All of Me

by Jennifer Bernard

  “They’re my children, Caleb. What do you think I’m going to do to them? I just want to see them. Don’t you think they miss their father?”

  “Maybe if they had any kind of a father, they would. But they have you.” The cruelty of his own words made him wince. He got to his feet and paced around the little office. “Why do you want to see them?”

  “Because they’re my flesh and blood. What other reason do I need to have?” Bingo shrugged, palms facing upward, Mr. Innocent himself. From Officer Kelly’s condemning expression, his act was working.

  He addressed the young officer. “Look, I’m very protective of my siblings. I became their guardian when he went to prison. I don’t want them to get hurt.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do?” Bingo repeated. “I’ve never hurt anyone. What have I ever done to hurt you?”

  The absurdity of that question had Caleb scrubbing his hands through his hair. “You left me with a family to take care of at the age of nineteen.”

  “I didn’t do that on purpose. I made some misguided career choices.” That whiny I’m a victim tone always made Caleb nuts. “I’ve been doing a lot of counseling to work through that. But I’ve never been a violent offender, and I’ve never been involved with drugs. There’s no reason I shouldn’t see the boys and Tessa.”

  Officer Kelly spoke. “What’s the reason for your objection, Caleb?”

  He’s poison. He’s toxic. He doesn’t do anything without a hidden agenda. He doesn’t care what damage he causes.

  He’s a liar and a cheat.

  “He came to the ballpark,” Caleb burst out harshly. “I asked him not to, and he did it anyway.”

  “That’s not in the probation agreement,” said Bingo quickly. “And I made sure no one recognized me. It wasn’t my fault you jumped into the stands and attacked me.”

  “You know I didn’t attack you.” Caleb felt the tendons in his neck throb. “I was trying to get you away from my friend.”

  Officer Kelly intervened. “Caleb, have you considered seeing a counselor yourself? It seems clear you have a lot of residual anger over your father’s incarceration.”

  Before his head exploded, Caleb stalked to the door. “I think Bingo’s getting enough counseling for both of us. Keep him out of the ballpark, and I’ll think about having the kids come for a visit.”

  Bingo jumped up and scrambled after him. “It’s a deal. Very fair of you, Caleb, very fair. I only want to be close to the family again, I don’t have anything else on my mind. That’s a sacred promise, son. A sacred promise.”

  “I’ll see you next week,” Officer Kelly called after them. “Keep up the good work, Bingo.”

  They emerged from the county offices into the heavy heat of the afternoon. Caleb felt instant sweat bead his forehead.

  “Why couldn’t you just ask me about the kids, Bingo? Why’d you have to drag me all the way out here?”

  Bingo plopped a broad-brimmed cowboy hat on his head. “Officer Kelly wanted to meet you. I’ve boasted about you so much. It’s not every day she gets a celebrity in there.”

  “You wanted to show me off to your probation officer? Why? To impress her?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  On the sidewalk, Caleb stopped short, then turned to face his father. Bingo stood only half a head shorter than him, but he was substantially flabbier, a man who relied on charm and wits rather than physical prowess. In fact, it had come out at the trial that he deliberately minimized his fitness to look less threatening to his marks. “It doesn’t matter who your son is, Bingo. All that matters is how well you fulfill the terms of your probation. No criminal activity.”

  “Of course not!”

  But Bingo’s emphatic declaration didn’t mean much, in Caleb’s experience. “That’s what you always said before too. When Tessa and I ran messages for you. You always said it was nothing to worry about, nothing illegal. You used your kids, Bingo.”

  “And I never testified about that. I kept you kids out of court.”

  “Yeah, you’re a bona fide saint. Does it shock you that I don’t want you around the twins?”

  “But . . .” Bingo pushed his hat back and scratched at the place the headband had left its mark. “All that was before I went to prison. I’m a different man now. Why would I do anything like that now? Do you think I want to go back to prison?”

  Logical, sure. Truthful? Alarm bells were ringing all over the place.

