Binding Arbitration (30 page)

“That shouldn’t have happened, we got carried away…”

I pressed my mouth to hers. She fought me only until our tongues met and then she surrendered. When my palm scraped the tip of her breast she was panting as rhythmically as I was. “I’m going to carry you away again.”

She bit my tongue. I instinctually ground my wool clad hips into hers. Her legs fell open inviting the intimate embrace and I pressed myself against her softest recess.

Her fingernails grazed my groin, which prompted me to grind harder. When she moaned, I groaned, literally losing it. “Crap.”

She cried out, “Yes.” We both lay silent for minutes, she giggled. “When was the last time that happened to you?”

“I don’t remember the exact date.” I looked at her abashed, “But you’ll be happy to know it was with you.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I came all over you. I’m impressed you held out this long.”

“I was in complete control…until… You’re making me crazy, all right. I want you so bad that I’m trigger happy. Christ Almighty.” I was glad it was dark in the garage because I knew I was beet red. “Libby, when this happens between us I want to make sure it means something.”

“Yeah, it means we’re just as physically attracted to each other as we were back then.”

“It was more then, and it’s more now. I don’t know how I’m going to convince you of that, but you can be sure I’ll prove it before ‘all of it’ happens.”

* * *

The dismissal bell outside Queen of All Saints startled me. While I was waiting for Cass, I was doing anything that could keep my mind off of me and Libby in the back seat yesterday.

A long stretch limo caught my eye as it lumbered down the suburban street toward Tank. The driver opened the door, and Vanessa slipped out of the vehicle.

I gnashed my teeth. Better to be rid of the snake lurking behind the glassy smile, before the opportunity to bare her fangs and strike when I was indisposed in the hospital came.

“You’ve been trying to reach me?” She hiked her skirt up, exposing her bare thighs. I didn’t feel a thing. My libido had recalibrated itself and was now focused on a solitary target.

“A phone call would have sufficed. I’m waiting for someone, and I’d prefer you to be gone before they arrive.”

“Has your Libby gone in for confession?”

“Don’t embarrass yourself with anymore full page ads. Breach of Promise is off the books in Illinois, but I’m not opposed to getting a restraining order to keep you away.”

“I still have those very interesting photos.”

“And I know that Non-For-Profit Wesley Statham set up isn’t above board. The company partnering with the Vanderhoff Foundation, CUX, is a front for the mob. Those free discount prescription drug cards, which are supposed to be for low income families, are being siphoned off by CUX. There might be evidence that they’re selling them outright. If not, they’re using them to launder money through your foundation. I have a suspicion you’ve known about it for months.

“One phone call and you’ll be up to your neck in federal charges that even daddy won’t be able to bail you out of. Not to mention the negative publicity. You know how the press loves to make fun of you.”

“You’ve been doing your homework.” She pulled a cigarette out of her oversized bag, fishing around for a lighter. “Did Libby the lawyer find this out for you?”

“Libby’s an officer of the court. If she knew, you’d already have federal prosecutors after you.” I eyed her. “Don’t you dare light that offensive thing in my new car.”

She put the cigarette to her lips anyway, but let it dangle there. “What on earth can you possibly want from her?”

“A life full of honesty, commitment, and happiness.”

“You’ll be boning someone else by the end of the month.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want her.”

“Oh my God.” She drew her hand to her face as if I had slapped her. “You’re in love with the little nobody?”

“She’s somebody to me. What do you know about love? You were screwing some movie producer in San Francisco. Is that your idea of love and fidelity?”

She looked away for a moment, not bothering to deny it. “Whatever I did, I did for my career, including you. Daddy said I needed a respectable husband.”

“Slither up someone else’s spine. Get out, my charge has arrived.” I made my way around the car, opening her door. She was standing at the curb when Cass started up the sidewalk; she looked him over before she looked back at me.

“This is bigger than enhanced pictures.” She smiled cat-like. “If you think you can keep him a secret you’re crazy.”

I pulled her away from the door, slamming it. I opened Cass’ door and lifted him. As soon as I picked him up, he wrapped his arms around me. “I missed you, Mister Pole-ow-ski.”

