Binding Arbitration (43 page)

Aidan assured the staff that everything was fine. Clarice was the first to speak. “You didn’t tell me you had a wife. Which is bad enough, but you didn’t have a relationship with your child. You didn’t support her. I don’t know you.” She grabbed the corner of the tablecloth to blot her eyes just as Aidan handed her a handkerchief. She honed in on him, blowing her nose into it. “You carry hankies, and you’re not gay?”

Aidan adjusted his stance. “I think this was entertainment enough for one restaurant for one afternoon. Let’s go, babe. You four grownups can clear this all up without upsetting Libby.” He helped me into my coat and toted me through the café by the wrist; my bright blue plaid wool heralding our departure.

He stepped out onto the busy sidewalk and said, “Okay, your mother is certifiable. And she might need a choke collar.”

“How’d you know to come?” I asked through the glare of the glass building that was under construction across the street.

“Dr. Seuss mentioned, very nonchalantly, that your father was going to be at lunch, when he checked on Cass this morning. He thought you and your father were estranged—not strangers. I knew it would be a catastrophe, and I wanted to avoid any more crap hitting the fan in public.”

I pulled up short and burst out laughing a nerve-filled; tension-relief laugh, but Aidan drew his brows together. I laughed again. “He’s a plumber. Can they fix shit on fans?”

Aidan walked to the hot dog vender on the corner and held up his fingers for two. “So, why’d he do it?”

I tried to pretend that I didn’t understand, but he gave me the Palowski stare down. “He couldn’t deal with my mother; I was a tie he had to sever to escape her.”

“So it wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m not going to be defined by someone I never knew.” I said around a mouthful of hotdog. “If he didn’t want me, no matter what the reason, it was his loss.”

“He left you because he was selfish—he loved himself more than you. I left you because I loved you more than everything else put together, and that scared the hell out of me.”

“I just realized that in there. What about now?”

His dimpled smile took his face. “You still scare the hell out of me, but I’m not afraid to come onto the field anymore. All I can do is play my heart out, and hope you’ll forgive me and stay in the game with me.”

“It’s good that you’re an experienced player.”

“When I look at Cass, I think about the moments I’ve missed, and I wonder how I’ll make it up to him.”

“This can’t be fun for you to watch, either. Thank you for coming to my rescue, even if I didn’t need to be rescued.”

“I’d do anything to keep you from hurting, even man up to my own mistakes.” He watched pedestrian traffic for a few moments while I gathered my own thoughts. “You know I won’t ever be able to live without you now.” He smiled.

“I lied to myself for a long time about you and my child, but deep down, I was tortured about it.”

“Yeah, but all those thirty-two triple Ds helped you through,” I said to lighten the mood.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, because I have something even funnier to show you.” He opened Tank’s door and belted me in before climbing behind the wheel. He threw his hot dog wrapper over his shoulder into the back, before he pulled out some sheets of paper from under his seat and handed them toward me. “That is going to be on the cover of the LA Times tomorrow morning. Someone at the paper emailed it to Fletch and me after you missed the breaking news.”

It was a mug shot of a blonde. I scrutinized it closer, realizing it was Vanessa Vanderslut. Laughter became a fountain surging out of me. She looked like pond scum, her hair was atop her head in a stringy ponytail, which revealed hair extensions and reminded me of CoCo. Her white wife-beater was dirty and tattered. Worst of all, her mascara was black oil tracks around her eyes, and her lipstick had taken a sprint off her lips, making new lanes around the edges. I hooted so hard that I thought my sprinkler might spray all over the seats. “That is absolutely her best shot.” I continued to laugh, but when Aidan didn’t join the rousing cheer, I slowed trying to match his serious expression. “What did she get arrested for?”

“Money laundering, tax evasion, and resisting arrest.”

“Resisting arrest?”

“They tried to pick her up this morning, but she snuck out the back of the house and tried to check herself into Cedar Sinai medical center. She claimed to be suffering from a severe sinus infection. The cops didn’t appreciate the high speed chase from one side of LA to the other but TMZ did. It was telecast live on FOX, CNN and MSNBC. It made OJ’s orderly parade look like a funeral procession. By the time the police cornered her, her Jaguar was practically totaled. She was driving on a flat tire, she had taken out two street cafes, made a garbage truck drive over a sewer line, which sprouted like Old Yeller spewing refuse from the end of one city block to the next.”

