Crazy Thing Called Love (30 page)

“She told us to bring swimming suits. Her condo has a pool.”

“Are you kidding—” he started to say, turning. But she was gone.

That girl was working on something.

But then, so was he.

For the next few minutes, Billy did the best he could, laughing and joking with Charlie, trying hard to get Becky to smile—all while getting a diaper bag packed.

“I gotta make a phone call, guys,” he said and nearly ran to his bedroom.

It was still shadowed and dark in there, a cocoon with the shades pulled down. His purple duvet looked black.

He shook out the tight and tingling muscles in his arms before dialing. Not expecting an answer, he nearly dropped the phone when his sister said: “Hello?”

“Janice?”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the hockey star.” He heard the snick of a lighter, the quick inhale of her breath. He could imagine her so clearly—her face familiar but terribly older. Meaner.

God, he thought, closing his eyes against the sharp stab of pain. How had it all gone so wrong?

“Tell me, how is your day going?” Her voice was snidely amused. She’d sent those kids down, alone and scared, to fuck with him.

“This is a shit move, Janice. Even for you, sending those kids.”

“Oh, I didn’t send them. That was all Becky’s idea.”

“You didn’t pay—”

“Fuck you, Billy, like I got that money.”

He put the phone down, rested it against his leg. Becky was one tough kid. He was proud of her, he really was.

“Billy!” Janice yelled and he lifted the phone up.

“Yeah.”

“Are you mad because we ruined your makeover?” Her laugh, which disintegrated into a hacking cough, set his teeth on edge.

“It’s not funny. They’re kids, Janice.”
Are you such a monster?
he wanted to ask.
Has every bit of decency just abandoned your body?

“Yeah, Denise’s kids, and I been taking care of them
and Denise for years. Dressing ’em. Schooling ’em. Paying for shit. All while you’ve been making millions! You try raising them.”

Most people didn’t realize that fighting during a hockey game wasn’t just about a guy losing his temper and going after another guy, though there was plenty of that. Cheap shots and ugly checks into the boards. But for a fight—a real, center of the ice, two-guys-going-at-it kind of throw down—there was a protocol.

If a guy dropped his gloves, he’d wait until the other one dropped his gloves, signaling he was ready to go, before taking a swing.

Janice had just dropped her gloves.

And he could drop his and they could scrap like dogs over a bone. It’s what she wanted, she’d wanted it for years. To start a huge fight. To play out some petty vengeance. Not because he was rich, though that had to sting.

But because he got out.

And she was sleeping up in Mom’s bed on 12 Spruce.

“Fine.”

“What?”

“I’ll take it from here, Janice. You’ll never—ever—touch Becky again.”

“Oh, you think it’s easy? Charlie’s three and still wears diapers and that girl’s got a mouth on her. She can find a way to ruin anything. They’re fucked up—”

“Then you’ll have no problem giving me custody.”

There was a long pause, the sound of her sucking on the end of a cigarette, and he worried, he really did, that she would dig in her heels for no good reason. To do nothing but cause him trouble.

“Oh fine, big shot, you think you can do better? Go right ahead. You’ll be sending them back in two months.”

“No, I won’t. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

He hung up. Every muscle clenched and the phone in his hand felt like a missile he could fire into space. Fire a thousand miles right into his sister’s face.

Part of him wanted to charge right back out into that living room and tell Becky that she was never going back to Janice’s house, that she was safe. But he was working hard on doing the right thing. And the right thing was almost always more complicated than he thought.

So he called his lawyer.

“Jesus Christ, Billy,” Ted said when he answered. “It’s Sunday morning.”

“What? I don’t pay you enough? It’s an emergency.”

Ted sighed. “It always is with you. What’s up?”

“I need to get custody of these kids.”

“Wow. You don’t fool around.”

“My sister hits her, Ted. I can’t … I can’t just leave her there.” Again, he thought. He yanked open the shades, blinded by sunlight. “Janice said she’d give up custody.”

“What about the father?
Fathers
.”

“They’re not in the picture.”

“I bet they will be once they hear you want the kids.”