  A shadow fell over them. He looked over, taking a minute to recognize the guy who’d stopped next to them. The last time he’d seen that smug face, his fist had been wrapped in the man’s jacket. The football gear was gone; now he wore a blinding white golf shirt with his sunglasses peeking out of the chest pocket.

  Hamilton Wade looked from Caleb to Bingo, then back again. And again. “Sweet Mother Mary, what’ve we got here? I know you.”

  Caleb tried to bundle Bingo toward his rental car, but Hamilton followed. “I did a paper on you for my criminology class in college.”

  “You went to college?” Caleb muttered. “I guess they let anyone in these days.”

  Hamilton was smart enough to ignore the bait. “Thurston Hartwell II, con artist extraordinaire. And you must be his son. Hart. Short for Hartwell.”

  Caleb’s feet felt stuck to the sidewalk, as if it was coated with tar. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get away from the smug, smirking asshole.

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” said Bingo. “Don’t you think if I had a baseball star for a son, everyone would know about it?”

  “Good question, old man. Looks like Caleb Hart has something he wants to keep hidden. Don’t blame him.” His contemptuous glance at Bingo made Caleb’s hackles rise. It was one thing for him to be angry with his father, another thing for an ass like Hamilton to insult him.

  “Leave him alone,” he said curtly. “If you have something to say to me, let’s go.” Another fight sounded like a perfect plan to him. Sure, it would be another black mark against the Catfish, and Sadie might get upset, but this guy had it coming in more ways than he could count.

  “I have a much better idea. Tell you what. You keep away from Sadie and I’ll keep your secret.”

  Keep away from Sadie? Even though he hadn’t spoken to her in days, and wasn’t sure what he’d say when he did, the hell if he’d let someone else dictate who he saw. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Hamilton shrugged. “Up to you. Wait’ll ESPN gets a load of this one.”

  “Wait,” said Bingo, putting a hand on Hamilton’s arm. “Give us some time to think about this.”

  “I don’t need to think about anything,” Caleb growled. “This guy’s an ass.” He wheeled on Hamilton. “What’s Sadie to you anyway? Why do you hate her? You’re the one who made that Facebook page, aren’t you?”

  “So you saw that. Good. Why do you want anything to do with that tramp anyway?” Hamilton took an involuntary step backward, as if just remembering the power of Caleb’s grip.

  A sort of red mist hazed over Caleb’s vision. The guy was dead meat. But he couldn’t move his right arm in the direction he wanted, toward Hamilton’s face. Bingo had it in lockdown against his chest.

  “Let’s go,” he kept repeating. “Forget him. Not worth it. Come on, Caleb.” Bingo dragged him down the sidewalk, away from the face he wanted to smash to bits. “We’ll figure this out,” he kept saying until Caleb was in the car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly the bones of his knuckles shone white.

  Slowly, his vision cleared. Hamilton was gone. He was in his car. Bingo watched him with puppy dog alertness.

  “I’m okay,” he finally said. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t,” said Bingo, adjusting his hat, which had gotten crumpled. “Not even close. But I’d like to know who this Sadie is. She’s sure causing a lot of trouble.”

  Chapter 15

  AFTER DAYS OF no word from Caleb, Sadie came to the conclusion that he’d lost interest in her. Maybe someone had told
him about her tainted reputation. Maybe he’d gone online out of curiosity and seen the damning pictures. Maybe someone had sent him the “birthday tape.” Whatever the case, things were as dead as the armadillo caterpillar—the last species to go extinct in Kilby.

  Yes, she’d been focusing on research lately, since the absence of Caleb made everything else depressingly dull.

  On her next night off, Donna once again dragged her to the Roadhouse. Donna seemed so distracted lately; Sadie was starting to worry about her. But every time she tried to ask what was going on, her friend changed the subject.

  “I’m thinking of a career change,” Donna confided as they pushed through the crowd toward the bar. “I figured out that all this experience being a nanny is perfect training for another job.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Think about it. I boss around a helpless being whose happiness depends on me. I’m in charge, and I have to make sure he knows it and doesn’t get out of line.”