I bit on my lips so I wouldn’t giggle. He wasn’t expressing amusement and I didn’t want to seem insensitive. “What do the other charges stem from?”

“Fletch turned some pivotal information over to a Federal Prosecutor about the Vanderhoff Foundation.”

“Fletch?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, it seems that CUX, the non-profit that was partnering with the Vanderhoff Foundation, was a front for the mob and the free prescription drug cards they were supposed to be giving away to needy families were being sold under the table. Guess who was the one running the show at CUX?”

I couldn’t believe that she would be so stupid. “Who?” I asked calculating how Fletch obtained the info.

“Evan Platt.”

“Evan Platt, CEO of ‘Sexy, Sweet, Sugar Video Company’ and ‘Athletes Gone Bad’?”

“One in the same.”

“So they we’re running a scam. How long have you known?”

“Melinda filled me in the day after she was waiting for us at my house, trying to get a scoop. She knew when she ran the initial story in
Us
, but she didn’t leak it because of the ongoing criminal investigation. Evan continued filtering the money through the foundation, even after he was sent to prison.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to have to lie about your knowledge of it, and I wasn’t going to become involved if I didn’t have to.”

“And why did you become involved now?”

“Because Band-Aid’s Bimbos was one thing, but yesterday I found out she took revenge to a whole new level.” He handed me a piece of newsprint. “This is the cover of the next edition of the
Globe
. The story’s written by Albert Rothstein, the guy who tried to make me look like raw sewage at the press conference.”

I took it with shaking hands. It looked like the anal canker sore was going to have her pound of flesh, even if she hadn’t anticipated chewing on it through iron bars. I unfolded the paper on my lap and ran my hands over the creases, steadying myself. I glanced at him, and then looked down at the grainy black-and-white photo. A giggle bubbled through my caulked lips.

He raised an eyebrow and pulled the truck into the parking garage under Northwestern Hospital. “You find this funny?”

That’s when the floodgates opened, and I snorted so hard I might have peed myself. It took several minutes before I could speak a coherent word. “First off, I had no idea Fletch was so hairy. Someone might think you’re doing an animal rather than your agent. His back has a beautiful arc on it but how did he get his head like this with you riding him from behind?” I turned the piece of paper so I could view it from a different angle as I took in the headline. ‘Attorney Client Privileges’. Before I cracked-up even louder, Aidan tried to wrestle the paper away from me, but I had an excellent grip. He was trying to steer so it was easy to pull the page closer to my face.

“Hey, no fair.” I pointed to the page. “They air brushed out the dimples you have on the side of your butt. Look.” I angled the paper his way still securely holding it.

He tried—unsuccessfully—to snatch it away again. “I do not have a dimple on my butt.”

“Yes you do, on both cheeks.” I smiled at him seductively. “That’s how I’m able to anchor onto you so well.”

He pulled into a handicapped spot. “That’s it.” He lunged for the paper just as I had it small enough to slip into my bra.

I patted the front of my blouse where the instrument of his torture was now safely lodged. “You’re illegally parked.”

“Do you seriously think that’s going to stop me from retrieving the paper, or your goodies?”

I winked, and he lunged over the console this time. He started tickling me, as he planted himself on his knees between my legs. As I wiggled, my skirt slid up my legs, and the top button of my shirt came open, as I twisted another way.

He looked down at my bra. “That’s a written invitation.” The next thing I knew, the seat started reclining and his hand ran down my tights, pushing my shoe off, so he could tickle me at my most vulnerable spot. “You’re going to scream...”

I started panting in anticipation and nodded.

“...uncle.” He slipped his hand up into my armpit.

I was laughing so hard I couldn’t draw air and I bellowed. “Uncle, uncle, uncle.”

He came to a complete halt, but he didn’t remove the finger from my armpit or the ones from the arch of my foot. “Sorry but that’s not enough payment now.”

“Okay, I’ll do whatever you want. Just stop.” I laughed.

His fingers froze and his eyebrows questioned. “Anything?”

“Maybe,” I said hesitantly for the first time.

