“I don’t care about him or his roster. I don’t have any feeling for Daniel now but hate,” I said with conviction. “I am only trying, with every bone in my body, to get Tristan back home.”
Jill straightened up her stance as much as she could, still trapped in the booth. “Hate is what you’re feeling now, but that’s not what you were feeling when you were fucking him, was it?” she asked, with pity and disappointment. “You poor thing.”
Ian let her out.
~o~
I stopped by the office for some invoices. My plan being to work into the night and eat the box of cookies I had stashed in the freezer, alone. When I arrived home, Violet waited outside my door with a well-built stranger. She held her handled black portfolio in one hand, her leg was bent at the knee, flirtatiously close to his. She was chatting to him, her short hair pulled up in a spiky ponytail, while she tugged at the pieces that had come out around her face.
“Oh, Bree,” she said, letting go of the hairs, introducing the man. “This is Hunt.”
“Hi there,” he said in greeting, looking at me directly with deep set dark molasses eyes. His accent was thickly Southern as he addressed me. “I’d like a word with you if you don’t mind.”
The expectation of his tone tipped me off. “I’m busy and I have no comment. How did you get up to my apartment?” I said, seething at Vi.
“He’s not a reporter, Bree, he’s been on a two-year surfing expedition living off the land,” Violet explained, wistfully. He gave a crooked smile her way.
“I was waitin’ in the lobby when your friend was kind enough to strike up conversation and let me up,” he said politely. “I believe you and I share a mutual friend you’re in some legal trouble with. So I figured I’d board a flight from mi casa in Nicaragua for a private little pow-wow.” He rested back on his heels with a half-smile intended to be friendly.
I turned to Vi who looked enthusiastic to hear all about the pow-wow with this stranger later. I guessed my cookies would have to wait. I jiggled my key in the door lock and held it open, letting in the folksy cowboy surfer dude. I folded my hand closed at the seam of my palm, twice, signaling goodbye to Violet. She bit her thumb yearningly as I shut the door.
I dropped my keys and bag on the countertop not bothering to take off my coat. He took a seat at the dining table, so I joined him. In the improved light from the hallway halogens, I took him in quickly. His bare, tanned knees peeking from rips in the jeans were lackadaisically spread apart, but his flip-flopped feet, nearly frozen in this weather, were leaning on one another in a tee-pee. A strange combo with the dangling cuffs and half unsnapped western shirt. His unkempt ponytail was smoothed down at the crown, curly at the sun-damaged ends, just long enough to be tied back. He had the features of a history book Roman, though. A dirt-blond Roman with wide sideburns.
“What’s your deal?” I asked curiously.
“What’s your deal?” He returned the question, chilled and relaxed.
“You said you were a friend of Daniel’s. So what are you doing here,” I said, impatient.
“Checkin’ things out,” he replied. I tapped my fingers on the table and he added, “I may be able to help.”
“How?”
“First, I’m going need to have you answer a question.”
“Okay, ask.”
“The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?” he recited casually.
Was this a riddle? Was he kidding? “The Beatles, obviously.”
He raised one thick eyebrow that was a darker tawny than the hair at his hairline. “Best song?”
I arched an eyebrow back. “Don’t Let Me Down” if I had to choose a Beatles song. But I wouldn’t choose any Beatles song.”
He peered at me, full brows almost meeting in the center. “What would you choose?”
“Solo Paul McCartney. Or Wings,” I answered.
“You’re her all right.” He grinned, but again his lips only curved to one side. I accepted then it was how the muscle moved; his permanent smile.
“You should have been a lawyer,” I said caustically, thinking of Solomon. “No more riddles, why are you here?”
“Caught wind of news from the big city. I came to see the girl that’s driven Danny out of his nut,” he annunciated, with the time-is-no-object drawl of the Deep South. “Some years back Danny left my place to go out and off himself. He came back. Damndest thing. Going on about a girl with the face of an angel, and questionable taste in classic rock and roll.”
“Are those his words, or yours?” He grinned again. I peered at him. “You’re trusting that’s me based on some very old and vague intel.”