  “Hmmm.” Sadie waved to get the bartender’s attention. It shouldn’t be hard, not the way Donna was dressed—in Daisy Dukes and a neon pink halter top. Sadie wore a much more decorous white scoop-neck cotton dress that ended just above the knee. She’d put her hair in a French braid to keep it off her neck, but even so she felt sweat trickle down her neck. “School principal?”

  “I’m thinking dominatrix. You don’t need a degree for that.”

  “Unless it’s a master’s.”

  “Whoot!” Donna gave her a high five for that. “Good one.”

  Sadie fanned herself; the sheer amount of body heat in the packed throng was enough to power a small nation’s electrical grid. As usual, she scanned the faces in the crowd, trying to identify potential danger before it walked up and tapped her on the shoulder. Only after she’d searched the entire bar did she admit to herself her true purpose: looking for Caleb Hart.

  A muscular forearm settled on the bar next to Sadie. She swung around, her heart in her throat, but it wasn’t Caleb. It was his friend, the mop-headed, green-eyed Mike Solo, the one who had started the cupcake fight. On her other side, she sensed Donna’s immediate reaction to the appearance of such a hot guy.

  “You girls are at the wrong party,” he told them. “Better come with me.”

  “We’re happy where we are,” Sadie said primly.

  “Speak for yourself.” Donna hopped off her stool. “I’m in, ball boy. Where are we going?”

  “Donna! You can’t just go off with some guy you’ve barely met.”

  “Duh. We bonded last time.” Donna rolled her eyes. “I’m almost a hundred percent sure his name is Mark.”

  “Mike,” corrected Mike. “Close enough.”

  “You don’t even know where he’s going.” Sadie snatched Donna’s wrist, afraid she’d float off like a helium-filled balloon.

  Mike slung his arm around Donna’s shoulders and squeezed. “Sadie’s right. Never, ever do what you’re about to do. Except with me. I’m the exception. Because I’m an exceptional guy.”

  His infectious grin was impossible to resist, but Sadie tried her hardest. “Are all ballplayers so full of themselves?”

  “Are you asking about one player in particular?” Mike winked. “Maybe the one eating his heart out over you? The one who hasn’t cracked a smile in a week? The one sitting alone growling at people at the party I’m about to take you to?”

  Sadie’s cheeks burned. She put a hand to her forehead to cool herself down. “Really?” she said faintly.

  “That’s it, Sadie,” Donna said. “We are going to this party. No arguments or I’ll get out my whip.”

  “Whip?” Mike asked hopefully as he herded them out of the Roadhouse. “Rawr. You girls are kinkier than you look.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Sadie grumbled as he held open the door of a white van with the Catfish logo on the door. “Is this your car?”

  “No, I borrowed the team’s equipment van. Had to pick up some party supplies for the boss.”

  Sadie peered into the back of the van, which was packed with cases of beer and a shrink-wrapped submarine sandwich that extended the entire length of the van, from the rear window to the front dashboard.

  “The boss? Where is this party, anyway?”

  “Party nirvana, babe. Party nirvana.”

  Ten minutes later they drove through a set of wide-open gates with the insignia BULLPEN RANCH carved into the wooden slats. A cattle grate rumbled under the tires. Sleepy, rolling fields of alfalfa and mesquite stretched to either side of the long drive.

  “Bullpen Ranch,” said Donna in an awed voice. “That’s Crush Taylor’s place.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Mike. “Behold and be awed.”

  Clearly, the place had been designed to strike awe in Crush Taylor’s guests. A sprawling ranch house made from concrete and steel, with towering picture windows, looked out on endless pasture land. Strings of twinkle lights lit up the broad terraces that flanked the house. A pool glowed iridescent blue under orange paper lanterns that bobbed in the breeze. At each corner a tiki torch flamed. Bodies moved like shadows, drifting toward the bar set up near the pool, merging together, drawing apart.

  Dance music pumped through hidden speakers. The bass line made the ground throb beneath their feet. Vibrations pulsed through the air, turned the atmosphere electric.

  Caleb was somewhere among those shadowy bodies. She was about to see him for the first time in a week. Sadie’s stomach clenched, and she looked in panic back toward the faraway front gate.