“Let’s see, first off, you’re going to come to California with me for the holidays.” His fingertip in my armpit charted a new course that was trailing to the edge of my bra. When I didn’t reply fast enough, he used his nails to scratch a path back to my ticklish zone.

“Okay, okay,” I wiggled.

“And you’re going to let me give Cass whatever he wants for Christmas, no matter how outrageous or excessive.”

The tilt of my head riled up the tickle bugs in my arch and I said, “Okay, okay.”

“Finally, you’re going to pull down your bra for me, so I can retrieve the evidence I need for my defamation lawsuit.”

I smiled again. “Lately, you’re sounding way too lawyerly.”

“Have we reached terms?” he asked, his breath washing me.

Once I nodded, he had my shirt unbuttoned. “Peel the bra back nice and slow.” I was certain he would watch me, but he was busy unbelting his jeans, which he shoved down his legs before he even glanced at me. “Now, I want you to show me how long you can hang on to those anchors.” He raised a brow in challenge.

I did what he told me because as Cass would say, he was the boss of me. It didn’t take us very long to reach the point of agreement, and he collapsed on me. I drew in a deep breath. “Was it just me, or did the world move?” I asked.

Aidan’s head came up from the crook of my neck with unnatural speed. “Crap!” He was able to get out before I heard the crunch of metal folding onto metal smoothly.

I pulled the sides of my shirt together just as a car alarm went off. The blaring sound was followed by the strobe lights of two parking lot security guards pulling up alongside Tank in their golf cart. I ducked my head inside my coat and let loose with another round of laughter, while Aidan assembled his clothes. He pealed my lapels back to look at me. “There’s plenty more of this day left, and I’m not done with you yet.”

I opened my car door, got to my feet on the concrete before I stuffed my panties into the front pocket of his jeans. “I know you think your Band-Aids can fix anything, but you need an acme wrap for this. That Beemer’s totaled.”

He tried to snag me, but I leaped toward the elevators. The two security guys were whistling at me and a particularly nippy breeze washed my back side. The back of my coat was in the waistband of my skirt and the tail of my skirt was in the back of one of my thigh highs. I looked back at Aidan who was laughing his ass off at my costuming malfunction. The two security guards were commiserating with him. I waited until the elevator doors closed, before I was able to laugh at myself, and when I did I realized it was a wondrous thing.

31

CALIFORNIA ZEPHYR

The longest journey
Is the journey inwards.
Dag Hammarskjold

Aidan 10:00 p.m.

When I came into the bedroom, Libby was laughing so hard that tears crested her eyes. Cass was tucked in, and I couldn’t imagine anything that could make her laugh like that. She tried to speak, but was unable to form coherent words. She waved her hands up and down in the air before pointing the remote, the screen came alive and I watched as mirth bubbled through her.

“Oh no,” was all I could say as I watched myself swagger around the picture encased in a pink baseball uniform, with six fairies prancing around me throwing glitter and singing a ridiculous theme song. If I didn’t have so much to live for, I’d consider dying of mortification.

She stopped laughing long enough to say, “Madi Tivo’d it.”

“Please no.” I tried to wrestle the remote out of her hand to prevent her from replaying it again.

“The best part, besides the corny lines, is how tight your pants are.” She wiped the tears off her face. “Those fairies pummeled you. No wonder Madi thought you were a butt-head.”

“They’re pixies, not fairies. That’s the commercial I was shooting, when you first demanded a meeting at Gutheries.”

She laughed. “That must have been some hell of a day.”

“I hate to admit it, but they kicked the crap out of me. That’s how I got the shiner. Maybe it was all the fairy dust, but nothing’s been the same since.”

She smirked and hit the play button again. “When Ackermann and the boys in the clubhouse see this, they’re going to make your life miserable.” She fast forwarded the commercial to when I said, “Pixie Power gloves inspire love of the game.”

I lunged for the remote, and we started rolling around on the bed over it, she bit me to make me stop tickling her before I pulled her on top of me, she sat up and held the remote over her head, out of my grasp. I looked up the length of her body hovering over mine. All she had on was a flimsy pink tank top and a pair of boy shorts, and the T-shirt was worn thin. My rough fingertips slid up her thighs, and then my eyes refocused, making her chest my new target. Her nipples reacted under my scrutiny and before she could counter. I had a hold of her in a whole new way. She said, “Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you.”