“Mm,” he responded, scanning me. “I have trekked the continents and know as fact every individual in the first world has a bellybutton and an answer to that question. No one in their right pajamas even tables Wings. An opinion that bad doesn’t change. I know it’s you. Danny may have been knocking down more than one pin at that time, on his way out, I have no idea. I had to check in the event you are not that girl and merely an unlucky member of the lucky swimmer club.”
“If I am that girl, I can tell you the two aren’t mutually exclusive. What else did he say?”
“Mm,” he said again, more casually. “Not much. He took off that evening with a fire under him. He said he was going to meet up with you . He took some dope with him and some cash. I didn’t see him for months until he was in need of my special kind of help again.”
“Are you a drug dealer?”
“I am, on occasion, a facilitator of Earthly desire. I try not to define that. I like being the vessel better. So that’s what I’m focusing my energy on nowadays. I did ask about that gal once, after he got out of that jam in Reykjavik. He told me she was gone, yet,” he said, analyzing the front and back of his hand with his fingers spread wide, “here you are.”
“Did he say anything else about meeting me?”
“Not a peep,” he said. “In these years I have recalled that early morning he came crawling back to my NYC abode. He puked for hours and shook like a branch in a twister. Eventually I had to call in another compadre to reverse his misfire. It was clearly a misfire. I have to tell you for a while there I was concerned the thing was going to happen right there on my floor. I am happy to help a friend, but showing back up on my door in that state was frankly impolite. Don’t feel distress for it; he’d agree,” he assured me. When he felt confident in me again, he continued. “We got him on my mattress and I went about my day. Imagine my surprise when he came out of that room asking for a glass of water and to borrow my very favorite jacket. There’s a line to friendship, you see?” The memory offended him. “Anyhow, I obliged. I say that humbly. They say look for the helpers in this world, that’s who I am. Danny hasn’t exactly taken advantage, but he cut it right on the line more than once.”
He paused expecting my commiseration. If he hadn’t, I believe he would have talked us into the next day. I was more taken with how well he seemed to know Daniel.
“How do you know each other again?” I asked.
“We were at Harvard together. Major in molecular biology and chemical engineering. Minor in sorority house T & A.”
“Makes perfect sense,” I said, mind blown.
“You don’t learn the right things in those places. Life exists on the crux of extinction. You gotta set your feet in the quicksand,” he said in a practical sermon. “That’s where the fun’s at. But where was I? That’s right, our man lived. You know. There was more going on I shoulda paid attention to at that time. For posterity. Stories have integrity. For instance, he shaved that evening. He shaved. That resonated,” he recalled. “So I asked him, whattaya doing a thing like that for? That’s when he spoke about a girl who liked Wings,” he said, taking me in like he wanted an explanation. None came. “He asked to borrow more money, more dope, and off he went. That resonated, too.” He finished significantly.
“Are you willing to testify to any of this?” I asked him, absorbing his look. �
�You said you were here to help.”
“I didn’t say who,” he replied.
“If you’re here for him, you should leave now. I’ll give you a head start.”
“Mm. There it is, the softer side,” he replied, gazing. I waved it off.
“So whose side are you on?”
“I don’t pick sides. I try not to cultivate those types of attachments,” he said plainly. “You should work on managing your expectations. I can see that’s a thing with you.” I didn’t know how to take the last part.
“Thanks, kemosabe. Let me ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you know what happened to me?” I watched for a reaction. It was a stab in the dark. I didn’t know if he could answer that; as drug dealer, euthanasia expert, or possibly an oracle. Asking him questions was like tossing a pennies in a bottomless well. There was no satisfying plunk at the end. I sat, not breaking his eye contact, thinking maybe tossing in that whopper would force something useful to levitate out. I couldn’t read yet if he was Daniel’s friend, sworn enemy, or just being nosy. I was almost sure he wasn’t scamming me, and I imagined he would board a plane from Timbuktu to see for himself if the rain in Spain, in fact, fell mainly in the plain. However, neither of those gave me reason to trust him.
