Breaking the Rules (31 page)

“I was trying to hide it,” Ben told her. “I was embarrassed. Besides, I thought it was over. I thought I was safe.”

It was a magic word,
safe
. He was thankful Izzy had told him to use it.

But maybe he’d used it too often, because the cop—Officer Kellen was
his
name—tilted his head, and said, “Your father’s insisting that your brother-in-law, Irving Zanella—coached you as to what to say to us.”

Ben shook his head, no. “Izzy told me how to ask for help,” he said. “And he told me to be honest. That’s all.”

“This is a big deal, son,” Kellen said. “So if you’re
not
being honest—”

“I am,” Ben said. “And while I really appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me, would you mind, very much, not calling me
son
? I have a problem with people who really aren’t that much older than me trying to be paternal. Or maybe you’re playing the folksy card—trust me, it’s not working. And as long as I’m being bitchy here about what we call each other? Greg Fortune is
not
my father. He says he legally adopted me? If he did, I didn’t have a say in it.”

Kellen sighed again as he flipped through the pages of notes he’d taken with his ridiculous stub of a pencil. “And you think if you went home with him …?”

“I have no doubt, whatsoever,” Ben said, holding the police officer’s steady gaze, “that he would send me back to Crossroads—and that I’ll spend tonight cuffed to a bed, too.”

Kellen glanced at the nurse. “I gotta be honest. This is a new one, for me. The father—Greg—is saying the same thing. But he claims it’s no different from a military school, that yeah, they’re strict …”

And so much for Ben’s hopes that he’d lucked out and gotten a police officer who’d actually marched in the Pride Parade. But the nurse leaped to his defense.

“This boy ended up in the hospital,” she said sharply, “because this man who claims to be his father neglected to mention that his alleged son was diabetic before sending him to that awful place!”

“He’s contrite about that,” Kellen said. “He said it was an oversight. A simple miscommunication. They’ve now been informed—it won’t happen again. Parents are allowed to make mistakes.” He looked at Ben, and sighed again.

It was over. He’d lost.

And now Ben was going to throw up. Or faint. Or both. He pushed his chair back from the table and put his head down between his knees and breathed as he tried not to shake.

He could feel the nurse’s hand on his back, but she couldn’t help him. It was up to Officer Kellen to decide whether or not he should get the Department of Child Protective Services involved or send Ben back home.

So Ben pushed himself up as far as he could, his elbows on his knees, because Jesus, he could still keel over any second, so he wanted to keep his center of gravity low. And he looked at the man and he begged.

“Please,” he said, with his heart in his throat. “I’m not a bad person. I know I got picked up for truancy yesterday, but that was because my stepfather hit me, and I was staying with my sister, and I was afraid he’d find me if I went to school. The detectives scared me, and I ran. I shouldn’t’ve—I know that. But it hasn’t happened before, and it won’t happen again. My grades are okay, I keep my head down, and I don’t get into trouble. The only thing I’m guilty of is being gay. Being honest about it. And that’s not going to change by being tied up, or starved or sleep-deprived. That’s what they do there—at Crossroads. There’s another boy in there. He was in my cell for a few hours last night—he was tied up, too. His name is Peter Sinclair—write that down, too, okay? Sinclair. He’s been there for months, against his will. He was tied up by his feet because his wrists were bandaged—he told me he tried to kill himself so he’d get sent to the hospital, but they didn’t let him go. They’re withholding food from him and they’re keeping him from sleeping, too—they moved him out of the cell before I woke up. What they’re doing
isn’t
being strict—it’s fucked up.” He glanced at the nurse. “Excuse me. But it is. And it’s abuse. And you know what? Even if you could squint your eyes and pretend that it’s an appropriate punishment for kids who are bad, that it’s not that different from what they do at those schools that are called military schools, but have nothing to do with the military and everything to do with discarded kids whose parents can’t handle them? Even if you believe
that
, then you need to ask yourself if I really deserve to be punished for doing nothing worse than simply being me.”

Officer Kellen was clenching his teeth, the muscle jumping in the
side of his face as he tapped his pencil stub against the name—Peter Sinclair—that he’d just written on a fresh page of his notepad.

“Please,”
Ben said again. “Go over there and talk to Peter before you let Greg send me back. And maybe? If you have even half of a heart, you’ll get him, and every other kid who doesn’t want to be there out of there, too.”