“Fine. I got money.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy. Getting your sister to give up custody is only part of it. You have to be approved as a foster parent before you can take them.”

“Well, how hard can that be? Janice did it.”

“Not that hard if you haven’t been all over the news hitting reporters, breaking chairs, being accused of fathering children you’ve abandoned—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He closed the shades again. “What do I do?”

“We’ll start the paperwork tomorrow. Try to keep your nose clean, if you can. And Billy, you gotta fix this nightmare you’re in. Set some facts straight.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Do you think I am?” He slammed the heel of his hand against the wall.

“Okay. I’ll get started on the paperwork, and send it to you tomorrow to sign.”

“Can I tell them?” he asked, closing his eyes, resting his head against the fist on the wall, and knowing the answer even as the question left his mouth.

“You might not get approved, and if she decides to still give up custody anyway, those kids … they might end up in separate foster homes.”

He thought of Becky losing Charlie. Thought of her face, the scream. The way she’d fight everyone trying to hold her back from her brother.

That couldn’t happen. Couldn’t.

“When will I know if I’m approved?”

“We’ll push as hard as we can. Your money will help, but you still …”

Still have to get approved.

“Okay, thanks Ted.”

Kids. Kids were coming to her condo. Madelyn might have gone overboard with the juice boxes. The value pack of twenty-five, which took up one whole shelf in her fridge, was probably overkill.

Calm down
, she told herself as she threw cheese sticks and apples onto the other shelves.
They’re just kids
.

And Billy.

Maybe she’d have a better chance of convincing him to do the show while they were on her turf.

Maybe you’ll have a better chance of convincing him to do the show if you grow bunny ears and hop around the place
.

But God, kids. And cupcakes. In her house.

It made her feel … unsafe. Unbalanced. Like the house might come down around her if someone else was in here.

Having Billy here that morning had been one thing, he’d barely even seen the place. But this, juice boxes and cheese sticks and swimming parties—this was something else entirely.

Her buzzer rang and she jumped, her heart pounding.

She leaned over and pushed the button to the doorman.

“You have a very excited boy down here, wearing goggles, Miss Cornish. He says he’s going to go swimming.”

She laughed, imagining the scene. “Send them up, Lou.”

In the minutes before their knock she turned and did a last check of her condo. It matched so perfectly the idea she’d had of a self-made woman’s house. A woman with taste and refinement, who could handle anything. Who’d pulled herself up out of the mud.

It will be okay
, she told herself.
They’re just kids. It’s just Billy
. But it felt like so much more. It felt like danger right around the corner.

There was a furious pounding at the door, like cops on a raid.

“Maddy!” Charlie yelled. “Let’s go swimming!”

She opened the door and there was Charlie, with goggles and water wings and a giant grin on his face.

Irresistible. The boy was literally irresistible. She would have reached down to hug him if Becky hadn’t ushered him in.

“I told him he had to be quiet,” Becky said, wearing a pink hoodie, her hair pulled back in a super-tight ponytail. It looked like it was giving her a headache.

“It’s all right,” she said. “There are lots of kids who live here. Everyone is used to a little noise.”

“When can we go swimming?” Charlie asked, doing a
dance in her front hallway that involved a lot of butt shaking.

“Yeah.” Billy, wearing a pair of board shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves torn off, stepped into the condo, mimicking Charlie’s dance. Billy’s moves delighted the boy to no end so he started dancing more and the butt shaking got super-sonic.

“Becky?” Billy asked, clearly inviting her into the dance routine. He bumped Becky with his hips and the girl rolled her eyes, stepping sideways to lean against Maddy’s pink table.

“You guys are stupid,” Becky sighed and Billy stopped dancing.

“You are a killjoy,” he said and stuck out his tongue at her.

Maddy laughed before she could help it. Becky glared at her and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Of course Billy would be good at this. He was a giant kid. He’d probably been just waiting for two kids to arrive on his doorstep so he could go swimming. So he would have an excuse to shake his butt.

“Well,” Maddy said, “you can go swimming right now. The pool is on the top of the building.”

“The top of the building?” Charlie asked, his eyes round as quarters under his little steamed-up goggles.