He was plain-spoken. “I don’t know what happened to you, girl. I have an idea, though,” he said, his espresso eyes expressing their most defined emotion yet—sympathy. I nodded respectfully, and the look cleared. Importantly, he asked, “Why Wings?”
I blinked. “Because Linda.”
“Mm,” he contemplated that. “So you’re saying the real proposition is Yoko or Linda.” I saw a glimpse more of the scientist as he said, “Gracias.”
That’s not what I’d said, but I accepted the gratitude. “If you have a change of heart and would like to help me, I can you put in touch with my attorney.”
“Hearts beat, darlin’, they don’t change. Don’t forget it. I think I’d like to catch up to that lion-hearted Jewess priestess. Your friend’s unit number, if you don’t mind.”
I told him. I didn’t bother correcting that we were sisters. “Good luck,” I said in parting.
He looked back over his wing-tipped collar. “You keep it.”
Sweetheart. Possible Unabomber. Violet was going to love him.
Chapter 22 - The Spotless Blind
“Let me fix your hair,” Violet offered. She began smoothing down wind-blown strands of my hair. “There. We look like winners.” She smiled. Her hands went to her pantsuit, as she brushed away invisible lint. If seeing Vi in a pantsuit wasn’t enough to alarm the world, I don’t know what would be. A few paparazzi snapped photos. Solomon looked at his watch.
“They’ll be here,” I said.
Violet, Solomon, and I stood on the steps of the courthouse waiting for the others. I fidgeted with my bracelet, hoping everyone showed. They did, almost at once. Jill was last. Looking like Grace Kelly in a French twist and pearls. They showed, thank goodness, for Tristan’s sake. As we stood assembled on the steps of the courthouse, Solomon giving last-minute advice, two limos pulled up with motorcycle police for escorts. Daniel and his family. They emerged looking serious and uniform. It was my first time seeing them in person. Lady Sophie Baird and his dad, Sir Hawk Baird, exited first. Her hair was in a more perfect twist than Jill’s. Silky ebony hair with two elegant swoops of white on each temple in a lavender suit. Hawk was…eye-grabbing. A longer face than Daniel with a square, cleft chin. His eyebrows were dark and full, but his thick head of hair was all mostly silver, combed straight back until it gave a small flip out behind his ears and at the neck. The way he walked was uncommonly vital for a man his age. I saw in him Daniel’s assured gait as he greeted the posh arrivals from the other limo, and they milled together like guests at a diamond jubilee.
I glanced back at my crew, for the first time thinking us motley, but it was by only comparison. Finally, came Daniel. He looked strong but tired. Let that work in my favor, I hoped. He wore a perfect black suit, under a long wool black coat as the weather had turned chilly. Kate came next, followed by private security. Daniel didn’t linger. He began to take the stairs and they all followed. I rushed my crew inside.
The case got underway quickly. After introductions, his attorney, Alec Kord, began the proceedings. Alec Kord had handled the mayor’s high-profile case years ago. He’d had a child on the side. The mayor had won. They covered Daniel’s bio first. Daniel’s answers sounded like a get-to-know article from Fortune magazine. But we got quickly to what I was anticipating most.
“When did you first meet Ms. Valentine?” Alec Kord asked his client.
“New Year’s Day, five years past.” Daniel replied, his eyebrows shifting as he adjusted in the stand.
“Where did you first meet?”
“At a hotel,” he replied, settled in. “We made arrangements to meet the next night.”
“How long after that first brief meeting did you have sex?”
“That next night.”
“So, you met a willing girl and took her for a romp at a hotel suite?”
“No. She refused procuring a room.”
“Why?”
“It was too expensive for her.”
Jill leaned in my ear. “They just implied you’re a cheap hooker.”
I didn’t glance back at her as Alec asked, “Where did the intercourse take place?”
Daniel blinked. “It was in an abandoned building.”
“Did you keep in touch?” Alec asked, and I shushed her.
“We didn’t exchange contacts. Or full names.”
“No phone numbers, emails, exchanged.” he said, gesturing. “She didn’t ask you to find her on some type of social media.”