  Mike screeched the van to a randomly angled stop and jumped out. “Supplies can wait. Let me introduce you around.” Holding them both by the hand, he hauled them down a grassy slope toward the tiled terrace around the pool. At one end sat a complete set of living room furniture in a cozy arrangement. Crush occupied a huge leather armchair that looked over the pool, as if he were an emperor surveying his domain. He wore cream linen trousers and a loose summer-blue cashmere sweater.

  Sadie thought Mayor Trent would approve of his look, though probably not of the nearly topless girls draped on every side of him.

  But the girls didn’t command nearly as much attention as the abundance of supremely fit men gathered in this one tiny piece of Texas ranchland. Everywhere they looked, a ripped torso caught their eye, or an incredibly fine rear end. Broad shoulders leaned against the backs of chairs, corded forearms rested on knees. Black skin, olive skin, tan skin, every shade gilded by the erotic firelight from the tiki torches. Donna clutched at her arm, pretending to faint.

  Or maybe not pretending.

  “Dorothy, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she breathed. “I think we’ve died, actually. This is how I’ve always pictured Heaven. Look at those pecs.”

  A magnificent bare-chested man wandered past in nothing but swimming shorts. As they watched, he flexed his chest muscles and executed a flat dive into the pool, right into the midst of a game of volleyball. The girls in the pool shrieked and splashed him in revenge.

  “Was that Trevor Stark?” Donna asked in awe.

  “You girls stay away from Trevor,” Mike warned. “Anyone else is fair game, but Stark’s on the no-fly list.”

  Donna gave him a little shove. “You can’t tell us who to hang out with.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Just watch me. Unless you have your whip on you.”

  Sadie saw Donna swallow hard. She wondered if her friend was in over her head with someone like Mike Solo. Donna talked much wilder than she actually was. But then all thoughts fled as someone took hold of her upper arm. Shivers skittered down her spine.

  “What are you doing here?” Caleb asked in a low voice.

  “Caleb.” Mike clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Should have known you’d come to life sooner or later. I spotted these girls all sad and lonely back at the Roadhouse. They begged to tag along.”

  “He carjacked us,” said Donna. “We were helpless to resist.”

  Sadie couldn’t say anything.
The sight of Caleb, with that tense frown creasing the skin between his gorgeous silvery eyes, had reduced her to muteness. As many times as she’d pictured him during the past week, he looked a thousand times better in person. Barefoot, in board shorts and a dark T-shirt, he looked so good she wanted to lap him up like a dish of cream.

  Caleb directed his frown toward Mike. “They shouldn’t be here. You know how crazy it gets.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.” Mike snagged Donna’s wrist. “Come on, pretty lady. Let’s dance. It’s the next best thing to screwing, and you know that’s off the table.”

  As Mike dragged her toward the house, Donna flashed a smile over her shoulder. “Is it my imagination, or does that sound like a challenge?”

  “Knock yourself out,” Mike said, his voice nearly lost in the thump-thump of the beat. “I dare you.”

  Caleb turned back to Sadie and regarded her with hooded eyes. The mark from Steve’s punch at the Tico had faded, but she remembered exactly where it was. Her hand floated to his jawbone. “I . . . I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I should have . . . You got caught in the middle of . . . I should have warned you . . . I’ll leave now.” Blindly, she turned to go, desperate to get away from the intense gaze that seemed to delve into the deepest part of her.

  “No.” He snagged her wrist, whirling her around to face him. “I want to talk to you. Come on.”

  Oh Lord, she never should have come here. She followed on his heels, not that she had a choice, given his determined grip on her wrist. In a blur of taut muscles and laughing faces, the crowd of party guests gave way to a long, sloping lawn. On the far side of the ranch house, behind a grove of cottonwoods, stood a secluded, six-sided gazebo tucked out of sight behind a thicket of shrubs. He pulled her inside. Benches lined five of the sides, while the sixth served as the entrance. The foliage of the surrounding hedge filtered the moonlight into a mottled pattern of shadows. A spicy fragrance, released by the day’s heat, still lingered in the air. The hushed space felt completely private; even the party music was a faint, faraway thump of bass.

  Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”