“Can you believe it?” she asked, opening her eyes as wide as she could.

Charlie charged back out to the hallway and Billy just barely caught him by the edge of a wing.

“You guys coming?” Billy asked. “I can’t hold him back much longer.”

“I need to change,” Becky said, staring down at her feet. She nudged Maddy’s pink and white running shoes with the toe of her beat-up Keds knockoff.

“Go on up.” Maddy handed him the pass card to get into the pool. “Becky and I will be there in a little bit.”

The boys cleared out, the door shutting behind them with a heavy click.

“You, ah, you have your suit?”

Becky lifted a Target bag, but made no move to find a place to change.

“You want to get ready?” Maddy asked, but Becky was looking around the apartment like she was sightseeing.

“I like your house,” she said. “I’ve never seen white carpets before.”

She’d gotten white because it seemed so modern. So clean. So unlike her past. She’d made the decision as the thirteen-year-old girl she’d been. Funny, she’d never really seen that before.

“Nice view,” Becky said, standing in front of the windows.

“It’s why I got this unit,” Maddy said. “It’s pretty at night.”

Becky humphed a little laugh. “Your job must pay pretty good.”

“I guess.” Maddy suppressed a smile. She knew when her place was getting cased. “You want a juice box or something? While you go through my stuff?”

“Juice box? You think I’m ten?”

“I think you might be thirsty.”

“I’m not going to steal anything.”

“I know, Becky. It was a joke.” Maddy ducked into the kitchen and grabbed a juice box and cheese stick just to be sure. When she came back out Becky was looking at her bookshelves.

“You like to read?” she asked.

Becky shrugged.

“I remember what it’s like, you know? But pretending to be stupid doesn’t get you very far.”

Becky smiled, really fast, and that smile was beautiful. It made Maddy wonder what the girl would look like
with some color in her cheeks. The dark circles out from under her eyes. A good haircut.

“Did you have Mrs. Jordal in school?” Becky asked.

“No. Why?”

“That’s something she said to me once. I like to read. A lot.”

“You can borrow any of the books. If you want.” She pointed to the top corner where she kept some of her favorites from high school:
Lord of the Flies, To Kill a Mockingbird, Flowers for Algernon
. “Those are good.”

“I’ve read those.”

“Well,” she laughed, “look at you.”

“Just because I don’t go to school doesn’t mean I can’t read.”

“You don’t go to school?”

Becky shook her head, backing away from the bookshelf. Turning to look at the photographs of different guests that had been on
AM Dallas
. Most people had pictures of family, she had pictures of acquaintances. It had never seemed ridiculous before now.

“Why?”

“Someone’s got to take care of Charlie.”

“Denise couldn’t do that?” It wasn’t an accusation. Wasn’t even really a question.

Becky shook her head.

“Your mom wasn’t always like that.”

Becky got still, like a mouse startled by a sound waiting for something to swoop out of the shadows and snatch it.

“I don’t remember,” Becky whispered.

“She was fun,” Maddy said, pulling up dim memories, trying to make them bright for the girl. “Loved playing practical jokes. Especially on Billy. She’d hide his stuff. Fill his shoes with shaving cream.”

Becky smiled.

“She loved to read, too.”

And just like that the smile was gone. “I’m nothing like her.”

“It wasn’t all bad, honey.”

“It was for me.”

Side by side and silent, they both looked out the window and Maddy felt like she often did with Billy when they were younger, like there was nothing she could say, not one thing. But by not leaving she had already been better than most people in the girl’s life.

“Can we stay with you?” Becky asked.

If all the glass shattered at once she couldn’t have been more alarmed. “Here?”

“It’s where you live.”

“What about Billy?”

“He … he doesn’t want us.”

“Becky …” She sighed. She didn’t know what to say. There were no words.

The girl’s blue eyes bored right into her. “We’ll be good. I promise. I mean, Charlie’s pretty easy. He’s almost potty-trained. And he’s … he’s sweet, you know. Quiet. Sometimes he has nightmares, but if I sleep with him he’s okay. And I can stay home with him so you don’t have to pay for a nanny—”