“We didn’t exchange any of those,” Daniel replied.
“When did you see her again?” His heels clicked as he paced.
“Fall of this year.”
“Wasn’t it a work-related event? Lots of other professional men. Posing as someone’s date?”
“Hooker,” Jill whispered behind us. August shut her up. Daniel’s jaw got tight.
“She is in a relationship with my employee. She attended as his date,” Daniel replied, which made me sound a bit less like an escort but irritated him more.
Alec gave a compassionate look. “Did she approach you and let you know you had a child?”
“No.”
“Isn’t true, in fact, that she didn’t remember you at all, and to this day, still has no recollection of you?”
“Yes.”
“But she’s had sex with you since.”
“Yes.”
“In fact, she offered you a sexual relationship in exchange for full custody, is that correct?’
“Yes.”
“And you refused.”
“Not initially. We had intercourse in my office.”
Alec nodded. “Your honor, we have statements from a security guard and Mr. Baird’s secretary corroborating this,” he stated. “But Mr. Baird, you’re here now, so you obviously declined on the solicitation of sexual favors Ms. Valentine offered.”
“I did,” he said solemnly. “It wasn’t worth it.”
“Mr. Baird, some would like to paint you as a man lacking discretion. Why didn’t you use protection that first night with Ms. Valentine?”
Daniel’s eyes shifted. “In the moment, it was not important.”
“Well, we’ve all been there,” he said smugly. A few men listening wore smirks. “And she didn’t protest?”
“She consented,” he said and paused. “In truth, it was she who insisted we continue without protection.” Daniel said, and it felt like he’d physically turned a knife in me. I felt more than one set of eyes on me from the bench behind.
“Mr. Baird, although I can see ample reason why a certain type of female…” Alec looked at me pointedly, “would willing engage in unprotected sex with a man such as yourself, but why would you have unprotected se
x with this woman? A stranger? If you believe the papers, you’ve got a lot to lose by sowing wild oats, so to speak. Can you explain why you would do such a thing?”
Daniel began, “When I was nine, we had a stable. I rode horses often and there was an accident—it rendered me unable to produce offspring.” Daniel peered at Solomon when he finished. Then turned back to his attorney. “Also, I was named in a paternity claim when I was fifteen. It was mediated privately. I was cleared when tests concluded I was not the genetic contributor. It validated the previous medical conclusion.” My eyes widened. Daniel thought we knew that. He was just getting in front of it, in case. I looked at Solomon but he looked blind about it. Black holes, indeed.
“And you’ve been tested again,” Alec continued, sounding moved. “Since the revelation of this paternity—confirming this diagnosis. Yet, I have here a DNA test—several of them in fact—and according to science you are without doubt the father of the child in question,” he paused for emphasis. “How do you explain this, then?”
“A miracle,” said Daniel with certainty. The man who believed only in himself. He’d obviously been practicing this with his attorney because his act was almost convincing.
“A miracle,” the attorney repeats. “So you see, judge, this child is most likely the only child Mr. Baird will ever produce. That is why he is so exceptionally devoted to the child’s welfare and well-being. He was denied the first five years of the boy’s life, and now that he’s found him, he cannot sit idly by with a clear conscience, watching the debauchery, the deviancy, and the irresponsibility the boy has been exposed to while concealed from him in Ms. Valentine’s care.”
Several character testimonies took the stand after Daniel that day and over the next few days. Some of them with very impressive resumes. A Lord someone, a former Harvard dean. A woman named Teresa who said she was a chef. They needed a woman, I guessed. She looked at me with a question in her eyes as she testified. Then Kate, handily in pocket. All with praise. The best thing that happened was the appointed psychologist who, practically shaking in his seat, testified custody should be shared. He saw no reason why I should be denied it. Brave thing. In any other case, he would have said primary, but this wasn’t any other case. Hawk looked like he was planning mortgage and college denial letters for the man’s next nine generations. Ari and Claire both gave excellent testimonies, too. Tristan was a happy, smart kid— a boy who was loved and cared for.
In the Land of Milk and Honey Page 29