“I missed you, too.” I looked between my shallowest concept of love and the strongest bond. I was willing to dig deep to keep the latter.

Vanessa continued to wait. “How badly do you want to keep his identity a secret?” she whispered.

“I don’t have to hide the things I’m proud of.”

As I drove away, I realized I was on the verge of a love affair with my own child. And like any sweet object of affection, he could make my heart sing with anticipation. I was giddy with the excitement of seeing him, of playing with him, of getting to know him a little bit better than the day before. Sometimes when I was with Cass, I felt my late brother Andy’s presence. That was another blessing Cass had given my life.

“Mister Pole-ow-ski, that lady has snake eyes. Who is she?”

“Her name is Vanessa, and she used to be…a friend.”

“Was she your girlfriend?”

“Yes, she was.”

Snake eyes, skinny thighs. Small brain, bigger pain.

“You know, Cass, sometimes we give the wrong people too much slack, and the right people, we judge too harshly.”

Cass thought for moments. “Judgment comes from experience, and sound judgment comes from bad experience.”

I looked at him from the rearview mirror, shocked.

He hunched up his shoulders in an I-don’t-know gesture. So through some scheduled lab tests and playing in the park, a six- year-old explained a philosophy that I was just starting to understand, myself.

6 p.m.

We met Libby in front of the red and white neon sign for Italian Village. Cass spun through the revolving door twice before bounding up the white limestone stairs that my parents had been climbing for more than thirty years.

Libby was too busy fidgeting with her clothes, buttoning and unbuttoning her suit jacket to notice the maitre d’s admiration as he took her coat.

I pushed her hands away from her waist and took it up myself. “You’re beautiful.” I draped her hair over her shoulder and kissed her. “I promise they won’t eat you.”

“They’ll probably want to skin me, skewer me, and roast me first,” she whispered looking over her shoulder. “They don’t eat small children, do they?”

Cass was watching the miniature model of an illuminated Ferris wheel spinning in time with ‘Moon in the Sky Like a Big Pizza Pie.’ The long narrow interior reminded me of the crowded streets of Rome, but the room opened up like a Piazza with a bubbling fountain in the center of the uneven cobbles. An Italian countryside landscape roved along the wall. Our private booth had an overhanging tile roof, almost as if we were on a secluded veranda of an Italian Villa.

My parents sat on one side of the booth, the back of which ran to the ceiling, enclosing the small room so they couldn’t stand. They both smiled shaking first Libby’s hand, then Cass’. My father smiled with his initial perusal of Libby, before he looked at me and winked.

I leaned across the table, kissing my mother, and then shook my father’s hand. “Where’s Avery?”

My mother frowned for a moment, drawing her gaze away from Libby. “Your brother decided to take the red eye.” She nudged my father to supply an explanation, but he didn’t.

My mother studied Cass. I knew she was mentally cataloging the similarities. He looked like me—and Andy. Her eyes misted over; my father gave her a gentle squeeze before pouring wine.

“Cass, I hear Aidan has become your nanny. What kind of a job is he doing?” Mr. Palowski quizzed.

“He’s great, Mister”—Cass scrunched up his nose thinking, and then he pointed toward me. “I call him Mister Pole-ow-ski, what should I call you?”

“Call me Mr. Palowski two.” He held up two digits.

Aidan’s mother chimed in. “Sometimes I just call him old fart, but your mother might not want you to say fart.”

Cass giggled. “Mr. Pole-ow-ski is real big on manners, and he might think that’s disrespectful. What do you think, Mom?”

Libby almost had her wine glass to her lips and she set it down considering the options. “I think that you could call Aidan, Aidan and then you could call his father Mr. Palowski.”

“I think I like Mr. Pole-ow-ski one and Mr. Pole-ow-ski two, kind of like Thing One and Thing Two,” I chimed in.

The waiter greeted us in Italian before taking our order, and when he walked away the tiny arched recess grew quiet. My mother broke the silence. “Libby, Aidan said you take a lot of
pro
bono
cases. He mentioned you assisted the woman seeking asylum at St. Ignatius Church. That’s national news.”

“I’m still working on the deportation side of it, but that wasn’t a
pro bono
case. Aidan paid me to do it. He just hasn’t received the bill yet.”

