jacket. You should burn that fucking thing.”

Grant felt a sliver of relief at his father’s attempt at humor. Enzo had been a die-hard Cubs fan all his life. In response, Grant had become an ardent supporter of the rival White Sox, Uncle Joe’s beloved team.

“It’s my favorite jacket.” Grant held his breath, staring into those piercing eyes, but he exhaled after his father smirked.

“Figures.” Enzo paused for a moment, eventually admitting, “I’m glad you came.”

Grant’s crystal eyes showed surprise and then determination. “I have some things to say to you.”

Enzo arched one eyebrow. “I’ve got some things to tell you too. It’s why I asked you here. Grant, I—”

He was interrupted by his son extracting a folded paper from his jacket. Knitting his bushy gray eyebrows together, Enzo asked suspiciously, “What’s that?”

“I wrote down some things I wanted to tell you,” Grant explained, smoothing the folds of the paper.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Enzo’s mouth. “We’ll get to that. What I have to say is important—”

“This is important too!” Grant shook the paper for emphasis.

Enzo looked dismayed. He wasn’t accustomed to men challenging him, and he intended to quash such rebellion immediately.

“You listen to me, Grant. We’ve got limited time here. I may be locked up in a cage, but you show some respect, damn it. You
will
respect me.”

His father’s icy tone sent a ripple of fear through Grant’s chest, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Flashes of his father’s belt buckle gleaming in the kitchen light pushed at the corners of his mind, freezing him in place. His entire body tensed, and his eyes took on a far-off look.

“I want to talk about…Logan,” Enzo continued, ignoring his younger son’s lack of eye contact. “I know you two were never close. You boys couldn’t have turned out more different—but what you did for him, well, it was simply…
sorprendente
.”

Grant stared at his hands as they twisted in his lap.

Enzo frowned. “Look at me when I talk to you.”

Aquamarine eyes snapped upward, startled, and Enzo was bowled over by their crystalline beauty. He remembered those big blue eyes staring up at him with abject fear. But he’d only done what he had to do. His role as disciplinarian had come from necessity—just as his own father had done his duty to keep him in line. It was the natural order for fathers and sons.

Having difficulty speaking while looking into those vulnerable eyes, Enzo cleared his throat.

“I want to thank you for what you did.” His expression morphed from sincerity to fury. “My son was taken from me,” Enzo fumed, his mouth tightening, “and I craved vengeance. I had to have my vengeance.
You
got that for me, Grant. You avenged my son’s death, and I want to express my gratitude. I’m deeply proud of you.”

Completely overwhelmed, Grant focused on his neat handwriting, catching the one-word instruction at the top of the page:
Breathe.
He opened his mouth and gulped in some stale prison air.

“You’re proud of me because I
killed
a man? Because I killed my own cousin?”

“Your cousin was a scum-of-the-earth piece of shit,” Enzo raged. “You made the world a better place by taking him off it.”

Grant kept breathing deeply. “Carlo was messed up, I’ll give you that, but let’s not forget he had some help getting there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What that means is Carlo stood by and watched a seven-year-old boy, Tony Fanocelli, bleed out in front of him—a boy
you
killed. And now you’re paying the consequences for that crime. You’ll never leave this prison.”

Enzo’s eyes narrowed, and a hint of a smile crept onto his lips.

“Watching that boy bleed to death screwed Carlo up for the rest of his life,” Grant finished.

Enzo’s jaw dropped. “Are you trying to blame
me
for Carlo?”

“You and Uncle Angelo,” Grant said. “Though it looks like Angelo won’t be around much longer to shoulder the blame. You and Angelo destroyed Carlo—Logan too, for that matter—and I’m not going to sit by and let you destroy me as well.”

“I
loved
Logan!”

“You loved him?” Disbelief coated Grant’s voice. “No, you didn’t. You hated him. You hated me and Mom too—you hated all of us.”

“How on earth could you say that?” Enzo lifted his chained wrists to emphasize his point. “I sacrificed everything for my family!”

“This wasn’t about us—this was
never
about us!” Grant sneered. “It’s always been about you—what you wanted. You chose alcohol over us. You chose crime over us.”

“I did what I had to do to provide for my family. Come back and talk to me when you have your own family! You’ll see how hard it is. You’ll see the tough choices you have to make.”

Grant leaned closer to the cage. “I’ll never become an alcoholic. I’ll never beat my wife or children. I’ll never steal or threaten or kill innocent people and then pretend I did it for my family.” He clenched his jaw. “I’ll never become you.”

Enzo blinked his incensed black eyes several times, and then his voice came, low and menacing. “You ungrateful little shit. You’d be lucky to become
half
the man I am. I continue to be amazed by how far astray fucking Joe Madsen has led you.”

He leaned forward as well, straining against the chains.

“This is what you’ve come to tell me today? This is why you’re here? To bite the hand that feeds you? Here I wanted to express my gratitude, and you’ve come only to insult me with your
complete
lack of respect!”

That snarling, hateful voice sent Grant reeling once again, fighting for self-control. He glanced again at his paper, smoothing it out with a trembling hand.

“No,” he forced out. “I didn’t come here to insult you.”
Breathe.
“I came here for some answers.”

He tried to focus on the words swimming before his eyes, and keeping his head down, he began reading in a quivering voice.

“Dear Dad, I feel like I have so much to say to you, but I have no idea how to say it.”

Shocked that his son was actually reading a letter to him, Enzo was speechless.

Unsteadily, Grant soldiered on. “I wish things could’ve been different between us. I wish you didn’t leave us and go to prison when I was eight—now I feel like I don’t even know you. I wish you would’ve made Logan live with us instead of with Uncle Angelo, because I didn’t get to know my brother either, and now he’s—” Grant gulped “—gone.

“I wish I wanted to come visit you in prison, but I don’t really want to be here. And when I got arrested and was forced to be here with you, I wish you would’ve taken care of me instead of threatening me and cutting me off from the only father I’ve ever known.”

Grant’s voice continued trembling, but he kept the tears at bay. “But wishing doesn’t make it true. I wish I could stop wishing for things to be different and just accept the way things are.”

He slowly lifted his eyes to sneak a peek at his father. Expecting him to be full of rage, Grant was astonished by Enzo’s pained expression. The hard lines of his face had softened momentarily.

Sniffing, Grant wasn’t sure if he should continue, but since his father remained quiet, he added, “I have so many questions for you—I know most won’t get answered, but I have to ask them. I have to try.” He took a deep breath. “Did you want to get married?”

Enzo stiffened. “Yes.”

“Did you love Mom?”

“Of course,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Then why, Dad?” The corners of Grant’s eyes turned down mournfully. “Why did you hit Mom—”