“Okay,” Jenn said as she closed her phone and came back inside, into the hospital lobby, where Dan was waiting with his sister and Izzy. Dan was sitting with his head back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed. His eyes had been closed, but he opened them now. She knew he was running on empty. He’d fallen asleep midsentence, just a few hours earlier, after she’d given him his requested “massage.” “Here’s what Linda told me.”

“Who’s Linda?” Izzy asked. Apparently the police officer who’d made the scene after the SEAL had had his altercation with Dan’s stepfather had decided that Izzy’s rough treatment of Greg had been warranted. It probably helped that Greg was as Looney Tunes crazy as he looked, and that he truly believed he had the right to use threat of death from a loaded weapon to discipline a teenager. Last Jenn had heard, Ben’s stepfather had been talking to the police officer—Kellen was the young cop’s name—and earnestly insisting that everything he’d done was completely okay. It was tough love. And yes, he was, absolutely, intending to send Ben back to Crossroads, as soon as possible …

“Linda’s the lawyer that Maria recommended.” Eden filled him in as Jenn stuck her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans and sat down next to Danny. “Maria Bonavita—the assemblywoman that Jenn works for? She’s—”

“I know Maria,” Izzy cut her off.

Eden looked at him.

“What?” he said. “I know her. That’s all. We’ve met. I slept on her living-room floor when crazy people wanted to kill her. With Lopez.
He was there. And Tiny Tony V. Danny, too. We told ghost stories, and why am I telling you this?”

“Why
are
you telling me this?” she asked.

Izzy shrugged and turned back to Jenn, who’d flipped her legal pad back to the first page of notes she’d taken during her phone call. “So. Linda the lawyer,” he said. “What did she say?”

“That the Department of Child Protective Services will do everything they possibly can to keep a child with his parents—”

“Even if the parents don’t want him?” Eden asked. “I mean, they
don’t
want him. Not really.”

Izzy reached over and took her hand.

“It’s going to be an uphill climb,” Jenn said. “Our best shot is to present a united front. We’re talking about moving Ben out of state, which is even more questionable from CPS’s standpoint. Linda thought the best possible way to get that kind of custody is to have Eden and Izzy apply, because they’ve been married for almost a year now. There’s stability there—sort of. I mean … um …”

God, this was awkward. She hadn’t thought before she’d spoken. And the way Dan had described it, Izzy had come to Vegas to talk to Eden about getting a divorce. But they acted more like newlyweds, which, of course, Danny believed was just Eden being Eden and messing with Izzy’s mind, but Jenn wasn’t as sure. She saw the way Dan’s sister looked at Izzy, and the way he looked back at her. There was something there.

“That option’s certainly on the table,” Izzy said quietly. “For Ben’s sake, I’d certainly be open to, um, staying together at least a little bit longer.”

Danny cleared his throat, and shot Jenn a look that had shades of
I’m having an aneurism
in it.

She kept her own expression carefully neutral. “Okay,” she said. “That’s good. Linda also thought it would go over well if the plan was for, um, the four of you to share an apartment.”

“Is that … really necessary?” Eden asked.

“It is. Linda also thinks your best shot,” Jenn answered, “is to put
pressure on your mother. She told Dan that it was okay if Ben went to live with him. We need to be sure she knows that Greg is making the noise he’s making, and see if she can’t talk him down. We also need to check to find out if he really did adopt Ben. I’ll be looking into that tomorrow.”

“I’ve called Ivette’s cell phone four times,” Danny reported, checking his cell phone. “And left four messages.”

“Getting in touch with her is a priority,” Jenn said. “Because what we really want is to settle this outside of CPS. As soon as they decide that Ben really is in danger from Greg—and that initial process takes about three days—they’ll launch a full investigation and hold a hearing. But once that happens? There’s no going back. A guardian
ad litem
is appointed, and Ben is put into foster care. If that happens, Linda’s going to find out if we can petition the guardian to let Ben live with you until the hearing, or if we have to actually apply to be foster parents and go through the whole interview process. She’s going to call me back about that.”

“So it’s possible that—if CPS gets involved,” Eden clarified, “Ben will go into foster care, even though we’re sitting right here, waving our arms, begging to take him in?”