My father looked to me, then back to Libby. “‘So shine the good deed in a weary world’.” He smiled. “What about your regular practice? Do you enjoy that?” He asked.

“The court room is enjoyable, but the clients are hit or miss. I was hoping to make partner this year, but my boss might prevent that. I’d like to help people in real need instead of the privileged few who can afford our services.” She met my father’s eye. “No insult intended.”

“None taken. What issues does your boss have? He should be ecstatic with the positive PR from such a high profile case.”

“Right now he requires oral surgery, thanks to your son.” She smiled cushioning the blow.

I ground my teeth together and clenched my hand into a fist. “He’s lucky it was only two teeth,” I said stiffly.

“You don’t mean he’s harassing you?” My mother’s face was indigent. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Physically harassing?” she asked appalled.

“Discrimination in all of its varying forms is alive and well in every law firm in this city.”

My mother mulled over that for several moments. “I didn’t think that kind of thing went on anymore.”

Cass was busy coloring on the heavy white paper table cloth. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pole-ow-ski. My mom can handle Rat Bastard. Aunt Vicki helps her and if that doesn’t work…” He pointed toward me. “He’ll intimi, intimi, what’s that word again?” He turned to me.

“Intimidate.”

“Yeah, he’ll intimidate him.” Cass chortled.

“I agree with the sentiment, if not the exact wording.” My mother conceded, laughing and winking at Cass.

Libby and I exchanged a glance, communicating a need for discussion with Cass about appropriate sharing of confidences. I looked up to find my parents exchanging mirrored expressions.

I was saved from further parental examination by dinner. We talked about baseball, Cass’ school, his friend Madi (he did recount the barf story and the fact that I’m now Band-Aid Butt-Head) and his ongoing love affair with Lori the teacher’s aide. My parents were captivated with him and content to question him throughout dinner. When the plates had been cleared, and I wiped most of the spaghetti off of Cass’ face, my mother reached under the table. “I have something for you Cass.”

“My birthday was awhile ago, Mrs. Pole-ow-ski.” Cass tore the paper from the box. He pulled out a Sponge-Bob hospital gown, followed by a Scooby Doo one, both with matching drawstring pants.

“Aidan told me that you’re going to be in the hospital for a while; these are made out of flannel, and I thought that you might like them more than the boring hospital patterned ones.”

Cass smiled from ear to ear. “They’re awesome.”

Libby touched the soft fabric. “Where did you find them?”

“I made them myself. Look.” My mother showed Cass where his initials were sown in the collar.

Libby said, “That’s so considerate.”

“I hope you’ll let us know what else we can do to help.”

While my father and I grappled over the check, my mother whipped out her credit card and gave it to the waiter.

I thought my parents were going to stay at my house, but they informed us that they had taken a hotel room because they wanted to be closer to the hospital. Translation: they wanted to give us privacy.

As the valet was bringing Tank around, I asked if we could drop them off, but they insisted on taking a cab.

I had Cass in my arms, when I bent toward my mother so she could say goodbye. She pecked Cass’ cheek, too.

“See Mr. Pole-ow-ski, moms are kissing machines! Even yours and you’re all growed up. You were supposed to help me out of that, not get me more.” He smiled his dimpled grin.

My mother’s eyes were tear-rimmed. “We’ll see you at the hospital tomorrow morning. I love you, son.” My father spun around toward us pocketing his cell phone.

“Dammit, I’m going to kill that kid.” I was glad that I had already put Cass in the car. My father rarely lost his temper, but when he did it was a sight to behold. “I need to go get Avery,” he ground out.

“Is he at the airport?” my mother asked.

“No, lockup, courtesy of Chicago’s finest.”

I turned toward Libby. “You drop my mom at her hotel and then go home with Cass. I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

She looked confused for a minute then she shook her head. “What if you need a lawyer?”

“If whatever he’s gotten himself into requires an attorney, he might be spending the night. I’ll explain everything when I get home.” I kissed her goodbye as I slipped into the cab my father had hailed.

24

APPEAL PLAY

The truth is always the strongest argument. Sophocles

Libby

I came awake as Aidan slipped into my room and removed his jacket and tie. “What happened with Avery?”