“That’s right,” Jenn told her.

“This hearing,” Izzy asked. “It basically all comes down to a judge who decides … Who Ben should live with?”

“Nope,” Jenn said. “It’s all about Greg and Ivette. The judge decides whether or not Ben will be safe if he continues to live with them. The guardian has a lot to say about that. Of course, you’d all get to speak at the hearing—Ben, too. And we can bring in experts—and there’re a lot of them—who agree that being gay isn’t something that can be changed by a place like Crossroads. But ultimately, it’s up to the judge. If he decides that it’s in Ben’s best interest to go home to Ivette and Greg, Ben goes home.”

“And then to Crossroads,” Eden said darkly.

“If the judge decides not,” Jenn said, “then Ben becomes a ward of
the state of Nevada. And it’s only
then
that Izzy and Eden can apply for custody.”

“What if the judge—or the guardian,” Dan asked, “is homophobic?”

“That could be a problem,” Jenn admitted. “I actually anticipated your asking that, and asked Linda to look into the possibility of Ben declaring himself an emancipated minor.” She looked at Eden. “That’s kind of like him divorcing his parents.”

“I know,” she said. She forced a smile. “But thank you for … Thank you.”

They were all silent then, as Jenn flipped through her notes, checking to see if there was anything she could add to what she’d already told them.

Dan cleared his throat again. “How long does it all take?” he asked. “If CPS decides there needs to be a full investigation? How long until the hearing?”

“It happens pretty quickly,” Jenn told him. “We’ll have about thirty days.”

“Thirty days is quick?” Dan asked, laughing his disbelief. “God damn.” He was really shaken. “I’m going to have to get leave, but it’s probably going to be without pay and—”

“I have some money saved,” Eden said.

“I do, too,” Izzy told Dan.

“Still, I’ll need to find someplace to stay.” Dan was in heavy worst-case-scenario mode.

“You can stay with me,” Eden said. “I’ve already paid rent on my apartment through the end of the summer. It’s not like that’ll be an additional expense.”

“But
five
of us?” Dan asked. “In a one-bedroom apartment?” He looked at Jenn and there was such despair in his eyes. “Four, really, because you’re leaving in a week.”

“You know that I can stay longer,” she told him, and he nodded. But she knew he’d never ask her to make that sacrifice.

“We can make this work,” Izzy said.

Dan laughed. “Said the asshole who thinks everything’s fine as long as he’s screwing my sister. Newsflash, Zanella. She’s just not that hard to get.”

“Danny,” Jenn said, purposely keeping her voice mild. “I think maybe
you’re
the asshole.”

Izzy, meanwhile, had clenched both his fists and then opened his big hands wide, in a mock Bob Fosse jazz-hands move. “Not hitting you.”

Eden just looked miserable.

“Sorry,” Dan muttered to her.

“Maybe,” Jenn started, but Dan cut her off.

“Maybe we should just kill Greg,” he said.

“It’s probably better not to joke about that,” Jenn said.

“Who’s joking?”

“Really, Danny. I know you’re upset, but that’s just not—”

“Sorry,” he said again, and he reached for her hand. His eyes were filled with regret and shame and pure desperation. “I
am
sorry.” He pushed himself to his feet. “May I speak to you privately, please?”

“Of course.” Jenn followed him away from Izzy and Eden, over to the sensor-triggered doors that slid open, exposing them to a wave of ovenlike heat.

Dan went into it and moved far enough away so the doors would slide closed again. “I was hoping Linda would force my hand,” he told her.

Jenn shook her head. She didn’t understand.

He clarified. “I was hoping she’d say that we should, you know, get married. That
that
would be our best shot at getting Ben.”

He was looking at her with those eyes, with that face, and Jenn knew that hitting him was not the proper response to what he’d just said.
Force his …
Fabulous. She nodded instead. “But she didn’t say that.”

“Marry me anyway,” he said.

“Wow,” she said. “Way to be romantic, Gillman, and really pick the moment.”

He looked around them, as if suddenly aware that they were standing outside of a hospital in Las Vegas, Nevada. “I was thinking about it earlier,” he admitted, “but that wasn’t the most romantic moment, either.” His smile was sheepish, and she knew exactly to which earlier moment he was referring.